I've tried to post this 3 times, My computer and this site are being beasts. This better work!!!!
Let's Swing, Daddy-O.
Kewl Beanz is the coolest place
To shake your booty and show your face.
Run by those two hipsters, never call Them square,
Foxster and Skipster make quite a pair.
Backed up, of course by the rest of the crew,
Tara, Gretchen and Kato too.
The food is to die for, the booze is first rate.
Better get there early to get through that gate.
I'm off to do shopping, to find my best look.
Who knows, maybe I'll finally hook
The man of my dreams, if not, who cares.
I'll still be enjoying a night most rare.
So jump in your car, take a plane, boat or train.
An opening like this won't be happening again.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Monday, December 21, 2009
True Christmas
Christmas has always been one of my favorite holidays. I have come to realize that the exact date that it is celebrated doesn't matter. It's the gathering of friends and family, a time when people tend to be more in charity with each. Some families with loved ones in the service keep their trees up until they get home. Other people open their hearts and homes to to those in need, whether they are family or strangers. Christmas is not about the gifts or how much they cost.
Here's some of what Christmas means to me.
True Christmas.
Lights burning brightly,
Stores open nightly,
Tinsel and glitter and gold.
False snow gleams whitely,
Trees tied up tightly,
All part of the Christmas time mold.
What happened to old fashioned Christmas?
The laughter and cheer abounding?
The church service held at midnight.
A store-bought present? Astounding!
Just what's the true meaning of Christmas?
How many stop to remember
About the young babe
Wrapped in swaddling clothes
In a manger that morn in December.
The birth of our Lord is the reason
We chose to give thanks this day.
Presents may fade, as does the season,
But Christ is here to stay.
Merry Christmas to all and to all goodnight
And sweet dreams
.
Here's some of what Christmas means to me.
True Christmas.
Lights burning brightly,
Stores open nightly,
Tinsel and glitter and gold.
False snow gleams whitely,
Trees tied up tightly,
All part of the Christmas time mold.
What happened to old fashioned Christmas?
The laughter and cheer abounding?
The church service held at midnight.
A store-bought present? Astounding!
Just what's the true meaning of Christmas?
How many stop to remember
About the young babe
Wrapped in swaddling clothes
In a manger that morn in December.
The birth of our Lord is the reason
We chose to give thanks this day.
Presents may fade, as does the season,
But Christ is here to stay.
Merry Christmas to all and to all goodnight
And sweet dreams
.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
It's History
History. Long past or just yesterday, even just a second ago, it's all history. I have always loved ancient history, a look into a culture and it's people. I don't enjoy history much after World War I, so much happened so fast, things become a blur.
In a way, I think it's too bad that our technology has swallowed some of the simpler ways of doing things. As a result, so many of us have become overweight and understimulated. Children are using computers in the earliest grades, becoming dependent on machines to do their thinking for them. So important that we constantly challenge their minds and bodies, so that being able to do and think for yourself doesn't become part of history.
A relationship also has a history, the way it begins or ends can influence your future. Boy, some of mine have ended in strange ways. If I had looked closer into their history, I might have made different choices.
So here I go. Remember, when this post is done, it's history!
Who Could Have Predicted.
When ancient man, fire did find.
It made a difference to body and mind
The body warm, the mind was free
To think up ways of creativity.
It cooked their food, lit up the night.
Gave hungry animals quite a fright.
How wonderful that a burning tree
Gave fire a place in history.
Next came tools of metal and stone.
A little hard work on the edge to hone
The blade to an edge bright and sharp,
Making a weapon, flesh to part.
Or making a tool to till the ground
To feed the families all around.
So you see, to fill a need
Tools found a place in history.
The climate changed and they had to roam
Further afield to find a home.
They learned to tame the animals, strong,
To take them to a new place to belong.
They learned to ride and so you see
Faster travel, both wild and free
Now has a place in history.
They needed to get to the other side
Of a river that was broad and wide.
They built a fire in a log of wood
And scraped it out deep and good.
A boat stood there for all to see
And became a part of history.
People began to learn that together a plan
Has more chance of succeeding
Than with just one man.
So they began to gather a large enough group
To accomplish their goals, their plans bore fruit.
Surrounded their folks with walls so high
To protect them when the night grew nigh.
It doesn't take much vision to see
That cities have a place in history.
Sadly, with cities came weapons of war.
As people grew greedy, they wanted more
Than what they had earned, to take from another.
Whether it was a stranger or it was a brother.
Oh yes, war can truly be
A sad part of our history.
Faster, yet faster we wanted to go.
Engines that ran on steam, wood or coal.
Became the next in a race to go as far
As the tracks would take us, follow that star
To the very next place, town or city.
The railroad has it's place in history.
But we wanted to be able to go on our own.
To go wherever we wanted to roam.
So to that end was built, over many a day
That which we would both curse and praise.
The car was birthed and travels free
To earn it's place in history.
Still not enough, the sky's the limit.
So in order to find our place in it,
The Wright brothers gave us a flying machine.
And we took it so far, it seemed like a dream.
To the moon and back, it's easy to see
That the plane is a big part of our history.
Computers have made it faster, it seems,
For man to realize so many schemes.
We have to remember it's only a tool.
For we would be made to look like a fool
If they all crashed and we forgot how
To do all the things we depend upon now.
For good or bad, for you and for me.
They are part of our future and our history.
In a way, I think it's too bad that our technology has swallowed some of the simpler ways of doing things. As a result, so many of us have become overweight and understimulated. Children are using computers in the earliest grades, becoming dependent on machines to do their thinking for them. So important that we constantly challenge their minds and bodies, so that being able to do and think for yourself doesn't become part of history.
A relationship also has a history, the way it begins or ends can influence your future. Boy, some of mine have ended in strange ways. If I had looked closer into their history, I might have made different choices.
So here I go. Remember, when this post is done, it's history!
Who Could Have Predicted.
When ancient man, fire did find.
It made a difference to body and mind
The body warm, the mind was free
To think up ways of creativity.
It cooked their food, lit up the night.
Gave hungry animals quite a fright.
How wonderful that a burning tree
Gave fire a place in history.
Next came tools of metal and stone.
A little hard work on the edge to hone
The blade to an edge bright and sharp,
Making a weapon, flesh to part.
Or making a tool to till the ground
To feed the families all around.
So you see, to fill a need
Tools found a place in history.
The climate changed and they had to roam
Further afield to find a home.
They learned to tame the animals, strong,
To take them to a new place to belong.
They learned to ride and so you see
Faster travel, both wild and free
Now has a place in history.
They needed to get to the other side
Of a river that was broad and wide.
They built a fire in a log of wood
And scraped it out deep and good.
A boat stood there for all to see
And became a part of history.
People began to learn that together a plan
Has more chance of succeeding
Than with just one man.
So they began to gather a large enough group
To accomplish their goals, their plans bore fruit.
Surrounded their folks with walls so high
To protect them when the night grew nigh.
It doesn't take much vision to see
That cities have a place in history.
Sadly, with cities came weapons of war.
As people grew greedy, they wanted more
Than what they had earned, to take from another.
Whether it was a stranger or it was a brother.
Oh yes, war can truly be
A sad part of our history.
Faster, yet faster we wanted to go.
Engines that ran on steam, wood or coal.
Became the next in a race to go as far
As the tracks would take us, follow that star
To the very next place, town or city.
The railroad has it's place in history.
But we wanted to be able to go on our own.
To go wherever we wanted to roam.
So to that end was built, over many a day
That which we would both curse and praise.
The car was birthed and travels free
To earn it's place in history.
Still not enough, the sky's the limit.
So in order to find our place in it,
The Wright brothers gave us a flying machine.
And we took it so far, it seemed like a dream.
To the moon and back, it's easy to see
That the plane is a big part of our history.
Computers have made it faster, it seems,
For man to realize so many schemes.
We have to remember it's only a tool.
For we would be made to look like a fool
If they all crashed and we forgot how
To do all the things we depend upon now.
For good or bad, for you and for me.
They are part of our future and our history.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Winter's Dressing
Snow. Interesting timing for this TT, as we just had our first real snowfall of the season this morning. Everything had a blanket of white, unspoiled as yet by the footsteps of man or animal. The rising sun reflected off the snow on the branches, creating an almost surreal beauty of diamonds and prisms. It's was a picture-perfect postcard of a New England winter's day.
The children had school off because of the snow. Snow forts and snowmen arise, with snowballs the weapon of choice. Snow angels appear whever children (and some adults) are playing. What a treasure, seeing things through the eyes of a child, a chance to once again experience that sense of wonder and beauty.
Through The Eyes Of A Child
"Momma what's that white outside?
Shining so brightly
It hurts my eyes?"
"Why that's snow, my dear,
God's gift to us, nothing to fear."
"Can we go outside? I want to touch
That sparkling surface so very much.
Where's my coat and hat?
Mittens too, can't forget that."
It's cold out there.
"If it's a gift, can everyone share?"
"But of course, my child,
What can compare
To sharing the joy
Of the fun out there?"
"What's a snow angel?"
My little tyke asked.
"Let me show you," I said
And bent to the task.
Falling back into the snow
Arms and legs spread wide.
Then moving in rhythm,
To her suprise
An angel was there
When mom did arise.
"My turn,my turn!"
And quick as a flash
A second angel lay there
She sure learned fast.
"Now we can make people,
Come and help me
Roll these balls of snow
And soon you will see
Frosty the snowman
Arrive on the scene."
"Now we must rush
And get him a hat
A scarf and a carrot
For his nose, in a flash.
We musn't forget his eyes
Made of coal and his grin
Smiling at us for making him."
"This was so much fun
But now it's time
To go inside, where you will find
Hot Chocolate steaming
To warm you up.
And gingerbread cookies
Your blanket and pup.
Time to take a nap, my dear.
When you wake up, they'll still be there."
The children had school off because of the snow. Snow forts and snowmen arise, with snowballs the weapon of choice. Snow angels appear whever children (and some adults) are playing. What a treasure, seeing things through the eyes of a child, a chance to once again experience that sense of wonder and beauty.
Through The Eyes Of A Child
"Momma what's that white outside?
Shining so brightly
It hurts my eyes?"
"Why that's snow, my dear,
God's gift to us, nothing to fear."
"Can we go outside? I want to touch
That sparkling surface so very much.
Where's my coat and hat?
Mittens too, can't forget that."
It's cold out there.
"If it's a gift, can everyone share?"
"But of course, my child,
What can compare
To sharing the joy
Of the fun out there?"
"What's a snow angel?"
My little tyke asked.
"Let me show you," I said
And bent to the task.
Falling back into the snow
Arms and legs spread wide.
Then moving in rhythm,
To her suprise
An angel was there
When mom did arise.
"My turn,my turn!"
And quick as a flash
A second angel lay there
She sure learned fast.
"Now we can make people,
Come and help me
Roll these balls of snow
And soon you will see
Frosty the snowman
Arrive on the scene."
"Now we must rush
And get him a hat
A scarf and a carrot
For his nose, in a flash.
We musn't forget his eyes
Made of coal and his grin
Smiling at us for making him."
"This was so much fun
But now it's time
To go inside, where you will find
Hot Chocolate steaming
To warm you up.
And gingerbread cookies
Your blanket and pup.
Time to take a nap, my dear.
When you wake up, they'll still be there."
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
When Lives Touch
Friend. It has to be one of the most beautiful words in the dictionary. It has so many layers of meaning. You have best friends, casual friends, friends with fringe benefits, friendships forged in the wink of an eye or over many years of discovery.
I have been blessed throughout my life with friends. I was never one of the popular crowd but I prefer quality friendships over quantity. Age or sex was never a factor, only a willingness to share a part of their lives with me.
I'm also lucky that I am friends with my children, not just their mom. My son is a treasure, a caring man who would do almost anything for a friend. My daughters are both married, with husbands that accept my slightly crazy ways, the circle of friendship ever rippling outward, including their friends as well. Sometimes life runs in a path unanticipated.
When Lives Touch
I reached out and you reached back.
That first sharing was just a snack,
At lunch one day.
At recess time, you saw me there,
Standing alone and you cared
Enough to ask me why I cried.
You showed me who you were inside.
A friend.
As we grew older, there was more to share.
First love, first kiss, first smoke on a dare.
We both choked and laughed so hard
Hiding out in the backyard.
Our lives at times drifted apart
But we were sisters of the heart.
No matter how long we were out of touch,
A phone call would bring us in a rush
To share both our joy and pain.
I never thought I'd lose you but
God called you home, not time enough
To say goodbye.
I kept dreaming that you played a joke
And out of the closet, your head would poke
And say "Surprise"
But it was not to be.
I'll always carry you in my heart.
25 years was not enough.
You showed me how a friend should be.
And how to treasure each one
Individually.
No matter how long or short the time
We have together,
A friend is forever.
