Cartoons

Tony Funderburk Posted on by

If you’re like any typical little kid, you’re probably watching cartoons right now and not reading this goofy stuff by that guy with the wacky last name.

But once you get through with your cartoons and breakfast you should stop by and see me here at TonyFunderburk.com and tell me about your favorite Saturday morning show. I’ll bet you don’t watch the same kind of things I did when I was a kid, but they were very funny. I watched a coyote chase a roadrunner through the desert…a cat trying to eat a canary…a little chicken hawk clobber a big rooster and dog with a baseball bat…and even a horse who was fast on the draw.

Well…I won’t bother you anymore right now. I know you have some serious cereal eating and laughing to do. Just don’t forget to get outside and enjoy some sunshine, running around, and other fun with your friends. Here’s a rhyme till I see you next time…

Cartoons

Get out the cereal spoons.
It’s time for funny cartoons.
Watch a monkey fly a rocket
Or a kitty pick a pocket…
It’s time for funny cartoons.

Turn on the big screen TV.
They’re really something to see…
Watch a birdie that is talkin’
To a dog on two legs walkin’.
Cartoons set funny bones free.

Later we’ll go out and play
And chase all the rainclouds away,
But for now we’ll keep on laughin’
At the polka dot giraffe ‘n
Watch all the cartoons today.

Stay tuned and whimsical,

Whimsical writer, Tony Funderburk, signs his name to all his words and music.

Songs And Poetry

Tony Funderburk Posted on by

I’ve written songs and poetry for almost all of my life. You can get an idea of how much that is and what it means to me by watching this video…

Early on in my songwriting efforts I basically still wrote poems and set them to music. As the years passed and I gained more insight into the process I began to write lyrics for the songs. There IS a difference. I just needed to discover it.

And I’m glad for the process. It was a journey that provided me more intimacy and valuable time in my world of words.

One day I was thinking about songs and poetry and how similar, yet different they are. And here’s what I wrote about it…

Songs And Poetry

At the insistence of a friend
I became an honest man.
Now I’m living on a cloud
And just doing what I can.
I write poetry and live inside the lines.
I find poetry to be like silver mines.
It’s a laughter no one laughs
And the tears that no one cries.
It’s the words that no one speaks
And the life that never dies.
From the pleasure of my peace
I am gentle toward my friend,
And the happiness I have
Can never…ever…end.
I sing songs that tell of many different things.
They’re the songs a truly happy person sings.
With no happiness they’d melt
And then slowly pass away.
With no words they’d have no rhyme.
They’d have nothing more to say.
With nothing more to say there is no poetry.
With no poetry there are no songs for me.

© Copyright Tony Funderburk 1975

Your whimsical writer,

Whimsical writer, Tony Funderburk, signs his name to all his words and music.

Silver Dots

Tony Funderburk Posted on by

I remember looking down at the little globules of mercury in my hand (not recommended for anyone anymore) and thinking…”what a cool couple of shiny, silver dots”.

Now, I could expand on the reason why I had mercury in my hand, but I won’t go into that. Some evidence has come out since then that mercury isn’t good for us humans. No, I’m not talking about some liquid metal and the scientific perspective. This is simply a lead-in to the poem/song I’m sharing with you today.

Merely examining liquid metal is enough to inspire a flow of words, and that certainly happened when I held the mercury. I started to see a tiny galaxy where stars were clear and sparkling…

Silver Dots

I will not bring you lies, my love.
I’ll whisper in your ear
And tell you of the things to come
And that I’m glad you’re here.
Let’s sit among the stars, my love…
And wink and blink and share
The secrets in our hearts tonight
That only stars can bear.
It’s written in the sky, my love…
You’ll see it there in blue
That I will pass into the clouds
And you will follow, too.
I ask you not to cry, my love.
I plead with you again
To realize that you and I
Have never really been.
You see we’re just a dream, my love…
In someone else’s thoughts.
We’re just two ordinary stars,
Just sparkling, silver dots.

© Copyright Tony Funderburk 1975

Your whimsical writer,

Whimsical writer, Tony Funderburk, signs his name to all his words and music.

Sugar Bowl

Tony Funderburk Posted on by

If you’re a football fan, I’m sure you’re aware of the Sugar Bowl. And if you have a sweet tooth, I’m sure you’re a fan of the sugar bowl.

