Bob Greenwald: 2012

Unless otherwise stated all poems were written by…

Robert Smiley Greenwald

229 Kulipu'u St. Kihei Maui, Hi. 96753

PSALMS THAT SMILE

Although Poems lack melody and harmony yet should be sung with rhythm and emotion. Poems like songs need to be familiar before it's read.

Archeologists found sophisticated libraries that existed 6,000 years ago containing cuneiform poetry on clay tablets.

David's Shepherd Psalms are 3,000 years old. Jewish Scriptures include poetry by Moses, Deborah, Solomon, Isaiah and Jeremiah, Mary's Magnificat and Hannah's psalm "As some of your own poets have said." Paul quotes Greek Poets at the Areopagus in Athens.

By the 14th century British Poetry flowered, Chaucer, Donne, Shakespeare, Kipling, and Keats.

Most every time the Holy Spirit speaks it is in poetry

The poems in this book cover sixty years.

Some were difficult to write, others flowed, line by line. All are meant to give insight into life. Some are happy, some are sad, some are angry, and others glad.

These poems are meant to give a glimpse of God's character and love.

If they bless you it is because of His inspiration.

Thanks to friends who allowed their poems to be included: Gary E, Ruth K, Barbara S, Bill L-W Andrea. H

Robert Smiley Greenwald

229 Kulipu'u St Kihei. Maui, Hawaii 96753

E-mail: smileygrn@hawaii.rr.com

WHAT DOES IT HURT

A little bit of treasure nigh, Just a slightly

Jaundiced eye. Master mammon; why?

It's enough for me to die? Suffer?

When I can miss the cross! Accept trials?

It's such a loss. Take orders? He's not my boss,

Why should I count the cost?

From a bleak and bleary hill

A longing shepherd's calling still to sheep

Who've greener grassed themselves to death.

ONE DAY

One day, not to soon, and not too late,

Came a man who wasn't anxious or did he hesitate

He didn't worry about what to eat or wear,

Nor did he buy the world's constant care

He came; pure and holy, a man without sin,

With His Father; He had a special in

The source of light and life and power,

His hour came for Him to die

He hesitated with a cry, if it's possible let this cup

pass from Me yet not My will but Yours be done

KINGDOM

To enter God's Kingdom is the hardest thing

you'll ever do although the price is high,

It was paid for you

Not to allow God's grace to flow through us as

well as in seems as foolish as the thing called sin.

EARTH'S GLAD HOPE

(Observations from thirty thousand feet above Oregon)

Haze and shadow, fog and cloud, jet engines screaming loud.

Snow capped peaks speak of treasured water's store where.

Aqueducts and causeways bring the miracle of sun and seed.

All are nourished as our kind earth bleeds.

Who made the earth all brown and green, with liquid jewels

Set in-between?
with twisting streams thru man-made plots

Buttressed by holding places for reservoirs and crops;

With humble hearts we offer praise for gifts of daily bread.

Like Eve from Adam on that drowsy afternoon

You planted us to creep along earth's crests and swales,
To plow through seas or pierce the air,

So we could learn to love or curse You there.

Is fickle nature nurtured by a loving hand? Hurt and bleeding,
wounded by rebel man. Human ingenuity furrows free-ways

Like herringbone or stripe covers earth's fecund nakedness.

The Lord of Life came to banish deaths dark tyranny, cleanse creation from sin's corrosive curse

Then lonely earth will proliferate in lavish beauty
Dressed in costumed pageantry for her Lord.

And Soon

She'll find in Him, the peace and serenity she adored.

Earth's Glad Hope 1976 written on a jet flying to Portland Or.

Worked on for twenty four years = quit May 2001?

Fecund = rich, liberal, generous, fertile, abundant, exuberant

A TOUCH OF PARADISE

A touch of paradise is all I ask.

To keep my spirits high.

A trade wind breeze about my knees,

A gray dove's gentle cry.

The push of the swim, the burning sun.

Fish beneath the sea.

Love was there and friends were there,

To keep me company.

Sun flecked blue, fishnet globe,

Buoyant in the ocean's foaming swell,

Awesome breakers consuming coral reefs,

A story long to tell.

Starlit nights with tropic song,

That dances to its grace

The string of life come pulsing back,

To show my Father's face.

And when it's gone my heart will ache,

For Islands perfumed air.

May I walk with you again, .

Wild jasmine in your hair?

1983 Written on a 747 while returning from a Hawaiian vacation.

Two couples went with us. We found a fish net float in a bay on Kauai

A SEED OF FAITH

A seed of faith was planted in my heart.

It wasn't much to start.

I could barely see it,

When I'd stare, it wasn't there.

One time I tried to dig it up and watch it grow, How it lived I'll never know.

Flimsy little seed, couldn't even bleed!

Then it began to grow.... Sort of slow.

But I could feel it coming up. The shoot's of life.

It's roots grew deep in peace.

It spread its branches out in love.

Weighted down with clustered joy,

Fragrant and inviting.

Funny now with its towering trunk

And fruit hung boughs.

I don't look for seeds at all.

Yet if I pick some fruit.

And leave it in a pleasant place.

And some one takes a bite.

They'll find in that delicious fruit.

Before they've chewed too long.

A Seed of Faith

In 1970. I prayed with John Guiterriz's mother to receive the Lord. The next day she called and said it "didn't take". I started thinking about the subjectivity of Faith and so "the Seed."

ADAM AND EVE STORY

That Chant, that Chant, that terrible Chant

That tells what we can and says what we can't.

That tells of a man put it). Paradise.

