Enter this page, Beloved,.to enjoy the wisdom 
and often prophetic pen of a man I deeply admire and respect, as a friend and personal mentor.
George is a prolific poet & author of 24 books!
An amazing Man of God, George will cause you 
to stop and ponder what he has written, which is often prophetic, poignant, powerful, and even political. Many people wrongfully believe that Christians are never to get involved in politics.. which is a lie from hell!  One that has paralyzed many saints of GOD and damaged our nation in a very real way. We are to be in the world, just not o it.. meaning, we are not to think or behave like the world at large.  But we are to take the truth of GOD found in His Word, the Bible, and apply it to every area of our lives.. including socio-political areas.
Come with an open mind, ready to learn something.. and you will not be disappointed!
But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's special possession, that you may declare the praises of Him who called you out of darkness into His wonderful light. 
 1 Peter 2:9 NIV

HomeAdministration OfficeCounseling TopicSpirit of ChristmasGlorify His Name!Contemplations
Valley of BeracahRebecca's HopePrayer ClosetKings' CornerFor the Love of LenaEv. Gary's Legacy
Living StonesSpread The News!


Though the butterfly never makes a sound,
As it flitters above the ground.
And the break of day is quiet also.
Am I, in my age of old, bound?

The thoughtless may have thoughts also, I'm told.
And the young seem to be so bold.
Here I am, as young as the mountains high;
Without a whimper or a sigh.

I let the grass grow and the rain to fall,
Because Nature has the last call.
Who am I to brag, though no one hears me,
A poet's voice, a memory.

Life may not escape me till my last breath,
And then a new life will be set.
I will hear sounds I've never heard before,
Coming from God, whom I adore.

© 2013 George J. Carroll
      I worked on this poem 
to have perfect meter
and almost perfect rhyme.
 I hope it is not stiff
when it's read.  - GJC
In His Love, Rev. Rhonda

This Side Of Mars

To finalize a thought,
Let it simmer for awhile.
It should reach a temperature
[Hot] Enough to boil two eggs.

Three minutes in the water
Should be sufficient
To tenderize rubber
To its most elastic point.

Served with a dash of salt
And you have the most
Tasty thought this side of Mars.

The taste will blow you away..

 © 2018 
 George Carroll

We pray you were blessed by your visit to Fruit of The Earth!
The Counseling Branch of  "HE Writes the Words on My Heart!" Ministries  
 Rhonda S. Galizia, Founder & Scribe Unto The LORD  
St. Matthew 13:52
© 1992-2022
  International Copyright   All Rights Reserved By Law.

*George can also be found on the Living Stones page here!

A Daunting Task

Soothing the feelings,
Where they have been hurt,
Is a daunting task
For the amateur.

Life is a raging sea,
That cannot be calmed
By the intentions best,
O captain of the night.

We are but mortals,
Living in God's reign.
Having a blue print,
That we will not heed.

© 2013 George J. Carroll
Click here to add text.
True Friendship
I put trust in people,
Because they are good.
They become your friends,
And by your side stood.
They put to rest rumors
And lies of all sorts.
The truth is their banner,
Not concocted from false thoughts.
O find me a friend
Who will be this true.
And I will show you an angel,
God has given to you.
© 2013 George J. Carroll
Looking Ahead
In a little rice paddy,
In a small China farm.
I saw these earnest people,
Working through the day.
They didn't stop to talk,
As that would cause delay.
And food must be planted,
If they are to live another day.
Starvation is known too well,
In this very large Country.
Only boys are welcome,
As they provide the labor.
But in the cities there is progress.
Many jobs to be had as

New factories have been built
By foreign investors, from other lands.
Now they are thriving and getting strong.
Capitalism just winked at by fat cats,
As the tanks keep rolling on,
With bright new soldiers marching.
A Country that now has few equals,
Smog is the color of their day, as is red.
But we are just a far away nation,
Borrowing our way to extinction.

© 2013 George J. Carroll
Click here to add text.

The Color Of Thoughts

A thought came to me-
Do thoughts have color?
Of themselves, no.
It's our emotions
That can color our thoughts.
But only as an narrative.
We place a setting
In the reader's mind,
Which is our canvas.
Their memory supplies
The brush for our thoughts
And the color what they see.
Thinking is another process
By which we discern color.
Names of colors are what we learned.
We materialize what we see
Into words that reflect color,
But in themselves are colorless.

© 2013 George J. Carroll
My Trip To Africa

My days in Africa,
I remember still.
Went on a safari-
Bagged a scared cat.
He was as black
As outer space.
But I let him go-
Now nary a trace.
But then there was
This leopard that sprang-
One shot rang out,
And he fell dead.
When I came to,
I was back in the States.
Never forget my trip
To Africa, did in one take.

© 2013 George J. Carroll
© 2013 George J. Carroll

She Was Real

When I met her, she took my breath away.
Her eyes and her lips shown in the night,
And their sparkle was more than I could bear.
Her beauty was that of something so rare.