I have been blessed throughout my life with friends. I was never one of the popular crowd but I prefer quality friendships over quantity. Age or sex was never a factor, only a willingness to share a part of their lives with me.
I'm also lucky that I am friends with my children, not just their mom. My son is a treasure, a caring man who would do almost anything for a friend. My daughters are both married, with husbands that accept my slightly crazy ways, the circle of friendship ever rippling outward, including their friends as well. Sometimes life runs in a path unanticipated.
When Lives Touch
I reached out and you reached back.
That first sharing was just a snack,
At lunch one day.
At recess time, you saw me there,
Standing alone and you cared
Enough to ask me why I cried.
You showed me who you were inside.
A friend.
As we grew older, there was more to share.
First love, first kiss, first smoke on a dare.
We both choked and laughed so hard
Hiding out in the backyard.
Our lives at times drifted apart
But we were sisters of the heart.
No matter how long we were out of touch,
A phone call would bring us in a rush
To share both our joy and pain.
I never thought I'd lose you but
God called you home, not time enough
To say goodbye.
I kept dreaming that you played a joke
And out of the closet, your head would poke
And say "Surprise"
But it was not to be.
I'll always carry you in my heart.
25 years was not enough.
You showed me how a friend should be.
And how to treasure each one
Individually.
No matter how long or short the time
We have together,
A friend is forever.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
If I Could Turn Back Time
My family could probably teach a course on being late. Doctor's appointments, partys, weddings, paying bills,making costumes for the anime conventions we attend (We frequently have to drag a sewing machine with us a well as patterns, glue guns and duct tape (a costumer's best friend).)all fall prey to Murphy's Law. No matter how many lists we make, appointments that go on calenders or we use our crystal ball, life, that nefarious stealer of time. gets in the way.
I enjoy a fantasy series called Xanth, by Piers Anthony. People in this land tend to have one magic talent, big or small, that those in Mundania (our side of the reality) would die or kill for.
One person could turn back time for just a minute. That talent alone could save a lot of heartbreak, since too late is often measured in seconds.
Procrastination is the perfection of lateness. Why do something now if it can be done tomorrow?
Why do something now if tomorrow will render it all unneccesary anyway?
Well, here I am, late again. I usually post this before work on Wednesday. So for your enjoyment:
If I Could Turn Back Time.
A minute here, a minute there
Surely couldn't matter.
If I am late for a date
Of course he will wait
Though he may be mad as a hatter.
It took a little longer
Than I had planned for.
My hair would not behave.
But he was gone when I came down.
I began to rant and rave
It must have been an emergency
That kept him from my side.
I grabbed my coat and
Rushed out the door.
Too late, he was down the drive.
It seems that I have cursed myself.
No matter how I try,
Something always seems
To get in my way
And makes the minutes fly.
I checked the cake, it was almost done.
I ran for the phone and then
I talked so long the cake was black.
Oh no, I'm late again.
I had a lottery ticket
I kept forgetting to check .
It was a winner,
I should have been richer.
But it had expired, oh heck.
So many things I would change,
If I could turn back time.
But one thing I'd never do.
I'd still miss that plane,
Though it made me insane,
Because that was how I met you.
I enjoy a fantasy series called Xanth, by Piers Anthony. People in this land tend to have one magic talent, big or small, that those in Mundania (our side of the reality) would die or kill for.
One person could turn back time for just a minute. That talent alone could save a lot of heartbreak, since too late is often measured in seconds.
Procrastination is the perfection of lateness. Why do something now if it can be done tomorrow?
Why do something now if tomorrow will render it all unneccesary anyway?
Well, here I am, late again. I usually post this before work on Wednesday. So for your enjoyment:
If I Could Turn Back Time.
A minute here, a minute there
Surely couldn't matter.
If I am late for a date
Of course he will wait
Though he may be mad as a hatter.
It took a little longer
Than I had planned for.
My hair would not behave.
But he was gone when I came down.
I began to rant and rave
It must have been an emergency
That kept him from my side.
I grabbed my coat and
Rushed out the door.
Too late, he was down the drive.
It seems that I have cursed myself.
No matter how I try,
Something always seems
To get in my way
And makes the minutes fly.
I checked the cake, it was almost done.
I ran for the phone and then
I talked so long the cake was black.
Oh no, I'm late again.
I had a lottery ticket
I kept forgetting to check .
It was a winner,
I should have been richer.
But it had expired, oh heck.
So many things I would change,
If I could turn back time.
But one thing I'd never do.
I'd still miss that plane,
Though it made me insane,
Because that was how I met you.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Ring, Ring
That awful sound. Or is it? The phone is something that has expanded so far from it's original design. It is a great way to bring people together or drive you mad with people (and machines) trying to sell you something, ask for donations, or take a survey ("really, it will only take a few minutes of your time") Yeah, right!!.
I'm sure it has saved many lives as well as caused some people to lose their sanity. I find myself with a love -hate relationship with it. I treasure the ability to quickly get in contact with people I know and love, and yet that ring frequently gets on my last nerve.
Let's talk about rings (or should I say ring tones). Giving each person or place it's own special ring allows you to ignore it or run for it. Answering machines can also be a heaven sent thing. If you don't like what you are hearing, you just hit that erase button. Oh what a relief that is.
In my frequent treasure hunts (aka flea markets and yards sales) I came across a very old phone book. The numbers were a combination of rings, not actual numbers. Reading it was like a trip to the past and included many rules of phone use. For instance, it was considered rude to ask the operator to look up the number for you. They are much too busy for that. You couldn't play music near the phone as this may cause people not to hear the conversation. Don't ever get caught listening in on someone elses conversation as this would be a five dollar fine (a huge amount back then) and your phone service would be suspended until it was paid. Children were never, Ever, supposed to use the phone. This was for adults only.
Anyway, as always, there has to be a poem of some sort. This is from a friend's view. I must admit, I share a lot of his feelings.
Ring, Ring
An instrument for destruction
Of my peace of mind.
I lived without it for many years
And did without it fine.
Circumstances played a hand
And it slithered into my life.
Damn thing never seems to shut up.
I might as well have a wife.
There seems to be a mental block
When it's time to pay my bill.
So many other things come first
Like books and beer and girls.
So every so often, I once again
Have peace and quiet and then
I pay the bill and my life departs
To the nether regions, my friend.
Don't even get me started on cell phones
They should all be piled and burned.
Or dig a deep hole and drop a bomb.
It's only what they deserve.
The idiots that don't understand
How rude they are to me
When they answer their phone
while I'm right here.
It was me they came to see.
It could be a way to strengthen the pool
Of genes when they take themselves out.
By talking when driving or crossing the street.
Makes me want to scream and shout.
I must admit, they have their place
For emergencies and such.
A way for people to find each other
When they've been out of touch.
It does have it's uses
But that's not saying much.
I leave you now to go to sleep
And if you call, good luck
I'm going to that wretched thing
And turn the ringer off.
I'm sure it has saved many lives as well as caused some people to lose their sanity. I find myself with a love -hate relationship with it. I treasure the ability to quickly get in contact with people I know and love, and yet that ring frequently gets on my last nerve.
Let's talk about rings (or should I say ring tones). Giving each person or place it's own special ring allows you to ignore it or run for it. Answering machines can also be a heaven sent thing. If you don't like what you are hearing, you just hit that erase button. Oh what a relief that is.
In my frequent treasure hunts (aka flea markets and yards sales) I came across a very old phone book. The numbers were a combination of rings, not actual numbers. Reading it was like a trip to the past and included many rules of phone use. For instance, it was considered rude to ask the operator to look up the number for you. They are much too busy for that. You couldn't play music near the phone as this may cause people not to hear the conversation. Don't ever get caught listening in on someone elses conversation as this would be a five dollar fine (a huge amount back then) and your phone service would be suspended until it was paid. Children were never, Ever, supposed to use the phone. This was for adults only.
Anyway, as always, there has to be a poem of some sort. This is from a friend's view. I must admit, I share a lot of his feelings.
Ring, Ring
An instrument for destruction
Of my peace of mind.
I lived without it for many years
And did without it fine.
Circumstances played a hand
And it slithered into my life.
Damn thing never seems to shut up.
I might as well have a wife.
There seems to be a mental block
When it's time to pay my bill.
So many other things come first
Like books and beer and girls.
So every so often, I once again
Have peace and quiet and then
I pay the bill and my life departs
To the nether regions, my friend.
Don't even get me started on cell phones
They should all be piled and burned.
Or dig a deep hole and drop a bomb.
It's only what they deserve.
The idiots that don't understand
How rude they are to me
When they answer their phone
while I'm right here.
It was me they came to see.
It could be a way to strengthen the pool
Of genes when they take themselves out.
By talking when driving or crossing the street.
Makes me want to scream and shout.
I must admit, they have their place
For emergencies and such.
A way for people to find each other
When they've been out of touch.
It does have it's uses
But that's not saying much.
I leave you now to go to sleep
And if you call, good luck
I'm going to that wretched thing
And turn the ringer off.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
A Love Story (With a Twist)
Castle. The very word conjours up visions of knights in shining armour, fair damsels waiting to be rescued, something that both protects and needs protection. A castle can be evil or good, reality or just "castles in the sky" dreams. They are frequently haunted by spirits both sad and dangerous, occasionally helpful and kind. This tale of mine will have 2 endings. Vote for your favorite.
I think that I shall never see
An edifice as elegant as thee.
Thy towers strong, built of stone.
Often on the blood and bones
Of those who dare attack thee.
A shy maiden waits for her lover's arms
To enfold her and keep her safe from harm.
Not daring to let her sire know
Of the one who waits for her below.
He's not worthy.
The daughter of the castle, fair.
Knows no else could ever compare
To the one who stole her heart away.
Who now rides forth, a dragon to slay
To win her fathers blessing.
To become a knight and win her hand,
A blazing light in this dark land.
To protect all that he holds dear,
He draws his sword and ventures near
The dragon.
His sword, a flashing whirl of steel.
He rushes, the dragon's life to steal.
A hideous roar, a flash of fire
Will not keep him from his hearts desire.
The maiden.
His victory was a hard-won thing.
The dragons head, the proof.
He raced his steed to meet the king
And the maiden on the roof.
His bride.
A happy ending to this tale,
The king doth make him knight.
And the two of them live happily
As man and wife.
Everafterward.
And now the other ending comes.
The valiant knight doth fail
To slay the beast, himself is slain.
Now all doth weep and wail.
The maiden's heart burst with pain.
To her love she runs in haste.
"You shall not leave me here" she cried.
Up the tower stairs, she raced.
"I will join thee now in death,
Life holds no joy for me"
And flung herself from the rooftop high
Her love's soul to meet.
Now the two ghostly lovers tread
The castle's hall at night.
Happy at last to be together,
Their love a blazing light.
Sweet dreams.
I think that I shall never see
An edifice as elegant as thee.
Thy towers strong, built of stone.
Often on the blood and bones
Of those who dare attack thee.
A shy maiden waits for her lover's arms
To enfold her and keep her safe from harm.
Not daring to let her sire know
Of the one who waits for her below.
He's not worthy.
The daughter of the castle, fair.
Knows no else could ever compare
To the one who stole her heart away.
Who now rides forth, a dragon to slay
To win her fathers blessing.
To become a knight and win her hand,
A blazing light in this dark land.
To protect all that he holds dear,
He draws his sword and ventures near
The dragon.
His sword, a flashing whirl of steel.
He rushes, the dragon's life to steal.
A hideous roar, a flash of fire
Will not keep him from his hearts desire.
The maiden.
His victory was a hard-won thing.
The dragons head, the proof.
He raced his steed to meet the king
And the maiden on the roof.
His bride.
A happy ending to this tale,
The king doth make him knight.
And the two of them live happily
As man and wife.
Everafterward.
And now the other ending comes.
The valiant knight doth fail
To slay the beast, himself is slain.
Now all doth weep and wail.
The maiden's heart burst with pain.
To her love she runs in haste.
"You shall not leave me here" she cried.
Up the tower stairs, she raced.
"I will join thee now in death,
Life holds no joy for me"
And flung herself from the rooftop high
Her love's soul to meet.
Now the two ghostly lovers tread
The castle's hall at night.
Happy at last to be together,
Their love a blazing light.
Sweet dreams.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Once Upon A Haunting.
The moon was slightly above the horizon on a crisp Halloween night. Jeanette, Horace and Martin were gathered around the table in the old man's kitchen, glasses of champagne held high in a toast.
"To us" stated Martin, "I thought that the funeral would never end."
"Well, he was a rich old man, even if he was a mean bugger." Martin knocked back the wine and poured himself another. "I still can't believe how he treated us. Right to the end, we were more his servants than his children. He'd say jump, we'd say how high? The only ones he ever loved was Mom and that damned cat."
