Poetry by Sherry
She’s like a Dandelion you see in a field But now she’s been brought back to life She’s now a beautiful dandelion flower She now lives and thrives in her knowledge of Him After a while her lovely yellow crown For each cottony, splintery seed, you see Then new plants will grow from the seeds strewn Isn’t that notion beautiful and exciting Sherry Harris Glover Sheraleeta@yahoo.com / MySpace: PoetryandVerse
From a weed she has grown, her hard-heart peeled
In the past from Him she had sadly strayed
She was like a weed…cold, alone and dismayed
Her spirit, her heart, her soul now alive
For in Him, she grows and flourishes in love
And now the weed has become a bud
Her spirit is alive and so empowered
She stands tall and strong, no longer beat down
And her head now adorned by a golden crown
No longer to be cold and alone within
Now to Him her roots will proudly cling
And she is happy to serve our Lord, our King
Will turn into a hat of white seeds all around
That’s when she will share her gifts with all
For the seeds from her hat will gently fall
Will catch a ride on His mighty wind to feed
Our earth that is hungry for His love all around
And this story is born again for His renown
When they’ve returned unto Him where they belong
And if their hearts remain pure they’ll be adorned
With their own golden halos, as a new life is born
When one can affect the lives of so many
And those who are touched come alive and grow
In the life with Him they were born to know!
Copyright © 2006. Sherry Glover. All rights reserved.
DADDY’S GIRL
As I strolled along the beach today
I saw a father and his little girl
She looked at him like he’d hung the moon
It was obvious, he was her world
I could hear her chattering up at him
Many questions she did ask
I could hear his assuring nature
And the pride he took in this task
Oh! How she did gaze at him
She worshiped her Daddy dear
And with the way he looked at her
She was Daddy’s girl, that’s clear
This image takes me back to a time
When I was a younger girl
When I walked along beside my Dad
By the ocean along a vast seashore
I can remember the feeling I had then
Just as if it was yesterday
My small hand cradled in his strong hand
And he proudly led the way
He, too, gave me all his attention
Like this was our little world
That was an amazing feeling
For a shy little Daddy’s girl
There’s something sacred about ties that bind
And the special moments that we’ve shared
But the most comforting feeling I knew
Was that he’d always be there
But when I was a child, I thought as a child
And now I know so much more
Many years have now passed me by
Since my Dad went to be with the Lord
Please do not fret for me…I beg you do not cry
I still have a Dad who exists in me and walks right by my side
My heavenly Father, my Abba Daddy, the One who I adore
Is ever faithful leading me along life’s vast sea shore!
Sherry Harris Glover
Sheraleeta@yahoo.com / MySpace: PoetryandVerse
Copyright © 2006. Sherry Glover. All rights reserved.
BUTTERFLY GIRL
This little girl saw more than any child should
With family who inflicted abuse and bad love
Not really knowing what it was like to be a child
Faced with adult scenarios, a child was defiled
The oldest of her siblings, she bore the brunt of it all
She’d rather she took the pain, lest they take the fall
As the years passed by and the mounting abuse grew
She found comfort in her secret cocoon and withdrew
In her secret inner cocoon, her only refuge
She found comfort of her inner room with no view
When faced with harsh reality flung in her face
She withdrew to her cocoon, her secret safe place
And while the abuse was going on in real time
She would escape what was happening in her life
Out-of-body to her cocoon, she would retreat
To dream of real love and how a family should be
When she was a teen, she ran from her jail
To the arms of first love, so true and real
Her true love’s family knew not how to harm
They welcomed the girl with open arms
And this was that love, the kind she had imagined
Always wishing her childhood hadn’t been so tragic
Looking back, could she ever live with the shame
Of the scars received from the abuse and pain
With love and guidance from her new family tree
She learned she could let go of the past and be free
The things that had happened were not her sins
She tried not to cast blame, she tried hard to forgive
So with love and care from her new tree she grew
And soon she broke free from her secret cocoon
With each day that passed, her life became new
She learned many things she never knew
Like honor and truth and respect and love
Like faith and belief in her Maker above
Like the comfort received when one’s guard isn’t up
From old jail to new life she’d escaped to become . . .
A butterfly breaking free from the bonds that bound her
From the secret cocoon where she had quietly suffered
She had emerged from the den of iniquities past
To a beautiful garden where true love will last
And as her wings unfold and unfurl
A new life’s been granted to the butterfly girl
Where once she had retreated from the evils of earth
God gave her an escape and gave her rebirth
Yes, she saw more than any child should
But God gave her a way to find the good
She never let her past harden her heart
She’s just thankful for a brand new start
From a timid, scared child trying to make it through
A beautiful butterfly has emerged from the cocoon
When she let her guard down, her wings opened wide
Now a beautiful butterfly glides . . .
