Glad That God Is Here

Glad That God Is Here Am always glad that God is here; To me sincere and so very near; Looking forward to A life that is new, And soon His Son will reappear. Jim Horn Happy Birthday Again With God a new life will begin; Have a happy birthday again; How glad you are, From here and afar; Next one better will have been. I always wondered, Exact place I have to go, to find state of shock. Will write another Poem that is to my licking, You will want to read. Poem was becoming; Quite the thing to be writing, For relaxation. When a poem will write, Is for pure satisfaction, Knowing it I wrote. What poems mean to me, Which I will write for myself, Did appreciate. Grinding halt came to, When I wondered where I was; Lost forevermore. So slight could be chance, When it was finally found, Gave up and resigned. Found that forbearance, And acceptance of others, Did answer my dreams. May mind if I do, What always pleases us both, Way beyond a doubt. What worry will do, Makes your life a complete mess, From start to finish. Both qualitative, And also quantitative; How you measure things. May be related; Inversely proportional; Meaning opposite. Variance is a Way to measure differences; Were significant. What if rational, Or could be irrational Way of seeing things. While astronomy, Is related to the stars; Planets does include. With trepidation, Concentrated on remarks; Effects that they had. Am now close to death; What to me matters the most; Will be heaven bound. Used dead reckoning On typographical map, To find destiny. Umbilical cord, Connects baby with the womb, So life will begin. Only those who are totally inept, Failure never willing to accept, And if hysteric, Must be cleric, Revealing secrets once well kept. Trump have heard has a hot head, And body looks like a lump of lead; Talked off ears; We shed tears; Big mouth bled and he is now dead. Also, for whatever this may be worth; America has become a hell on earth. Infection From Which Direction Could there possibly be a connection; When instilled in you is an infection; We must warn; Could be airborne; Had come from a down wind direction. Maybe back things must start to scale, After we had continued to fail, fail, fail; Become proficient, While also efficient, And smoothly sail not going into a gale. What about Trump is really any good: Have his own way wants and would; A lousy loser, Body abuser; Promotes corruption when he could. Might as well put all of my poems into one poem being that I am always exceeding ten again and again. Goal is 5,000 poems and to be Number 3. Jim Horn