So…why do I bring it up? Well, thanks for asking. Today’s poetic piece is one of reminiscence and rose-colored glasses. It’s a short walk down a memory road…sitting beside the road in the shade of some Kansas cottonwoods. I remember hearing something on the radio in my little, bronze Ford Maverick that made me think of how little kids like to put their fingers in the sugar bowl. That’s all it took…I pulled over and wrote the first thoughts that came into my head.

Like most of my words from back then, this poem isn’t autobiographical. It isn’t my actual family I’m writing about. It’s just a made-up memory. But I’ll bet it’s very real for somebody. If you have memories of sneaking sugar out of a bowl, then maybe you’ll enjoy…

Sugar Bowl

The world was new,
And we were poor.
The time was then,
And there was magic in a creaking, walnut door.
The summers were hotter.
The winters were colder,
And our father’s daughter
Laid her head on his all-too-willing shoulder.
Now, father and daughter were a pair…
Laughing and shaking back their hair…
Catching each ray the sun could give.
They knew all the reasons to live.
The joy we had
We knew was whole,
And happiness was
Our fingers in the sugar bowl.

© Tony Funderburk 1975

Your whimsical writer,

Whimsical writer, Tony Funderburk, signs his name to all his words and music.

Secrets In A Chest

Tony Funderburk Posted on by

Where do you keep your pleasant secrets? I don’t mean those darker ones you’d rather no one ever find out about. I mean the ones that mean so much to you.

Back in 1975 I wrote about a sailor who shared where he kept his secrets. For some reason I was fascinated with the ocean, and I keep finding old poems and songs with that sort of theme. Not sure what it was…maybe it was because I lived in fairly close proximity to the Gulf of Mexico for a while.

No matter. Today’s poetic contribution is called…

Secrets In A Chest

My friends call me Schooner,
And I think that it applies
‘Cause I’ve got roaring sea waves
Rising, falling in my eyes.
I keep my secrets in a chest
At the bottom of the sea
Guarded by ol’ Captain Kidd
‘Cause he’s very good friends with me.
My chest is always in his care.
He treats it like his own.
He’s such a hero, Captain Kidd…
Never leaves the chest alone.
I have a ship of rubies
With a diamond on the mast,
And when I’m feeling gloomy,
I sail my ship into the past.
My ship’s my only mistress,
And I think she loves me too.
We can sail all day quite happily
Through a sea of green and blue.
But these are all my secrets,
And I keep my secrets in a chest.

© Copyright Tony Funderburk 1975

Your whimsical writer,

Whimsical writer, Tony Funderburk, signs his name to all his words and music.

Dewy Morning

Tony Funderburk Posted on by

If you’ve ever lived in, or still live in a humid part of the country, you understand my reference to a dewy morning.

When I was going to elementary, junior high, and high school in Texas, I remember so many mornings where the dew was so heavy on the grass my shoes would be soaked by the time I walked through the front lawn to the street.

Here in Colorado we don’t deal with that nearly as much. I prefer the drier climate, but like so many things from the past, a dewy morning memory becomes pleasanter and pleasanter upon reflection.

Silly as that is I’m not immune to nostalgia. And one afternoon, in my car by the side of a dirt road in Eastern Kansas, I found myself writing about…

Those Dewy Morning Flutter-by Songs

If I could only look through those amber eyes again,
I could see those lovely childhood days.
The days my father cherished.
Those times that never perished.
I would run by his side
Through the dewy, silent morning,
And the flutter-by birds sang their morning songs…
Those dewy morning flutter-by songs.
Oh the clock would steal the hours,
And I’d be welded to the powers of the fireside twinkles,
And my father’s whispered stories.
All the draperies were drawn,
And very soon the room was gone…
Lost in the world of those dewy morning flutter-by songs.
When I think nowadays
How my life was seldom bored,
I feel so empty all inside.
I have lost the knack for freedom.
Bring me truthful things; I need them.
Give me someone’s side to run by
Through the dewy, silent morning.
And listen…to the flutter-by birds
Sing their dewy morning flutter-by songs…
Those beautiful songs,
Those songs of my past,
Those dewy morning flutter-by songs.

© Copyright Tony Funderburk 1975

Your whimsical writer,

Whimsical writer, Tony Funderburk, signs his name to all his words and music.