Nightshade sat on a chair in the corner of the room, her tail wrapped around her, her unblinking gaze burning fiercely, a low growl deep in her throat.
"Get a load of that cat" Jeanette snarled. "The way she's looking at us, you'd think she knows everything."
"Shut up, Jeanette." snapped Horace, "Even if she did know, how would she tell anyone? She can't talk and I don't know anyone who speaks cat!!!"
Nightshade stood up, hair standing on end, hissing. She then leaped and ran from the room into the parlour, stopping under the painting of the old man. She looked at it intensely, her tail twitching.
"We really should get rid of that cat." whispered Martin "Imagine, the old man left a million dollars for her care. But we have to be careful. If she dies of natural causes, the cash comes back to us. If it looks suspicious, all of that lovely money, including ours, goes to that wretched school of his."
Jeanette stood, smiling. "Well, I'm off to my Halloween party. I've got this really hot vampiress costume I can't wait to try out on my boyfriend."
Martin smirked, having seen the costume. "I have work to do on the computer. I'm going to turn more of the old man's assets into spendable cash."
Horace stretched, yawning. "I'm just going to relax in the den, enjoying some Jim Beane and planning just how I can use my new funds to the best advantage. Should make for really sweet dreams."
Later that night, as the clock struck 12, Horace stumbled his way out of the den. His vision blurred so much, he didn't see the cat standing in front of him. Nightshade didn't move from her post at the head of the stairs. Horace tripped on the cat,who dug her claws into his leg. He frantically attempted to catch himself but fell over the banister, impaling himself on the coatrack in the hall below.
"What's all this racket?" yelled Martin. "You could wake the dead with the noise you're making." He came out of his room then stood staring at his brother down below, Nightshade on the landing.
Martin frantically called 911, then went down the stairs to check his brother. He was still barely alive. "The cat," he whispered, "the cat did this." He closed his eyes and died.
Martin called Jeanette on her cell phone. "You have to get home right away!!!!" he gasped, "Horace is dead!!!!!"
"Is this some kind of a sick joke, Martin? I know it's Halloween, but really!!!"
"No joke, that damn cat killed him! Come home now!!!"
Martin hung up the phone, shaking badly, spilling the champagne as he tried to pour himself a glass. He glanced over at Nightshade, who was delicately cleaning her claws.
"You stupid cat, I'll get you for this." screeched Martin. He pulled a carving knife from the block and began to stalk Nightshade. The cat ran, keeping just out of reach, as if daring him to catch her. They went from room to room, with Nightshade finally making a break for the cat door, dashing outside.
"Oh no you don't, you are not getting away from me alive!!!!" Bursting through the door with the knife raised, he advanced toward Nightshade, who stood her ground. A car engine was heard, tires squealing loudly as Jeanette came roaring into the driveway. Nightshade raced into the path of the car. Martin was blinded to everything but the cat and followed her. Jeanette hit the breaks and cranked the wheel as hard as she could but it was too late. With a loud grinding of breaks and shriek of metal splitting, Jeanette hit her brother and plowed into the old oak tree at the side of the driveway. Nightshade sauntered over to the driver's side door and looked at Jeanette's body laying half in and half out of the door. She sniffed quickly, then turned and ran back through the door.
The neighbors stood watching as the bodies were loaded into the ambulance. They whispered to each other, saying how sad that the children had not long outlived their father.
Nightshade was once again below the old man's portrait. "Good work." said the old man to the cat. "I knew I could count on you to avenge me. Even though I realized too late that they had poisoned my whiskey, I wasn't going to let them get away with it. My school for disabled children will reap the benefits of their greed and you will be well taken care of for the rest of your life by them." Nightshade purred and groomed herself, very pleased with the final turn of events.
Once Upon A Haunting.
The cat stood still in the pale moonlight
Communing with the spirit
That haunted the framed picture,
Planning revenge with it.
Evil children, not deserving
The riches he worked so hard for.
The only thing that stood in their way
Was the cat and her paws four.
Revenge was quick, the outcome sure.
Greed, their final fate sealed.
A gruesome end, to settle a score.
The blood pooled, black and congealed.
Let this be a warning to those who think
Death is the end of all.
It may be just a matter of time
Before revenge's axe does fall.
"To us" stated Martin, "I thought that the funeral would never end."
"Well, he was a rich old man, even if he was a mean bugger." Martin knocked back the wine and poured himself another. "I still can't believe how he treated us. Right to the end, we were more his servants than his children. He'd say jump, we'd say how high? The only ones he ever loved was Mom and that damned cat."
Nightshade sat on a chair in the corner of the room, her tail wrapped around her, her unblinking gaze burning fiercely, a low growl deep in her throat.
"Get a load of that cat" Jeanette snarled. "The way she's looking at us, you'd think she knows everything."
"Shut up, Jeanette." snapped Horace, "Even if she did know, how would she tell anyone? She can't talk and I don't know anyone who speaks cat!!!"
Nightshade stood up, hair standing on end, hissing. She then leaped and ran from the room into the parlour, stopping under the painting of the old man. She looked at it intensely, her tail twitching.
"We really should get rid of that cat." whispered Martin "Imagine, the old man left a million dollars for her care. But we have to be careful. If she dies of natural causes, the cash comes back to us. If it looks suspicious, all of that lovely money, including ours, goes to that wretched school of his."
Jeanette stood, smiling. "Well, I'm off to my Halloween party. I've got this really hot vampiress costume I can't wait to try out on my boyfriend."
Martin smirked, having seen the costume. "I have work to do on the computer. I'm going to turn more of the old man's assets into spendable cash."
Horace stretched, yawning. "I'm just going to relax in the den, enjoying some Jim Beane and planning just how I can use my new funds to the best advantage. Should make for really sweet dreams."
Later that night, as the clock struck 12, Horace stumbled his way out of the den. His vision blurred so much, he didn't see the cat standing in front of him. Nightshade didn't move from her post at the head of the stairs. Horace tripped on the cat,who dug her claws into his leg. He frantically attempted to catch himself but fell over the banister, impaling himself on the coatrack in the hall below.
"What's all this racket?" yelled Martin. "You could wake the dead with the noise you're making." He came out of his room then stood staring at his brother down below, Nightshade on the landing.
Martin frantically called 911, then went down the stairs to check his brother. He was still barely alive. "The cat," he whispered, "the cat did this." He closed his eyes and died.
Martin called Jeanette on her cell phone. "You have to get home right away!!!!" he gasped, "Horace is dead!!!!!"
"Is this some kind of a sick joke, Martin? I know it's Halloween, but really!!!"
"No joke, that damn cat killed him! Come home now!!!"
Martin hung up the phone, shaking badly, spilling the champagne as he tried to pour himself a glass. He glanced over at Nightshade, who was delicately cleaning her claws.
"You stupid cat, I'll get you for this." screeched Martin. He pulled a carving knife from the block and began to stalk Nightshade. The cat ran, keeping just out of reach, as if daring him to catch her. They went from room to room, with Nightshade finally making a break for the cat door, dashing outside.
"Oh no you don't, you are not getting away from me alive!!!!" Bursting through the door with the knife raised, he advanced toward Nightshade, who stood her ground. A car engine was heard, tires squealing loudly as Jeanette came roaring into the driveway. Nightshade raced into the path of the car. Martin was blinded to everything but the cat and followed her. Jeanette hit the breaks and cranked the wheel as hard as she could but it was too late. With a loud grinding of breaks and shriek of metal splitting, Jeanette hit her brother and plowed into the old oak tree at the side of the driveway. Nightshade sauntered over to the driver's side door and looked at Jeanette's body laying half in and half out of the door. She sniffed quickly, then turned and ran back through the door.
The neighbors stood watching as the bodies were loaded into the ambulance. They whispered to each other, saying how sad that the children had not long outlived their father.
Nightshade was once again below the old man's portrait. "Good work." said the old man to the cat. "I knew I could count on you to avenge me. Even though I realized too late that they had poisoned my whiskey, I wasn't going to let them get away with it. My school for disabled children will reap the benefits of their greed and you will be well taken care of for the rest of your life by them." Nightshade purred and groomed herself, very pleased with the final turn of events.
Once Upon A Haunting.
The cat stood still in the pale moonlight
Communing with the spirit
That haunted the framed picture,
Planning revenge with it.
Evil children, not deserving
The riches he worked so hard for.
The only thing that stood in their way
Was the cat and her paws four.
Revenge was quick, the outcome sure.
Greed, their final fate sealed.
A gruesome end, to settle a score.
The blood pooled, black and congealed.
Let this be a warning to those who think
Death is the end of all.
It may be just a matter of time
Before revenge's axe does fall.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
A Time for Us
Traffic patterns, heavy, light or in between. It could be vehicles, goods, lives, love. So many choices, so little time. The traffic pattern of your life could shift with just one bump in the road or an unplanned detour. Sometimes the road splits in one or more parts, the choice is yours which way to go. I seem to be on a love kick, so for your pleasure I present.
Traffic Jam
I found myself in a traffic jam.
Life happening all around me.
Not knowing who I am.
Made so many detours
To find my heart's desires
Only to be blocked once again
Or having to put out the fires
That my rash decisions made.
I needed a place to hide away
And catch my breath but then
I saw you down that crowded road
And had to try again.
Traffic jam be damned, said I
I'm going to find a way
To bring me faster to my goal
Love's no longer a game to play.
So I took out my map and plotted my course.
My destination was your heart.
I had to be different, truly unique
No longer playing a part.
When I let who I really am
Shine out above the crowd.
No longer one of the nameless masses
I stood alone and proud.
This time you saw me,
The traffic jam split.
To you, I found my way.
Love needs to be based on who you are
Both yesterday and today
If it's going to survive all the bumps
That life throws in our way.
Traffic Jam
I found myself in a traffic jam.
Life happening all around me.
Not knowing who I am.
Made so many detours
To find my heart's desires
Only to be blocked once again
Or having to put out the fires
That my rash decisions made.
I needed a place to hide away
And catch my breath but then
I saw you down that crowded road
And had to try again.
Traffic jam be damned, said I
I'm going to find a way
To bring me faster to my goal
Love's no longer a game to play.
So I took out my map and plotted my course.
My destination was your heart.
I had to be different, truly unique
No longer playing a part.
When I let who I really am
Shine out above the crowd.
No longer one of the nameless masses
I stood alone and proud.
This time you saw me,
The traffic jam split.
To you, I found my way.
Love needs to be based on who you are
Both yesterday and today
If it's going to survive all the bumps
That life throws in our way.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Replay
This one is really different. I recycle lots of things. Leather,books ,clothes, toys, ect. I love yard sales and flea markets (yup, I'm addicted) to the point where I hate to go buy things at the regular store. The price shock is enormous. It's also fun to barter to get what I need. You can even barter goods for services. I wish I could get heating oil that way. We started using the recycle program that my trash pickup provides about 6 weeks ago. I'm so glad that so much is not going into landfills. My daughter is even using cloth diapers for the baby. Now, that takes dedication.
One of my favorite crafts involves recycling leather from clothing to make my dreamcatchers. I also use beads from necklaces to bead the webs. Making memory quilts from your children's clothes is another way to recycle and enjoy something unique.
We also belong to a Star Trek club and have participated in many clean-up efforts as well as recycling cans for several charities. Planet Earth is in deep trouble and we are the only species that can truly make a difference. Go to http://www.blogactionday.org for more on global warming. For your consideration, I submit--
Take Back The Land.
Take back the land.
Heart by heart,
Hand in hand.
Take back the land.
Take back the earth.
Each square inch
Our struggle is worth.
Take back the earth.
Take back the sky
From smog and polution.
There is a solution.
Take back the sky.
Take back the water.
Each drop reclaimed
Makes us stronger.
Take back the water.
Take back the diversity
Of life all around us.
We'll be that much poorer
If it didn't surround us.
Each light that goes out,
Each spark that dies,
Reminds us that we
Must harder try
To preserve what is left,
Before it all disappears.
God's gift to mankind's
Worth our sweat and tears.
One of my favorite crafts involves recycling leather from clothing to make my dreamcatchers. I also use beads from necklaces to bead the webs. Making memory quilts from your children's clothes is another way to recycle and enjoy something unique.
We also belong to a Star Trek club and have participated in many clean-up efforts as well as recycling cans for several charities. Planet Earth is in deep trouble and we are the only species that can truly make a difference. Go to http://www.blogactionday.org for more on global warming. For your consideration, I submit--
Take Back The Land.
Take back the land.
Heart by heart,
Hand in hand.
Take back the land.
Take back the earth.
Each square inch
Our struggle is worth.
Take back the earth.
Take back the sky
From smog and polution.
There is a solution.
Take back the sky.
Take back the water.
Each drop reclaimed
Makes us stronger.
Take back the water.
Take back the diversity
Of life all around us.
