God Has Blessed America

God has blessed America
with the ability to choose.
And we lean to our own understanding;
not asking him what to do.

God has blessed America
with landscape’s that will take your breath away.
And we dig-up and cut-down,
and litter everyday.

When God made the earth
He said, “It is good.”
And we’re not taking care of it;
like we know we really should.

God has blessed America
more than we deserve;
With his love and compassion,
His mercies new each day.

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poem by Phyllis Strong
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Child Of The King

I’ve never been a cheerleader,
Or a beauty queen.
Still, I’m a child of the king.

I’ve never pulled up in a stretch limousine.
Still, I’m a child of the king.

I’ve never been asked
To sit on the front row
Or been catered to
because of a title that I hold.
Still, I’m a child of the king.

I’ve never been bejeweled
With a lot of bling bling
Or shopped at Saks Fifth Avenue
For the finest of things.
Still, I’m a child of the king.

I’ve never gotten a Ph.D.

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poem by Phyllis Strong
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It Bothered Me

I saw a surveillance video
From a camera mounted on a public bus;
Two guys were having an augment,
But only one really wanted to fuss.

The evil guy continued to fuss.
He didn’t even know the good guys name;
He fussed and fussed and made fun,
To him it was like a game.

The good guy looked as if he wanted to leave,
That he could not believe this day;
But when he stood, to exit the bus.
The evil guy stood in his way.

The evil guy took out a knife;
That was concealed in his pocket.
All the passengers ran off the bus;
So fast, just like a rocket.

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poem by Phyllis Strong
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Mom And Dad

If my Mom and Dad had not died
When I was young
What would my life have been like?

Would my Mom had showed me
How to use make-up;
And tell me, “not too much,
Or it will cake-up.”

What about the Father and Daughter dance;
Would my Dad had taken me,
If he had the chance.

I wonder if my Mom
Would have talked to me
About my little monthly friend;

And bring me a hot cup of tea
Every month that it began,
And let me lie in bed

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poem by Phyllis Strong
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All Different, But Still The Same

Some people have short hair, some have long.
Some people have thick hair; some people’s hair is all gone.

Some people have black hair, some have gray.
Some people have brown hair, some blonde, some red.
Some people’s hair a color unsaid.

Some people are short, some people are tall.
Some people will love you; some won’t like you at all.

Some people like hot weather, some like cold.
Some people are timid, some people are bold.
Some people have dark skin, some people have light.
Some people have black skin, some people have white.

Some people eat meat; some won’t touch it at all.
Some people have a good memory, some can’t recall.
Some people accept Christ, some never will.
Some people are stingy, some people give.

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poem by Phyllis Strong
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