And of his wife, the glory of his eyes.

How by disobedience and lust.

They broke their Giver's sacred trust.

The goodness; that they knew by heart.

By knowing evil was set apart.

Some helpmate she who stole his joy,

And for her part conceived

A murderous and a murdered boy.

Yet it was his shame, the credit's due.

For when he spoke, he spoke for two.

Its taste so sweet, its look so cool.

But that knowledge became disaster's tool.

Before their eyes they saw their shame,

Afterwards they felt its pain.

Now; when that subtle reptile slithers in,

And tries to con you with that silly grin.

Just remember that his head's been crushed

And you know in Whom to put your trust.

In 1968 I was walking in the concourse at O. S.U

I had missed an appointment.

This poem came two lines at a time, with no thought on my part.

LUST IS LIKE RUST

Lust is like rust, those terrible scales

That corrodes our lives

Sends our ships to the whales.

Like Jonah; who ran away,

From doing God's will.

That whale like Jonah,

Got more than his fill.

"IN"

The open line is what I want

Direct to the One Who's in control.

Where there's only One and things get done.

And the subordinates can't act droll.

In: past desk one, saint or secretary two

Into the inner sanctuary,

Where my name is known,

And when I'm on the phone,

I'm listened to.

In 1963 we became partners with Roy and Marybelle Cox in their model

airplane manufacturing plant and I could walk right in, God has taken us in

as partners and allows us to come directly to the Mercy Seat.

HOPE IS LIKE ROPE

Hope is like rope,

That wonderful twine.

That lifts heavy burdens,

On which we can climb.

Like Abraham not knowing,

How God would come through,

Yet acted in faith,

His hope always knew.

That somehow, in spite,

Of everything wrong.

God's Word was trustworthy,

He'd end with a song,

A song of deliverance,

Of victory, of hope, God is the closest,

At the end of your rope.

Now when we're in need,

Of comfort and cheer,

When the night's grown dark,

And no one is near.

Remember that glory

Waits for all who obey.

So keep doing His will, As long as there's day.

So grab on to your hope,

And climb to the sky.

Jesus is coming,

We may never die.

But hope gone slack,

Like rope in a pile.

Makes a tangle of life,

Then nothing's worth while. RS.G. 1972

A SIMPLE SEED OF LUST

A simple seed of lust that brings forth sin.

It looks so simple, it seems so thin.

But rooted in this flesh of mine.

It turns into a most tenacious vine.

Its roots, all hidden, creep into my mind.

It begins to choke, tho' I think I'm fine.

The virus of lust in the cells of my blood.
The cancer of sin comes on like a flood.

It changes my love to the bitterest of strife.

It brings forth death while it says it is life.

I think I'm being fulfilled by my greed.

But it really has nothing to do with my need.

The pride of my thinking, is this is-my goal?

The truth of the matter is, I've lost control.

In storms of desire I'm swept by the waves

When judgment comes I'll call for the caves.

The atrophy of watching myself lose my soul.

Of seeing my purpose go down in a hole.

I can't ask others to root out my heart
No one will 'help until I do my part

How can I kill it, get rid of this sin?

Cut out this root that's doing me in?

I hear there's a tonic of a cross on a hill.

To make it work I've got to be willing to kill.

"Those who belong to Christ have crucified their old nature with all that it loved and lusted for: If we live by the Spirit, let us-be guided by the Spirit." (Gal. 5: 24 -25)

Mission

A desperate sense of time - all past.

That the lone opportunity has fled.

The open door is slammed and shut.

And someone's blood has bled.

The hungering life, now embalmed and gone.

Children without a home.

The fanatic, passionate, untamed.

Or the dried, parched, cold bone,

God of the living, lively love,

Of the real, the kind, and true,

Move me with urgency against the clock.

Batter the door, transfuse the blood,

Stir the heart, build the home ..

Harness the desire, fill the flesh.

God of the living, lively love.

Of the real, the kind and true.

Move into my thoughts and passions Lord.

To do Your Will, o God.

Sitting 1963 in church, with the flora and fauna battling my digestive system after visiting the M. A. F. base in Brazil, Wycliffe at Yarinacocha, Peru, O.M·S. seminary Medellin, Colombia with Dr. B. H. Pearson, I wrote this poem.

COMMUNION

They broke bread with unaffected joy,

Remembering that Death for Life.

Not before- but after

The roaring wind and tongues of fire,

United hearts in His desire.

The thrill that here they were all One;

The marriage feast had just begun,

The gaiety of being free From their failures' penalty.

The joys of sparing there, The mounting beauty of

Compassion's air.

No longer controlled by the haunts of want; Freed from greed's own inner fire.

Given control over their desire. They broke their bread ,.- unleavened,

But .... warmed by His Love's fire.

MAN IS A MIRROR

Man is a mirror dirty and cracked.

Sin's the cause, the cards were all stacked

Made in perfection God's reflection to show.

Lust fogged up the mirror, so it lost all its glow

Made in His likeness His glory to shine. Man never counted on dirt, dust and grime. Man is a mirror meant to reflect- The Grace of God; but it's lost by neglect.

JUDAS' LAST SUPPER

He knelt? - He knelt. He knelt before that man!

That humiliating towel around His waist

His abdomen pulled in knots,

In tension for tomorrow's death.

The feet of those who loved.

He loved much more;

And carefully removed the dust

Of the pathway's common grime.

How longingly He held that foot,

Into whose heart the world's own crime was born

Poured upon it cool, clean water; wiped and dried.

But that heart stayed dry.

