by Travis Lewis
Share
My Book of Poems
By Travis W. Lewis
Assembled In 2024
*************************
Preface
Within these pages is a collection of poems which I have composed and preserved over several decades. Some were written during moments of meditation that seemed to call for simple rhyme; others were initially intended to be songs that reflected special thoughts at the time. I acknowledge personal lack of either talent or training in poetic skills and style, which will appear evident, yet I continue to be astounded at how, on occasion, a simple rhyme can tug at a heartstring and shed light on a thought when prose fails to do so.
PEACE TO THE SOUL ©
By: Travis W. Lewis
Lexington, Tennessee
(Composed in 1992)
As a child around our little homeplace,
From dawn to dusk, I’d run and play.
To be burdened with sin and sorrow,
I hardly thought would come the day.
Then as I drew toward adolescence,
Fears and cares began creeping in;
Those same gospel sermons that once meant little,
They began to convince me of my sin.
Then one day that burden became so heavy,
That alone at my bedside I bowed;
And as I sought the Lord’s mercy,
Something like this is what I vowed;
I said, “Lord, if you’ll just save me,
Satan will never hear the last;
And if you’ll rid me of this burden,
My lot with thee I’ll freely cast.”
Then as the autumn leaf into a gentle breeze,
My burden silently slipped away,
And into my soul fell a settled peace,
That Satan has not destroyed ‘till this day.
Oh, my share of troubles have come and gone;
And He has stood by me like a brother.
I’ve surely had friends that were precious to me,
But beside Him, there has been none other.
For when the burdens of life would get so heavy,
They would become too heavy to bear,
I knew if I could get near to the cross,
I could always leave them there.
Soon my hair will turn to silver,
And my shoulders will stoop with age;
Then from the theater of this life,
The Lord will summon me offstage.
But as parting advice, I would have you remember,
Lest you search earth from pole to pole,
That there is no real peace in life,
‘Till the Lord speaks peace to your soul. Ω
SHE’S COME THE DISTANCE WITH ME
By: Travis Lewis
In honor of my wonderful wife, Kay, on our 45th wedding anniversary
September 2, 2010
(This poem was put to music and taped by our son and daughter-in-law, John David and Laura Lewis, along with their children Nathan Lee, Melanie Grace, Preston Andrew, and Patrick Dayton on our 45th wedding anniversary in September of 2010. The poem, along with the background story, is published on Page 116 of my autobiography, I Was A Sharecropper’s Son, which is available for purchase on this website, goldenbowlpublications.net.)
*******************************************
We were still merely children;
When this journey took its start.
Choppin’ cotton ‘neath a July sun,
When we swore we’d never part.
A few years later, an old preacher prayed,
“Lord, as one let them be.”
And the Lord must have heard his prayer,
For she’s come the distance with me.
Yes, she’s come the distance with me;
She’s come the distance with me.
Through lots of laughin’ and lots of cryin’,
When work was hard and hope was dyin’,
Oh, she’s come the distance with me.
Three years later, our little girl,
Was laid upon her breast;
And then came our only son,
These would be our greatest tests.
Today they both have their own homes,
Careers, children and family;
Now, with shoulders stooped and hair turned gray;
She’s come the distance with me.
Yes, she’s come the distance with me;
She’s come the distance with me.
Through lots of laughin’ and lots of cryin’,
When work was hard and hope was dyin’,
Yes, she’s come the distance with me. ©2010
SUFFICIENT FOR TODAY ©
By: Travis W. Lewis
April 1, 2001
Author’s Note: This poem was originally published in the April-May, 2001 issue of my newsletter, Reveille, page 4. Several issues of Reveille may be found at goldenbowlpublications.net website under the Reveille Newsletter heading.
***********************************
Hello, my friend! Again, I’m your company for today;
You may use me, or abuse me; you’re the potter, I am the clay.
He who precedes Me is now history;
He who succeeds Me is still mystery.
With this clay, you shape Him who my successor will be;
But you will love Him, only if you accept who preceded Me.
My predecessor, you cannot change, however intensely you try;
But by Me, you form my successor, owing to which laws you apply.
For He who came before Me, you oft at once blame others;
Their meanness, their ignorance, or just a cliquish band of brothers.
Though I am simply a product of the One who preceded Me;
How I am used will decide who my successor will be.
You may think it just as well to tread headlong and break the rules;
Or, you may consider Me as only an old worn out set of tools.
But I will surely make He that follows, to be either your friend or foe;
Whether stormy gales or still waters, I decide how His tide will flow.
You must by now know Him who lies still as die that’s cast.
He is my predecessor, yes – He is your immutable Past.
You see, I serve in my capacity merely as a seldom noted suture,
That binds your immutable Past, to my successor – your Future.
Me – I hold power in my hand to make of you king or peasant,
So, brush me not aside lightly, for I – I am your Present. Ω
WHOM SHALL WE SEEK? ©
BY: TRAVIS W. LEWIS
October, 2002
***********************************
I sometimes wonder of my response, if during my private invocation;
Should the Spirit at once inform me, “Jesus will be by tomorrow, and, with you, do visitation.”