Soliloquy

Tony Funderburk Posted on by

“an act of speaking one’s thoughts aloud when by oneself or regardless of any hearers“…that’s the dictionary’s definition of a soliloquy.

When I was a young, dreamy-eyed poet, I fancied myself to be consistently involved in soliloquy. It was because I didn’t think many (if any) would understand the things I wrote about or why. That’s probably still true, at least in part. But I’ve long since grown past the point of keeping my words and music to myself.

I say all that only to sort of preface today’s poetic offering. It’s about a butterfly. Or is it? The title of the poem can’t be found anywhere in the poem. So, maybe that’s an indication of what lies beneath. Then again…maybe it isn’t. At any rate, I hope you enjoy my…

Soliloquy

Butterfly…how can you fly when your smile is gone?
Dipping and diving and looking so splendid,
But your smile is gone.
What is wrong?

Butterfly…you’re gathering nectar from flowers that have long since died.
You thirst for their sweetness and long for completeness,
But the flowers have died.
Still, you have tried.

While you fly above I am living in love…
Enjoying the peaceful tranquility.
Utopia; it’s that kind of a world
That you brought to me…willingly.

Butterfly…sometimes when I watch you I simply sigh.
Free as a child and yet all the while never saying a word.

Butterfly…I want to see you laugh again.
And I want to see you smile again.

© Copyright Tony Funderburk 1975

Your whimsical writer,

Whimsical writer, Tony Funderburk, signs his name to all his words and music.

Learn To Fly

Tony Funderburk Posted on by

I’ve always been fascinated with birds. And even though I’ve always had a lot of trepidation when it comes to heights…I think it would be cool to learn to fly.

Now, I don’t mean learn to fly planes. I mean learn to fly…like…jump off the ground and soar through the skies. How cool would that be? Imagine seeing a place up on the side of the Rocky Mountains and being able to fly up and land there in a just a few seconds. What a thrill that would be.

One day, back in 1976, I was thinking about that and I jotted down a few short lines about it. There are also underlying connotations, but I won’t bore you with those. I just hope you’ll use your wings to glide through…

Flyer

Someday I hope to learn to fly.
I’ll need some wings…some courage too.
But if birds can, then so can I.
Someday I hope to learn to fly.

And when I’m there up in the sky,
I’ll look below and wonder why…
Why can’t everyone fly?
I know they’d love it just as I.
It’s so much better way up high.
Why don’t they all just simply fly?

Someday I hope to see the world,
When it’s not twirled. When it’s not twisted.
And if I do, then I’ll tell you
Someday I hope to fly and see the world.

© Copyright Tony Funderburk 1976

Your whimsical writer,

Whimsical writer, Tony Funderburk, signs his name to all his words and music.

Hawaiian Sea

Tony Funderburk Posted on by

Imagine you’re sitting on a beach by the Hawaiian sea. Ever so quietly, in the background, you hear delightful music begin to swirl. There is no band nearby. There aren’t any houses where someone might be playing their sound system. There isn’t another soul in sight. Where is the music coming from?

Could it be the flowers? What about the morning dew on the grass? You put your ear to the ground. Nope. No music coming from there. Hmm…

Hey, maybe it’s the clouds. They’re moving around a lot up there…but…no, the music doesn’t appear to be drifting down. Then, you hear the music get a little louder. It seems to come in waves.

In waves?! Now, wait a minute! Could the Hawaiian sea possibly be making this entertaining sound? You take three steps into the water, and whoosh! Music soars past your ears, and a beautiful mix of song and sea spray cool your face. Oh, if only someone else could be here to share it with you. You know no one will ever believe this happened.

I captured a moment like this way back in 1975. And I’ve never even been to Hawaii. But that’s the beauty of being a writer. You can go anywhere in the world anytime you want, and it doesn’t cost more than the time it takes to write it down. Here’s where my imagination took me that day…

Hawaiian Sea

I could smile all day at a Hawaiian flower.
I could spend the day in a castle tower.
I always crave fondue and love lines that are true
And lazy, little drops of sun-soaked dew.

Days are mine to keep or throw away at will.
I want them to last, but I know they never will.
My memories are nice to think of once or twice.
Along the line somewhere I must have thrown the lucky dice.