Covered with the broadway's deadly dirt.

EZEKlEL'S VISION

See those bones lying in the valley.

Scattered - separate and apart:

Spending their time contending

Without mind or heart.

Hear the Wind, God is moving.

Placing each pone in human form,

Joining them in living union.

Breathing life to make them warm.

Feel the drumming, God's heart is beating.

For His lost and fallen race.

Transfusing His life into them.

Blood of Christ's life giving grace.

HIPPIE PROPHET

They laugh at the guy who's clean in mind.

They say he's not the revolutionary kind.

They want their insights filled with fright.

Full of cutting words that always bite.

Now I've never been quite so perverse.

To put a nightmare down in verse.

So can't I ever speak for God?

Or am I just a common clod?

I don't write vulgar things on rest room walls.

Or scratch obscene verse in vacant halls.

I don't even reek of sniffing glue.

So can't I be a prophet too?

The Word of God comes bright and clear.

Although the price to pay is often dear.

I'd rather find God's will for me.

Than take a trip on L. S. D.

Seminary students stayed at our home in 1955. They had been taught and believed that God speaks through graffiti to prophesy to the present generation. I became so disgusted that I penned this poem.

THE RITUAL

The ritual, a chant to bring us back to reality.

A cross, a hill, the unholy thrill,

Of death and agony.

Innocent and guilty blood poured out together.

That's communion?

Men have at least one thing in common.

We all die!

Bite-sized bits of bread and demitasse cups

Frozen grape juice.

The covenant, a spear, a chopped off ear.

A lonely prayer, while people stare.

A scream in the dark while earth shudders!

Men despair; idiots laugh.

A gamble? .. or certainty.

'68 IN CHURCH

Outside these sacred walls the muffled drums

Of funeral dirge are calling as the prophets cry,

"Outside is where they die".

The pleasant pews impart

A sense of comfort to their hearts.

Conform to the ritual, the creed,

Be filled with greed outside is where they bleed.

Give them some money, a taste of honey ....

I'm tense, incensed,

The invocation left me provoked,

While all around the people joked.

SON - SHINE

Righteousness sits with open face

Smiling with God's own gift of Grace.

Weeping now with those who weep.

Running and shouting with those who leap.

A loving heart for the lost and dying.

No time for selfish sobs or sighing.

A rejoicing soul in the midst of reverses.

A victorious mind with the moving hearses.

An example of Jesus' own joyous life.

A maker of peace a damper of strife.

This is the man I want to be.

This is the Christ the world should see.

"Son Shine" Written about a friend who always wore a sour look as he sat in church. Robert S. Greenwald 1958

OPEN DOORS

Don't heave and push against closed doors

Or cry your eyes out in despair

They really weren't God's doors fit all,

His are like walking through - clear air. R. S. G. 1969

20th CENTURY ELIJAH

Away from the world of reality,

We live in 11 fantasy's dream.

A leisurely trip' to the desert.

Or fishing beside a stream.

We escape the hard facts of living.

Of kindness and gentle rapport.

With those not in agreement.

We busily add up the score.

Now my heart is bleeding for those.

Who used to be friends?

I pray to the man who was Judas'd.

To show me the way to amends.

I'm a shirker, a critic, a compromiser;

I'm narrow, provincial, and trite;

I'm a Pharisee, Sadducee, Communist.

There's nothing I do that is right.

Dear Jesus, deserted and lonely.

You died for me and my sins.

Give me grace to love and be gentle.

To walk the path that you've tread.

R S. G, 1960

THERE IS A WORLD

I was struck today as I began to realize There's a world out there

Men who are boys- handsome, tall, and strong

Uptight with fear, Not knowing right from wrong

Existing in a cold world devoid of care

That's what's out there

Sad faces, halfhearted laughter,

An attitude of despise. There is a world out there!

Men having lost the incentive to find

Who they are, where they're from,

Where they're going or why they die

Living from height to height, Experience to experience, emotion to emotion
And cannot spare- that's what's out there!

Who will reach out and take them in? There is a world out there!

Who's strong enough to face the facts

And help others from running,

Hiding and turning their backs?

Who will help those with outstretched hands To face reality squarely and stand?

I'm excited as I realize there's a world out here!

There are strong men who really care

For the weak, the hungry, cold and bare-

Who offer hope and light in a darkened world To men who have never seen before

And strength comes from beyond the heart's door--- That's what is out there!

Bill Lee-Warner 1970

QUESTION FOR JOHN

Oh John! That day on Patmos

That Special Lord's Day

When you were in the Spirit

Worshiping the Alpha and Omega

He who Is and Was and is to come

Lord God Almighty.

When loud and like a trumpet sound,

You heard a voice commanding

you to write, to seven churches.

And looked full into that face,

Like the sun shinning in its strength.

So you fell as a dead man at His feet.

Did you recall, that once upon that breast,

Now girded with a golden band,

Your head reclined,

Beloved disciple of our Lord?

Ruth O. Kayser 1978

BORN AGAIN

The new birth Says to me.

I'm not a slave to Heredity.

2 Cor. 5: 17 & John 3:3 R.S.G.

JUNGLE VISION

Jungle sounds and jungle noises,

Fetid heat and aching limbs,

Constant buzzing, constant bleeding Ticks are poking through my skin.

Get the supper, baby's crying

Cut the wood and make a fire

Soaking saplings fizz and sputter Smoking agony, no bread or butter.

Light a match in soggy kindling Frustration's fire, my strength is dwindling.

Fear and failure, fountains of grief,

No time to rest or find relief

Emotions rising, tears cascading

Bitter words and aching heart.

