Poems by Alora M. Knight

A gardener, if he's very wise,
When it is planting season,
Will always use the best of seeds.
It only stands to reason.

Because he knows when harvest comes
He'll reap what he has sown.
If he's been careful, he'll be proud
Of all that he has grown.

It makes me realize that words
Are very much like seeds.
People use all kinds of them
That seem to fit their needs.

But, unlike seeds, the words we speak
Don't stay down in the ground.
More likely in a fertile mind
Is where they will be abound.

Where they are nourished by the thoughts
Of those who seek to find
A way they can express themselves.
The way of all mankind.

Especially fertile is the mind
Of every little one,
So we should be so careful
Before much harm is done.

A child will mimic what he hears
And not give it a thought.
He doesn't even realize
Just what he has been taught.

Still, when he's grown, his attitude,
And what he will believe
Will come from words that he has heard
And what his mind received.

If he's been fed on ugly words,
He'll grow up full of hate
For those he thinks are different.
A most unhappy state.

Because that hatred then will spread.
It can go on forever,
With nations hating nations.
Peace, a lost endeavor.

So take care when you are speaking.
Plant words that when they grow,
Will bring forth love and wisdom.
You'll be glad you made it so.

Perpetuating hatred--
It's happening every day,
While many who contribute
Would be the first to say,
"Don't call me a bigot.
I'm broadminded as can be.
It's just that I don't believe
In a mixed society."

So deeply has this poison spread.
The roots have long been buried.
Still, in a small child's fertile mind
Some seeds will still be carried.
If they have heard somebody
Speak out with great contempt
About a color or a race,
Then hatred will ferment.

It later will flourish
If no one interferes.
Racial slurs and epitaphs
Will frequently appear.
There is an old Indian quotation,
One that clearly speaks.
"Don't judge a person 'til you have walked
In his moccasins many weeks."

There is no person living today
Who wouldn't somewhere be an outcast.
If everyone would just remember that,
We might have peace at last.

Though words are written
About mothers, that is true,
Still, I know that no one ever had
A mother just like you.

I never had to wonder
If your love was there for me.
You showed it in so many ways
That it was plain to see.

You helped me see the beauty
Of this world in which we're living.
You showed me how much happiness
Can come from cheerful giving.

Your faith gave me the courage
To pursue those distant goals
That might have seemed impossible
For less encouraged souls.

So let these heartfelt words of mine
Be included with the others,
For you have been the very best,
My own beloved mother.

We are never finished products,
No matter how long we live.
There's always something we can add,
Like learning to forgive.

It isn't all that easy
To release a long held grudge.
For years it's been a part of us.
It doesn't want to budge.

I often wonder if that is why
Some of us live so long
In what seems needless suffering.
Is there still need to right a wrong?

Perhaps we're given extra time
To clear our hearts and mind
Of many thoughts so negative
That peace is hard to find.

Forgiving past offenders
For the harm they did to you
Opens up a channel that
Will let His love come through.

Like a butterfly lies dormant,
Awaiting to expand,
So waits love's own perfection
In the chrysalis of man.

I will take those precious memories
And frame them with my love,
Then hang them in the hallways of my heart.
I hope the fond remembrance
Of the joys that once were shared
Will overcome the tears that want to start.

Little thought was given
As the years went quickly.
We took good times for granted, that is true.
Perhaps, it all was for the best,
Enjoying simple pleasures,
In retrospect, that was all we ever knew.

There was no use to ask the future
To give away its secrets.
No blueprints for what would lie ahead.
It is the choices that are made,
Experiences, both good and bad,
That down life's pathways, all are led.

Looking back, I sometimes wonder
If there were things I should have changed,
A hurt that even now I might appease.
Has it all been taken from me?
No, time has shown a tender mercy
For I still have my precious memories.

What does it take to be a volunteer?
Must you travel afar, or is there someplace near
Where there is a need that is evident--
Where someone would think you were heaven sent

For giving them just a little of your time?
A cheerful smile does not cost a dime.
Or maybe, they need a ride somewhere
But there's no one to call on that seems to care.

Some people find it a difficult task
Being handicapped and having to ask
For help in doing the simplest things.
You can't imagine the joy that it brings

To know someone understands what they need--
A trip to the store or a new book to read.
Someone who doesn't make them feel useless and old.
Love and respect  are more precious than gold.

Now I know that this sounds like the same old story.
Still, I'd like you to take a good inventory
Of the things that you could easily do,
For someday the one who needs help may be you.

Outside my window flowers bloom
In a rampant disarray.
They pay no heed to color schemes
In their wonderful display.

I thought I heard a pansy say
In a low voice to a lily,
"I simply do not understand
Why human beings are so silly.

They will argue about color,
They will argue about size,
They even seem to disagree
About the shape of someone's eyes.

Though we're crowded in together,
There never seems to be
Any sign of agitation,
No disrespect that I can see."

An ageratum said,"You know,
Though I am low down on the ground,
I never feel that I am less
Than the tallest flowers around.

It is too bad that people
Cannot seem to realize
They should listen to their hearts,
Not just depend on ears and eyes.

It would help them understand
How much joy there then could be.
Accepting everyone as equals
Would give their lives sweet harmony."