Oh my Hawaiian sea
Such thoughts you bring to me.
I’m not so hard to hypnotize just watching you fall and rise.
Oh my Hawaiian sea
You calmly sing to me.
Whisper something sweetly in my ears.
Hawaiian sea I’ll stay with you a hundred years.

© Copyright Tony Funderburk 1975

Your whimsical writer,

Whimsical writer, Tony Funderburk, signs his name to all his words and music.

Whimsical Wednesday

Tony Funderburk Posted on by

OK everyboday…what do you say? How about we all pitch in and make it a whimsical Wednesday? I’ll do my part. I’ll write you a poem just for the occasion. Then, all you have to do is keep your whimsy caps on and be silly. Easy, huh?

Join whimsical writer, Tony Funderburk, for a stroll down the road on a Whimsical Wednesday

I was just looking at some pictures of kids doing silly things kids do, and I noticed the caption for the picture mentioned it was a Wednesday. So, of course my mind when into alliteration mode (as it often does) and I came up with the idea to write something silly just for the fun of it. No other reason. No need to make sense. No nothing else. Just to be silly.

I’d love to hear what you’d like to add to the whimsical wackiness. Leave comments or send me an email, and I’ll post your words here. In the meantime, have a fun and…

Whimsical Wednesday

Whimsical Wednesday…wonderful breeze
Leaving us breathless…swaying like trees.
Syllables settle inside our ears
Sounding quite silly…calming our fears
Making us mimic cows in the field…
Funnybones flapping…giggles revealed
Whimsical Wednesday…tickles the tongue
Lilting and loving…keeping us young.
Melodies mingle with bubbles and dots…
Whimsical Wednesday living in thoughts.

Your whimsical writer,

Whimsical writer, Tony Funderburk, signs his name to all his words and music.

Glisten – a poem by my younger self

Tony Funderburk Posted on by

Sometimes I’ll pick a word just because I like the sound of it…and then write a poem or song all around that single word. Not because it has any special story behind it. Simply because it can then become its own story. So, one day, way back in 1973, I happened to think about the word “glisten” while walking through the dewy grass on a mild, Kansas summer morning.

Whimsical writer, Tony Funderburk, shares what it's like to listen to a glisten.

My notebook and Bic pen were in my car, and I drove somewhere and wrote the poem. It’s not deep. It isn’t important. It isn’t even a great work of introspection or pondering. It’s simply the meandering thoughts of a young, dreamy-eyed writer wannabe. Enjoy…

Glisten

If you could listen to a glisten
What do you think you would hear?
I think the sound that would be found
Would ring out sparkling clear.
Glisten is the happy sound of happy children
In their happy worlds.
What a joy to enjoy when curled up glistens
Are uncurled.
Make for me a glisten
I can hold inside my hand.
I could carry it with me,
And I wouldn’t need a band.
This is but a moment in our lifetime.
I’m a word and you’re a word, and we rhyme.
If we glisten along our paths,
Our paths will glisten, too.
And if you’ll glisten for me,
I know I’ll glisten for you.

© Copyright Tony Funderburk 1973

So, the next time you’re walking in the back yard, first thing in the morning, with a cup of coffee in your hand, and you see the sun glistening off the blades of grass…be real still. Be real quiet. See if you can hear anything. And if you DO hear something you can’t quite make out, it might just be the the teeny, tiny sound of a glisten.

Stay tuned,

Whimsical writer, Tony Funderburk, signs his name to all his words and music.

Pleasant Breeze

Tony Funderburk Posted on by

There’s nothing like a pleasant breeze to lift your spirits first thing in the morning.

Whimsical writer, Tony Funderburk, invites you to share a Pleasant Breeze today.

Here in Colorado we’ve reached that time of year when we can open the windows in the morning and let the pleasant breezes waft through the house. And it isn’t just the breezes that lift you up…it’s also the lilting sounds of birdsongs, chirping squirrels, and a variety of other outdoor music.

