Now I lay me down to sleep.
I do not fear; my soul He keeps.
If I should die before I wake,
Alive I’ll wake beyond the gate.
Hallelujah, amen!
Tag Archives: Poetry
A Poem for Friday Repeated
Back in 2012 I was going full-steam in seminary, pastoring a church, and had a wife that was desperately ill with fibromyalgia. It was a pretty tense time around the Baker house, to say the least. Some things change; some things remain the same.
So, you see, I was going to write a post about not being ashamed of Jesus, but I will save that for tomorrow or Sunday. In the meantime, I will just share this poem I wrote back in 2012 while I help my wife finish some tax returns, eat some oatmeal, scrounge up some gas money for later, and do a little praying before I get back on the school bus this afternoon.
The following is a complete rip-off of Rebecca Black’s “Friday” song that everyone – including myself – hated. Funny thing, I still sing it to myself EVERY Friday morning!
“It’s Friday”
Eight a.m. waking up in the morning Gotta be fresh, gotta go down stairs Hot cup of tea, butter on raisin toast Plagiarize a song by a girl with Black hair. Got a mid-term that’s due tonight Seminary’s really try’n to kick my buns. Still gotta finish a honey-do list Being out of work is fun, fun, fun! Friday! It’s Friday! Out of work this Friday! Studying and reading. Gettin’ ready for this Sunday. Friday, Friday, gettin’ down on Friday. Need to exercise and take my morning multi-vitamin for men. Wife stayed up for two days straight Now’s she’s in bed and can’t stay awake Gotta figure out what’s wrong with her Don’t know if much more she can take. Daughter wants to ride her bicycle Wants me to ride mine with her, too Maybe I should finish this poem right now. Daddy, pastor, student’s got a lot to do! Friday! It’s Friday! Mail will come this Friday! Maybe a check’s in the mail that’ll let me tithe a lot this Sunday. Friday, Friday, gettin’ down on Friday. Need to pray a lot and take my morning multi-vitamin for men.P.S., That “Donate” button might make this Friday a wee more tolerable 🙂
Filed under fitness, Humor, poetry, Relationships and Family, Uncategorized
A Poem before Sleep
“My Pillow”
Oh pillow, oh pillow, my head longs for thee!
I’m sleepy, so sleepy, and you’re waiting for me.
How nice of you to be waiting and calling, not budging or flinching as on you I’m falling.
You’re not as plush as once you were, but you’re not as hard as the day I’ve endured.
So, my pillow, my lumpy friend, on you I rest as this evening ends.
As I repose, hark! Beyond my nose! Tis my phone, a poem, and now a post.
I sleep.
An Attempted Crossing
I once saw a cat chase a chicken.
It chased it across a main road.
Through traffic they raced unhalted
Until they stumbled upon a dead toad.
Like half of a Sunday school song
It was flat and wide, not deep.
It hadn’t been dead for long,
And both of them started to weep.
“Oh cluck cluck cluck!” went the chicken.
“Meow so sad!” went the cat.
Then before their fruitless chase could continue,
A minivan flattened them flat.
The End
Filed under Humor, poetry, Uncategorized
Remembering September
“I Will Not Forget; I Will Remember”
I will not forget; I will remember
That horrible morning in early September.
The sight of the tower, bursting with flame.
The second explosion confirming the name:
Terrorism.
I will not forget, though some would like to,
But I cannot un-see the poor souls who jumped to
Their death, rather than burn.
The more we watched, the more we learned
There was more.
It was war.
But just like the passengers of Flight 93,
The fight for freedom rests on you and me.
Will we walk gagged and bound into tyranny’s night?
Will we be silent, or will we fight
For freedom
From terrorism
By just living?
Yes. And I will not forget; I will remember
The day it all changed in early September.
– Anthony C. Baker
Filed under America, Life/Death, poetry
I Saw a Steeple
“I Saw a Steeple”
I saw a steeple pointing high, lifting my eyes upward.
I felt the pulling of strings inside, calling me homeward.
