WHO IS MOTHER?


Mother is half of the Father/Mother team, the one who gave birth to you as a child. When she first held you in her arms, she fell madly in love with you! She is the one that changed your diaper, gave you your bottle, bathed and dressed you. She is the one who tended to you when you were sick, wishes she could have bore your pain, but unable to even share it with you. There is none like a Mother.

If you have children, then you know what it's like to be a Mother. Often, it's a tough job, with unruly children, and many heartaches before they are grown. Sometimes a Mother is lucky that she has well-disciplined children, but only because she has done her best in order for them to be well-adjusted teenagers and later adults. Mostly, Mother sits and worries that she hasn't done her best with her children, especially if they don't turn out as she thought they should, with all the training she had given them.

Mother is a human being, capable of making mistakes. She is not perfect, just as none of us are perfect. But she is the one that we picture as being perfect during our childhood. As we become older, we realize that Mothers are capable of right and wrong ways of doing things, missing the mark, just as much as the next person. But she is still Mother. The thing that sets her apart is her everlasting love for her children and her intent that they lead normal, well-adjusted lives.

Not until we become adults, do we really begin to appreciate WHO Mother really is. She has nurtured you through your childhood, put up with your sassy ways and times of being lazy during your teenage years, and cried through your becoming an adult. But Mother was always there to encourage you when you made a mistake, although sometimes it's hard not to show disappointment {I am sure I've done that}.

As we grow older and have our own children, we realize that Mother was a very strong person, and we begin to wonder can we ever fit into her shoes. No, we wear our 'own shoes'........we can never do things the same as our Mother, although she has given us the pattern from which to build. IF we have a Godly Mother {I did!}, then we can bring up our children in the ways of God, so that when they grow older we have the assurance that some day they will live for God. After all, Proverbs 22:6 says "Train up a child in the ways he should go, and when he is old, he will not depart from it."

Mothers are special. Is your Mother living today? If so, try to make this Mother's Day the most wonderful day of her life! Show her you care if only by telling her you love her. Take her out to eat, take her flowers, but show up on Mother's Day, if possible. You will never know how much this helps Mother to realize her family still cares. Sometimes we get busy doing the usual things in life, and lose sight of the most important aspects - loving our family. And Mother happens to be where that 'family' began. Without Mother, there would never have been a family. You might also tell Daddy that you are so happy that he chose Mother to be his wife. Make his eyes light up as well!!

M - Messenger, relaying God's Word

O - Outpouring of genuine Love

T - Trusts in God

H - Heart set on things above

E - Earthly saint

R - Rescuer of the Wayward



By Barbara Sanders


I want to be all that, tinkerbell
Posted on: September 04, 2006, 02:56:23 AM

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Here's one of my all time favorite poems.  I'm a big fan of structured poetry.

The Raven
by Edgar Allan Poe
First Published in 1845

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
" 'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door;
Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost Lenore,.
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore,
Nameless here forevermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me---filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
" 'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door,
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door.
This it is, and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you." Here I opened wide the door;---
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word,
Lenore?, This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word,
"Lenore!" Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before,
"Surely," said I, "surely, that is something at my window lattice.
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore.
Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore.
" 'Tis the wind, and nothing more."

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven, of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door.
Perched upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door,
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly, grim, and ancient raven, wandering from the nightly shore.
Tell me what the lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore."
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning, little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door,
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."

But the raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered;
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before;
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master, whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster, till his songs one burden bore,---
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never---nevermore."

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore --
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
                                       Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

Thus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl, whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee -- by these angels he hath
Sent thee respite---respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, O quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!"

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted--
On this home by horror haunted--tell me truly, I implore:
Is there--is there balm in Gilead?--tell me--tell me I implore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil--prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that heaven that bends above us--by that God we both adore--
Tell this soul with sorrow laden, if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden, whom the angels name Lenore---
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name Lenore?
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting--
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! -- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming.
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted---nevermore!

"My Wife"           

My wife is having a hard time
She has put up with way too much
I never told her I cross dressed
I thought I was cured by then
A couple of years after we married
My need to cross dress came back
It was hid from her and others
Then one night I told her about it
I told her I wanted to wear night gowns
Woman's panties I wanted too
Cheeper was the reason I gave her
Nighties and panties were cool
Why can't a guy have nighties
Girls wear jeans and tuxes too
The double standard is wrong
For men and women alike
So to my wife I write this poem
To say I am sorry I decieved
When you file the divorce papers
All this grief will be over for you
My stuff I will remove it soon
I hope you won't be hurt
May we be friends when it';s over
A girl friend I want to be
If only you will see me
As Cheryl Lynne that's who