Lately I’ve been sharing poems I wrote many years ago, and today I’ll be adding one called “Pleasant Breeze”. I was living in Kansas at the time I wrote it, but I think you’d be hard-pressed to find any indication of that in the words. I guess I was whisking myself away for a mental vacation. Anyway…I hope you enjoy…

Pleasant Breeze

The island’s gentle zephyr
Ran its fingers through the sand.
The epitome of friendly winds
Must have held onto its hand.
Did you know the Lord supplies it
From a corner of the sky
So the people of the world
Can it enjoy it by and by?
Tie your hair up with some velvet…
Stroll a year or maybe ten
In the shadow of a zephyr…
You’ll stroll back and forth again.
And nevermore will you be blue.
Evermore be merriment.
Make no mention of the money
Or the time you must have spent.
And try not to be an island
In an air of all alone,
Because even with a zephyr
You’d be no more than a stone.
Gentle wind please come again…
Blow and flow just as you please.
Every island, every person
Needs your lovely, pleasant breeze.

© Copyright Tony Funderburk 1973

Your whimsical writer,

Whimsical writer, Tony Funderburk, signs his name to all his words and music.

Tony Funderburk Posted on by

If your chain is missing links
And your cup is missing drinks,
Then I have to say methinks there is a snag…
‘Cause we need all of the parts
Before drawing up the charts…
Or we’ll feel it in our hearts, it’s just a gag.

Imagine, if you will, you’ve just spent the last 8 years studying to become a scientist. You attended a college and grad school with enviable credentials, and you passed all your courses with very high marks. You received your diploma, your degrees, and all of your letters of qualification. Now, you can go do what scientists do.

However…

Let’s also imagine, if you will, that much of what you learned for your chosen field of expertise was based on flawed or even fabricated information. Gasp! Perish the thought. Right? Easy now. Remember, I said “imagine if you will”, so just continue with me for a few seconds.

After you leave your institutions of higher learning, you come across a wealth of “new” information, and it sounds extremely credible, and it completely contradicts most of what you learned in school. And get this…the new information shows you not only a single gap in theories of origin…

But many missing links.

What would you do if you found yourself in this scenario? Would you simply say “no” to the idea of new information? If you did, would that make you an honest scientist? After all, isn’t a scientist suppose to seek the truth found in science…no matter where it leads?

The missing links I’m talking about are also known as “fossil gaps”. In fact, the links are so numerous we can call them missing chains. Even when scientists study the best preserved fossils found in amber they discover there are no transitional fossils found anywhere. There are missing links between invertebrates and vertebrates, between fish and amphibians, between reptiles and mammals, between reptiles and birds, and between primates and other mammals.

As I said…”methinks there is a snag”.

Stay tuned,

Tony Funderburk signature logo

Share this link with everybody you know, so they can jump on the The TRUTH
(My regular emails about the essentials of life, AND some music and other good stuff, for Fa-Ree)

 

A Time For Yesterday

Tony Funderburk Posted on by

Sitting in the sunshine one day, back in 1973, a phrase popped into my head. “A time for yesterdays”. I don’t know why that happens. But it still does, and I must say I’m glad. On that particular day, I sat down and wrote a poem to go with the phrase.

A Time For Yesterdays

Sometimes…when everything seems out of sorts
And glaring out at me…
I settle back into my rocking chair and think of
How sweet things used to be.
I see butterscotch, balloon men, and colored glass beads.
Happiness was mine when fun filled my needs.
I wondered if life was a merry-go-round.
Life was so easy when I stayed unwound.

Back in those wondrous yesterdays
I wandered free, without a care.
It was a time of childish games
And candy kisses I could share…
A time of dreams and “let’s pretend”…
A time of secrets with a friend.

What made the time pass suddenly?
What made me grow so fast?
Why can’t we all stay young
Without living in the past?
That butterscotch that’s sweet to me
Is something that I’ve bought,
And balloon men that once used to be
Remain now only as a thought.
The colored glass beads are
In a jewelry box somewhere,
And the kisses that I give my love
Are the kisses that I share.

© 1973 Tony Funderburk

Your whimsical writer,

Whimsical writer, Tony Funderburk, signs his name to all his words and music.

Tony Funderburk Posted on by

Have you ever picked a bouquet of flowers that bloom at night?

What kind of flowers Bloom At Night? Dreamflowers.

Poindexter was in a pickle…a stew…a real jam. He hadn’t paid attention to where he was going and the dark night had sneaked up on him. He couldn’t see a thing. No trail, no trees, no toes, no knees. So, he did the only thing a clever kid could do…he started crawling forward.