We'll be that much poorer
If it didn't surround us.
Each light that goes out,
Each spark that dies,
Reminds us that we
Must harder try
To preserve what is left,
Before it all disappears.
God's gift to mankind's
Worth our sweat and tears.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
The blind man
Collection. A word that is both a noun and a verb. People collect so many things throughout their lives, from shrunken heads to toilet paper (and no, I'm not kidding,lol). A collection is taken at churches and concerts, sometimes at movies and ballgames, to help individuals and organizations.
Buttons and toys, dolls and dishes, cars and planes (some toys, some not) .Teddy bears remain a heavy favorite. I have a collection of Betty Boop items that people have gotten me. My Dad called me Betty Boops since I was about 3 years old. It's a great way for me to remember his love and support. He's been gone 20 years now, but he'll always have a place in my heart.
Some people collect hearts. Not the paper kind but the people kind. They think of hearts as notches on a belt, a proof that they are attractive and can enslave another. This is not how I feel.
A heart is to be cherished and nutured, lifted up, not down. For your consideration I present
The Heart Collector
I was heart-whole and fancy free.
Now there's a hole
Where my heart used to be.
I should have seen it coming,
Seemed too good to be true.
Someone that good looking
Who cared about me too.
Didn't mind spending money
To show me a good time.
Not a hint in his behavior
That he was the wandering kind.
But he only wanted pleasure,
A short-term affair.
His heart wasn't mine
And he left mine there.
Time to pick up the pieces
And put them back together.
Love is but a puzzle.
My missing piece is out there.
A collection of hearts,
That's all he wanted.
A flash in the night
When love's flame burns brightest
I feel sorry for him
When true love calls
He'll be so busy counting
That he'll miss it all.
Buttons and toys, dolls and dishes, cars and planes (some toys, some not) .Teddy bears remain a heavy favorite. I have a collection of Betty Boop items that people have gotten me. My Dad called me Betty Boops since I was about 3 years old. It's a great way for me to remember his love and support. He's been gone 20 years now, but he'll always have a place in my heart.
Some people collect hearts. Not the paper kind but the people kind. They think of hearts as notches on a belt, a proof that they are attractive and can enslave another. This is not how I feel.
A heart is to be cherished and nutured, lifted up, not down. For your consideration I present
The Heart Collector
I was heart-whole and fancy free.
Now there's a hole
Where my heart used to be.
I should have seen it coming,
Seemed too good to be true.
Someone that good looking
Who cared about me too.
Didn't mind spending money
To show me a good time.
Not a hint in his behavior
That he was the wandering kind.
But he only wanted pleasure,
A short-term affair.
His heart wasn't mine
And he left mine there.
Time to pick up the pieces
And put them back together.
Love is but a puzzle.
My missing piece is out there.
A collection of hearts,
That's all he wanted.
A flash in the night
When love's flame burns brightest
I feel sorry for him
When true love calls
He'll be so busy counting
That he'll miss it all.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
A Flight of Angels
What can be as beautiful as a flight of birds, soaring through the heavens, using the updrafts to lift ever higher in a bright blue sky. The flight of the human spirit. And to guide that spirit on it's way, God has a flight of angels waiting, to protect you on your journey though time and life. For your enjoyment, I present.
My Guardian Angel
My guardian angel works overtime.
I just can't seem to resist
All the challenges life can hold.
They give me reasons to exsist.
He flies above me, ever watching.
For my foot will surely fall
Exactly where it shouldn't.
Keeps me safe, in spite of it all.
My first toddling steps,
My first dive in the sea,
My first falling in love,
He watched over me.
When I got married, his job expanded.
Now I had children
For whom to take chances.
I suppose I gave him a few gray hairs
Watching me go where only fools dare.
As life progressed,
My wisdom improved.
Took less chances,
I had less to prove.
Finally ready for one last flight,
My guardian angel takes
The best of my life.
Leaving my broken shell behind,
He brings me to God
In His good time.
Sweet dreams
My Guardian Angel
My guardian angel works overtime.
I just can't seem to resist
All the challenges life can hold.
They give me reasons to exsist.
He flies above me, ever watching.
For my foot will surely fall
Exactly where it shouldn't.
Keeps me safe, in spite of it all.
My first toddling steps,
My first dive in the sea,
My first falling in love,
He watched over me.
When I got married, his job expanded.
Now I had children
For whom to take chances.
I suppose I gave him a few gray hairs
Watching me go where only fools dare.
As life progressed,
My wisdom improved.
Took less chances,
I had less to prove.
Finally ready for one last flight,
My guardian angel takes
The best of my life.
Leaving my broken shell behind,
He brings me to God
In His good time.
Sweet dreams
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Wilderness
Have you ever embraced your wild child? The spirit inside you that wants more than a tepid, humdrum life? She leads you down dark hallways and unfamilar groumd, daring you to take those steps beyond what is safe and known. Love can be that way too. The wilderness of human relationships can be the most frightening and rewarding of all. So for your enjoyment I present
Step Towards The Wild Side
I am afraid
But in my darkest night
I know I can reach out
To find the light
Of your love
I am unsure
But in spite of all my doubt
I know that you will be there
To support and help me out
Always
I have been blind
Looking all around but not seeing.
Your love opened my eyes
To the beauty in just being
Alive
I was deaf,
I listened without understanding
You opened my ears to the music
Of laughter and whispered words
Of love.
Step Towards The Wild Side
I am afraid
But in my darkest night
I know I can reach out
To find the light
Of your love
I am unsure
But in spite of all my doubt
I know that you will be there
To support and help me out
Always
I have been blind
Looking all around but not seeing.
Your love opened my eyes
To the beauty in just being
Alive
I was deaf,
I listened without understanding
You opened my ears to the music
Of laughter and whispered words
Of love.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Is there a cougar in your tank?
Anyone ever wonder why there are so few songs about older people? After all, we don't simply vanish into the woodwork when we hit 35. Plenty of us have a lot of love and experiences to share. We exist, not in a vacume but in the very fabric of the here and now.Most older people become even more worthwhile as we age. So many don't have the time to discover themselves until after the kids have flown the coop. I don't only refer to the women, but the men as well.
I found out a lot about myself after my divorce. I was told I was worthless and no one would ever want me. Guess what? My ex was so wrong!!!!! I've enjoyed the company of several men over the past 10 years and found that I could be valued for who I am, not what someone thought I should be. So with that said, I present,
Two Steps Forward
There may be snow on the roof
But the furnace is roaring.
You can call me each night
But you won't call me boring.
There's a lot to be said
For the woman mature.
Still deserving of passion,
Still has her allure.
I'll never see fifty
Unless I look to the past.
I've kept the treasure
And thrown out the trash.
My senses take flight
At the touch of your hand.
Experience is spice,
I've had it with bland.
I'm ready and willing
To chance love again.
If we start out as friends
Who knows how it will end.
I know this is early, but it get difficult to find time before work, since I work 11-7.
There may be occasional bumps along the way, but when all is said and done, life is a trip. Enjoy it.
I found out a lot about myself after my divorce. I was told I was worthless and no one would ever want me. Guess what? My ex was so wrong!!!!! I've enjoyed the company of several men over the past 10 years and found that I could be valued for who I am, not what someone thought I should be. So with that said, I present,
Two Steps Forward
There may be snow on the roof
But the furnace is roaring.
You can call me each night
But you won't call me boring.
There's a lot to be said
For the woman mature.
Still deserving of passion,
Still has her allure.
I'll never see fifty
Unless I look to the past.
I've kept the treasure
And thrown out the trash.
My senses take flight
At the touch of your hand.
Experience is spice,
I've had it with bland.
I'm ready and willing
To chance love again.
If we start out as friends
Who knows how it will end.
I know this is early, but it get difficult to find time before work, since I work 11-7.
There may be occasional bumps along the way, but when all is said and done, life is a trip. Enjoy it.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
I've got rhythm
Songs and music through all eternity echo the balance we seek in life. The rhythm can soothe the spirit and inspire the heart. A good song can rally the troops, make you fall in love, give a foundation for a cause or political rally. There is rhythm throughout life as well that can be fast and furious or slow and relaxing. For your enjoyment I offer
Life Rhythms
A mother holds her fussy child
And sings a lullaby
To calm her down, ease into sleep.
Closes her little eyes .
Priceless
The ocean waves come into shore
In a rhythm as old as time.
The moon above affects it's flow
Raising and lowering the brine.
Tides.
A single step begins the dance,
As one, the couple begins.
Weaving and flowing around the floor
Perfect rhythm till song"s end.
A kiss.
A call goes out,loud and strong
And then the cadence starts.
The troops call out as they march down the road.
The rhythm stirs the heart.
To battle.
The most primal rhythm of all begins
When two lovers kiss.
Stroking, caressing ,building the flame.
Til they meet the heights of bliss.
Eruption!!!
The sun goes down, the moon comes up,
The rhythm changes slowly.
The music of wildlife stirs emotions
Could be calm or scary.
Dark woods
This is the end for me.
The rhythm of my life
Has determined I must got to work
And so I say good night.
Sweet dreams.
Life Rhythms
A mother holds her fussy child
And sings a lullaby
To calm her down, ease into sleep.
Closes her little eyes .
Priceless
The ocean waves come into shore
In a rhythm as old as time.
The moon above affects it's flow
Raising and lowering the brine.
Tides.
A single step begins the dance,
As one, the couple begins.
Weaving and flowing around the floor
Perfect rhythm till song"s end.
A kiss.
A call goes out,loud and strong
And then the cadence starts.
The troops call out as they march down the road.
The rhythm stirs the heart.
To battle.
The most primal rhythm of all begins
When two lovers kiss.
Stroking, caressing ,building the flame.
Til they meet the heights of bliss.
Eruption!!!
The sun goes down, the moon comes up,
The rhythm changes slowly.
The music of wildlife stirs emotions
Could be calm or scary.
Dark woods
This is the end for me.
The rhythm of my life
Has determined I must got to work
And so I say good night.
Sweet dreams.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
It all begins here
What a wonderful thing, beginnings. So many ways to go with this. Everything ever written or lived had a point where it started, and a point just before, where it did not yet exist. For your pleasure, I offer,
Once Upon A Lifetime
Beginning, it can be played so many ways.
The first note of a song, your wedding day.
Dawns first light, rays warming the earth.
Very special, your children's birth.
Their life beginning, your hand to guide
Their first steps on the ground outside.
A poem or story has it's start
In a thought or word
From your mind and heart.
Or could have had it's beginning
In a dream at night
That leaves your heart
Racing in fright.
A plant begins from
A seed in the ground.
Some sun and some rain
And soon it has found
A way to break through,
To reach for the sky
First a leaf, then a flower,
And seeds, by and by.
A journey begins with a single step.
One after another until you get
To the journey's end, met your goal,
Only to find a new road unrolls
To take you to places you've never been.
A challenge, and so you start again.
From birth to death,
From beginning to end,
If you have someone to share with,
A lover or friend,
Life holds new beginnings
You need not fear.
May your burdens be light
And your way be clear.
Once Upon A Lifetime
Beginning, it can be played so many ways.
The first note of a song, your wedding day.
Dawns first light, rays warming the earth.
Very special, your children's birth.
Their life beginning, your hand to guide
Their first steps on the ground outside.
A poem or story has it's start
In a thought or word
From your mind and heart.
Or could have had it's beginning
In a dream at night
That leaves your heart
Racing in fright.
A plant begins from
A seed in the ground.
Some sun and some rain
And soon it has found
A way to break through,
To reach for the sky
First a leaf, then a flower,
And seeds, by and by.
A journey begins with a single step.
One after another until you get
To the journey's end, met your goal,
Only to find a new road unrolls
To take you to places you've never been.
A challenge, and so you start again.
From birth to death,
From beginning to end,
If you have someone to share with,
A lover or friend,
Life holds new beginnings
You need not fear.
May your burdens be light
And your way be clear.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
A Car For All Season's
Limos have long been a status symbol, something that says you've finally made it. It also is used for many other things. Some get their first ride when going to the prom, often with other couples to share the cost. A limo is frequently the vehicle of choice for weddings and for most, a ride to their final resting place. They come in so many shapes and colors these days, from Humvee's to zebra stripes, some so long you could hold a party in them, complete with bar and music, although dancing would be a problem,lol. For your enjoyment, I present
A Day In The Life Of A Limo.
The sun comes up too soon for me.
I've barely been to bed.
I still have some of that awful music
Playing inside my head.
But my driver has a schedule
That he is obligated to keep.
Last night's driver's gone to bed,
He's earned his 8 hours sleep.
Still, there are some things that must be done.
Before we get on the road.
What was that he found under my seat?
A flash of sparkle and gold.
Oh no, the bride has dropped her ring,
She must be frantic, crying.
A run inside, a quick phone call
Turns her cries to sighing.
