Of Cats and Kings
By Arthur D. Bardswell
In days of old when knights were cold
And armor was fur-lined,
Some wore this armor inside out.
(They weren't the human kind.)
In Catalot, a hero rose;
King Arfur was his name.
And to his Great Round Feeding Bowl
Came fuzzy knights of fame.
Where champions failed and lords could not,
This kitten stood alone.
And single-pawed extracted he
The Great Claw from the Bone.
To serve the great King Arfur was
The dream of ev'ry Tom.
For Knights of Good Saint Felix were
The Cream of Pussen-dom.
From top of roof and under house
From bed and fav'rite spot,
Forsaking tree and scratching post,
They came to Catalot!
His glorious vision he proclaimed:
To make all cat-fights cease;
That cats should dwell in harmony,
Their litters raised in peace.
He held his court - the Great Mat near
The Royal Pussy-Door;
Enthroned upon the Rocking Chair.
(The man sat on the floor.)
The call was heard in far Fur-rance
By Prancelot du Lic.
When claws were crossed and teeth were bared,
He never missed a trick.
But noblest was Sir Purr-ceval
At whose name foes would howl.
And none could turn his purpose stern:
To seek the Holy Growl.
Copyright © 2007 David A Butler
Arthur (aka David Butler) has a heritage in the realm of writing. His mother wrote many scripts for the ABC's "Argonaut's Club" and "Kindergarten Playtime" on TV in the '50s. She has had one anthology of children's stories published, known as "The Proud Camel." Arthur himself is a qualified teacher and horticulturalist, but his preference is ministry and the creative arts. This includes writing, music and educational multimedia. Although he has written skits, songs, poems, short stories for social occasions and for ministry, he has lately decided to take his creative writing more seriously. He is presently in the process of publishing an ambitious historical romance, based on the beginnings of reformer John Wycliffe's "Lollard" movement. Other works, such as a poetic narrative called "Songs of the Rivers" are also in progress. If you would like to write to Arthur, you can do so through the Letters page of this magazine.
Please … Forgive Me
By Suellen Fry-Washington
Today I asked someone for forgiveness
I do not think he heard me
For he turned the other way.
So I gently repeated those difficult three words
Please forgive me.
He would not look me in the eyes
He still just looked the other way.
What if Jesus did the same
Every time we said, "I'm sorry"
And bowed our heads in shame?
What if Jesus turned
And looked the other way?
What chance would we have
Or start over
Each and every day?
What if Jesus didn't hear our cries
And he pointed his finger in blame?
What chance would we have
To start completely over,
A chance to clear our name?
And while this person
Chose not to reply
To my request
Of asking for forgiveness
I know the Lord
He had my back
And chose not to turn away.
Thank You, Lord,
For giving me a chance,
By the blood you shed
You have given me a brand new day.
Suellen Fry-Washington was born in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania in 1957. She now resides in Bradenton, Florida with her husband and 7-year-old son. As an aspiring Christian writer she hopes that her stories will touch someone's heart and perhaps change the direction of someone's life. If you would like to write to Suellen, you can do so through the Letters page of this magazine.