With nothing to fear and nothing to hide!
Sherry Harris Glover
Sheraleeta@yahoo.com / MySpace: PoetryandVerse
Copyright © 2006. Sherry Glover. All rights reserved.
YOU ARE NOT ALONE
When life hits you with an unfair or tragic blow
You must pick yourself up and walk a new road
The life you once knew is no longer your own
Now the road ahead feels unsure and unknown
Where does one start? How does one begin?
Close the chapters of old and begin “you” again?
The “you” you invested all those years to become
Disappeared when all was said and done…
No matter the cause, no matter whose fault
The only thing certain is that now you’re alone
In the middle of a crowd or driving your car
At the mall, buying groceries, or wherever you are
The constant reminder is how awkward you are
A bird without wings, a fish out of water
The door has closed on the life you’d once known
Hard to remember who you were when you were just “one”
But, stop! Take a moment to consider the scene
Were you made to be a shadow of anything?
No, you were made to be able to stand on your own
Not having fear of independence or of being alone
He never promised “easy” along life’s road
But He will take our burdens to lighten our load
He promised that He would never leave us alone
By our side is our true and constant companion
So when you feel “lonely” trying to creep in
Take a moment . . . stand still and deeply breathe in
Can you feel the comfort of His protective wings?
Wrapping around you to shield you from everything?
‘Til you can stand on your own, He will hold you tight
He will comfort and keep you from morning ‘til night
Even when you are stronger and can stand on your own
By your side, He is there . . . you will never be alone!
Sherry Harris Glover
Sheraleeta@yahoo.com / MySpace: PoetryandVerse
Copyright © 2006. Sherry Glover. All rights reserved.
HUSH CHILD
I close my weary eyes, at the long day’s end
And imagine me at His throne . . . sitting next to Him
I let go of the angst, the stress, the strife
And come to Him in tears and kneel by His side
“Oh Lord, how I love Thee . . . Oh, how I love Thee
Please, take the problems that are binding me”
Laying my head on His lap, I rest on His knee
And confess the problems that are bigger than me
“Hush child, there now, don’t worry and cry
My yoke is easy . . .yea, my burden is light
I will loose those chains that are holding you tight
Hush child, there now, it will all be alright”
“Oh Lord, how I love Thee . . . Oh, how I love Thee
As my tears fall upon Your wonderful feet
They fall from surrender of the struggles in me
And also to give thanks that You find me worthy”
“Hush child, there now; Hush child, don’t cry”
Stroking my face with His robe – my tears He dries
I’m counted one of His-- though a sinner at best
Counted among the least of these -- not more or less
“Oh Lord, how I love Thee . . . Oh, how I love Thee
My Father, my Counselor, my Prince of Peace
How could You die to save a sinner like me?”
Watching my tears fall upon His nail-scarred feet
“Hush child, there now, do not question my ways
I love all of my children, each one is the same
I came to you all, to remove your sins
To pay the ransom for many, to live again”
“Oh Lord, how I love Thee . . . Oh, how I love Thee
I thank You and praise You for setting me free
For giving me new life that will never end
For the price that You paid to remove my sin”
“Hush child, there . . . there, do not cry
Do not question or ponder or wonder why
These scars are the evidence of my sacrifice
For each one of you, my love has no price!
“Oh Lord, how I love Thee . . . Oh, how I love Thee
Each day I will run to You and fall to my knees
For I know it is here that I feel at my best
Where I can be . . . just be . . . and find comfort and rest!”
Sherry Harris Glover
Sheraleeta@yahoo.com / MySpace: PoetryandVerse
Copyright © 2006. Sherry Glover. All rights reserved.