On the road we go, our first stop planned.
We're taking the members
Of a rock and roll band
To the stadium where they will stand
And play their music
For their screaming fans.
Then on to the next, a government call.
Four men in dark suits, laptops and all.
A secret meeting, very hush-hush.
They talked about things
That would make a radiator blush.
One more stop, it's the end of the day.
A very tired man, works hard for his pay.
We rolled to a stop, in front of his house.
Out of the door raced his kids and spouse.
They greet him with smiles and kisses sweet
The perfect end to make his day complete.
Back to the garage and a well earned rest.
Today I was really put to the test.
As my headlights dim and I fall asleep
I wish you all sweet dreams and peace.
A Day In The Life Of A Limo.
The sun comes up too soon for me.
I've barely been to bed.
I still have some of that awful music
Playing inside my head.
But my driver has a schedule
That he is obligated to keep.
Last night's driver's gone to bed,
He's earned his 8 hours sleep.
Still, there are some things that must be done.
Before we get on the road.
What was that he found under my seat?
A flash of sparkle and gold.
Oh no, the bride has dropped her ring,
She must be frantic, crying.
A run inside, a quick phone call
Turns her cries to sighing.
On the road we go, our first stop planned.
We're taking the members
Of a rock and roll band
To the stadium where they will stand
And play their music
For their screaming fans.
Then on to the next, a government call.
Four men in dark suits, laptops and all.
A secret meeting, very hush-hush.
They talked about things
That would make a radiator blush.
One more stop, it's the end of the day.
A very tired man, works hard for his pay.
We rolled to a stop, in front of his house.
Out of the door raced his kids and spouse.
They greet him with smiles and kisses sweet
The perfect end to make his day complete.
Back to the garage and a well earned rest.
Today I was really put to the test.
As my headlights dim and I fall asleep
I wish you all sweet dreams and peace.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
In The Shadows
So many things exist in the shadows. Memories, people, enemies, friends, past lovers, childhoods, places. Shadows can also exist in the future, ideas not quite formed, a hint of things to come. I often find treasures in the shadows, things whose importance is obscured until brought into the light. I had surgery on my neck today, bringing up another kind of shadow, slipping in and out of consciousness, not knowing whether you really heard or saw what you think you did. For your enjoyment I present,
A Shadowy Touch
I put myself into the doctor's hands,
A surgeon trained and true.
He sent me into the shadow land,
A land of black and white hues.
A slip of the knife, a final caress,
And that's where I would stay.
That God would guide his hands,
Before he started, I prayed.
While I was in this limbo state,
An image came to me.
To bring me a wonderful sense of peace
And a sense of breathing free.
I woke up to a gentle touch,
A kiss, so soft and sweet.
But I couldn't see who was standing there
And I fell back to sleep.
When I was finally, truly awake,
I looked about to find
No one who matched the shadowy figure,
Whose touch stayed in my mind.
Must have been Jesus who let me know
That I was never alone.
And let me know when my time came,
He would see me safely home.
A Shadowy Touch
I put myself into the doctor's hands,
A surgeon trained and true.
He sent me into the shadow land,
A land of black and white hues.
A slip of the knife, a final caress,
And that's where I would stay.
That God would guide his hands,
Before he started, I prayed.
While I was in this limbo state,
An image came to me.
To bring me a wonderful sense of peace
And a sense of breathing free.
I woke up to a gentle touch,
A kiss, so soft and sweet.
But I couldn't see who was standing there
And I fell back to sleep.
When I was finally, truly awake,
I looked about to find
No one who matched the shadowy figure,
Whose touch stayed in my mind.
Must have been Jesus who let me know
That I was never alone.
And let me know when my time came,
He would see me safely home.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Kisses
There are many ways of expressing how you feel. Kisses are one of the best.
Kisses
That first kiss from your baby,
So soft and sweet.
Melts you from your head
Down to your feet.
A kiss from a mom
When a child falls down
Works better than medicine.
Makes a smile from a frown.
A kiss between children
Is a pleasure to see.
All in sweet innocence,
Between friends, a treat.
The first kiss between
A girl and her beau
Can be clumsy while finding
Just where that nose goes.
A kiss, an expression
Of love growing strong,
Can be a light, bright shinning
Even when things go wrong.
Can't begin to express all
That comes from a kiss.
From love to passion
To a peak, pure bliss.
Kisses are shared
Between lovers and friends,
Families and strangers
Hearts on the mend.
A small thing, a kiss
But it can define
What exists between
Your heart and mine.
Kisses
That first kiss from your baby,
So soft and sweet.
Melts you from your head
Down to your feet.
A kiss from a mom
When a child falls down
Works better than medicine.
Makes a smile from a frown.
A kiss between children
Is a pleasure to see.
All in sweet innocence,
Between friends, a treat.
The first kiss between
A girl and her beau
Can be clumsy while finding
Just where that nose goes.
A kiss, an expression
Of love growing strong,
Can be a light, bright shinning
Even when things go wrong.
Can't begin to express all
That comes from a kiss.
From love to passion
To a peak, pure bliss.
Kisses are shared
Between lovers and friends,
Families and strangers
Hearts on the mend.
A small thing, a kiss
But it can define
What exists between
Your heart and mine.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Buttons
Buttons, Buttons
By Dreamhaven
They come in all colors,
All materials, too.
Plastic and stone
To name just two.
They are carved out of bone
Or a shell from the sea.
Jewels, brightly shining,
Even wood from a tree.
Not just on shirts
Blouses or dresses,
They also are used
On hats and in tresses.
A decoration or
The eyes on a toy.
Teddies, especially,
For both girls and boys.
This is really for Thursday
Though Friday is here.
I'm sorry my head's
Not especially clear.
It's the best I can do.
Sweet dreams, my dear.
By Dreamhaven
They come in all colors,
All materials, too.
Plastic and stone
To name just two.
They are carved out of bone
Or a shell from the sea.
Jewels, brightly shining,
Even wood from a tree.
Not just on shirts
Blouses or dresses,
They also are used
On hats and in tresses.
A decoration or
The eyes on a toy.
Teddies, especially,
For both girls and boys.
This is really for Thursday
Though Friday is here.
I'm sorry my head's
Not especially clear.
It's the best I can do.
Sweet dreams, my dear.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
In My Shoes
Think for a moment about shoes. There are work boots, dancing shoes, shoes for diving and just kicking around shoes. There are shoes for sports, shoes for running, boots for hiking. But my Favorite shoes are the ones I wear. For your enjoyment I present,
Nursing Shoes
My feet are tired, my back is sore.
Why do I keep coming back for more?
My hands get wrinkled from giving baths.
I've had it with needles, pins and clasps.
My patients don't want to do as they're told.
Before my time, I'm growing old.
So why do I come back, day after day,
To more of the same? Why do I stay?
Because I care about people
When they smile I forget my aching back,
The tears and trials, and looking back
I know it's all worth it and that's a fact.
This is their last stop, I'm their nurse and a friend.
To treat them like family from beginning to end.
To ease their going when their time is come.
To make their remaining time second to none.
I pledge with my heart and spirit free,
To be the very best I can be.
To be there for them day by day,
Is most of my joy and a large part of my pay
Nursing Shoes
My feet are tired, my back is sore.
Why do I keep coming back for more?
My hands get wrinkled from giving baths.
I've had it with needles, pins and clasps.
My patients don't want to do as they're told.
Before my time, I'm growing old.
So why do I come back, day after day,
To more of the same? Why do I stay?
Because I care about people
When they smile I forget my aching back,
The tears and trials, and looking back
I know it's all worth it and that's a fact.
This is their last stop, I'm their nurse and a friend.
To treat them like family from beginning to end.
To ease their going when their time is come.
To make their remaining time second to none.
I pledge with my heart and spirit free,
To be the very best I can be.
To be there for them day by day,
Is most of my joy and a large part of my pay
Faith of a Child
Faith. It's such a simple word. You can have faith in yourself, in a loved one , in a political leader.
Faith that the sun comes up each day, that the ocean will continue to send waves to the beach.
We have faith in medicine, in doctors, all things that have a concrete, visible form.
But what is faith in it's purest form?
The Faith of a Child
Anytime you want to see
The face of our Lord,
Look in the face of a child.
Anytime you want to see
The grace of our Lord,
Look in the face of a child.
The faith of a child, the faith of a child,
Jesus loves the faith of a child,
Willing to go with Him
Down that last mile.
Sweet simple faith of a child
A child doesn't question
The will of our Lord.
This is all He requires.
A child will depend on
The love of our Lord
To give him what he requires.
To walk on the waters of life
With our Lord,
You must trust like a child.
That the Lord will be there
When the skies turn black
Loving, simple faith of a child.
The faith of a child, the faith of a child,
Jesus loves the faith of a child,
Willing to go with Him
Down that last mile.
Sweet,simple faith of a child.
Faith that the sun comes up each day, that the ocean will continue to send waves to the beach.
We have faith in medicine, in doctors, all things that have a concrete, visible form.
But what is faith in it's purest form?
The Faith of a Child
Anytime you want to see
The face of our Lord,
Look in the face of a child.
Anytime you want to see
The grace of our Lord,
Look in the face of a child.
The faith of a child, the faith of a child,
Jesus loves the faith of a child,
Willing to go with Him
Down that last mile.
Sweet simple faith of a child
A child doesn't question
The will of our Lord.
This is all He requires.
A child will depend on
The love of our Lord
To give him what he requires.
To walk on the waters of life
With our Lord,
You must trust like a child.
That the Lord will be there
When the skies turn black
Loving, simple faith of a child.
The faith of a child, the faith of a child,
Jesus loves the faith of a child,
Willing to go with Him
Down that last mile.
Sweet,simple faith of a child.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Hope In All Stages
No matter where I am in this great life, a little piece of each stage goes with me, scenes shifting without warning to both the good and bad. I call my life a soap opera but no one could write it on purpose. Through all the crazy twists and turns, I kept my faith that God has a use and a meaning for my life.
Each junction that I came upon, I had to make a choice.
I chose to be a nurse (although I really wanted to be a vet).
I chose to be a wife although I wanted to join the Air Force.
I wanted to be a mother, but stopped at three children (I think my sanity finally kicked in,lol)
Each of these stages both enriched my life and caused much pain.
The worse stage of my life involved getting a divorce after 28 years of marriage. The abuse of my children was the final straw in a marriage destroyed by drugs and selfish acts.
I never expected good to come from it, but I was able to finally find myself in all the things I accomplished since then. My self-esteem can still be easily bruised , but I've learned that I have value in both my eyes and those of the people who come to love and know me. I wrote this poem soon after my divorce.
Divorce
Daunting images haunt my brain,
Memories sweet or filled with pain.
Who can say what lies ahead,
Changes to love, changes to dread.
A lifetime of being alone
Waiting for the ring of a phone
To bring some meaning to my life,
Now that I'm not someone's wife.
Not for me, this waiting game.
It would quickly drive me insane.
There are places to go, people to meet,
Promises made, promises to keep.
To myself, these promises made,
That I would take and fill each day
With the special joy of living.
In each day, a new begining.
Yes It can be lonely until
That special someone comes to fill
The empty spaces in your soul.
The other half to make you whole.
But in the meantime, I declare,
The choice is mine to finally share.
It is my life, I'm growing stonger.
No one's puppet any longer.
Each junction that I came upon, I had to make a choice.
I chose to be a nurse (although I really wanted to be a vet).
I chose to be a wife although I wanted to join the Air Force.
I wanted to be a mother, but stopped at three children (I think my sanity finally kicked in,lol)
Each of these stages both enriched my life and caused much pain.
The worse stage of my life involved getting a divorce after 28 years of marriage. The abuse of my children was the final straw in a marriage destroyed by drugs and selfish acts.
I never expected good to come from it, but I was able to finally find myself in all the things I accomplished since then. My self-esteem can still be easily bruised , but I've learned that I have value in both my eyes and those of the people who come to love and know me. I wrote this poem soon after my divorce.
Divorce
Daunting images haunt my brain,
Memories sweet or filled with pain.
Who can say what lies ahead,
Changes to love, changes to dread.
A lifetime of being alone
Waiting for the ring of a phone
To bring some meaning to my life,
Now that I'm not someone's wife.
Not for me, this waiting game.
It would quickly drive me insane.
There are places to go, people to meet,
Promises made, promises to keep.
To myself, these promises made,
That I would take and fill each day
With the special joy of living.
In each day, a new begining.
Yes It can be lonely until
That special someone comes to fill
The empty spaces in your soul.
The other half to make you whole.
But in the meantime, I declare,
The choice is mine to finally share.
It is my life, I'm growing stonger.
No one's puppet any longer.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Outside Delivery
This is another poem from my youth. Enjoy.
Outside Delivery
Pacing up and down,
My best friend and me,
Wearing a hole in the rug
Outside delivery.
