William Sanders
Poems
Fathers dream of their sons
growing tall
and I am no exception
From the start
I read the books
to prepare
as a man's expected
But still I worried
about the day
a hospital call would come
He was so small
the hospital stay
was longer than predicted
I fed him
bathed him
and changed him
Fueled by the love
between a father and a son
The more I talked
the less he heard
The more I fed
the less he ate
The more I listened
The less he said
The closer I came
The farther away he drifted
When he left his home
forever
I prayed he'd find his father's
Exhausted
I went home
And told my son
fathers aren't forever
Fathers dream of their sons
growing tall
and I am no exception
William Sanders
Copyright 2008
All rights reserved by William Sanders
The Devil goes to
my Church
He's there every Sunday
without fail.
He counts dollars with the merchant
throwing smiles at customers
coming through the door.
He licks the elder's finger
turning Bible pages
in search of lessons
to cure his neighbor's
wicked ways.
The Devil goes to my Church
he's there every Sunday
without fail.
He strolls with the politician
working the room,
courting voters
before the sermon begins.
He flatters the Doctor's wife
As she brags to those with little
about her large donations
to those with none.
The Devil goes to my Church
he's there every Sunday
without fail.
He rides the backs of those
whom forgive their own sins,
but not the sins of their brothers.
He stands with the Deacon
who abuses his wife six days
before resting on the seventh.
He lingers in an old lady's bosom
who forgave her young sins
But not the old man who was
once the young impatient boy next door.
The Devil goes to my Church
he's there every Sunday
without fail.
He strengthens the voice
bragging over his exotic mission's trip abroad
while the braggart's invalid neighbor slowly dies next door.
He snuggles with the wife,
stewing over her small house
and big mortgage.
He whispers in her ear against the husband
who turned out worse instead of better.
The Devil goes to my Church
he's there every Sunday
without fail.
He slitters in through my ignorance,
hides among the calluses of my heart,
thriving in the shadow of my pride
By William Sanders
Copyright 2008 by William Sanders
All Rights Reserved
All Rights Reserved
Copyright
2009 by William Sanders
William Sanders
3704 Azalean Drive
Chattanooga, TN 37415
(423) 877-2641
sandersvideo@bellsouth.net
©2008 William Sanders 3704 Azalean Drive, Chattanooga TN 37415 Email: sandersvideo@bellsouth.net
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