THE WINDOWS OF MY SOUL (The Woman at the Well) There’s a saying that I’ve heard from long ago That “the eyes are the windows to the soul,” As I look into the eyes that are now before me My story is unfolding like an endless sea He knows that my soul’s endured many things Many trials through life’s fires have yielded refining He knows there’s been suffering through much sacrifice That I’ve been molded and shaped in the furnace of life He knows that I so want to stand upright But I have compromised myself by my way of life I’ve been around the block; I’ve seen unclean things I’ve been to the puppet show and seen all the strings I suspect He knows I’ve been broken by love He seems wise as a serpent yet innocent as a dove He knows I live with a man – I lead a sinful life I’ve had other husbands--was it four? No, five! I imagine in His soul there’s a story worthwhile As His eyes seem serious yet playful as a child’s And His eyes seem to beckon and call to my soul As He draws me in closer—I surrender control His eyes read like poetry to my broken soul Surely deep in His heart lies a lyrical poem Where rhythm and rhyme and prose unfold That will only be discovered the deeper one goes Like an artist’s canvas displays marvelous views His eyes are the pallet for beautiful hues Like a violet, I shrink under His all-knowing gaze I look away as I blush; red covers my face I pray to be comforted and covered by Grace As these haunting eyes are confronting my faith Please Lord do not judge me by my checkered past But forgive me and lead me in the Way that will last Oh how these eyes are invading my soul Over my mind’s eye, these eyes have control And my heart is intrigued by a desire to know Just how deep into my soul does He desire to go? Why does my heart ache for Him to take control? Do I want Him to travel into the truths of my soul? And if He draws me in deeper, what would I find? A welcoming haven? A heart tender and kind? I don’t want to reveal the truths still untold Yet I stand naked before Him, His heart, His soul Is it right to desire the eyes on this face… To yearn for the comfort of His soul’s embrace? Vulnerable --like a lost sheep, a fledgling, a waif Inside I cry out for a place to feel safe Deep eyes that whisper…Deep eyes that call Drawing me into His fold where I will be whole I feel that my heart is poured out on display Where His eyes can see things that I cannot say Like a harlot, I am ashamed…like a child, I am shy Exposed to these eyes that are reading my mind Could He be the Messiah of whom it is written - - Who will save His people from sin and temptation? “He told me all that I’ve done,” to the town I did tell “Come see the Messiah who waits at the well!” If I had looked away, I might never have seen My Lord at the well, who came to save me Who looked through my eyes to my fleshly flaws Seeing into my heart through the windows of my soul! Sherry Harris Glover February 8, 2008 
WELL WORN PAGES
As I look down at the book that rests in my lap
Reading this book was never a priority in my past
But recently, it seems I have become so inclined
As I am learning and living a brand new life
I look at the pages, they are becoming well worn
Notes have been written and verses underscored
Many corners of pages have been dog-eared with care
My place is marked with a fold and creased reminder
At the point where I stopped reading on my mission
Attempting to satisfy this hunger for my vision
It is my journey, my walk, my eternal quest
It is my newfound priority above all of the rest
Funny, I had looked at this book my whole life
Rarely had I picked it up or dared to look inside
It was not until recently when I had my rebirth
That I learned of its importance to us on this earth
I’ve looked at it more since my fresh awakening
And I have found it to be the most interesting
A guidebook on how our lives should be
It’s so much more than I ever thought it could be
Today, I look down at these dog-eared pages
And see my faith walk in various stages
I give thanks to the Lord that I finally see
The wonder inside that was waiting for me
I suggest that if you ever feel so inclined
Don’t be afraid to open the guidebook for life
It’s called The Holy Bible and it will set you free
To be all that He intended for each of us to be
It is the road map for the life He’s prepared for you
Just as it has unfolded unto me, it will for you, too
The guide that will help you see Him so clearly
And learn that He is all that you need to be free!
Sherry Harris Glover
January 24, 2007
MAKE ME A PUPPET
Lord, make me a puppet on your strings
For You, I will do anything
You give me the strength to overcome
And assure me the best is yet to come
I’m the dog who begs at the Master’s table
With soul wide open…I am willing and able
To feed on the crumbs that happen to fall
I will lie at Your feet and wait for them all
I will beg…I will plead…I will fall to my knees
Whatever it takes…to whatever degree
Mere bread cannot satisfy my hungry need
From Your mouth fall the words on which I feed
So I come, I listen, I seek and I call
From the One who offers salvation to all
Freely, it is offered to each eager soul
Without spiritual food, we will not be whole
For I know that it’s You that is in control
Pulling my heart strings…guiding my soul
The spirit that fills this heart so thirsty
Showers me with love and shows me mercy
You made me the puppet on Your strings
When You pulled me up from the miry clay
Setting my feet on a rock, You made me worthwhile
With Your mighty right hand, You saved this child
So thankful to be a puppet on Your strings
I bow down before You; lay down at Your feet
You gave this soul a fresh new start
With a new song in my mouth…a new beat in my heart!