One coffee after another
Oh gosh, oh gee, oh me.
I am simply going insane
Outside delivery.
Each passing nurse I stop,
"Is there any news for me?"
"No?" Then I resume my pacing
Outside delivery.
The last nurse I stopped
Said "Your wife is fine, Mr Bea
And so are your fine triplets
Inside delivery."
"How many did you say?
Not one, not two, but three?"
Then I passed out on the floor
Outside delivery.
Outside Delivery
Pacing up and down,
My best friend and me,
Wearing a hole in the rug
Outside delivery.
One coffee after another
Oh gosh, oh gee, oh me.
I am simply going insane
Outside delivery.
Each passing nurse I stop,
"Is there any news for me?"
"No?" Then I resume my pacing
Outside delivery.
The last nurse I stopped
Said "Your wife is fine, Mr Bea
And so are your fine triplets
Inside delivery."
"How many did you say?
Not one, not two, but three?"
Then I passed out on the floor
Outside delivery.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
A ghost of a chance
Marion stood by her beloved's grave. She couldn't understand why he was there, not her. If she hadn't been wrapped up in their wedding plans, she would have seen the truck that had jumped the curb. Robin raced forward and pushed her out of the way, getting hit by the truck and flung into the building. Marion would never forget that awful sound. She knelt by him, weeping, begging him to stay. He opened his eyes one last time and said "I love you, I'll always be with you."
Marion returned to their apartment and sat on the couch. Feeling restless, she turned on the tv. They were playing one of the older versions of Robin Hood. As she sat watching it, the face of Robin began to change, morphing into her Robin's face, saying "I love you, I'll always watch over you" She gave herself a shake and looked again, seeing only what was in the movie on the screen. Sighing, she turned off the set and went to bed.
Months passed. Marion went through the motions of her life, unable to find pleasure even in her photography. Nothing seemed to click, the photos excellent but without her usual flair. "When is this pain going to stop?". Marion cried, still feeling the empty void her life had become. She was sitting at her computer, working on her most recent set of photos. Suddenly she sat up and leaned forward to look more closely at the screen. There, behind her model , stood a blurred image. As she adjusted the settings, she realized it was Robin standing there. She opened another file of her photos, finding him in many of them, each time just a little more clearly.
Marion shut down her computer, shaking... yet strangely comforted. He did say he would be always watch over her. But no one else saw him. Her photos became more and more exciting and dramatic, leaping out at the viewer. She was approached by a gallery who wanted to have an exhibit of her works. Agreeing to their most generous terms, the date was set.
Marion sat at her vanity, putting on her makeup. Looking into the mirror, she saw Robin standing behind her, smiling. As she turned around, he faded away, saying "I always knew you could do it, Marion. Keep your heart and mind open for possibilites." She called out to him, but he was gone.
The exhibit was a big success, with many of her photos selling quickly. Marion wandered through the crowds , talking and smiling, still feeling very alone. She came upon one man, staring intently at one of the photos. He felt her presence and turned around.
"Did you do that on purpose?," he asked, turning back to the photo.
"Do what?" Marion asked.
"Double expose the photo?"
Marion stared at the photo, realizing it was one in which Robin appeared.
"Tell me what you see" she asked.
As he turned back to her, she felt strangely drawn to this man. His brillant green eyes seemed to say he felt it too.
"There is a man, slightly out of focus, standing in front of that ruined castle. He seems to be smiling."
"No one else has ever seen him but me" Marion said softly. "How is it that you can see him too"
"I don't know. Do you believe in love at first sight"
"I didn't, but I do now." Marion whispered. "What's your name?"
"Robert, but my friends call me Rob"
Marion stared behind him, not quite believing what was happening. There was Robin, smiling.
"Be happy," he said, as he slowly faded from view. "I know I'm leaving your heart in safe hands."
A Ghost of a Chance.
Once upon a time,
Without reason,
Without ryhme,
Life was changed.
Between one heartbeat
And the next
Life became
Much more complex.
I didn't know why.
Beloved gone,
My life so gray
That all I could do
Was kneel and pray.
Slowly healing,
Come to find
Another love.
Spirits bind
Together
My lost love smiles,
And then I see
My new love stands
Beside me.
A ghost of a chance
Is all we need
To make life
Special and sweet
Forever
Marion returned to their apartment and sat on the couch. Feeling restless, she turned on the tv. They were playing one of the older versions of Robin Hood. As she sat watching it, the face of Robin began to change, morphing into her Robin's face, saying "I love you, I'll always watch over you" She gave herself a shake and looked again, seeing only what was in the movie on the screen. Sighing, she turned off the set and went to bed.
Months passed. Marion went through the motions of her life, unable to find pleasure even in her photography. Nothing seemed to click, the photos excellent but without her usual flair. "When is this pain going to stop?". Marion cried, still feeling the empty void her life had become. She was sitting at her computer, working on her most recent set of photos. Suddenly she sat up and leaned forward to look more closely at the screen. There, behind her model , stood a blurred image. As she adjusted the settings, she realized it was Robin standing there. She opened another file of her photos, finding him in many of them, each time just a little more clearly.
Marion shut down her computer, shaking... yet strangely comforted. He did say he would be always watch over her. But no one else saw him. Her photos became more and more exciting and dramatic, leaping out at the viewer. She was approached by a gallery who wanted to have an exhibit of her works. Agreeing to their most generous terms, the date was set.
Marion sat at her vanity, putting on her makeup. Looking into the mirror, she saw Robin standing behind her, smiling. As she turned around, he faded away, saying "I always knew you could do it, Marion. Keep your heart and mind open for possibilites." She called out to him, but he was gone.
The exhibit was a big success, with many of her photos selling quickly. Marion wandered through the crowds , talking and smiling, still feeling very alone. She came upon one man, staring intently at one of the photos. He felt her presence and turned around.
"Did you do that on purpose?," he asked, turning back to the photo.
"Do what?" Marion asked.
"Double expose the photo?"
Marion stared at the photo, realizing it was one in which Robin appeared.
"Tell me what you see" she asked.
As he turned back to her, she felt strangely drawn to this man. His brillant green eyes seemed to say he felt it too.
"There is a man, slightly out of focus, standing in front of that ruined castle. He seems to be smiling."
"No one else has ever seen him but me" Marion said softly. "How is it that you can see him too"
"I don't know. Do you believe in love at first sight"
"I didn't, but I do now." Marion whispered. "What's your name?"
"Robert, but my friends call me Rob"
Marion stared behind him, not quite believing what was happening. There was Robin, smiling.
"Be happy," he said, as he slowly faded from view. "I know I'm leaving your heart in safe hands."
A Ghost of a Chance.
Once upon a time,
Without reason,
Without ryhme,
Life was changed.
Between one heartbeat
And the next
Life became
Much more complex.
I didn't know why.
Beloved gone,
My life so gray
That all I could do
Was kneel and pray.
Slowly healing,
Come to find
Another love.
Spirits bind
Together
My lost love smiles,
And then I see
My new love stands
Beside me.
A ghost of a chance
Is all we need
To make life
Special and sweet
Forever
Love
Love often explains the unexplainable. An ugly man with a beautiful woman, a handsome man who adores his "plain Jane" Their love comes from the discovery of what that person is like on the inside.
Summer love, May and December pairings, love at first sight. All different facets of a beautiful jewel.
Here is a selection from my teen-aged works. (And no, not in caveman times,lol)
Love
Love,
Gently flowing
From the giver
To the receiver,
Is like a flower.
First a bud,
Then a hesitant growing,
Finally bursting into full bloom.
Love
Can also be stormy,
Full of fire
And passion.
Hitting,
Consuming,
Breaking down all barriers.
Compelling
Conquering,
This too is love.
True love,
Strong and powerful,
Be it gentle or wild,
Survives all obstacles
And lives
Forever.
Summer love, May and December pairings, love at first sight. All different facets of a beautiful jewel.
Here is a selection from my teen-aged works. (And no, not in caveman times,lol)
Love
Love,
Gently flowing
From the giver
To the receiver,
Is like a flower.
First a bud,
Then a hesitant growing,
Finally bursting into full bloom.
Love
Can also be stormy,
Full of fire
And passion.
Hitting,
Consuming,
Breaking down all barriers.
Compelling
Conquering,
This too is love.
True love,
Strong and powerful,
Be it gentle or wild,
Survives all obstacles
And lives
Forever.
Monday, July 6, 2009
second strand
Many changes over the past 5 years. Relationship changes, families grow, new job. New is scary but I'm trying to embrace it rather than fear it.
A New Beginning
I have come to understand
That each part of my life
Has a begining
And an end.
The begining can be scary,
Paths and worlds uncharted,
So many choices
To add color and flavor
To a negative
Waiting to be developed.
Doors and windows
Open
To sights and sounds,
To love and pain,
A gift of friendship
Always to be treasured.
Echoes from the past
To comfort and warn me
That I may need to
Look
Before traveling a road
That seems
All too familar.
Because the ending
Is so painful to do.
The bad but known
Less frightening in it's way.
But I will take that first step
Towards healing
Towards life
Towards love.
A New Beginning
I have come to understand
That each part of my life
Has a begining
And an end.
The begining can be scary,
Paths and worlds uncharted,
So many choices
To add color and flavor
To a negative
Waiting to be developed.
Doors and windows
Open
To sights and sounds,
To love and pain,
A gift of friendship
Always to be treasured.
Echoes from the past
To comfort and warn me
That I may need to
Look
Before traveling a road
That seems
All too familar.
Because the ending
Is so painful to do.
The bad but known
Less frightening in it's way.
But I will take that first step
Towards healing
Towards life
Towards love.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
The fourth of July is such a special time to me. My dad was very involved in the VFW and the American Legion. He had a great love for our country and the service men and women who keep us safe. He was the editor of the VFW newsletter for many years, as well as moving up in the ranks to Senior Vice Commander. He would have made Commander but he was diagnosed with Alzheimer's when he was only 54. He was 60 when he died.
The newsletter was a family project, with my sister doing the typing of the originals (I can't remember what they were called) but we turned them on a drum to make copies. The rest of us stamped and adressed over a hundred envelopes, stuffed them, sealed them and sent them on their way each month. I also contributed to the chaplin's corner with my poetry.
This was one of my contributions.
When
White, black, yellow and brown,
These are the people
Of our city and town,
Our state and our nation,
Our continent, our world,
Wherever you find
A flag that's unfurled.
But is this our world?
This war-torn place?
Nation against nation,
Race against race,
Brother against brother,
Father against son?
When will these foolish
Wars ever be done?
Our word must be true
To both foe and friend
If we're e'er to be sure
That wars will end.
I love you Dad.
The newsletter was a family project, with my sister doing the typing of the originals (I can't remember what they were called) but we turned them on a drum to make copies. The rest of us stamped and adressed over a hundred envelopes, stuffed them, sealed them and sent them on their way each month. I also contributed to the chaplin's corner with my poetry.
This was one of my contributions.
When
White, black, yellow and brown,
These are the people
Of our city and town,
Our state and our nation,
Our continent, our world,
Wherever you find
A flag that's unfurled.
But is this our world?
This war-torn place?
Nation against nation,
Race against race,
Brother against brother,
Father against son?
When will these foolish
Wars ever be done?
Our word must be true
To both foe and friend
If we're e'er to be sure
That wars will end.
I love you Dad.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Funky Time
In looking up the word funky, I found many definitions.
In music, it is a type of jazz, having an earthy, blues-based quality or character.
As an adjective, it means overcome with great fear, terrified.
Also having an offensive smell ; evil-smelling, foul.
Characterized by originality and modishness.
Outlandishly vulgar or eccentric in a humorous on tongue-in-cheek manner.
Well, that gives me something to work with (I hope,lol)
Funky Time
Donkey Kong was a funky monkey.
Liked to throw barrels
And thought he was hunky.
Knocked Mario down,
Made him go kerplunky.
What do you think about that?
Even in music
With rhythm and rhyme,
It was possible to have
A funky time.
A song called Funkytown
Comes to mind.
What do you think about that?
Ever smelled the aroma
Of old gym sneaks?
A truly funky smell
That really reeks
There's even a contest
For the nastiest sneaks
What do you think about that?
Now to a magazine,
MAD, by name
Used very funky humor
In it's rise to fame.
Of it's covers
You could say the same.
What do you think about that?
Even cartoons can
Be funky too.
South Park, Ren and Stimpy,
Just to name a few
Who can forget Beavis and Butthead?
(Thought I'd like to)
What do you think about that?
On Funk and Wagnell's
Back porch,
Johnny used to insist,
Was a mayonaise jar
With a real funky list.
Questions to answers,
Now that was a twist.
What do you think about that?
This is the End
Of my poem about funky.
My brain is broken,
Fried up and crunchy.
