Tag Archives: praying


Writing at a quarter past one,

Praying ’bout the message to come…

The word searching–

Badly needs churching,

Will he be too sleepy to come?

–Jonathan Caswell



The writer of limericks,

In a funk that sticks…

Him inside

An elephant’s hide,

The trunk–it feels like  this!

Blood sugar was three twenty-two,

This morning–awful but true–

To one ninety-one

When evening had come,

Would you be cranky too?

It’s not just how he ate,

Much more figuratively on his plate…

Inspection Friday

And huge bills to pay,

Almost in a defeated state.

It was him that was his undoing,

He’s praying for a rescuing…

Maybe a way

Through his Four-oh-one-Kay,

He could reverse his undoing!

–Jonathan Caswell




With white-out conditions out there

Some drivers think it’s unfair…

That plows won’t do

Their own street too,

And keep it more than just fair.

One hundred, two hundred trucks,

Out in the city to buck…

Mostly main streets

Where emergency fleets

Have to run with any luck.

Plowing right to the road

Means traffic slowed…

With faster passes

The driving masses

Are safer without being towed.

Using sand increases traction

On roads less needed for action…

My town has a mix,

Salt/sand which sticks

Enabling proper enaction!

Some folks have come back to stay

For a while til snowfall goes away…

When road crews can sand

Gaining the upper hand,

Until then, make coffee and pray.


–Jonathan Caswell






The wife came in, sat on the bed,

We cuddled and I heard what she said…

It wasn’t good news

As we shared our views,

The situation was not in good stead.

My said she knew I was dealing

With depression and a trapped feeling…

And so was she

Trying to see,

An answer to all we’ve been through.

We ended up starting to pray,

For us that’s the practical way…

To deal vis-a-vis

With what really is,

To seek God in the midst of a fray!

My wife…I think I’ll keep her…

For her wisdom and spiritual demeanor,

Despite all the pain

One day she’ll reign

At the feet of the One who is our Teacher.


–Jonathan Caswell




In the midst of an old man’s fantasy

About a young girl he adored…

He realized, woe is me,

What if her innocence were ignored?

An elder or a younger man,

With evil on the mind…

Could take her as a mere trophy

Then cast the wreckage behind!

He began to pray unto his Lord

Sincere and fervently…

To keep his adored from such pain,

At least ’til maturity.

Too many young ones taken

By evil men for lust,

Are broken down and lose their souls…

Betrayed by unknowing trust.

The innocence of childhood

In a body that looks adult…

Still needs to be protected,

Not cheated by craft and guilt.

He enjoyed the innocent laughter

That the young woman produced…

Ashamed of his own thoughts after,

How he wished she was ne’er seduced

To give up what and whom she was,

For a single time of loss…

Until the time she could willingly

Love a man who was worth the cost!

He had no daughters, neither sons,

But he felt a burden true…

Praying to protect the innocent ones

Including perhaps you, too.

–Jonathan Caswell