Tag Archives: angels


He’s not a weather wimp,

But has a leg somewhat gimp…

Wet and cold

Makes him feel old,

More wrinkled than a chimp!


A FLASH—then rumbling thunder—

What a mess to be under…

Taken in stride

We all can be dried,

Enjoying this storm as a wonder!


With weather all over like this,

We note peoples’ special kindness…

Willingly give

That others  live,

Angels in times of distress!


“Darkness over the waters,”

Standard Time—hear the mutters—

Walk toward Light

To see what’s right,

Believe and see what matters!





It’s getting late, the Master’s call

May come at any time…

The Rapture may come

To tale us to a Home sublime.

Prophesies that need to be

Fulfilled are nearly all…

The faithful wait with arms outstretched

For our Father to tale us all!

–Jonathan Caswell



When she passes by it,

His heart erupts in riot…

The heart throbs,

It’s the hardest of jobs

At that point in time to keep quiet!

Been through it all before,

Each time she walks for the door…

I helped for a time

She needed mine,

A wheelchair pushing chore.

Cherishing each look,

but doing things by the  book…

Forbidden love

For an unknowing dove,

Remains for him a closed book!

Now nearly every day

His heart is stolen away…

Despite facts

He always acts

As if there were nothing to say.

(Nothing to say…!)

–Jonathan Caswell



Angels we have seen

Artistic conception of

Always painted good,

A boyfriend’s appeal to love

Human-like, not from above!

–Jonathan Caswell



We call them little angels,

At the time it appears true…

Until they squabble or take someone’s toy:

For most the illusion is through.

We always love our children,

At least the ones we like best…

Yet all of our kids fit into a plan

To act at God’s berhest.

How do they know if we don’t tell them,

That each is valued by God….

Nor just for some great work they do

But by BEING, whether normal or odd.

None of us get to be angels

For angels were long-ago made…

Ministering to we mortals

In need of spiritual aide.

Our children walk with angels,

In ways we adults are blind…

Don’t you want your children

To hang out with the right kind?

–Jonathan Caswell



(Sung to “The Yellow Rose of Texas”)

There’s nothing like an angel

Who stops by with treats,

Appearing at the doorway

With a bagful of good eats…

We take your saltless tater chips

They suit us just fine,

Just pass along your “healthy stuff”

We’ll be the next in line!

We met a living angel

At our apartment door,

He claimed he wasn’t ‘tother one

Who had dropped by before…

Who graciously left pasta

When we were in hard times,

But this one had a smile so big

His heart had sim’lar lines!

We bless him for his graciousness

And thanks unto our Lord,

Who sends by various “angels”

When we need hope restored…

So thankful for the angels

He sends by our way,

Whether they have two legs or four

They brighten up our day!  🙂

–Jonathan Caswell


by Jonathan Caswell

How is it that often TV
Programs are made to be…
Watched by women-kind,
It boggles the mind
How oft they concern you and me!

Guys often prefer about “things”,
And less how a family clings…
Learning to grow
In each other’s shadow,
A guy wants to see girls with wings.

I’m not saying guys don’t care
About how their families fare…
Just saying ‘thats’
“We be” different cats,
Preferring how to make tables square!

I’m hiding from a western now…
Where an orphan is befriended to know,
His death-row Dad
Wasn’t totally bad…
In hopes that stolen money will show.

We men tend to get a bad rap
From women who need to entrap…
Men who are unlike them
In relations (ahem!),
Do they wish they had the athletic “strap”?

We get condemnation for watching
Beauties without any touching…
When one looks some assume
We’d then rent a room,
Not every man can stand the clucking.

You women have eyes for just one,
From which I guess we could learn some…
To not look as much
On those not so touched,
That they’d willingly stay with the bum.

–Jonathan Caswell

(This poem is just blowing off steam.  Please don’t take offence–unless you want to!  –The author.)