About the Poem
There's not a lot to say about this poem. It's a very simple poem, written during a very simple time in my life. I was maybe eighteen, only recently married and very much in love. I think I saw life and love, during those simple years, as a road. And this poem represented the destination of that road, the place where love and faith would take me if I only continued the journey I had started.
I no longer see Life as a simple road, straight and narrow, but rather as a twisting series of decisions we either make or fail to make. And this poem no longer represents a destination signaling the end of our journey. The destination, instead, has become the vehicle in which we travel. Or, if you prefer, the environment we are travelling through.
My views have changed in thirty years. But the sentiments embodied in these words haven't. I still, at times, wish...
Recipe For Life |
| by Ron Carnell |
| A small white house In a quiet town; A talk with the pastor When he comes around; Kids -- lots of kids -- Running in and out; Teaching those kids What life's about; A garden in back With a winding path; Saturday night -- The kids' bath; Maybe a dog, A cat or bird; The Family Bible With the Good Lord's word; And with these things, All heaven sent, My life will be full. I'll be content. |