My heart seemed to beat faster as I got close,
And when I was next to her, her beauty
was out of this world and overwhelmed me,
That I had to fall at her feet and bow my head.

For I was in the presence of a beautiful queen,
And she smiled, a longing smile at me.
I could no longer stand it, I had to hold her in my arms,
And kiss her waiting lips, to see if she was real.

Being a haphazard artist,
Wielding a paint filled brush.
Seeing objects with misty eyes-
Women I make to blush.
Amazed at abstract,
For it has beauty untold.
A few swirls of the brush,
Not ashamed to hang it up.
Love vibrant colors,
They leap off the canvas.
Give me those red and yellows,
And plenty of blue.
Not a poet, nor an artist,
But somehow I make do.
The only one I have to please,
Is the holder of the pen or brush. 
© 2013 George J. Carroll
Haphazard   Artist

From Out Of The Blue

Poetry is like falling off a cliff
And half way down you think of a poem.
And before you meet the bottom
The poem has been embedded in your mind.

Or it can be like a bicycle ride
On a sunny day and a thought
Comes out of the blue for a poem.
And as you peddle it now takes shape.

You never know when a poem
Will materialize, be ready when it does.
You may not have pen and paper,
But the outline can be remembered. 

© 2013 George J. Carroll
I don't have a photo yet, but be sure to check out George's latest book at Amazon! 
Twilight of Thought
It is 96 wonderful pages of the expert wit and wisdom we have come to expect from our handsome and well- seasoned  nonagenarian, Good King George!

An Unknown

Can I, though yet ignorant,
Share my words with the best?
It seems a thought is a thought,
Regardless of who lays it to rest.

The stroke of a pen will attest
To the validity of my claim.
I boast not, but in a serious
And decisive manner, befitting my name.

I, an unknown, but know so well,
In a moment that can all change.
There is only a spark needed,
To burn through the longest range.

The simplest poet I know,
Can cast his bread on an ocean wide.
Yet his wondrous words are known,
Beyond every ocean's tide.

Fame and glory I seek not,
For they are vain at best.
But to have someone remember
A poem of mine, would be my humble request.

© 2013 George J. Carroll

Cobwebs of Time

Wading through some muddled thoughts,
Of yesterdays memories sought.
Brushing aside the cobwebs of time,
To enter old thoughts, once sublime.
There in the avenues of long ago,
Where the road signs cautioned, go slow.
Always seemed to be in a rush,
Never listening to the warbling thrush.
I sat and pondered on my yesterdays;
Remembering them as if today.
Thank God for those gifts received,
And the bride I know, was in heaven conceived.

© 2013 George J. Carroll

Not Out Of Reach

There are some mysteries
That may never be solved.
Look at the universe
And how little a speck are we.

Sure we have made giant strides,
Compared to centuries ago.
And maybe we will make more,
As much is yet to be known.

Scientists have not been born 
With the answers to this universe.
Time is the biggest hurdle
To get us from place to place.

Even at the speed of light,
So much is beyond our reach.
Yet a single prayer at night
Reaches our Creator's ears.

© 2014 George J. Carroll
​Clothes Of Its Own

From the depth of thoughts
An idea lingers.
It was isolated;
No longer is it now.

We can shape it
And mold it easily.
It is but putty
In our mind's eye.

Care as we shape it,
To reflect our touch.
We create the story
Where its life begins.

Some will remember
The poem that is born.
But never the less,
It has clothes of its own.

© 2014 George J. Carroll
excerpt, Forty Winks - George's 13th Book!
*​Excerpts from Book 16, untitled as yet

Painting A Thought

Painting a thought with dreams
That I can blend with many hues.
My brush is always fluid, ready to go
Michelangelo hardly, but still a great show.

Mired in a thoughtless fog  
That can only be lifted
When the clouds let it through
And I can reveal its content.

There can be absence of thoughts
But not oblivion of the writer.
The mask, at times, comes off
And you perceive the conflagration.

A fire only consumes what will burn
The rest lies twisted and deformed.
There can be no remorse for the worthless
If in our minds eye we visualize such.

Michelangelo hardly, but a great show.

At least that's what dreams are made of,
Though they seldom do come true.
But when I land a winner, now and then,
Like Picasso, you can see my grin.

© 2014 George J. Carroll

Hazy Days

Often the days are hazy
As I brake a new dawn.
Just like to lie in bed,
Instead of cutting the lawn.

Seems I have no choice,
It just has to get done.
The shower wakes me up.
Life seems to have lost its fun.

​© 2014 George J. Carroll

Absence of Thoughts

Mired in a thoughtless fog  
That can only be lifted
When the clouds let it through
And I can reveal its content.

There can be absence of thoughts
But not oblivion of the writer.
The mask, at times, comes off
And you perceive the conflagration.

A fire only consumes what will burn
The rest lies twisted and deformed.
There can be no remorse for the worthless
If in our minds eye we visualize such.

