Carl G. Schrade Sanatoga, Pennsylvania

I have been writing poetry for more than fifty years. I am a retired mechanical engineer and systems analyst. I am an active member of the New Apostolic Church in Limerick, PA. My poetry has been published in various periodicals and by The National Library of Poetry. I have also published a book of poetry entitled "FIRESIDE TREASURES". My love for poetry goes back to my mother and my third grade teacher, Mrs. Hansen.

BEACON LIGHTS The Lord has given us three beacon lights That lead and guide us on life's way. They shine and glow and ease the darkest nights; And brighten up the saddest day. The first is Faith, its beam is bright and strong. It governs how we act and talk And leads us so we know the right from wrong And guides our feet where'er we walk. And then there's Hope, to make our life worthwhile; To know the sun shines after rain. For when we're sad, because of hope, we smile. We know the Lord will ease our pain. The last of these three beacon lights is LOVE. There's human love for me and you. And then there's love that comes from God above; That governs everything we do. These beacon lights are ours to guide our life. They light our path where're we roam. Protect our soul when all about there's strife; And lead us to our Heavenly home.

YOU'LL NEVER KNOW UNTIL YOU TRY When bills keep coming in the mail And all the jobs just seem to fail; And so you wonder what to do? How will you ever see this through? It seems as if you can't get by, You'll never know until you try. When called upon to give a talk Before a crowd that sit and gawk. Your shattered nerves may drive you nuts, And you may think you have no guts. Don't say you can't because you're shy, You'll never know until you try. You've listened to the pilot's speech. You've heard how well this man can teach, You've seen the cockpit, have no fear, In time he'll make all things quite clear. Don't say I can't, I'll never fly, You'll never know until you try. You want to try a meal that's new; Perhaps some fancy way-out stew. Don't worry how the meal will taste, Don't worry when it's time to baste, Or should you roast or bake or fry, You'll never know until you try. So nature's dealt a crippling blow; A lousy stroke has laid you low. The therapy is quite a strain And any movement's fraught with pain, I'll never walk again, you sigh. You'll never know until you try.

All poems Copyright © 1997 Carl G. Schrade. All rights reserved.