Resentment growing, spirit sagging.

All this because my fire-won't start?

Where is God and why am I here?

I'm calling for Him, why isn't He near?

Surrounded by people but lonely am I?

Misfitted, miserable, why can't I die?

Surely He's forgotten He sent me hear to labor,

I'd rather be home just loving my neighbor.

Dirt, dust, and grime - it's so unclean.

You said "Go forth" is that what you mean?

I'll quit, give up, flop down on-my bed.

"To the ends of the earth" is that what You said?

My bed is hard, it's made of poles.

The rain comes in the roofs full of holes.

I'm going home; this is no fun.

Others will do it - get Your job done.

Fatigue is complete - heart, head, and hand.

Don't tell me about faith God, You don't understand

Praying, fasting, confessing, repenting, teaching,

preaching, study unrelenting. You've never been here.

What do you know of 'fatigue and fear?

Wait! What is that? What do I see?

My sights so bleary, where is reality?

Yes, I see it! There's something in the sky.

Is God speaking to me? I'm not passed by?

It's a hand reaching down, fingers slightly curled,

Bronzed, veined, gnarled and knurled.

The thing I see most, from which I can't turn away.

Are the calluses there, not earned in a day.

What a 'blessing that sight of God's own palm.

His presence invades me and now I am calm.

Jesus worked in a carpenter shop:

Who am I to think I could stop?

He knows about toil, muscles that pain.

He knows of discouragement, heat, wind and rain,

I get the message, I know what He knows.

I feel His compassion right down to my toes.

He who is perfect struggled here, too.

To suffer a little- is the least I can do.

Back to my wood. I'll chop it up right.

Build up the fire, we will eat tonight.

Swat the bugs, blink in the smoke.

God met me down here at the end of my rope.

The vision is gone, except in my mind.

I can see it no more. But I'm no longer blind.

In 1965 David and Barbara Sealand were in the Jungle Camp

as part of the training for Wycliffe Bible Translators. They were

there with their baby Wes when Barbara had this vision and shared

it nine years later.

LINGUISTIC LIE

What a marvelous mind I've got, No place for sin and all that rot.

I've found a label for things I do, By my definition I'm righteous and true.

It looks like envy, I call it ambition,

When I set out to improve my condition.

I don't use the word covet, I just want what's mine,

A few more possessions and I'll be just fine.

I call it kindness - it's really not lying.

Let's be open - minded, to be narrow is trying.

I don't live in fear, though I'm humble and shy, Why, there's nothing appealing I wouldn't try.

In the name of love I complain to the preacher, Shout at my kids, bawl out the teacher. -
Someone has got to take charge around here, And none but I can, that's certainly clear.

You call it arrogance, I call it poise,

To live above and beyond the world's ugly noise.

It's not lack of faith, it's just common sense,

To protect myself with a barbed - wire fence.

A still small Voice says, "Who are you kidding?

I've got language that's finer, more fitting.

My words are precise, they cut to the heart."

So now I see His words-, seems I'm not so smart.

The secret sin in my soul is still the same, No matter how glibly I try to change its name.

Barbara Sea1and 1973

THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN - WHAT IS IT?

It's the reason for repentance, the need for new birth

It's the prayer we pray for heaven to come on earth

His preaching and His parables as terrible as they may be

The treasure, pearl, fish, seed even the mustard tree.

It's our primary motivation, the first thing we should seek

It's for the "poor in spirit" as the earth is for the meek

It's the King's first concern, His word about it too

It's your own inheritance; He made it just for you.

It's good news to be proclaimed to a hopeless world

When our King returns His flag will be unfurled

Where we reign in righteousness, His perfect will be done.

The lie that Satan tells us is "it isn't any fun"

It eliminates our worrying over shelter food and clothes

When we put it first we get much more than those.

We read it in the Gospels. Acts Epistles too

You would think by people's ignorance

It must something new.

In 1946 I wrote a 30 page term paper about the Kingdom of God

and got an "A" on it. In 1975 Don Widmark gave me E. Stanly Jones

"The Unshakable Kingdom and the UnChanging Person. I went back

and read my paper and discovered that I was 90% wrong. This poem has it right.

"TALK STORY" OF HOPE

Eons ago when the world was young,

The Logos spoke; tectonic plates were sprung

Spewing shimmering streams of fire in the sky

Fountains of the deep ripped open causing men to die.

Hood, Rainer, Pinatubo, Popocate'petl, Santorini, Raining fire from Mauna Loa to Krakatoa.

The canopy shattered Judging a flooded earth Then a covenant of promise arced in the sky.

Seven Islands lifted up in the middle of -the sea Haleakala lifted high in the Eastern sky Men honor the majestic "House of the Sun"

Haloed by clouds that speak of better things to come.

1820 Families brought God's Word to lift the darkness

Healing a great people from .superstitious fears

Heathen three toned chants changed to exquisite melodies

Men's warfare dance changed to graceful gospel hulas.

A house of hope is built to honor the most high This sanctuary illuminates the way to holiness

A meeting place for fellowship and praise

Born by the Lord Jehovah to enter His new creation.