Padraig, this is your fault.
You suggested funky.
What do you think about that?
In music, it is a type of jazz, having an earthy, blues-based quality or character.
As an adjective, it means overcome with great fear, terrified.
Also having an offensive smell ; evil-smelling, foul.
Characterized by originality and modishness.
Outlandishly vulgar or eccentric in a humorous on tongue-in-cheek manner.
Well, that gives me something to work with (I hope,lol)
Funky Time
Donkey Kong was a funky monkey.
Liked to throw barrels
And thought he was hunky.
Knocked Mario down,
Made him go kerplunky.
What do you think about that?
Even in music
With rhythm and rhyme,
It was possible to have
A funky time.
A song called Funkytown
Comes to mind.
What do you think about that?
Ever smelled the aroma
Of old gym sneaks?
A truly funky smell
That really reeks
There's even a contest
For the nastiest sneaks
What do you think about that?
Now to a magazine,
MAD, by name
Used very funky humor
In it's rise to fame.
Of it's covers
You could say the same.
What do you think about that?
Even cartoons can
Be funky too.
South Park, Ren and Stimpy,
Just to name a few
Who can forget Beavis and Butthead?
(Thought I'd like to)
What do you think about that?
On Funk and Wagnell's
Back porch,
Johnny used to insist,
Was a mayonaise jar
With a real funky list.
Questions to answers,
Now that was a twist.
What do you think about that?
This is the End
Of my poem about funky.
My brain is broken,
Fried up and crunchy.
Padraig, this is your fault.
You suggested funky.
What do you think about that?
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Summer Love
Have you ever had a summer love? A chance encounter, a moonlit swim, love in the water , another whole way of viewing a relationship. You dared something you would not usually do, because you'll never see them again. Or would you? For your enjoyment, I present.
In search of Romeo
Juliette was on summer break from college. She needed a job badly because her tuition went up and her scholarship wasn't going to be enough for the next semester. She checked the job board in the dormitory and found something that called to her. She was a music major with a minor in medieval instruments. The job was for a troubador for a ren faire opening that weekend.
Juliette applied for the job, then spent the next 2 days waiting by the phone, praying to all the gods she could think of that she get this chance. She almost missed the call (thank God for answering machines) asking her to come to the faire for an audition that afternoon.
She saw a long line of applicants waiting in line and her heart fell to her knees. She didn't think she had a snowball's chance in hell, but was still determined to give it her best shot. Juliette tuned her mandolin and hummed a few songs to get her voice ready, but her throat was as dry as dust. She was dying for a drink. The person in line behind her tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around and thought she died and went to heaven. He was magnificent, with rugged features and long black hair that made her want to wrap it around her hands and pull him in for a kiss. He was offering her a bottle of water and had to repeat himself before she stopped staring and accepted his offer. "My name is Vidda" he said. "Good luck, those judges aren't easy to impress."
It was her turn next. Fighting the urge to run, Juliette stepped up to the stage. She sang from her heart, a voice to lure and entice, one that makes one forget everything but the singer. The music ebbed and flowed, making a person one with the song. She had chosen a song of her own creation. These are her words.
Heart Strings
If I give you my heart,
Take it from the glass,
You must treat it tenderly.
It's been injured in the past.
The tiny cracks and fractures
Can be healed with your love
Tilll I'm truly whole again.
Till we fit like hand and glove.
It's hard to trust,reach out again,
So many fears I face.
So many painful memories
That I must now embrace.
You give me strength to try again.
We aren't meant to be alone.
One heart, one soul, one body,
Love brings me safely home.
Chorus:
Heart strings,
You're playing my heart strings.
Tune them gently, one by one.
Till we blend in harmony,
Till our song is sung.
Heart strings .
There was silence so intense it hurt. The judges were conferring with each other. Then applause broke out, starting with Vidda. The judges all agreed that it was an impressive performance, making her one of the top 3. As she stepped down her eyes searched for Vidda, but he was gone.
All of the top 3 were hired. Suddenly it was opening night and Juliette was facing a grove full of strangers. As she climbed the steps to the stage she saw him. Vidda stood at the back, leaning against a tree. Gazing into his eyes, she sang to him, so glad that he was there.
After the performance, Vidda came up to congratulate her. He also had a job, making swords in a tent across the compound. He smelled of wood smoke and hot steel. Juliette thought if someone could bottle that fragrance, they would make a million. He invited her back to his personal tent for a glass of wine. She accepted and they strolled into the woods.
At his tent, he started a small campfire, spreading out thick blankets so they could be comfortable. Vidda put his arms around her as they sipped their wine and gazed into the fire.
He asked about the inspiration for her song. Juliette told him about her past romance with a man who was not what he appeared to be. She fell hard for him, only to find out he was married and wouldn't even think of getting a divorce. He called her his "little diversion" and laughed at her.
Juliette started to cry. Vidda held her close and started stroking her hair. It felt like satin to the touch, as beautiful as her name. She looked up, her lashes sparkling with tears. Vidda leaned forward and kissed her eyes, then her cheek, trailing kisses down her neck. She reached out and entangled her fingers into his hair, pulling him in for a kiss of her own, feeling the hunger build between them. As they slid down on to the blankets, she knew she wanted him, even if it was just for tonight. He played her as well as any instrument, finding all her most erotic zones, bringing her closer and closer to the edge, finally bursting into notes of music.
She stayed the night, held closely in his arms, not wanting the night to end. When they awoke, he told her that she was the most beautiful and unique woman he had ever met. She could feel that there was something more he had to say.
"I have to leave today. I was just filling in for a friend at the faire and he's arriving this morning.", Vidda said. "Last night was very special to me. I wish I didn't have to go, but my job would only give me this time away. I'm looking for something else and when I'm settled, I will find you"
Juliette nodded, unable to speak as he walked away. The rest of the faire went well, with the organizers offering her a place at next year's faire, but she still caught herself looking for him in every crowd, hoping he would return before the faire ended.
Juliette was in line at college, signing up for her classes. She had one space left on her schedule that she needed to fill. In the list of available classes, she saw one on sword making. She thought about Vidda, smiled, and signed up. The teacher's name was David Skywater.
She entered the class on the first day and glanced around, wondering which one was the teacher. One of the other students pointed him out. He was standing with his back to the room, writing on the blackboard. He looked familar. As he turned around, she realized it was Vidda!!!
He saw her then and opened his arms. Juliette stayed where she was, not quite sure what to do.
"When I found out where you went to college. I couldn't stay away" Vidda said, his eyes on her face. "When this position opened up, it was like a sign from God that we were meant to be together. I hope you feel the same way." Juliette said,"When you left, I felt lost and more than a little sad. Now that you're here, I'm finally home." They both realized their summer love was a love for all seasons.
In search of Romeo
Juliette was on summer break from college. She needed a job badly because her tuition went up and her scholarship wasn't going to be enough for the next semester. She checked the job board in the dormitory and found something that called to her. She was a music major with a minor in medieval instruments. The job was for a troubador for a ren faire opening that weekend.
Juliette applied for the job, then spent the next 2 days waiting by the phone, praying to all the gods she could think of that she get this chance. She almost missed the call (thank God for answering machines) asking her to come to the faire for an audition that afternoon.
She saw a long line of applicants waiting in line and her heart fell to her knees. She didn't think she had a snowball's chance in hell, but was still determined to give it her best shot. Juliette tuned her mandolin and hummed a few songs to get her voice ready, but her throat was as dry as dust. She was dying for a drink. The person in line behind her tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around and thought she died and went to heaven. He was magnificent, with rugged features and long black hair that made her want to wrap it around her hands and pull him in for a kiss. He was offering her a bottle of water and had to repeat himself before she stopped staring and accepted his offer. "My name is Vidda" he said. "Good luck, those judges aren't easy to impress."
It was her turn next. Fighting the urge to run, Juliette stepped up to the stage. She sang from her heart, a voice to lure and entice, one that makes one forget everything but the singer. The music ebbed and flowed, making a person one with the song. She had chosen a song of her own creation. These are her words.
Heart Strings
If I give you my heart,
Take it from the glass,
You must treat it tenderly.
It's been injured in the past.
The tiny cracks and fractures
Can be healed with your love
Tilll I'm truly whole again.
Till we fit like hand and glove.
It's hard to trust,reach out again,
So many fears I face.
So many painful memories
That I must now embrace.
You give me strength to try again.
We aren't meant to be alone.
One heart, one soul, one body,
Love brings me safely home.
Chorus:
Heart strings,
You're playing my heart strings.
Tune them gently, one by one.
Till we blend in harmony,
Till our song is sung.
Heart strings .
There was silence so intense it hurt. The judges were conferring with each other. Then applause broke out, starting with Vidda. The judges all agreed that it was an impressive performance, making her one of the top 3. As she stepped down her eyes searched for Vidda, but he was gone.
All of the top 3 were hired. Suddenly it was opening night and Juliette was facing a grove full of strangers. As she climbed the steps to the stage she saw him. Vidda stood at the back, leaning against a tree. Gazing into his eyes, she sang to him, so glad that he was there.
After the performance, Vidda came up to congratulate her. He also had a job, making swords in a tent across the compound. He smelled of wood smoke and hot steel. Juliette thought if someone could bottle that fragrance, they would make a million. He invited her back to his personal tent for a glass of wine. She accepted and they strolled into the woods.
At his tent, he started a small campfire, spreading out thick blankets so they could be comfortable. Vidda put his arms around her as they sipped their wine and gazed into the fire.
He asked about the inspiration for her song. Juliette told him about her past romance with a man who was not what he appeared to be. She fell hard for him, only to find out he was married and wouldn't even think of getting a divorce. He called her his "little diversion" and laughed at her.
Juliette started to cry. Vidda held her close and started stroking her hair. It felt like satin to the touch, as beautiful as her name. She looked up, her lashes sparkling with tears. Vidda leaned forward and kissed her eyes, then her cheek, trailing kisses down her neck. She reached out and entangled her fingers into his hair, pulling him in for a kiss of her own, feeling the hunger build between them. As they slid down on to the blankets, she knew she wanted him, even if it was just for tonight. He played her as well as any instrument, finding all her most erotic zones, bringing her closer and closer to the edge, finally bursting into notes of music.
She stayed the night, held closely in his arms, not wanting the night to end. When they awoke, he told her that she was the most beautiful and unique woman he had ever met. She could feel that there was something more he had to say.
"I have to leave today. I was just filling in for a friend at the faire and he's arriving this morning.", Vidda said. "Last night was very special to me. I wish I didn't have to go, but my job would only give me this time away. I'm looking for something else and when I'm settled, I will find you"
Juliette nodded, unable to speak as he walked away. The rest of the faire went well, with the organizers offering her a place at next year's faire, but she still caught herself looking for him in every crowd, hoping he would return before the faire ended.
Juliette was in line at college, signing up for her classes. She had one space left on her schedule that she needed to fill. In the list of available classes, she saw one on sword making. She thought about Vidda, smiled, and signed up. The teacher's name was David Skywater.
She entered the class on the first day and glanced around, wondering which one was the teacher. One of the other students pointed him out. He was standing with his back to the room, writing on the blackboard. He looked familar. As he turned around, she realized it was Vidda!!!
He saw her then and opened his arms. Juliette stayed where she was, not quite sure what to do.
"When I found out where you went to college. I couldn't stay away" Vidda said, his eyes on her face. "When this position opened up, it was like a sign from God that we were meant to be together. I hope you feel the same way." Juliette said,"When you left, I felt lost and more than a little sad. Now that you're here, I'm finally home." They both realized their summer love was a love for all seasons.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Under This Roof
Just what is a roof? They come in all shapes and sizes, from the practical to the truly unique or just plain wierd. They keep out the weather (when they don't leak) and add the finishing touch to the exterior of the home. I tend to take a more personal view, so for your enjoyment I present " Under This Roof".
Under this roof
You will find
Love and laughter
And peace of mind.
A family made
Of lovers and friends
Parents and children
Souls on the mend.
Under this roof
There will always be
A place for you
Where you can be
Certain to find
Unconditional love,
A listening ear,
A place to bring
Your hopes and fears.
Under this roof
Life goes on ,
From birth to death,
From dusk to dawn.
A place to dream,
A place to grow,
From which you may
Eventually go.
But
Under this roof
There will always be
A place for you,
A place for me.
And all the love
That life can hold
A resting place
More precious than gold.
Under this roof
You will find
Love and laughter
And peace of mind.
A family made
Of lovers and friends
Parents and children
Souls on the mend.
Under this roof
There will always be
A place for you
Where you can be
Certain to find
Unconditional love,
A listening ear,
A place to bring
Your hopes and fears.
Under this roof
Life goes on ,
From birth to death,
From dusk to dawn.
A place to dream,
A place to grow,
From which you may
Eventually go.