Inside the doors were welcome sounds, voices full of joy I heard.
And when the Word of God was read, I went forward.
Not a preacher’s hand to shake, or to drop a dollar in a plate,
But in humble, broken, desperation seeking needed consolation
That the upward, homeward consecration wasn’t over.
Assurance was the welcome sound; the Spirit’s Voice I heard.
So from my knees I stood repaired, repented, marching onward.
– Anthony Baker
Filed under Christianity, Church, poetry
I’m Not Shining; I’m Reflecting
…because I read another poem about the moon personified…and I’m in between bus routes…
“It’s Not My Light”
I know that you see me, and you think that I can shine.
But the light is a reflection, which is why I’m called the “lesser.” The brightness that you see is his, not mine.
Had the light you see been coming straight from me, perfection would be all the beam would show.
But here the surface is laid bare before each telescopic stare, made evident each night within the glow.
I do not shine, I just reflect.
Filed under poetry, Uncategorized
If You Think It’s Hot Here…
“There’s a Hotter Place”
If you think that it is hot here,
Then you might be surprised to know
There’s another place that’s far, far hotter,
A place where you never want to go.
Here the summer has certainly parched us.
Here the crops are all failing fast.
But there’s another place where it’s much, much hotter,
And the heat wave lasts and lasts.
Here you can find you a bucket
With ice and cold water or beer.
But there’s a place where it’s so much hotter,
People beg for the drop of a tear.
Oh, you think it’s so terribly hot here,
You avoid it be staying inside.
But there’s a place where there’s no hiding from it:
The Hell of the lost who have died.
by: Anthony C. Baker
Just Mow
“Just Mow”
I have so much to write
But it was to0 long a night.
The stress of it all, all the phone calls
I slept till I saw the light.
Yeah, I “saw the light”
I don’t have to write!
This is my blog, I’m not on the clock
There’s nowhere a paycheck to write.
So, it’s a beautiful day
The weather is great
I’ll crank the John Deere, put buds in my ear
And just mow all my stresses away.
– Anthony Baker
Filed under poetry
A Book Title Poem
About the Books
About three years ago I received a rather large addition to my personal library. In addition to the over a thousand books in my office, nineteen banker’s boxes full of books was given to me by a former seminary professor.
This professor of theology, a graduate of New Orleans Baptist Seminary and a contemporary of David Platt, was from Canada. When his work permit in America expired he found himself unable to ship his library back home – the cost was prohibitive. Therefore, he offered them to me to keep and use in his absence. He said, “If I don’t come back in a couple of years, just consider them yours to keep.”
It’s now been three years, and I’m just now starting to unwrap the “gift.” I hope he forgot me.
The Box
I’ve seen how people have been writing poems by using the titles of books. Linda Kruschke is a good example (click HERE to read her latest poem, My Soul Feels Peace).
So, what I did was open up one of the boxes of books (one of which I’d already written the contents on the lid), reached down inside and pulled out a decent stack, and then arranged the stack into a pyramid…largest book on the bottom, smallest on the top.
The poem that I proceeded to write was based on the titles of the books from top to bottom.
The Poem
The Science Question
The Science of God is the study of God
It’s something we call Theology.
The Apostolic Fathers taught it well,
Setting the standards for what would be.
The science would produce Three Views on Eastern
Orthodoxy and Evangelicalism
But Apologetic Preaching would come along
To combat what we’d come to call pluralism.
What’s True for You, but Not for Me
May give you A New Perspective on Jesus,
But be mindful of The Origin of Christology
And don’t neglect to peruse some Aquinas.
There’s something about The Passionate Intellect
That leads some to question, “Does God Exist?”
But the wise understand Creation Out of Nothing
Was breathed by the God of The Ten Commandments.
And now that the Fathers are long past gone
The Cross of Christ is the message they give.
This new generations of scientific theologians
Who preach as they ask, “How Should We Then Live?”
Filed under Apologetics, Christian Living, poetry, Theology
The Recovering Legalist 