Heartless and rebuff for many so inclined,
To view a tragedy and never shed a tear.
Comfort those who are left with loss
And their hearts forever to grieve.

© 2014 George J. Carroll

Catalyst Of A Thought

Beyond the catalyst of a thought
Lies the inauguration of an idea.
We must grasp at this straw and draw it in,
Lest it disappear and forever be lost.

We are not to understand its complexity,
But to look further into the idea given.
A puzzle must be unraveled when all the parts
Are lain before us for examination.

No part is insignificant, nor to be ignored.
Treat all aspects as if they contain the answer.
When our mind can transfix what we see;
It is then that the idea is released and understood.

© 2014 George J. Carroll

Sower Of Words

Words can puncture an ego,
Like a sharp pin to a balloon.
Be wary of loose talk always,
As it can be copied, making you the ass.

Spray your words, as if on a canvas,
Needing just a deft touch.
I, the sower of words, need caution;
Before a throat I shall cut.​

© 2014 George J. Carroll​

Old Glory

Hoist the sails, catch the winds that blow
Let us leave this harbor and earn our pay
For the sun has risen, giving the light of day.
Clear the decks, it's time to sail away

Tomorrow will see us in battle
And the enemy will feel our might.
Our flag will fly above all,
What a glorious sight!

© 2014 George J. Carroll


I’ve been on a steamboat,
A canoe and a yacht.
A speed boat gave me thrills
That I think of a lot.

The taste of the salty brine
From the spray in my face,
Is a thrill I’ll never forget
When we won the race.

I have been above the clouds,
Having reached the mountain's peak.
That was a piece of heaven
I can see as I speak.

 Adventure is where you are,
Don’t let it slip by.
It can be a piece of cheesecake,
The thrill is in your eye.

© 2014 George J. Carroll

Mr. Carroll is AMAZING, and at 91 years young, his mind remains brilliant and sharp as a tack!  Visit his page at Authors Den for more reading enjoyment by clicking here!

Believe It Or Not

Where do my lost thoughts go,
As I can never recall them.
Bits and pieces remain
But not the whole substance.

Good thing I can remember
Other thoughts and put them to prose.
Other wise my memories would
Never be revealed, a life unfulfilled.

Seems a wonder I’ve been blessed with,
Late in life, thoughts to reveal.
Of course many are not true,
But that is up to the reader, believe it or not. 

© 2014 George J. Carroll​

The Old Sailor

 The ancient mariner stopped by 
For a few laughs and a brew.
His stories of his travels far,
Always entertained us anew.

The Marybelle was the ship he sailed,
And she took him to many ports.
He would recount the happenings,
In his tales of every sort.

He was a sailor true and blue,
An adventurer who loved the sea.
Dropped anchor in many lands,
And saw all he could see.

He left us enriched by his tales,
And we will miss his jovial wit.
Until his journey is completed,
And new tales he will regale us with.
                                     © 2014 George J. Carroll​

Thoughts Live On

Where do thoughts come from?
They are taken from our daily lives.
Captured and retained
To live one day again.

We who write these thoughts,
Must ever be on guard, less they flee.
For a thought can be microscopic
Until you add some words and set it free.

It then has a life in the meaning of words,
Which are the soul and the breath
That a poet tries to capture in his poem,
Giving a thought freedom to live on.

​© 2014 George J Carroll
May the Spirit live on in all of us.

Civil Unrest 

Civil unrest continues 
To be a blot on our land. 
Taking matters 
into one's own hands
Is anarchy 
and not a solution.

Violence should be condemned,
As the circumstances that create it 
Are not solutions and denigrate
The cause for which it is addressing.
May peace and understanding 
Overcome the lawless element.
Let's have all the facts on abuse
That are being claimed by the rioters.  

​© 2015 George J Carroll


Message: Ideas are dissolved 
As is the written word.
 Expression is silenced 
In a macabre manner,
 Let the bold express 
That freedom is not lunacy,
 It is in the controlled manner 
Of treating a situation. 
​© 2015 George J Carroll​

  The shadows of dusk 
Mingle with the night air. 
Leaving an eerie presence
 At everything I stare. 
Here on this lonesome bay
 You can hear yesterday's thoughts.
 The sounds of the midnight owl 
Lets you know what he has sought.
 Gone are my days of frolic, 
When youth was full of vim. 
Here my thoughts are aging 
In a body that has aged within.

​© 2015 George J Carroll

Aborted Baby's Thoughts

I never saw the oceans Or the mountains on high.
 I never saw the lilies That on the valleys lie.
 I never saw the wild life That in our forests roam. 
Or had a dog to play with If I was home alone.
 I never saw the sunlight Of a glorious new day.
 Or witnessed the laughter Of my friends at play.
 I never told my mother How much I loved her so, 
Or thanked my father for his care As I continued to grow.
 I never got to thank God For the wonders He has done. 
For my life was ended, Before it had begun.

​© 2015 George J Carroll
Please choose LIFE!  Abortion is just another word for MURDER!
February 19, 1924 - January 20, 2021