The Widow's Mite

Doris was a widow her income wasn't much

Her husband died before the years of benefits and such

She had to rely on the charity of her husband's brother Fred

To keep the sandals on her feet and a roof up overhead

Doris never asked a lot, for that was not her way

Just a sleeping mat, a water pot and a robe to wear by day.

Fred was rich had lots of sheep, 

lots of servants and wives to keep

But Fred was also mean and tight, 

so the coins he doled out each Friday night

Didn't put much in Doris's tum

poor Doris for her, life wasn't much fun

But Doris wasn't the sort to moan

about all the things that she didn't own

she carried on gamely through thick and thin

her smile was broad tho' her body was slim

Many a night after saying her prayers

as she lay down to sleep up her rickety stairs

She thanked the Lord for giving her life

for the happy years she had spent as a wife.

But now and again her cheerfulness crumbled

as she lay in bed and her stomach rumbled

And when she tried to close her eyes

she dreamed of fish fried crisp and brown

and honey cakes that they sold in town

In her dreams she ate like a king

sat at a table and sampled each thing

But dreams are dreams, and life is real

and a lump of dry bread was her waking meal

but still she had a smile on her face

as she broke her fast with a thankful grace

One morning after breakfast, Doris planned her day

She would call at the temple, to worship God and pray

She looked in her purse and saw with delight

She'd got two pennies all shiny and bright

One could go in the collection box

with the other she would add to her meagre food stocks

Perhaps she would buy some fish or meat

she smiled at the thought of a coming treat.

Down at the temple Fred was also there

He gave our Doris a condescending glare

mortified to have a relative so poor

afraid in case the friends standing with him saw

Doris understood and quietly bent her head

she passed close by and never a word was said

she found a place to kneel and pray

spoke to the Lord she had a lot to say

she thought of all the things she had to thank him for

she had her health and strength although she was so poor

Her life was full of things that didn't cost a penny

she couldn't count her friends because she had so many

The warming blaze of the sun, the Fig tree's gentle shade

purest water from the well, all these the Lord had made

and as she sat and worshipped him she knew what she must do

in her heart she promised him, 'Not one coin, Lord but two'

over by the collection box she had to wait a while

as Fred stuffed in his coins with a smug and noble smile

although the sum he gave was really quite a lot

Fred knew his onions, he wasn't a simple clot
It went down as expenses on his annual tax return
financial tricks were known to him, not much for him to learn
He kept funds back for later, to go for a drink with the lads
Doris's turn was next at the box, giving all that she had
As the widow turned around preparing herself to go
she noticed a stranger, one that she seemed to know
He was sitting with some others gathered by a well
they were travellers from other parts as far as she could tell
The stranger's eyes met hers, and she knew from his glance
he'd watched her carefully, and not by casual chance
"I know all about you!" his eyes seemed to say
And he silently blessed her as Doris walked away.

Easter

This piece is about doing the best you can.  And also a little about bullies.

EASTER

There was once a garden shady and green

Probably the nicest garden you've ever seen

A gardener toiled to keep it that way

putting in the hours each working day.

There were trees and shrubs and flowers as well

easy on the eye and fragrant to smell.

But in this garden that was pleasant and bright

Stood a tomb that was grim and dark as night

The tomb was empty its door gaped wide

waiting for a body to be placed inside

Waiting..waiting for a grim dark day

For someone to die and be brought to lay

inside the tomb with a stone for a door

damp and musty smelling, sodden earthy floor.

Life went on in the garden outside

the old boy planted flowers

and watched them grow with pride

one day he brought some bulbs

to plant in a certain spot 
the plot was shady

for it didn't get a lot

of sun, it was off the beaten track

and soil fit for bulbs, the corner sadly lacked.

When the gardener had gone the bulbs looked all around

one of them sniffed, said; "This ain't my sort of ground

my breed of bulb is used to having pride of place.

No one will come here to see my golden face!"

"I quite agree" spoke up a nearby friend

"This soil is awful it really is the end!

I'm used to conditions superior to this,

so dank and dark!" he said "The sun I'll really miss.

"Why look at that hideous bulb sitting over there!

I really can't stay here to grow and share

the same soil as her! She's dried up like a prune!

I shall have to move and it must be very soon

or my roots will sprout and I'll be here for good

come on, let's move! I know that we should!"

The bulb he'd referred to so rudely, as a prune

said; "I think you should stay here to grow into plants and bloom

the gardener I'm sure always does what's right

he put us here to make this corner bright"

"Pooh!" said the others "This may be right for you

in fact, a bulb like you shouldn't be in view!

We're quite sure if you ever struggle into flower

your bloom will be sickly not beautiful like ours!"

So off went the others bouncing on their ways

Off to find a place where they'd be seen and praised

The prune-like bulb sadly stayed alone

Snuggled into the soil too sad to weep or moan.

The days passed by the bulbs began to grow

The gardener came by to water them and hoe.

The prune-like bulb grew like all the others

but not in the sun like her snooty brothers.

The sunlit bulbs often looked across to sneer

called out insults would laugh and jeer

"Just look at that bloom! Oh what a sight!

Doesn't she look such a perfect fright!"

The bulb in the corner sadly hung her head

and tried not to mind what they cruelly said.

"I'll try to be the best bulb the gardener's ever sown"

she said to herself as she grew on alone.

One dark night came the noise of tramping feet

Along the garden paths that the gardener kept so neat

Sounds of weeping and the grate of solid stone

then a silence fell in the dark and lowering dome

A twilight lasted the garden seemed forlorn

Then three days later There came a blinding dawn

A figure emerged from the grim tomb of stone

A figure that moved through the garden walking all alone

Bringing such a morning never seen before

No corner where he walked was in darkness any more.

He strolled about then stopped and quietly spoke

"What a wonderful flower!" and his hand stretched out to stroke

the petals of the flower our lonely bulb had grown
The bulb bent towards the light, all darkness round had flown
"Thank you little bulb" said Jesus for growing in the dark
you have lighted up this corner, and made it much less stark
And Jesus went his way not seeing the other flowers
and the lonely bulb, stood taller and remembered her finest hour.