BibleRhymes once a day will help the kids to be okay
It pays to read, I promise so; the words become a picture show
My studio’s my comfy chair. My head lays back, feet in the air…
I stare with closed eyes straight ahead and next my smile starts to spread
In my head a book’s designed that’s fitted for a child’s mind.
The kind with pictures fun and bright that call to all the pearly whites.
I write these rhymes all night long. The words to me are like a song.
If they belonged to me I’d say. But God’s the potter. I’m the clay.
The way it happens marvels me. I’m sitting with my cup of tea…
Or maybe cocoa, I don’t know, but rhyming stories start to flow.
Noah’s Ark, Creation too; with many more that we will do
To name a few: there’s Joseph’s Coat or Moses on his reeds afloat
Devoted Daniel in the den where hungry lions gobble men…
Then there’s David, on we go, we’ll even visit Jericho.
I didn’t know, never knew, that this is something I would do.
To me it seems a bit unreal, though I’ll admit there’s much appeal.
I feel if I reach anyone before my numbered days are done
I’ll have won the grandest prize; just let me brighten someone’s eyes.
It took some tries to write a book. The rhythm soon became the hook.
I couldn’t overlook my past; the rhyming helps the stories last
Kids learn fast, absorbing words. They grow up quick; the time is blurred.
And be assured while they are young that seeds are planted by our tongues.
Among the seeds I try to sow are stories I heard long ago.
They mean so much. They make it clear that all the time the Lord is near.
But this frontier is new to me. I wanted more than poetry.
You see? I needed one more part; Antonella’s precious art.
When this started she and I had only met while passing by.
I hadn’t seen what she could do and now she helps to pull me through.
The two of us a funny pair; the poetry, the artist’s flair…
We dared to dream. We gave a try. The, “how”, we learned. We knew the “why”.
And now I visit Christian schools with Bible rhymes as Christian tools.
It fuels me up. They sit. I read. Then hands fly up. I’m third-degreed.
The children, keyed, are having fun. The questions spring from every one.
When I’m done I get demands. High-fiving children slap my hands.
You understand? This cracks me up. It’s like I’ve won the Stanley Cup.
The kids erupt to Anto’s art and listen close when stories start.
Now in my heart I’m feeling blessed. For me, my life is at its best.
I’m on a quest; no end in sight. Dry pens won’t stop the rhymes I write.
Wrong or right this is me. I hope that this will help you see.
There’s more to me than meets the eye. And now it’s time to say goodbye.
Copyright © 2007 Ken McCardell