A Look at Life¾

A Collection of Poems

by Raymond Mears

 

Singer and songwriter, Raymond Mears, at the suggestion of friends and family, submitted a number of poems and song lyrics to Path Publishing. They were accepted, naturally!

After working for various bands in the Dallas-Ft. Worth area for many years, his ministry changed to churches and special events. His pleasant voice and singing style, along with his songwriting and poetry, made him a welcomed guest. Using his amazing memory for lyrics and poems, and his inner guidance as to what the audience needed to hear, he uplifted people with his songs, stories and wisdom. He is now with Father God in Heaven.

Third Edition, only $9.99, 88 pages, paperback, 5-1/2 x 8-1/2. ISBN 978-1-891774-36-2, LC 99-70595.

Purchase through PayPal shopping cart. You can also mail a bank check to Path Publishing, 4302 W. 51st #121, Amarillo, Texas 79109-6159. One book is $14.49, with shipping, for those outside Texas. Texas residents need to add 8.25 percent sales tax, which comes to $14.60.  Postage is $3.50 for the first book and 75 cents for each additional. Thank you!

 

 

Here are several poems from the second edition of the book.

 

 

                                THE SEASONS

 

In youth it seems twas ever spring. I’d spend each day discovering

how bluebirds fly and robins sing—in youth when it was ever spring.

 

I’d greet each day with zestful joy as though it were a bright, new toy,

and all my wits I would employ to fill each day with zestful joy.

 

But then I found a sharp new pain that came like early summer rain.

I’d love and lose, and love again, and grow with each new love and pain.

 

I grew until I learned to face the truth that life is like a race:

to run each day without disgrace, with truth and honor kept in place.

 

All through my summer I did grow till autumn’s wind began to blow.

An early chill to let me know, as summer comes, so must it go.

 

And autumn comes to one and all with colors rich in early fall,

and peaceful days while we recall our youthful time—we had it all.

 

But now comes winter, stark and cold, reminding me I’m getting old;

though, if I may, I would be bold. I will not fear the winter’s cold.

 

For winter’s cold does always bring rebirth of life to ease death’s sting,

and when with angels I do sing, I’ll know I’ve found eternal spring!       

 

 

                                        HIS WISDOM

 

What can I write that would cause you to stop and read the words that I write?                        

What can I say that would cause you to pause and read on into the night,

that would cause your pulse to quicken with joy and create a thirst for more?

What could I possibly have to say that has never been said before?

 

With all my talent, with all my skill, I conjure up words to impart—

words to awaken emotion in you, words that will live in your heart.

But, yea though I strive and my talent is great, no new ground can I trod.

For nothing, you see, in Heaven or Earth is new cept it come from God.

 

Only His wisdom that comes by His Spirit can lead us to trails unknown.

And only His love through His Son Jesus Christ can show what must be shown,

the very greatness of His love, as His Son gave His life on the cross,

that His own creations, you and I, may never be counted as loss,

to be redeemed by the blood of the Lamb—a truth that’s not really new.

 

But maybe my friend, just maybe, you see, this truth may be new to you.

And so, with love in my heart I pray, for these words you

will pause and you’ll see.

Though men may deliver the words of truth, only God can set you free.

 

 

                                    THE FLOWER

 

I saw a flower on the hill, a tiny golden daffodil.

But only one did my eyes see. Now where could all the others be?

 

For all life shares a common need and if but one, whence came the seed?

And, of a truth, if it be told, this tiny flower could not be old.

 

So I cried, “Lord, Your Majesty, would You unfold this mystery

and wisdom give that I might know what made this little flower grow?”

 

The Lord replied, “Your hill was bare and sore in need of beauty rare.

’Twas I who planted there the seed as I’ve supplied your every need.

 

If you will but receive this flower, believe it came by My great power,

and nourish it with love, you’ll see it will fulfill its destiny.

 

You’ll see, in death, life will be found as it returns unto the ground.

Then resurrected in the spring, the bounteous life that it will bring.

 

I will complete what I’ve begun, when unto you I sent My Son,

Until your hill that once was bare is filled with beauty everywhere.”

 

 

                                  MOTHER

 

When as a lad I’d hurt her so by doing something wrong,

she’d always tell me it’s okay; her love was just that strong.

 

I’d ask how can you love me still with all that I have done?

She’d smile and say, “It isn’t hard; you know you’re still my son.”

 

As I grew up I’d go away without a thought at all

of pain I might be causing her; she always stood so tall.