Voices began to echo in the back of Poindexter’s brain…

“Young man…you need to get your head out of the clouds,” he could hear his dad say.

“Honey, you’d forget your ears if they weren’t glued onto your head,” his mom murmured.

“Poindexter! Look out! You’re gonna hit the flagpole,” the kids on the playground yelled.

“Well…I guess they’re all right,” he thought to himself. “If I had ever learned to pay attention, I wouldn’t be stuck here in the dark.”

In spite of being upset, Poindexter kept blindly crawling forward.

Up ahead he saw colored, glowing lights. He had to cross over a hill, and just on the other side he saw the most wonderful garden of flowers glimmering in the dark. He ran down to the garden and silently stared into the…

Dreamflowers

They bloom at night
In the fragmented shadows of birch trees…
By the rippling water of a sparkling spring.
It’s an odd thing.
They bloom at night.

Their many-colored petals seem to tenderly twinkle,
And they sway gently in a breeze of imagination…
A creation from a dream.
In the morning of glory
The dewdrops of love, clinging to the splendid petals,
Reflect the sunlight from a caring heart…
It’s the start of the dream.

Oh, the wonder and the beauty,
The likes of which not many have witnessed.
Even the wise ones confessed
That it was by chance to see this little
Shred of Heaven
And then be invited to spend the night admiring it.

They bloom at night,
Sprout from a ground of wishful thinking,
And feed on wandering thoughts.
Such innocent little flowers,
But very special because
They can grow any way you want.
Water them with the water of dreams,
And talk to them in the language of sleep,
And watch them bloom at night.

© Tony Funderburk 1973

Your whimsical writer,

Whimsical writer, Tony Funderburk, signs his name to all his words and music.

Tony Funderburk Posted on by

Imagine, for a minute, that there are 7 layers of the heart.

The first layer is a deep, dark indigo where the heart is conceived. The second layer is a rich, regal purple where the heart is created. The third layer is a magnetic, cobalt blue where the shape of the heart is formed. The fourth layer is a fertile, emerald green where love can grow. The fifth layer is a warm, glowing orange where emotions are kindled. The sixth layer is a lilting yellow where faith and hope mingle. And the seventh layer is a luscious, rose red where the embers of life never die out.

Now…imagine all those layers of the heart are poured out quickly and form a beautiful work of art. And imagine everyone who walked by wanting to know who the artist was.

“Oh my,” says one passer-by. “I’ve never seen such spectacular colors. It must’ve taken the artist years to create such a masterpiece.”

But it just so happens, the artist is right behind the canvas in the next aisle. And he comes around to face the observer and says…

“Not at all…I created this piece before lunch one day.”

“Impossible,” replies the observer. “No one could create such a wonderful work of art in only a few hours.”

“And yet…I tell you I did.” The artist begins to appear frustrated. “If you won’t believe me in this small matter, what would you ever believe?”

Here’s the deal…

I wrote this story about a heart to describe our beautiful layered world. The artist is actually the Creator of the universe and all the matter in it. He did that in 6 days. And when, in His wise judgment, He flooded the world one time about 4,000 years ago, many beautiful layers of sediment were deposited in many places. It all happened in days…not millions of years. And now, 4,000 years later, we can still see those amazingly parallel strata in places like the Grand Canyon.

It’s so much more awesome to celebrate design in our world and universe than it is to experience a lifetime of uncertainty found in random chance. Just the thought of it lights up all the layers of the heart.

Stay tuned,

Tony Funderburk signature logo

No-cost, low-cost, and premium ways you can show your support…

Tell everybody you know to subscribe to Tony’s Daily Devotional
(emails with good stuff for Fa-Ree)

Get my Rhyme & Reason Podcast delivered right to your device. (also Fa-Ree)

Get digital Bible stuff from the same company I do.

My books are also on Amazon.com or Apple Books

Grab yourself an un-cool T-shirt

Or how about some music for believers, dreamers, and thinkers

 

Tony Funderburk Posted on by

When tomorrow comes, it won’t be here.

When tomorrow comes, you'll still be living in today.

Have you ever thought about it that way? I came up with my own “famous” quote about it. I say “Today is yesterday’s tomorrow and tomorrow’s yesterday”. When you read it, I think it hits you solidly in the left side of your brain. When you say it out loud, I’m confident your right brain will kick in and enjoy it.