Beyond Lanai and Molokai past the "kai" {ocean) Freedom for all to fellowship in the Son's light Children delight in His love with gifts of life

The "barren land" branches into a fruitful vine

Queen Ka'ahumanu stopped the Kahuna's KapusThat demanded human sacrifice to propitiate Pele She sits powerless dressed in her pathetic pahoehoe

"Offer to God an acceptable service with reverence

and awe For our God is a consuming fire"(Heb.12:29)

THERE IS MORE TO LIFE

The is more to life than 60, 80, 110 years

More than emotions; laughter and tears

Life is certainly more than food or drink

Even authors need more than pen and ink

Infant years soon grow into teenage tears

With repossession fears if financially in arrears

Many men seem caught up in mid life illusions

Sadly we slowly drift into old age confusions

But there has to be more to life!

Life is not money or fame or even arthritic pain

Certainly not thrill of pills or stock market gain

Some in frustration beat their heads on walls

Others sit in depression trying nothing at all

But there is kindness and compassion

Even though they may seem out of fashion

Yet fashion has little to do with eternity

While righteousness let us live a life of integrity

R.S.O. April 2005- took ten minutes to write.

FREEDOM'S DOOR

For nineteen years in Time's tunnel

My life stream shrunk like the flow of a funnel

The walls coming in the ceiling descending

The search for escape- became never ending.

I crisscrossed Time's corridor from room to room, Not able to face the inevitable doom.

Who can walk times hall looking straight ahead?

Not worrying that Time will soon see him dead.

As a child I tried the chamber of day dreams

But I was soon pulled out by someone' s screams I searched Times hall, trying many a door

From time to escape for evermore.

I entered the room of lust and drink

But with my escape they held no link

So I crossed the hall to a door marked dope

The fantasy of pill land held no hope.

I stayed in the room filled with pills,

A voiding my problems by having cheap thrills.

How could Time catch one so young?

Life's full song I had not sung.

For many a Day I cried inside

My deepest sorrow I could not hide

One thought; one fear transcended my mind

How could I Escape the trap of Time?

One night some drugs almost ended it all.

The hope of escape; the trip down the hall.

But a door named Jesus opened for me,

And from time's bonds I'm forever free

Now I'm living under God's grace

But against time I still must race.

For I must warn men who have uncertainty,

That Jesus is the door to Life's eternity.

Gary Endermann wrote this poem to tell the story of his life.

He dreamt it a stanza at a time. 1969

HOW BIG AM I

How small are my waves on the seas of life?

How simple my woes, in this world of strife?

How short is' my life,

In the annals of time?

Bow short are the moments,

We live in our prime?

How small is my breath,

When caught in the wind?

How dark are my days When infested with sin?

How big can a man, ever hope to be?

When he lives in a bubble, of false reality.

Written by Gary Endermann, at a college weekend retreat

at Wynema on the Oregon Coast after he sat up all night

in the sand dunes. 1969

THE JUDGEMENT

Blind and naked there I stood

Before, the. only one who could

Know more than I of my iniquity

And see the depths of my hypocrisy.

I'd kept the garbage, deep in my mind,

Down in the sewers where no one could' find

But He knew the cause of my heartfelt shame

He knew my sins name by name.

I was a good man. I started to say,

But those shallow words just drifted away,

As I stood before the one who could see,

My disgraceful infidelity.

It's too late why didn't I believe? That Calvary was my only reprieve ...
Here comes the death that choketh me And I shall thirst for eternity.

Gary Enderman

THE VISION

I saw Him there far out in space

A look of kindness on His face.

And in His hand He held a cup.

Out-stretched-to me - in love.

I saw this vision in1965 during a time of prayer

When Chuck Farah visited us at San Clemente.

THE LOST ARK

David,! David! What did you say?

When you got mad at God and went away.

Leaving the Ark with Abed Edom.

You had instructions couldn't you read 'em.

When God slew a man for being so dumb.

To protect the Ark by the rule of thumb:

Tipping off an ox cart I still hear his screams

Doing God's will by man made means,

David why did you walk off in a huff?

Did you think you could call God's bluff?'

You don't just dump the ark on a cart

You carry it carefully with poles for a start.

Michael, your wife was very bored

When you danced before the Lord?

She thought you must have lost your mind

Her cutting comments were most unkind.

David did you really need all those wives?

Who kept you so busy in their lives?

You let your children go to hell.

They had problems, couldn't you tell?

You had concubines to quench your lust.

Was watching Bathsheba such a must?

You got her pregnant, murdered her man.

Did that seem right, to be God's plan?

You used to watch sheep by the hour

Reveled in all God's grace and power

When the world gave you what it had to offer

You shriveled up into a spiritual pauper.

THE EUNUCH

Proud and urbane I seemed

Well educated, widely traveled.

A treasurer trusted by a queen,

But a facade screened the bitterness

And memories made the silk of luxury

Chafe like sackcloth.

Long ago, the fright of capture

of shackled servitude And then ---

bound like an animal—The anguish of gelding. Long afterward, festering sores

And worse, a noble lineage lost.

Even now; the naked indifferent faces

Of women who would hide themselves from men Children's eyes that stop and-stare

The easy camaraderie of men,

That quits when I approach.

For years I lived an isolate

Powerful, capable -and alone.

No stars in heaven signed my course

No fertility ritual for me

And the great Mithras did not enlighten. Venturing once to Jerusalem

Even the religion of the Jews

Offered no sanctuary for me, a eunuch.

I read of One who suffering, made no sound

His lineage was cut off His shame, absolute.

His love accepted me as one among many brothers

His healing made me whole.

"An angel spoke to Philip "Go to the road that descends to Gaza.

An Ethiopian Eunuch was reading Isaiah,

"He was led as a sheep to the slaughter ....

In humiliation His judgment was taken away.

Who shall relate His generation?"

