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Poetry Page - RFH ( 4 )
              by RFH
America, America,
  surely God had
  shed His grace
    on thee;
Despite leaders' faults
  He brought you thru,
  thou first land
    of liberty.
But this final four
  -- whom some adore
  yet others abhore --
    sold you out to plunder;
All that once was free
  now has a fee,
  causing all the world
    to wonder:
What kind of freedom
  have you led us to?
  Why this death and destuction,
    oh, Red, White, and Blue?
The elite everywhere
  all over this world
  send their children
    to pre-preschool;
For what?
  To be successful and generous?
  Or to grow to be
    forceful and cruel?
Who is left
  with godly mind
  to pray and to shed
    tears for the world?
As freedom flees,
  fall to your knees,
  look up and away
    from UN's flag being unfurled.
The worms of this world
  have not two hundred years
  to plunder and
    bring destruction;
The godly shall cheer
  that the end is near
  -- the end of graft,
    of greed, and all corruption.
                 (c)  RFH  3/25/2011
[Nonprofit use permitted]

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                 by RFH
 Sometimes I wonder
   if I know too much
    or too little
     about loved ones;
      and if they know
       too much or too little
        about me.

  Sometimes I wonder
   if I know too much
    or too little
    about my enemies;
     and if they know
      too much or too little
       about me.

  Sometimes I wonder:
   How much is too much?
   When is a little just enough?
    Sometimes I wonder
     either way how it is
      that my heart
      won't fail me.

  Sometimes I wonder
   just how big
   God's heart must be,
    knowing all
     that He knows
     of His friends and foes,
      and how little we know
        of Him.

  He knows everything;
   I'm sure His heart
    has taken a lot.
     Sometimes I wonder:
     Maybe He wants my heart
      to be that big, too.

  It is written: "God is Love."
                 (c) RFH 8/4/1999  .   

   [Nonprofit use permitted]
         AND  ANGELS
                   by RFH
  If I could,
    to a loving mother,
    I would write and send
      this special letter:

  "To the mother
    of my dear children:
    An angel could not
      have raised them better."
                     (c) RFH 5/9/99

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            by RFH
 Lord, is that awful person
   me You see?
 That's not the person
   I really want to be.
 Lord, please,
   from these setbacks
    set me free
 So others can see You
   and not really me.
     (c) RFH 11/13/2002
[Nonprofit use permitted]

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