But maybe that’s just me.

Anyway…I’ve always pondered the wonder of the passing of time. Time is linear, not random access like some kooky scientists and philosophers would have you believe. Time travels forever forward. And each day you live is today. The future exists as a concept, but it isn’t here. It’s there. You can’t live there…just as you can’t live in the past.

But when you place tomorrow, today, and yesterday carefully into the same scenario with the same emotion, it can become a fun and whimsical ride into make-believe. I did that in a poem I wrote way, way back in my past. One daydreaming day I looked into my future and saw myself the day before tomorrow. It became…

For Today

When tomorrow comes
We’re gonna search for yesterday
And today will be here again.
Oh, if only it came to pass…
That today would stay forever,
What would become of me?
Well, I’d like to try and see.
If you’d allow me one request
With which you’d follow through…
Then, if today lasts forever,
Let me spend today with you.
And if you’ll listen,
You’ll find that my heart beats in time with yours.
And if you’ll look,
You’ll find that I’m a daydreamer and you’re my fantasy.
And if you’ll feel,
You’ll find that I’m living on the hope that you love me.
Do you or don’t you?
Will you or won’t you?
When tomorrow comes,
I’m gonna search for yesterday
And hope that I can be yours for today.

© 1973 Tony Funderburk

Stay tuned,

Tony Funderburk signature logo

No-cost, low-cost, and premium ways you can show your support…

Tell everybody you know to subscribe to Tony’s Daily Devotional
(emails with good stuff for Fa-Ree)

Get my Rhyme & Reason Podcast delivered right to your device. (also Fa-Ree)

Get digital Bible stuff from the same company I do.

My books are also on Amazon.com or Apple Books

Grab yourself an un-cool T-shirt

Or how about some music for believers, dreamers, and thinkers

 

Tony Funderburk Posted on by

How about making this Saturday and Sunday a weekend to remember?

“But Tony (you say to your computer or mobile monitor) “It’s just another weekend. I don’t have any plans, money, or ideas. How could I and why should I make it a weekend to remember? What will that prove?” Well, it’ll prove you’re alive and loving life.

And that’ll make it a weekend to remember.

You don’t have to spend a bunch of money…or any for that matter. You don’t have to make calls, get out your appointment book and make reservations, or even make any special blocks of time available. You only need to show your love.

Yep, you read that right. Show your love, whether it’s to one person, the whole family, or even a large group, and let it shine. C’mon…I know it’s in you. It’s just sitting there thinking you won’t use it. And why shouldn’t it think that? After all, did you let your love shine last weekend? Did you selflessly look for opportunities to do for others as you’d have done unto you? Or did you watch the special sports programming? Or latest blockbuster at the cinema? Or go out in search of some new bling bling?

There’s really nothing all that wrong with any of those activities…but there’s almost a 100% chance none of them will help you create a weekend to remember.

But love can do that. Love rejoices, bears, believes, hopes, and endures all things. If it can do that, I suspect it can blow the lid off an otherwise dull and boring weekend. So this Saturday and Sunday think of someone you know who could use a hug or a kiss and and then make sure you’re the provider…

…not only will you make it a weekend to remember…you’ll be sowing some seeds that’ll provide you with that same kind of love if and when you need it. Go give it a try. And come back here and let me know how it went. I’ll wait…

Stay tuned,

Tony Funderburk signature logo

No-cost, low-cost, and premium ways you can show your support…

Tell everybody you know to subscribe to Tony’s Daily Devotional
(emails with good stuff for Fa-Ree)

Get my Rhyme & Reason Podcast delivered right to your device. (also Fa-Ree)

Get digital Bible stuff from the same company I do.

My books are also on Amazon.com or Apple Books

Grab yourself an un-cool T-shirt

Or how about some music for believers, dreamers, and thinkers

 

Play The Mandolin

Tony Funderburk Posted on by

As many of my friends, through the years, can attest…country music isn’t my favorite. Now, before you jump on my case…give my “Bedtime Buckaroos” lullaby songs a listen. You’ll see that I not only play some country music…I even write some. And that brings me to my subject for today. I think it would be fun to be able to play the mandolin. I’m pretty sure I won’t take it up, but it’s a very cool sounding instrument.

