Knowledge poems

Knowledge poems

WHAT IS GREEN?

Green means go; green is grass, frogs, moss;
Emeralds are green
Christmas and St. Patrick’s Day are too;
It is rich; it is velvety;
Green is the mountains, trees
It is growth, .
Green was the grove on that beautiful morning
as Joseph sought to know.
What is green?  Green is our search for Knowledge

Treasures of Knowledge

 

Some clever scientist whose knowledge is vast,
A lawyer that has won every case in his past,
A professor can teache well, much learning brings
To others, is knowledge of God doesn’t fit into things
They are lost, but not to saying their learning is in vain,
But it lacks the power for their eternal glory to gain,
The more we learn of God’s existence that is so real,
The more we grow, and more love for others feel,
The more we know of His great strength and power,
The more we reverence Him through every single hour,
The more we learn of His eternal love pure and divine,
So much more love flows from this feeble heart of mine.
Then come all the many promises from heaven above,
That are poured out upon us all in never ending love,
Of all the knowledge gained as we sojourn here on earth,
A true knowledge of God is of the greatest worth,
So study, seek and search out all the knowledge you can
Of our powerful, loving God and know His eternal plan.
    -M. Ann Margetson

PRETTY GOOD
There once was a pretty good student,
Who sat in a pretty good class
And was taught by a pretty good teacher,
Who always let pretty good pass.
He wasn’t terrific at reading,
He wasn’t a whiz-bang at math,
But for him, education was leading
Straight down a pretty good path.
He didn’t find school too exciting,
But he wanted to do pretty well,
And he did have some trouble with writing,
And nobody had taught him to spell.
When doing arithmetic problems,
Pretty good was regarded as fine.
Five plus five didn’t always add up to 10,
A pretty good answer was nine.
The pretty good class that he sat in
Was part of a pretty good school.
And the student was not an exception,
On the contrary, he was the rule.
The pretty good school that he went to
Was there in a pretty good town.
And nobody there seemed to notice
He could not tell a verb from a noun.
The pretty good student in fact was
Part of a pretty good mob.
And the first time he knew what he lacked was
When he looked for a pretty good job
It was then when he sought a position,
He discovered that life could be tough.
And he soon had a sneaky suspicion
Pretty good might not be good enough.
The pretty good town in our story
Was part of a pretty good state,
Which had pretty good aspirations,
And prayed for a pretty good fate.
There once was a pretty good nation,
Pretty proud of the greatness it had,
Which learned much too late,
If you want to be great,
Pretty good is, in fact, pretty bad.
-Charles Osgood