relationships

A Man

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John Q. Person, have you considered
what it means to be a man,
since the time someone told you
you were one?
Have you just been placing
one foot after the other,
but without a genuine plan, son?

I can tell you a man isn’t passive.
He refuses to trust to luck.
He knows the size of the heart in a man
isn’t measured by the size of his truck.
He knows the best leaders are followers too.
He knows about God’s reward.
He has an almost desperate desire
to find genuine ways to serve.

He knows each man has a talent
unique and given by God.
He strives to find and develop his own gifts
while not chasing after laud.
He never stops learning.
He values laughter
and tears.
He remains forever grateful
and cherishes every year.

© Joel Tipple
302

300

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Taking into account a couple of times when I’ve reblogged someone else’s post on “Write here, Joel” in addition to my own for that day, today marks blog number 300. The official beginning was Jan. 1, but I already had a few things written so I had something of a running start. The daily blogs will continue through the end of December. I have an idea of what will happen at that point, but you’ll have to wait until then to see just what that something will be.

I promised at the beginning that I was going to experiment a lot. True to my word, I’ve tried all sorts of stuff. All kinds of poetry, short stories, jokes, social commentary, devotions. I’ve been all over the place. While we bloggers have access to, and probably watch too closely, the myriad of statistics about what we’re doing, I’ve tried not to be a slave to the numbers. By now I have an idea of what will do well and what won’t. However, I try not to let that drive what goes into this blog. This has been a learning experience and you can’t learn by always playing it safe.

I’ll say it again, but I want to say thank you now to everyone who has taken the time to read and comment. I never take for granted the opportunity to express myself in print and the spoken word. My overriding desire is that God is glorified through my expression in words. Towards that end, some exciting things are brewing that I’ve prayed about for some time. Thanks be to God for grace and for truth, always.
Joel

© Joel Tipple
300

My love, my bike.

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I’m not spokes to be in love
with my bicycle
It’s not natural
or the norm
In fact I see nothing about my bike that resembles the female form
So I suppose it’s a friend kind of love
that I feel about my Trek
even though you can’t say it’ll come rolling
when I call and beck
Still we’ve shared many miles
and weather
and time
and I’m sure many other things
that probably don’t rhyme
It’s a good relationship
that pays healthy dividends
Let’s all lift an electrolyte filled water bottle
in lieu of that champagne glass.

© Joel Tipple

sure

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sure as the clouds
play hide and seek with the sun
come a time
the things we’ve done
will be revealed

of our own volition
or without
because of our condition
come a time
we’ll need
to be healed

we can’t get all we need
from those we love
right relationship you see
starts from above

where you are
is where you’re placed
your obedience first
when you seek His face
will nourish you
and those you touch
with the living waters

© Joel Tipple

Matthew 6:33-34
The Message (MSG)
30-33 “If God gives such attention to the appearance of wildflowers—most of which are never even seen—don’t you think he’ll attend to you, take pride in you, do his best for you? What I’m trying to do here is to get you to relax, to not be so preoccupied with getting, so you can respond to God’s giving. People who don’t know God and the way he works fuss over these things, but you know both God and how he works. Steep your life in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. Don’t worry about missing out. You’ll find all your everyday human concerns will be met.

34 “Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don’t get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes.

The Writer

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The Writer:

Like a fat bird on a skinny branch, the story idea held a tenuous grasp on my mind. One big bounce, a winged maelstrom, and it was gone. “Think think think.” I tapped my forehead three times in beat with the word. “What was that about? Oh! I remember…”

The Story:

Mary woke suddenly to three loud knocks on her apartment door.
“Coming!” Her lips felt puffy as the words were squeezed out of her toothpaste-tube-mouth. She swung her legs over the side of the bed into what she thought were her slippers, shuffled to the door, and opened it to Jessica, whose eyes darted between Mary’s face and feet. “Are those comfortable?” Jessica asked, a note of concern in her voice. “Oh,’ Mary said, “I’ve got his shoes.” Jessica chuckled, and as out of it as Mary was, she got the joke. “No, smarty pants. Not ‘issues,’ HIS shoes.” Jessica smiled and shook her head slowly. “Sweetie, you’ve got both. Let’s get you dressed and we’ll go get some coffee.”

To be continued

© Joel Tipple

Beautiful Design

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You’re such a beautiful design, yeah,
the one God clued me into, darlin’,
every bit of wonderful He had to work with
when the day was young.

You’re such a beautiful design, and I,
remain devoted after all this time, but
it’s all gone so quickly – so quickly
so quickly.

Tell the director to slow down the picture,
make all the scenes prolong.
Add some more chapters to the story,
a few more verses to the song, our song.

You’re such a beautiful design, uh huh.
There’s not a thing to improve.
To make any comments to the contrary
would be the very definition of rude.

Beautiful, oh so… oh so.
Beautiful, oh so, now now
Ohhhhh, yeah yeah.
Ohhh, beautiful design.

© Joel Tipple

Male Chauvinist Eidetic Reprobate

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Anyone doubting the fall of man,
or the monkey wrench that Adam
tossed into God’s plan
need only spend time in the brain
of a guy.

Any guy,
just any average bloke,
beyond the age of puberty,
that’s when we are smote.
Brought low we all are,
though desire is natural,
enough being enough
just doesn’t seem quite factual.

At some point all men
act the part of male chauvinists
so objectification becomes ordinariness.
Our eidetic brains compile images
of female parts
and rate them as though for
elaborate charts.

Reprobates all, constant prayer and focus
on God’s will for our minds must be our locus.
It’s not easy, challenging habits ingrained,
not impossible, but worthwhile, taking some pains.
Viewing all women,
at all times
as not objects,
but our sisters, mothers,
aunts, and friends,
worthy of love in its highest form…
and respect.

© Joel Tipple

(Note: Dictionary roulette words are entirely chosen at random, really!)

Your Tears

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Your tears weren’t meant to fall that way
sideways to the sheet
I much prefer the way they trace
lines of joy upon your face
round where those groups of freckles meet

Your tears weren’t meant to fall that way
frightened in alarm
I’d really rather see them well
to see a child saved from harm

Your tears weren’t meant to fall that way
trying to bear the pain
I think I’d like to see them mix
with a refreshing summer rain

Your tears weren’t meant to fall that way
so if a mere man has any say
if God wills no more days of sadness play
please tears of joy fill her days
and make the rest of those tears fall that way

© Joel Tipple

Crepuscular Countercurrent Philosophy

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Parents
of
teens
with countercurrent emotional pain
find their hair in retreat
and their nerves inflamed
while their own
crepuscular
philosophies
dash for
life
boats
and
preservers.

Ed. note… “Dictionary Roulette” entrees take three randomly
chosen words from the dictionary to be used as key ingredients
for a poem.

All of that Memory

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give me all of that memory
or none of it at all
the day when we first met
you know you passed me in the hall
could I have seen through the next 30 years
bouncing up and down like a ball
give me all of that memory
or none of it at all

to savor and linger
just like our first kiss
you know that special memories
are made of stuff like this
not bound by laws of time
or gravity
all of those moments in between
mean that much to me

give me all of that memory
or none of it at all
every last frame
like stills on the wall
the rooms that we passed through
processed every sound
all of that memory
or none of it at all