(Acts 8: 26) Andrea Herling 1978

LITTLE LAMB (Psalm 2023)

In embarrassed silence, overwhelmed by loneliness

Friendless, I thought, no one seems to care

A gentle sun glisten through the trees

Turning the leaf strewn path to shimmering gold

Quieting my torment of things to do and be

I heard Him speak! I heard-Him; deep inside of me

From a place where I had not heard before

He whispered to my impatient frustration

I love you, Little Lamb do you love Me?

Joy is your portion if you'll rest My arms

My peace can surround you like a melody

I planted rich pastures to fill your emptiness

I've flung clouds over the mountains

A clear stream tumbles into a tranquil pool

I chiseled steps of righteousness for your feet

I've given you honor to serve of the Most High

My anointing grace is power to heal, and help

I bought you this gift of life at Calvary

Little Lamb I have many sheep for you to bless.

Now you know the reason I came to bless you.

1965 A bunch of men met to pray from six to seven AM,

five days a-week, in different homes. One wife came several

mornings desiring to be anointed by God's Spirit. 'I wrote this poem in

hopes of seeing her spirit calmed. It did and she did.

SEALED BY THE SPIRIT

Not the security of a gold stone sealing a tomb,
It's the warm living imprint of genes in a womb.

Not rose-colored glasses to change our appearance;
But God's second wind to give us endurance.

It's not that, really defeated, we finally slip in,

But God's massive assault on the assumption of sin.

It's His promises of victory in the midst of the war,
our peace comes from His victories store.

So get up if you're sleeping, get out of your bed.
It's not you, put the devil, which really is dead!

After attending a conference and hearing that our

security in Christ had nothing to do with His power in us to overcome sin. I disagreed and wrote this poem. 1967

TODAY'S GRACE

The great way He does it for every day I live

He meters His mercy so there's more for me to give. It comes down like manna; good just for today. That's why I depend on Him it's why I love to pray Every day I'll encourage you, and you encourage me. To be dependent on Grace that's always free.

R S. G. 1969

I NAILED HIM THERE

Moment by moment, day by day,

I keep on going my own way.

Forgetting about the imminent God,

Thinking He's blind to the way I trod.

But I know, He knows, all too well,

The easy road that leads to hell.

Why Christ's scream on the cross?

"My God, My God" a total loss?

And yet to my shame,

In my own sweet way,

I nailed Him there again, today,

ON LISTENING TO TAPED SERMONS

Whenever 1 meet a spiritual tapeworm

And watch it slither on its spool,

I feel its reel is so unreal.

And SO I lose

COOL

Until the Word becomes flesh all we learn is doctrine but we must learn life,

not learn about Christ but learn Christ.

"KILL THE BEAST"

We had a tame rabbit who'd hop in our arms.

An innocent pet, safe from all harm.

A mean minded person threw a rock to its head.

It hopped to our door and dropped down, dead.

Anger and sadness stung my heart and my soul, For a person so unfeeling who took such a toll.

They had the choice to cast-that terrible stone.

But, do we live in the world "all alone"?

Like innocent little ones safe in the womb.

Never suspecting it would be their-tomb, "They're just fetal-tissue, cut them apart.

It's my body, My choice!" But where is your heart?

Kill them with a coat hanger, a vacuum or saw.

It's not even an animal for they have a law.

Back of an alley or clinic so clean.

The womb is silenced, not even a scream.

God help the rabbits, the seals and the fish.

But Please--- Don't forget the innocent,

Little ones, is always my wish.

A black rabbit was lost and began eating out of our garden.

It became It pet and ate from our hands. Some one killed it with a stone.

I was angry and wrote this poem .. Women always have the right to her body

but an unborn child is another person, pure innocent and guiltless.

Which hurts even more!

Robert S. Greenwald Feb. 6, 1994

DON'T BLAME ME

I've never wanted you to go to hell.

I pushed and shoved and rang your bell.

Don't say I didn't tell you it was bad.

Hey! Going there makes no one glad.

The other option, I hoped you'd take.

The one which always looks so great.

Yet you're drifting without a goal.

It'll cost you such a terrible toll.

It's easy to miss life's direction.

Sin only takes a small deflection.

Presuming everything's all right.

Can end us up in darkest night.

You worship things that man has made.

They can't answer when you've prayed.

We call them called idols for a reason.

They're deaf and dumb· in every season.

Is there any chance for me?

To help you on; to set you free?

I hope and pray with all my heart,

That you will make a better start.

1993 written to a friend who was dawdling around with God and wasting his life

ART AT O. S. U.

I would rather look at smog and blighted trees Than look at pictures such as these.

Grotesque and vulgar in their-shape,

Not even beauty do they ape.

But play upon the vulgar man,

In just the way the vulgar can;

To depress his already lowered view,

Of what a man like himself should do.

After looking at an art display in the concourse

at Oregon State University. Robert Sr. Greenwald 1968

MEDICAL

Why live a life filled with pills,

That medicate and educate all our soaring ills?

They lift Us up in the morning.

And put us down at night,

They can't control our equilib,

Or banish all our fright.

Creature comforts have become our god.
We've dulled our mind to eliminate our worry,

Our should is not a shan't or ought.

We'll get nowhere in a hurry.

We've lost our freedom for a medicated cage.
We're bought and caught until we're in a rage.
We don't live forever, enjoy it while we can.
Worrying about tomorrow,

Won't lengthen our life span.

NEWPORT BEACH

Upon a sandy shore I bought my house,

Redwood walls and chipping paint,

Ocean's spray on rotting screens,

Are beauty's wages … fate?