If you play the mandolin, this whimsical writer salutes you.

Of course, in my whimsical world of words not only have I learned how to play the mandolin…I’ve also flown across the face of the earth, talked to a wide variety of animals, and even listened to colors. So, it’s only natural I’d take up and learn an instrument I’ll never actually play in the real world. Does that make sense?

I can remember a day, way back in 1973, when I heard a guy play the mandolin in a song that was anything but country. The song didn’t twang. It didn’t talk about trucks or beer or hangin’ out down by the river. In fact, it was a nice, jazzy instrumental piece where each player had a chance to solo. The mandolin solo was so impressive I dreamed up a scenario where my lover was a mandolin teacher. Don’t ask me where these ideas originate…I’m just a silly daydreamer who lets his thoughts lead the way.

Anyway…here are the words. It’s not a song, so even if I could play the mandolin, I wouldn’t be playing this for you…

My Dear Taught Me To Play The Mandolin

I wish you would turn the lights out
And put a record on.
We could sit on the sofa side by side
And listen to it till dawn.
I’m not a real fine warbler,
But I can keep the pace.
The songs we play are how I feel,
And it shows on my face.
Do you remember back in August
When we sat all alone
In a room filled with tunes
That rang like telephones?
We were poor…we didn’t care
To be another way,
But here we are a couple of stars.
It’s quite a different day.
I’m glad you taught me how
To play the mandolin my dear,
‘Cause if I hadn’t learned it,
You’d be without me here.

© Copyright Tony Funderburk 1973

Your whimsical writer,

Whimsical writer, Tony Funderburk, signs his name to all his words and music.

Tony Funderburk Posted on by

Today I’m gonna give you the keys to a wonderful superpower. When I share this secret, you’ll be able to start seeing the invisible. How cool is that?!

I know this world seems like a tough place. And that’s because it is. It’s tough…it’s mean… it’s ready to chew you up and spit you out. But that’s just the stuff you can see. What would you do if I told you there’s another part of you that isn’t going downhill? What if I told you there’s another part of you that can actually be renewed day by day?

Your troubles here on planet earth are really just for a short while. Sure, it may seem like they go on and on (sometimes), but as you get older you realize how quickly it all passes away. Yet, life goes on for those who believe God’s word, and I mean on into eternity.

That’s why it’s important to get that superpower I mentioned. It’s important that you start seeing the invisible because the things we can see only last a little while. The things we can’t see last forever. One of those things can be your renewed spirit.

It’s a very tiny thing to give your heart to God and get a renewed spirit that lives forever. By that, I mean…you only need to do one tiny thing…

Believe.

Christianity is both an inclusive and an exclusive faith. Anyone who believes that Jesus was and is God…and that He truly did come to earth in the form of a human…and that He died a horrible death for the sins of the world…and that He rose again…can be included in paradise in Heaven with God.

And anyone who does not want to believe that…anyone who prefers to play god…anyone who says I don’t want to live forever with “all those rules”…anyone who just blames God for anything wrong in life…is excluded from Heaven.

God doesn’t want you to “trust in your own understanding” when it comes to matters of the spirit. And He does want you to start seeing the invisible things with your eyes opened to the Truth of His Word.

But, of course, if I’m just perpetuating more of that “Christian nonsense”, or more of those “fictional stories”, you can simply go on believing as you choose. The keyword to remember in that statement is “choose”. Whether it’s Heaven or hell…either destination will be what you choose while you’re right here on earth.

Therefore…choose life.

It’s an awesome whimsical choice. Your imagination will be able to soar on the wings of eagles forever…and to heights you can’t even imagine here where the visible things fade.

Close your eyes and see clearly
The things to hold more dearly…
The life a living, loving God gave to us all.
Here your world may be scary,
But it’s only temporary.
God is big enough to make your troubles small.

Stay tuned,

Tony Funderburk signature logo

No-cost, low-cost, and premium ways you can show your support…

Tell everybody you know to subscribe to Tony’s Daily Devotional
(emails with good stuff for Fa-Ree)

Get my Rhyme & Reason Podcast delivered right to your device. (also Fa-Ree)

Get digital Bible stuff from the same company I do.

My books are also on Amazon.com or Apple Books

Grab yourself an un-cool T-shirt

Or how about some music for believers, dreamers, and thinkers