Sherry Harris Glover
January 24, 2007
THE BASKET WEAVER
In this grand, old antebellum city
With historic homes that are so pretty
Tourists flock to stroll and walk around
And sample a bit of the Old South
They’ll roam the streets and alleyways
And imagine long ago life in this place
Or take a carriage ride to see the sights
Or tour the old homes by candlelight
And along this old City’s market place
That long ago was a place used to auction slaves
Now holds rows upon rows of peddlers’ tables
Attempting to sell their wares when they are able
And among them you will find the basket ladies
Weaving their baskets from sweet grass reeds
A tradition carried on throughout the years
They are there each day creating their treasures
The weavers come together in the comfort of shade
They weave each reed to form different shapes
They thread each reed with devotion and care
Taking pride in each basket as if a child of theirs
The ladies thread and weave each single reed
Into the beautiful creation it is intended to be
And I imagine the love they sew into each one
Nothing is finer than a gift made with love
For each woven basket that’s sold moves on
And carries the threads of love in each one
And the one who buys the basket soon sees
That this a gift to be passed down for centuries
Just like our Maker who formed each of us
He tends to us all with care and love
He’s sown us with seeds of faith, you know
His unfailing love will help us to grow
And we, like the baskets, are firmly knit
Woven together with our Maker’s gracious gifts
When closely joined with threads of love
Form a heavenly body that will build itself up
Through our faith, we’ll serve the Weaver well
As we are woven tight and closely bound
Each reed comes together uniting to become
The body of Christ, His church, built with love!
Sherry Harris Glover
May 3, 2006
THE POTTER Imagine this scenario, if you will He is the potter who sits at the wheel And we are like the clay in his palms A child of His to mold and make strong He places the clay atop the potter’s wheel Turning and spinning on the hand wheel His loving hands, press and smooth the clay Sturdy and strong is the clay that He shapes And He molds and forms our hearts and minds As our very souls are being defined He knows every thread, He knows every taper We are made whole by Him, the pottery shaper If we become dry and hard and earthen He dips His hands in the living water again And lovingly, He continues to work and tend The clay that He molds and shapes and mends I imagine the care He takes with each one When He builds and turns, a new life’s begun And if the clay gets deformed or goes astray He’ll press and pull and reform its shape To bring the clay back to the image He seeks For each of His creations is created to be True to the image of Him, you see And the Potter continues until we’re complete Once the Potter completes each one For a moment, there’s a perfect life He’s spun But then He adds one final insight The gift of free will to choose wrong or right And if we feel we are falling apart We should ask Him to mend our broken hearts And pray that He takes us and molds us again “Please takes us and make us in your image, Amen!” And if we feel like we’re falling again We can pray that He take us back to tend Our many cracks and chips, He is happy to mend Thereby giving us new life to live through Him Yes, He is the Potter of our lives To be perfect in His image, we should strive To be an example to others while we’re alive Of His loving grace and mercy, so kind We should be faithful to the Potter of souls Oh, Dear Lord, please take us to mold Make us worthy children, committed and whole Please stroke and mold our yearning souls! 
TAPESTRY
What is a tapestry but a woven pictorial design
Embroidered on canvas to make an image divine
Our Master Weaver drew His plan for our lives
Before we were ever a twinkle in anyone’s eye
Moment by moment and stitch by stitch
The Weaver sews to create our unique image
Thread by thread, He weaves with each stitch in time
And creates the design for the fabric of our lives
Our lives a blank canvas when the Weaver decides
How to weave each thread to create His design
With compassion and care, He begins to sew
Each thread forms a reflection that only He knows
The colors He uses are like none we have seen
A pallet of hues with gold and silver between
With passion He weaves with kindness and love
As He sews and stitches the fibers of our souls
Threads of love and forgiveness all scattered about
Threads of mercy and kindness interwoven throughout
But there’s one more thing the Weaver factors in
The free will to choose if we’ll follow and obey Him
It seems when we turn from His perfect design
That’s when we try to be the weaver of our own lives
And our tapestry becomes worn out and thread bare
From going against the grain that is already there
Each time we decide to step out into sin
We cause holes and tatters both outside and in
But the Weaver replaces the frayed threads again
With new threads that repair, strengthen and mend
A survey underneath would have a painful reveal
Of the many knots and tangles we’ve caused by free will
But the Weaver turns us back so that His love can be seen
Throughout the threads in this sampler – His tapestry
The knots, the tangles, the twisted snags He’s redeemed
With woven patches and stitches to make His vision complete
Each trial is a flaw that makes each life unique
Creating the tapestry of the Weaver…His masterpiece!
Sherry Harris Glover
October 26, 2008