The gritty sand upon the floor,

Is swept back out to millions more,

The winds are here and stormswill blow,

Our lives aren't moving slow.

Hot brown backs but cool inside,

Sunny days and starry nights,

High tide, low tide, long tide, low,

I love the sand when it doesn't blow.

It shakes the house with rattling joints

But still it's "home" with all these points.

Tomatoes, potatoes, wieners and buns,

Hot coals on the beach is tons of fun.

Dreamy, dreary, plutocrats

End our days, fill our nights,

Selfishly receive our sights

All to live and die for naught.

Built on the sand the house we bought.

1948 We lived at 3200 Ocean Front Newport Beach. The wooden shiplap house was nineteen by twenty five feet. two stories high, very chummy for two people. It cost $3,500.

ONE CHANCE

Death; seal of all my earthly aspirations

The constant confirmation of my mortality.

Time will come when love lies cold.

This body, worse than. worthless, burned or buried,
Whose pain I've fought, and pleasure I've pursued
An expensive waste soon to be disposed of.

Pampered Soul, where will you go?

Are you simply refuse? Or an object of God' love?

Have I lived so that judgment's refining fire?

Will glow and shine with life's one value?

Have I tried to save myself and gain the world?

To lose the one thing worth keeping?

HOW TO PRAY

On your knees and pray up a storm,

Like Elijah after three years of famine.

Lift your hands; pray down a calm

As Jesus prayed on stormy Galilee.

Flat on 'your face; and pray back life

Like Elisha and the widow Nain's son

Prayer can't change a blessed thing

Unless it's His will and then you can sing.

The form you use when you do your part

Is the form or place you keep your heart.

CRECHE-ING THE TIME BARRIER

Behind the black blanket of night.

On through the cold staring stars.

Back of space: past all light.

Beyond time and eternity's fires.

Stands God.

Down through the star in Bethlehem's sky

Into space, time from eternity:

By angels, prophets, priests and kings.

Into a hay rack in a cow's stall. -Lay Love.

How could such things as these agree?

Or ever make a bit of sense?

And yet from that moment -

God let it be known,

That in Himself- Love came to earth.

As humblest man - In meanest life-

By lowest service-

Came and gave Himself –

To show His grace

To pay our debt –

To make us worth His fellowship.

Back of the life and blood

Of our Lord Jesus Christ-

Through His shared body

We come -- into

The Holy blessed presence --of God. Robert S. Greenwald 1959

CHRISTMAS PAST AND FUTURE

He came as a poor illegitimate baby He will return as God's only Son

He came as a-peasant Returns as Conquering King

He was born as a baby in Bethlehem.

He will plant His feet on the Mt. of Olives

Came quietly,

Comes with World's greatest earthquake Few saw Him. Now every eye will see Him. He came to save. He returns to judge. Came to serve. Returns to rule.

Heard only by poor shepherds.

A trumpet blast, heralds His return

A mighty shout the voice of the arch-angel

He came to give His life. Proceeds to destroy sin. The Inn keeper turned Him away.

Every knee bows and every tongue will confesses.

Proclaimed peace on earth to men of goodwill.

They shall cry for the rocks and hills to cover them.

Satan tempts Jesus with the Kingdoms of the world

He comes as the King of Kings and Lord of Lords.

Was rejected by His own people

A great multitude from every tongue

and tribe and nation will welcomed Him.

1971

X- MESS

The cheerful pounce of Yuletide joy, Season's spirits a poured from a glass, Bank accounts broken with the toys, While colored lights come out en masse.

Xmass begs the “great unknown”.

While Santa's elves fly high

The manger 'lies deserted and alone

Although eternal Truth stands nigh.

MOTHER'S SUNSET

It's the first time I've been here, So what can I do?

It's so strange, so beautiful, everything's new.

"Welcome dear friend I've been fixing this place,

For your celebration of God's perfect grace."

"The first thing I suggest You might like to do,

Is paint a sunset in memory of You. "

Mel I'm not an artist tho' I remember Prof. Zoice,

Can I really do it, do I have a choice?

"My dear girl, I created nature's beauty,

I'll help you paint; it's really your duty.

Use the sky for your canvas, color it with sun,

Burnish the clouds gold, think of the fun."

"Paint the sea, as gray as slate,

Better get started, you don't want to be late.

You gave them cookies, now the whole sky,

Say to them, 'You can do it. Why don't you try. "

I held my mothers hand while she died in 1982. A week later during the 20 minute drive from Oceanside to San Clemente. there was the most magnificent, unbelievably; beautiful Sunset I have ever seen. I felt that God was speaking to me. Prof Zoice taught my Mother art as a girl when she lived in the San Bernardino Mountains. I still have some of their watercolors.

Robert S. Greenwald

DROPLET

Shimmering silver drop of dew

Skittering silently across a lotus pad Sunbeams dancing, like liquid pearls

Reflect azure skies framed by stately clouds

It's a wonder to be living and I hope I never die.

Atoms - molecules - billions in a drop.

Delicate blossoms lift above a tranquil pool,

Floating earth, a universe bounded by eternity.

Lotus buds, calmly at rest, waiting.

Senses marvel at their beauty.

Did someone arrange them? Just for me? Love designed it, polished its glow

No rays of light, or sun's so bright, Could make it so.

Can faith leap far enough to say

That all alone, in this great eternity, That this droplet was a statement,

of His Love. Just for me?

In 1945 at the end of WW2 I was stationed for sixty days as the only American at Laifeng, China. I read sixty books during that time, and wrote "love" poem. Walking from the airstrip to the liver I came across this water lily.