 

And she’d be there when, once again, back to her arms I’d run,

so lost and hurt and scared until she’d say, “You’re still my son.”

 

Remembering when my father died, I thought that I would, too.

But she was right there by my side with help to see me through.

 

I knew her heart must hurt so bad to lose her special one,

yet she gave love and peace to me. She said, “You’re still my son.”

 

Though time has waved its magic wand and youth has passed her by,

she still can greet me with a smile and twinkle in her eye.

 

No longer can she cook or sew the way she used to do,

and feet that used to love to dance have lost a step or two.

 

But when she says she’s getting old and must be quite a bother,

I smile and say, “No, it’s okay. You know you’re still my mother!”

 

 

                                    THE TEACHER

 

There was a man who taught me well in early youthful years.

I learned through happy days and sad, through laughter and through tears.

 

He taught me not to act through fear, to cultivate my mind—

let knowledge guide my every step, that wisdom I might find.

 

He led me through the door of life, a door he opened wide.

And there were times he stood so tall I’d almost burst with pride!

 

Yes, there were times he stumbled, too; perfection’s just a dream.

He made mistakes like any man, and often, it would seem.

 

By deed he showed me I should know and love my fellow-man,

for anytime he saw a need, his was a helping hand.

 

He loved his country music; he could dance right with the best.

He loved to fish and hunt, it seems for life he had a zest.

 

I could not help but learn from the examples that he set.

Both good and bad, they’ve stayed with me and help to guide me yet.

 

He started out a country boy but oh, he came so far.  

And I’m convinced that he’s with God, my dad at last a star!

 

 

                                    THE BOY

 

It was Christmas Eve I found him in that little Georgia town.

A frightened boy who cried when he thought no one was around.          

I asked what he was doing there, no shoes upon his feet,          

‘cause, let me tell you, it was cold and it began to sleet.

 

“I got no shoes,” he said to me, his face a wrinkled frown.        

“I got no older brother, so there ain’t no hand-me-downs.

I may have a dad somewhere, but mister, I can’t say.

When Momma talked about him, she just said he went away.

 

Big brother, he got drafted, and he died across the sea.

Little sister got adopted by some folks in Tennessee.

Wouldn’t take me with her¾prob’ly had no room, you see¾

and if you’re keepin’ up, you’ll know that just left Mom and me.

 

Mom went to see the doctor¾made me promise to be good¾

and when she never made it back, she knew I understood.

You can see I’m doin’ fine, so don’t you put me in no home.

I will soon be ten years old and I can make it on my own.”

 

And then the tears came streaming down, as he began to cry.

I picked him up and held him close, and soon he closed his eyes.

And gently then, I took him home, as he lay fast asleep,

and I still recall that Georgia night, I found a son to keep.          

 

 

We hope you enjoyed the poems by Raymond Mears. To help you in your decision to purchase A Look at Life for $9.99, below are praises from the back cover and the “About the Poet” page, revised since his passing.  

 

“A rare few are given, or possess, the ability to put thoughts, ideas, faith or emotion into words. Raymond Mears is one who has this divine gift. I am proud to call him friend.”

 

Johnny Hathcock, songwriter—

well-known for “Welcome to My World” and other great songs

 

 

“Ray’s colorful lyrics both touch the heart and invigorate the soul, leaving no doubt as to the Source of his talents.”

 

Debra Smith, author of the

Hattie Marshall Frontier Adventure Series

 

 

“Several of the poems touched my heart to the point of tears, which to me is a true testimony to the skill of the poet. Please pass on my gratitude to Raymond. The Lord has gifted him abundantly.”

 

W. Timothy Boyd, poet

 

 

About the Poet

 

Raymond (Ray) Mears spent most of his life in one of two places, California or Texas. Born in Fort Worth, he lived through the Great Depression, World War II, the Kennedy assassination and the Reagan years. He always had a God-given talent for putting words together in rhyme (in song or verse) in such a way that a message or story was told. Having begun his career singing with various bands in the Country-Western field, he (as he put it) saw the light and devoted his talent and energy to serving God. 

 

 

    About Path Publishing in Christ

 

Only once in a long while does a talent like Raymond Mears come to a publisher, as if dropped from Heaven. This collection of poems fits well with our mission, which is to publish spiritual creations for an aspiring world. We are grateful to have been part of a blessing to his family and to lovers of poetry and song.

 

 

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But seek ye first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness and all these things

shall be added unto you. Matthew 6:33