Wordsworth wrote an endless poem in blank verse on” the growth of a poet’s mind.”  I shall attempt a more modest feat for a more distracted age: a blog, “Things which a Lifetime of Trying to Be a Poet has Taught Me.”

People who have passed on to the next world make their absence felt in many ways.  Here is one I wasn’t expecting until I couldn’t miss it.



There’s something missing when the people sing.

It was the kind of voice that doesn’t blend

Too well with others going through the motions.

But when the old hymns started her devotions,

Then she would gather all her joy and fling

It forth, not caring if she bucked the trend.

(She learned her piety back in the old-

Time Wesleyan camp meetings, I am told.)

The angels must have looked up with a start

To hear it blend with their celestial art:

If I know anything, I know that Nelle

Went into Heaven with a “shoutin’ spell.”

Camp Meeting
Camp Meeting

Remember: for more poetry like this, go to and order Stars Through the Clouds! Also look for Inklings of Reality and Reflections from Plato’s Cave, Williams’ newest books from Lantern Hollow Press: Evangelical essays in pursuit of Truth, Goodness, and Beauty.


Donald T. Williams, PhD


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