National Poetry Month--Day 28--Hero Poems

Today is Hero Poem day. If you want to know more about Hero Poems, go here. And my poems:


Lon-who doesn't 
believe in green ties


I know I don't often tell you
So that you'll know it's true
How much I've come to value
The myriad things you do

There's not another person
Who works both day and night
To make our life here better
Make weighty problems light.

You're gentle with small children
Every wounded little thing
You care about your people
You dance around and sing.

You've quite a fearsome intellect
You can fix most anything
You're sensitive and funny
Responsibility you bring

There were so many aspects
I wanted for my man
You sure as heck don't fit them all
But most of them you span

There's not another person
I'd want standing next to me
When the bad things hit the fan
It's you, Lon, happily.

©2020 by H. Linn Murphy

CHRIST

Grand builder of God's universe

Who spent his life's blood for our sin

Whose kind eyes see everything

On surface and deep within

You who set the planets spinning

Who built man from the dust

Who filled the world with varied life

Exemplar of the just

You who with your every act

Who spent life's every day

In perfect service to all mankind

In all You think and do and say 

You are the hero of my soul

You are the pathway sure

Raising the lantern of Your light

Your matchless life so pure

If I can but hope to serve

As best as I know how

To love Your siblings faithfully

I gladly to thee bow.

©2020 by H. Linn Murphy

 My Mom

From when I was tiny 

You were my mirror

And my lantern,

Holding aloft an example

Of what it means to become

A woman of God. 
You were the woman on her knees,
Twice the missionary

You were the most patient,

The kindest, the busiest, 

The most creative,

Curious about nature,

And about the world around us.

Mom the trouble shield

Though supportive wife

The go-getter-est, most intrepid

Person I know.

More than that,

You were always SERVICE.

You were there when

You wished to be anywhere else,

Making it work for the rest of us.

Because  it was what you do.

You build 'HOME'.

You build the future out of

Snips and smidges

And things others left behind.

You believed in a clumsy ballerina

And a squeaky violinist

And a writer of books

You, the ebullient,

Player of Scrabble 

With a twinkle in your eye,

Who hopes to win, 

But gladly acclaims others' wins. 
The creator of art and life,

The cork who rises to the top,

The water off a duck's back,

The 'This-too-will-pass' person.

You taught in spite of not knowing

The language where you lived.
You the globe-spanning teacher,
Cleanser of hospitals, bedrooms,
Mistakes and hearts,

You bloom where planted.

You, a fearsome warrior

For the righteous.

You who take meals to the sick,

Bake bread for the hungry,

Make dolls for the world,

You, the erstwhile debutante

Give clothing to children IN Africa,

You who work in hospitals

And orphanages,
Who walk though lame,

Who dug up the past,

You who hunt relatives

Like a coursing hawk.

You who care fiercely

For her young, 

Who taught us hard work didn't hurt,

My mother who remembers

The little things,

And gives them back

As big things.
You the sentinel of the broken,

Who dragged me around the world

When I was too young to appreciate

All you sacrificed for me
And for our family and 
Everyone you know

You, Mom, are my

HEROINE.

©2020 by H. Linn Murphy