Would I reply, “Lord, now let me take some time and make a plan;
Should we first stop by the home of the disabled preacher man?
Or, just where will we go, Lord; what circles should we seek —
Our cathedrals of commerce, or the ‘projects’, or the weak?
Religious people, secular people, broken people alike,
Or maybe those who have pled for help, and society replied, ‘Go take a hike.’?
Should we really pay attention to those we brand as ‘thugs’?
And how will we mention the kingdom, to those perverts doing drugs?
Now Lord, some will think it strange, their ‘Christianity’ may suffer distortion,
If we suggest Christ’s love to that frightened little girl – the one who just had an abortion.
Shall we schedule the entrepreneur, whose business is eminent to fail,
And into the heart of his fondest hopes, has just been driven the final nail?
I know we’ll stop by the nursing home, and reassure all the old,
Then swing by the hospital — now, Lord, we don’t need to get too bold;
For they’ll expect us to stop in the hall, and maybe give a parable to the maids,
But, don’t you think we can just skip by the room of the guy dying with AIDS?
So, Lord, whom shall we see tomorrow? Who’ll receive most from your love?”
And He replies, “You have a lot to learn, my son; I want to see ALL OF THE ABOVE”. Ω
HAD HE WALKED AWAY ©
By: Travis W. Lewis
2002
Author’s Note: This poem was originally published in the October-November, 2002 issue of my newsletter, Reveille, on page 4. Several issues of Reveille may be found at goldenbowlpublications.net website under the Reveille Newsletter heading.
***********************************
On this stroll in evening quietness,
Admiring the heavens past light of day,
Thinking of the worth of the work I’ve done,
And how fine and fair Has been all the pay;
I would find it easy in silence to boast,
“I have made it all on my own.”;
To forget how God oft heard my plea,
And sent help from those who are long since gone.
I thought, “It could be my children,
Astray tonight, sick, hungry or cold;
If just a few small things had been ever so different,
It would not be so easy for me to gloat and feel bold.”
If today had been just a little bit different;
Oh, I know – no one can tell,
But had the rock of circumstance been a bit more slippery,
It could have been me who slipped and fell.
For oft as I tottered on cliffs of despond,
Blind, confused, and without hope;
At my poor choices, God could have scoffed,
Or ever so slightly, He could have tilted the slope.
Had I never known of His Word or Spirit,
Or of the hope I know they can give,
Then it could have been me who surrendered to life,
Who stands by the roadside, sensing no reason to live.
When I was oft hurt, baffled, or anxious,
Had God not been so patient and kind;
Had He said, as oft have I, “You asked for it.”
And not guided my feet, when my eyes were so blind.
Then I could have been that hopeless wretch,
Not relishing this night in its grand array,
Had God done me, as oft I have done others –
Had He just turned – and walked away. Ω
CROSSING OF A VALLEY
By Travis W. Lewis
August, 1992
The following poem was composed in August, 1992 as I was experiencing considerable stress at my sales job. My sales at Stuart C. Irby Company were exploding to the point of needing at least two more employees to assist the only inside salesperson who supported my efforts in the field. Though she was truly an ace at what she did, circumstances had arisen that left management little choice but to dismiss her from employment, leaving only myself in our entire sales department at our busiest time of the year. At the time, I was also President of the Henderson County Chamber of Commerce, which had just been handed the resignation of its great Executive Director at a really inopportune time. My inside salesperson had been dismissed on Monday, then at our Chamber meeting on Thursday of the same week, it had become my responsibility to lead the Board in desperate search for a new Director. When I left the Chamber meeting in the early afternoon of this very hot summer day, I was feeling totally overwhelmed. As I prepared to depart the parking lot, I sat for a moment and gazed across beautiful Beech Lake, with its gently rippling waves reminding me of how oblivious my environment was to the turmoil that churned in my mind, and I tried to pray. Before leaving, I began jotting down thoughts that seemed to roll across my mind. Within a couple days, this poem was finished.
***********************************
As I stood beside a river
And watched the waters rolling by,
They were not heeding my troubles,
Nor the tears that filled my eyes.
Oh, the waves were quiet and gentle,
As they rolled on down their way;
And as I buckled ‘neath my burden,
In much contrition, I bowed to pray.
My prayer was like, “Lord, would you lead me,
‘Cross this valley deep and wild,
And, Lord would you protect me,
O’er this rough and rugged mile?
Lord, you know I’m sort of anxious,
To step onto that heav’nly strand,
But ‘till then would you uphold me,
With your gentle, omnipotent hand?”
I poured out my heart to Jesus,
As I bowed in deep despair;
And I could feel His presence near me,
While I travailed in solemn prayer.
At some point, He lifted my burden,
Said, “Son, this lesson you will learn,
You must tread through these waters,
But to this valley, you’ll not return.”
Now, my valleys are most behind me,
Jordan’s banks are drawing near.
Soon, my bell will toll in glory,
And, thanks to Him, my record’s clear;
The Father will soon rise from His seat in Heaven,
Turn to His Son seated at His side;
And there proclaim, “It’s time for the wedding;
The guests are here, go get the Bride.” Ω