WHAT IS LOVE?

(To Madilyn from Liafeng China 1945)

What is love? A silly ache of my body and my soul.

For what purpose? For whose sake?

Certainly it has no goal?

The moon is soft, the night, warm with stars.

There you are and here I am; - right!

Not much farther than from Earth to Mars.

Foolish pain, don't haunt me so;

And yet it's sweet, that pain.

I know not whether its glow is real, or am I insane?

Maybe I am insane, who knows?

To love you so far away

Yet your spirit shows itself most every day.

The wind blows soft from off the hill, all sweet –

and pure. Here you are, so clean, so still...

And at night, you're there ... a star.

All the worries I have are two.

Half is uncertainty, the rest is fear.

The first for me, the second for you,

Both would be gone if you were here.

To assuage the pain it's plain-to see.

The trouble is a world at war.

Soon it will be over, and you'll be with me,

Then love will hurt no more.

I was the only American stationed at Liafeng, China

at the end ofW.W.2 I read 60 books (1 a day) and

wrote this poem to Madilyn, my future wife,

who is the best thing that ever happened to me

for the past fifty years.

AZUSA

There's no war there, you feel it in the air.

You play your games; it's all so tame, And then, there's dames

To raise you mane.

But who.cares?

No broken bones or bleeding bodies,

No one's even looking shoddy.

The skirts are high and so am I,

In no man's land.

But what about the others?

The ones without mothers Whose hope is gone.

Who've never seen the dawn.

Oh! What a bother!

The victorious life without a war, Playing games without a score,
Going through the motions

With dead ammunition,

To learn the stances without ambition,

One day the real war will come.

I'm afraid they'll drop like ripe plumbs.

1971 written on campus on a brown paper sack.

CHRISTMAS '66

He came .. not as an ego centric slanderer,

A would be conqueror, "a god" repeating.

"I will"; I WILL' grasping after power.

He came as the satisfying essence of being;

Saying "I AM; here to deliver"

In simple dependence upon His Father;

He came as servant to the needs of man.

He came as Light to shine in darkness

"He who follows Me shall not walk blindly

But will glow with life's bright light. "

He came -- as life's reality;

As Truth, and Door, and Way, Narrow and restricted at the start

But leading to a freedom's heart.

He came; the Shepherd of the sheep,

Whose kindly hand will always keep.

And binds with oil, our wounds so deep.

GREED

How often sweeps across my mind.

I can have it, it is mine; I shall be like God

Or Hitler, Manson or Mao.

Yet how we scream when we are on the

receiving end of another's greed.

Freedom in money--- the swindle;

Freedom in words - vulgarity,

Freedom in love -- the affair,

Freedom in power -- The Bomb;

Freedom in politics -- Greed

Or Freedom in God -- Holiness

How often we hear the lonely cry,

When the results of a life of self for self,

Are all added up…

My God, My God! Why have I forsaken You!

CAIN

Cain; why are you so angry? Why do you look so sad?

Sin is crouching at your door that's why you look so bad

You must master it, or it will surely conquer you.

Lions, which are lions, can tear you limb from limb

Roaring as they seek your life, yet you still can win.

It doesn't make things right; to hate and hurt and kill.

You're a Vagrant; Cain, a horrible polluting spill,

You've lost your hope but kept your sword.

"Cain went out; from the presence of the Lord"

ALONE

A man alone on an empty hill,

Surrounded by crowds with lust to kill Deserted by His Fathers love,

Hatred below; abandoned above

He told us before it took place

He knew it was coming; the gift of God's grace

The terrible result of sin in us all,

Pride, lying, murder which began at the fall

He knew its terror before it began

The result was love as part of God's plan

To bring us back by an act of His will,

Yet in our selfishness-we reject Him still. R.S.G.

OUR FATHER'S TOUCH

Father; touch our children

Who've never learned to listen?

They're so busy twisting dials and knobs

Yet they've never see dew glisten.

Kid's miss the magic of imagination?

Whose calm is drumming syncopation?

Light their inner spirits life,

Let fun be more than stimulated strife.

Touch their noses and let them smell

Air's fresh fragrance, not the stench of Hell.

Train their ears to hear your voice

When trials come they'll have a choice.

Restore their limbs, heal their feet.

Let them live a life complete.

Keep their choice from falling short,

May their hope in life not abort.

Guide their hearts so guilt; remorse,

Won't be their guiding course.

Touch their parents - Dads and Moms,

Let love surround and keep them calm.

Turn their wandering hearts to home,

Never let them live alone.

Jesus; You took the children in,

Let them feel Your warmth again. R.S.G. 1996

THE ANSWER

Life is empty without meaning to life

There is pain frustration, sadness and strife

Hoping for hope in life with a wife

Isn't the answer

A fancy car with shiny do-dads

A high paying job with beautiful clads,

Even adventure in someone's Bed

Isn't the answer.

Drugs to expand the mind of man
Alcohol to free his inhibitory span Nicotine to prove you're a man

Sticking like psychological jam

Isn't the answer!

Fun, pleasure, Church of hobby

Reflect the search of the human soul

To find release from the rude and snobby,

Uninterested, ego-centric, selfish and cold-

For the warm satisfying life,

Found only in,

The One who has the answers!

By Bill Lee-Warner while a student at Oregon State

In 1969, A pastor for 30 years died of a brain tumor in 2002

Bob Greenwald

Saturday, December 29, 2012

Bob's Paintings

The KINGDOM of GOD

Thursday, December 27, 2012

Bob Greenwalds Poems

About Me