But
Under this roof
There will always be
A place for you,
A place for me.
And all the love
That life can hold
A resting place
More precious than gold.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
A Swing a Day
A Swing A Day
What part of childhood do most people recall? They want to relive the good times , with good friends. Swings are a very simple pleasure, not needing thought, just a little effort on your part (or a friend, or a lover) to send you soaring above the ground, always returning to a safe harbor. Unless, of course, you were more of a risk taker, letting go of the swing at the top of the arc, flying through space to land in triumph on your feet.
Soaring through space
With an effortless glide
I flew like a bird.
Not a care in the world
Going higher and higher.
Swifter and swifter,
Watching the sky,
I pumped harder and harder.
Not thinking, just being
Gossamer light.
Surrendering the chains
While at the top of my arc,
I flew into the air.
Never thinking about the
Ground far below.
Safely I landed.
With a victory cheer,
I raced back to the swing
Needing another
Grasp at the ring
What part of childhood do most people recall? They want to relive the good times , with good friends. Swings are a very simple pleasure, not needing thought, just a little effort on your part (or a friend, or a lover) to send you soaring above the ground, always returning to a safe harbor. Unless, of course, you were more of a risk taker, letting go of the swing at the top of the arc, flying through space to land in triumph on your feet.
Soaring through space
With an effortless glide
I flew like a bird.
Not a care in the world
Going higher and higher.
Swifter and swifter,
Watching the sky,
I pumped harder and harder.
Not thinking, just being
Gossamer light.
Surrendering the chains
While at the top of my arc,
I flew into the air.
Never thinking about the
Ground far below.
Safely I landed.
With a victory cheer,
I raced back to the swing
Needing another
Grasp at the ring
Monday, June 8, 2009
Is there a cougar in your tank?
Anyone ever wonder why there are no songs about older people? After all, we don't simply vanish into the woodwork when we hit 35. Plenty of us have a lot of love and experiences to share. We exist, not in a vacume but in the very fabric of the here and now.
Many older people become even more worthwhile as we age. So many don't have the time to discover themselves until after the kids have flown the coop. I don't only refer to the women, but the men as well.
I found more about myself after my divorce. I was told I was worthless and no one would ever want me. Guess what? My ex was so wrong!!!!! I've enjoyed the company of several men over the past 10 years and found that I could be valued for who I am, not what someone thought I should be.
So with that said, I wish to submit for your opinion.
Two Steps Forward
There may be snow on the roof
But the furnace is roaring
You can call me each night
But you won't call me boring
There's a lot to be said
For the woman mature.
Still deserving of passion
Still has her allure
I'll never see fifty
Unless I look to the past
I've kept the treasure
And thrown out the trash
My senses take flight
At the touch of your hand
Experience is spice
I've had it with bland
I'm ready and willing
To chance love again
If we start out as friends
Who knows how it'll end
When all is said and done, life is a trip. Enjoy it.
Anyone ever wonder why there are no songs about older people? After all, we don't simply vanish into the woodwork when we hit 35. Plenty of us have a lot of love and experiences to share. We exist, not in a vacume but in the very fabric of the here and now.
Many older people become even more worthwhile as we age. So many don't have the time to discover themselves until after the kids have flown the coop. I don't only refer to the women, but the men as well.
I found more about myself after my divorce. I was told I was worthless and no one would ever want me. Guess what? My ex was so wrong!!!!! I've enjoyed the company of several men over the past 10 years and found that I could be valued for who I am, not what someone thought I should be.
So with that said, I wish to submit for your opinion.
Two Steps Forward
There may be snow on the roof
But the furnace is roaring
You can call me each night
But you won't call me boring
There's a lot to be said
For the woman mature.
Still deserving of passion
Still has her allure
I'll never see fifty
Unless I look to the past
I've kept the treasure
And thrown out the trash
My senses take flight
At the touch of your hand
Experience is spice
I've had it with bland
I'm ready and willing
To chance love again
If we start out as friends
Who knows how it'll end
When all is said and done, life is a trip. Enjoy it.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
In need of an angel
The Women's Aglow retreat is a Christian women's retreat that I went to for many years. It was a chance to relax, find peace and find God ,whom I seem to frequently misplace in the frantic pace of my life. I enjoy writing Christian songs and poems, although I'm not very prolific. I could always count on God giving me at least one during retreat time. This retreat was a little different.
I also enjoy exploring my creative side in many other ways. I was working on angel dolls at this particular time. I used dolls that I found at flea markets and yard sales, crocheting the dresses and making the wings from wicker butterflies, satin and lace. I was working on an angel when the retreat time rolled around, so I took her with me to complete.
I had put this particular doll in the wash as her cloth body was soiled. She had red hair in a ponytail and bright blue eyes. When I took her out of the machine, I found that not only was she clean, but her eyelashes had fallen off. This didn't bother me as I knew they would be simple to replace.
This was a weekend retreat. On Friday night I set about completing my angel. She still needed her wings, bloomers and eyelashes. I only got as far as her wings before I went to bed.
Saturday morning was a busy time, going to classes. The speaker that morning spoke of his Jewish heritage and blew the ram's horn. He also talked about angels and how we all had a guardian angel watching over us. As he spoke, I started to feel that the angel I had brought with
me needed to be given away to someone at the retreat. This was someone who had a strong need to hold her guardian angel in a physical sense. I was also not to complete her, leaving her without her bloomers and eyelashes. Anyone who knows me knows that this was difficult, as I tend to be a perfectionist with my creations.
God also gave me a psalm at this time which was to given to this person along with the angel. It is called "God's Grace".
You don't have to wait until you are perfect
To send His message forward.
He can use your imperfections
To reflect His precious light.
People need to see
That you can be
Perfect in Him
And in sharing your
Burdens,
Bless others.
For they will see
That He can see
Past your outward roughness
To the needs in your soul.
Even a diamond needs to be faceted
By cuts and blows
To bring out it's true beauty.
So shall your soul be polished
In the cuts and blows
Of your trials and tribulations.
He polishes the mirror of your soul
With his love,
Allowing others to see His reflection
In you.
I brought the angel and psalm to the speaker after the meeting, asking for prayer so that the angel would go to the right person. I showed him the psalm first. After reading it he asked "is this for me?" meaning the psalm. I then noticed that his skull was deformed (imperfect). I told him I would be glad to make him a copy. I noticed a lady standing outside the meeting hall with her arms loaded with books and notebooks. I asked her for some paper, explaining what it was for. When she put down her books I noticed that one shoulder was higher than the other. She also requested a copy of the psalm anhd suggested that I aske the front desk to make copies. They made me 5 at no charge.
I carried that angel with me wherever I went Saturday. People had many suggestions as to whom she should go to, but none struck me as being the right one. Sunday morning, I continued my search. As we were sitting at breakfast, my aunt said she knew who it had to go to. She was staying with a friend at the convention. The friend had a teenaged daughter there who had just recently left a satanic cult. One of the things she did (in the cult) was to cut herself with knives. She had been doing really well until the night before, when she again found a knife and was cutting her arms. She felt that God couldn't possibly want her now that she had backslidden.
I walked around the table where we were sitting and placed the angel in her arms, then handed her the psalm. I explained that her angel wasn't perfect because God wanted her to know that His love for her wasn't dependent on perfection.
I only saw her briefly after that but I heard from several other people that she kept her angel with her constantly and was much happier. About a month later, I got a phone call from my aunt requesting another copy of the psalm, as the girl had lost her copy. I sent the copy to my aunt, knowing that God's love was continuing to work in this girl's life.
I also enjoy exploring my creative side in many other ways. I was working on angel dolls at this particular time. I used dolls that I found at flea markets and yard sales, crocheting the dresses and making the wings from wicker butterflies, satin and lace. I was working on an angel when the retreat time rolled around, so I took her with me to complete.
I had put this particular doll in the wash as her cloth body was soiled. She had red hair in a ponytail and bright blue eyes. When I took her out of the machine, I found that not only was she clean, but her eyelashes had fallen off. This didn't bother me as I knew they would be simple to replace.
This was a weekend retreat. On Friday night I set about completing my angel. She still needed her wings, bloomers and eyelashes. I only got as far as her wings before I went to bed.
Saturday morning was a busy time, going to classes. The speaker that morning spoke of his Jewish heritage and blew the ram's horn. He also talked about angels and how we all had a guardian angel watching over us. As he spoke, I started to feel that the angel I had brought with
me needed to be given away to someone at the retreat. This was someone who had a strong need to hold her guardian angel in a physical sense. I was also not to complete her, leaving her without her bloomers and eyelashes. Anyone who knows me knows that this was difficult, as I tend to be a perfectionist with my creations.
God also gave me a psalm at this time which was to given to this person along with the angel. It is called "God's Grace".
You don't have to wait until you are perfect
To send His message forward.
He can use your imperfections
To reflect His precious light.
People need to see
That you can be
Perfect in Him
And in sharing your
Burdens,
Bless others.
For they will see
That He can see
Past your outward roughness
To the needs in your soul.
Even a diamond needs to be faceted
By cuts and blows
To bring out it's true beauty.
So shall your soul be polished
In the cuts and blows
Of your trials and tribulations.
He polishes the mirror of your soul
With his love,
Allowing others to see His reflection
In you.
I brought the angel and psalm to the speaker after the meeting, asking for prayer so that the angel would go to the right person. I showed him the psalm first. After reading it he asked "is this for me?" meaning the psalm. I then noticed that his skull was deformed (imperfect). I told him I would be glad to make him a copy. I noticed a lady standing outside the meeting hall with her arms loaded with books and notebooks. I asked her for some paper, explaining what it was for. When she put down her books I noticed that one shoulder was higher than the other. She also requested a copy of the psalm anhd suggested that I aske the front desk to make copies. They made me 5 at no charge.
I carried that angel with me wherever I went Saturday. People had many suggestions as to whom she should go to, but none struck me as being the right one. Sunday morning, I continued my search. As we were sitting at breakfast, my aunt said she knew who it had to go to. She was staying with a friend at the convention. The friend had a teenaged daughter there who had just recently left a satanic cult. One of the things she did (in the cult) was to cut herself with knives. She had been doing really well until the night before, when she again found a knife and was cutting her arms. She felt that God couldn't possibly want her now that she had backslidden.
I walked around the table where we were sitting and placed the angel in her arms, then handed her the psalm. I explained that her angel wasn't perfect because God wanted her to know that His love for her wasn't dependent on perfection.
I only saw her briefly after that but I heard from several other people that she kept her angel with her constantly and was much happier. About a month later, I got a phone call from my aunt requesting another copy of the psalm, as the girl had lost her copy. I sent the copy to my aunt, knowing that God's love was continuing to work in this girl's life.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Once upon a spider
We spin ourselves a web all through our lives. Just how tangled it gets depends on the choices we make. Do we stay, do we go, shall we lie or tell the truth? (or what we perceive as truth). Do we cause pain in the name of friendship because we care enough to see what they don't?. God set our basic pattern but the choice is ours what to weave into it, how we make it our own.
I like to spin colorful patterns, full of songs and life. Sometimes I try to fit other's patterns into mine, hoping for a joining of souls. But I have come to realize that that just isn't the way to go. I wind up losing myself sometimes in the attempt.
I would like to post my first poem in this site. My friend David (from the Lair of the Silver Fox) says that if I want feedback on my efforts, this is the best place to be.
A twist of fate
Life can be so strange at times.
You think you know someone, then you find
That you didn't know them at all.
One would think that years would
Be long enough
To get a glimpse into someone's soul.
That it was enough to build a life with.
But in an irony so sad
It's almost funny
That the person that you thought you had
Is someone else entirely.
Secrets held deep in their heart
Are threatening to tear you apart.
You want to be their love and
Support, but the love has changed.
Happenings from the long and
Recent past,
Not their fault,
But still it changes the very
Fabric of their identities.
So you stumble on
Hoping to find a way to continue
But in your heart,
It's ended.
I like to spin colorful patterns, full of songs and life. Sometimes I try to fit other's patterns into mine, hoping for a joining of souls. But I have come to realize that that just isn't the way to go. I wind up losing myself sometimes in the attempt.
I would like to post my first poem in this site. My friend David (from the Lair of the Silver Fox) says that if I want feedback on my efforts, this is the best place to be.
A twist of fate
Life can be so strange at times.
You think you know someone, then you find
That you didn't know them at all.
One would think that years would
Be long enough
To get a glimpse into someone's soul.
That it was enough to build a life with.
But in an irony so sad
It's almost funny
That the person that you thought you had
Is someone else entirely.
Secrets held deep in their heart
Are threatening to tear you apart.
You want to be their love and
Support, but the love has changed.
Happenings from the long and
Recent past,
Not their fault,
But still it changes the very
Fabric of their identities.
So you stumble on
Hoping to find a way to continue
But in your heart,
It's ended.
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