Poems by Jac Judy A. Campbell

I can't call you my Father,
And you're certainly not my Pop.
I wouldn't call you PaPa
Because to me you're certainly not.
I can't call you my Pappy,
Nor could I call you Dad.
You're definitely not my Daddy.
One of these I already have,
But I can call you Honey.
My best friend I have in you.
A loving caring husband,
A gent who's kind and true,
My guy of tender gentle words
You place within my heart.
The one who's strong and steady
And has been from the start,
A man that's more appreciated
More than I can ever say.
I'm saying this to wish you
A special Father's Day!

He's not a scented flower
That fades from day to day,
Nor is he a dozen roses
In a beautiful glass bouquet.
He's not a pound of candy
Or a meaningless silly card.
His words speak blissful feelings
Of his magic spark and charm.
He's not made of pretty paper
That is torn and tossed away.
He's tough and tender a man,
Of all men,
He's my Valentine every day.
He doesn't quite taste like chocolate.
He's yummy and sweet as can be.
Nor is he a wine-and-dine-me guy.
Home cooking is more his speed.
He's not a fuzzy stuffed animal
That lays about all day.
He's round and soft, my own teddy bear
He's cuddly in every way.
He didn't come wrapped in tissue,
Nor colorful glittery gifts.
He's wrapped in the thrills and passion,
In the arms of the life he lives.
He's not much on jewels and diamonds, 
As he says for him I'll always shine.
He's always my straight-shooting Cupid.
He's my everyday Valentine.

Lord, help me be the Mother
You've chosen me to be,
One parent with a loving heart,
The mother of my three.

Give me wisdom and courage.
A righteous and faithful leader I'll be,
So I may live through you, Lord,
An example of good I may be.

Teach me patience and understanding,
Grant me compassion and kindness too,
So my daughters may desire a tender heart,
Being kind, forgiving, and true.

Help me show them the way to salvation,
Lord, and the value of their souls,
So they may sustain love, hope, and faith,
That will lead them on their pathway home.

Remind me to hold them tightly
And tenderly let them go
So they might feel my comfort and love
When at times they may feel alone.

And in our body's absence, Lord,
I'm praying they may know
The only need that they would have
Is what I've instilled in their heart and soul.

When worries and fears I claim for my own,
When I feel helpless and all alone,
When my deepest memories come to mind
And all my sadness I leave behind,
Then yes, I'll go on laughing.
When I feel I'm going under with nothing
To hold onto,
When dark shadows cloud my senses,
My sadness and fears I'll be through.
When sweet, gentle ways have come to pass
And I get my fill of sadness at last,
Then yes, I'll go on laughing.
When I give up and go on living
And become wiser than I am,
I'll try not to cry tomorrow
So this heart and soul shall mend.
Then yes, I'll go on laughing.

Father, I thank you for the days and nights,
And thank you for this warm morning light.
For food and shelter, for your loving care,
And for all in this world that is good and fair.
Help us to be gentle, honest and true,
To show more kindness in all that we do.
To smile and be pleasant in all that we say,
To grow more loving each and every day.
To lend a helping hand, help others in need,
And to love one another as you have loved me.

Thank You, Father
Amen

A fine lady.
So gallantly strong,
She stands for the good,
The righteous, and God.

At a small little church she faithfully arrives.
She walks quietly about as she silently sighs.
She greets with a hug with outstretched hands.
"How are you doing today? Glad to see you," she says.

I gently embrace her and ask, "How are you doing?
You look pretty today."
With a sad glow in her eyes, she says,
"It's been kinda rough,
But our God's on my side,
And I'm hanging in tough."

With a soft smile on her face, she sits in a pew,
Among family and friends and others she knew.
She graciously prays with her head slightly bowed,
Singing God's hymns with a soft whispering sound.

As she rises to leave, I squeeze her arm and say,
"You look so beautiful and much better today."
She speaks with a quick grin as she touches my cheek
And replies with a voice that's suddenly weak.
"It's a little rough, but you know me,
I'm hanging in tough."

She faithfully arrives at the little church
One last time.
She was carried by loved ones
And friends by her side,
A bouquet was placed on the pew
Where she once sat,
With flowers and ribbons and banner that read:

God's taking me home.
His ride won't be rough,
For my days are all over for me.
Hanging in tough.

If I didn't know where you came from,
If you had a different name,
Or perhaps you were a different color,
I would still love you the same.
If you lived up in the sky, or maybe in a tree,
If you could not laugh or even smile,
If your eyes they could not see.
If you could not walk upon your feet,
If your fingers were your thumbs,
If you could not sing a song so gay,
I would still love you the same.
If you were a little boy or
Maybe someone else,
If your legs they couldn't run and play,
Nor could you hear nor speak your name,
If you did not love me as I love you,
I would still love you the same.

Bullseyes and targets, marbles and darts.
Little green bugs and bicycle parts.
Frogs in their pockets, worms in their shirt.
A boy is a boy for all he is worth.

Cowboys and Indians, Gene Autry boots.
Guns in their holsters that are sure to shoot.
Big mud puddles, rocks in their shoes,
A chip on their shoulder, a black eye or two.

Little red wagon, scraped up chins,
Scuffed up pants, and old tin cans.
A laugh, a holler, a tear, a shout.
Into mischief but truly a scout.

Old clubhouses, flying a kite,
Up a tree, a fall on the bike.
Skinned up knees, bruises, and cuts.
A boy is a boy when his dukes are up