  By Cheryl Lynne

Posted on: September 08, 2006, 07:53:52 PM

---

Untitled

The Mountain, Leaf, & Cloud                 
Some where ,there is a rainbow.
There is not a single duplicate mountain
Not a double in leafs any where
All clouds are different
So why be like anyone else
We are all different
Are looks, voices, beliefs that important
Do we need to match each other
The differences in ourselves is normal
OH how I dislike the word normal now
Normal is only a word
What is normal really
It is just a word used to make one fit in the box
The box that says female or male
Why even mark one box or any box
Why label a bathroom as female or male
Let us just say bathroom
If that is done then how could anyone object
To have a security guard or police go in the bathroom with you
That is never apporiate in my opinion
Even if the other person is TG
A TG has to use it some time
My writings are never repeated in an other
Well maybe once in a while
So be different and rejoice in being you
Love yourself and others


  By Cheryl Lynne



Posted on: September 08, 2006, 07:55:32 PM

---

Tinkerbell, I love poetry - it truely is the greatest Muse.  Music is wonderful too but different, and I think requires an extra/different mental step or two.  With good poetry there are the images and the rhythm.  There is a quality to Robert Frosts poems.  There is a contemporary Australian poet who evokes similar feelings in me.
His name is Peter Kocan - and I believe I may even have been at University with him, is truely a pity we never met
What do you think of this poem.  Up there with Robert Frost you reckon? 

DYLAN & CAITLAN

The poignant photograph is one,
Of them reclining in the sun--
Their intimacy showing through,
Unposed, unglamorous, but true.

Yet with a tension in it all,
As if they had agreed to call
This little truce in passion's war
Beside the heron-priested shore.

Forever, as the moments pass,
Their shadows rest upon the grass.
These two remain forever caught
In pensive attitudes of thought.

And just before the camera's blink
She might've said "How strange to think
Our pictured selves will never know
What happens when we rise and go".

"They'll seem to know", he might've said,
"For everything that lies ahead
Will cast its retrospective ray
Upon these phantoms of today",

--Bereft of colour, motion, sound,
Their world is burgeoning around,
The teeming year of Fifty-Three
Whose end he woulden't live to see.

I really like his structure.  It sounds like somebody contemplating a photogragh about himself and somebody that he was friends with and the friend died soon afterwards.  Kind of sad.

Melissa

It is a sad sort of poem Melissa, actually it made me think he was contemplating a picture of his parents, back in simpler times.  His poems all have this feeling to them.
Here is another one (hope you dont mind Tinkerbell - I am not hijacking your thread, to me its dedicated to beautiful poems    )

READING HISTORY
We know what they will suffer and will do.
We have the final outcomes neatly penned.
And we can watch it all proceeding to
The very thing that happened at the end.

For us the deep significances cling
To names and dates and places in advance.
We know what each tomorrow had to bring
Out of the deep-laid plan or fluke of chance.

We fathom where the secret passage lies
Through centuries of anarchy and dark.
And long before the arrow ever flies
We know that it will hurtle to its mark.

We can predict in detail all the rest
That follows on from someone being born,
That even as he suckles at the breast
The crown is polished or the dagger drawn.

We note the sign and see the portent clear,
Can tell the solid outline in the vague,
Can number for a certainty what year
Will come the revolution or the Plague.

But how that easy wisdom separates
The reader from the heartbeat of the past,
From all the people who had thought their fates
Were undecided till the very last.

And the same gulf is opening ahead
When the armchair historian will know
Each twist and turning of the paths we tread,
Although we grope and stumble as we go.

-----------------------------------------------------------
I have a list of favourite poets, and Peter Kocan is up there   I cannot comprehend how someone could create somthing like this - I greatly envy their genius
another of a completely different style and approach is Rudyard Kipling.
I have part of his poem "Frontier Arithmetic" in my signature - it has been weighing on me greatly, it keeps reoccurring.  Its my son, the amazing wonderful soldier.  As this poem chillingly makes the point "The odds are with the lesser man"   

Rana

Yeah, I tend to be very particular in the poems that I like because I have difficulty reading a lot of poetry.  I find it much easier to write and tend to write it in the style of what I like to read.  So far on Susans, I've written 2 poems.

Melissa

Quote from: Rana on September 15, 2006, 07:10:25 AM
(hope you dont mind Tinkerbell - I am not hijacking your thread, to me its dedicated to beautiful poems  
Rana

Of course I don't mind, Rana.  This is a thread of beautiful poems, indeed.  So keep posting more..

tinkerbell
Posted on: September 15, 2006, 05:30:32 PM

---

tinkerbell
Posted on: September 15, 2006, 06:40:23 PM

---

This is from Kimberly....I miss you!

Quote from: Kimberly on July 13, 2006, 10:39:13 PM
From: http://academic.brooklyn.cuny.edu/english/melani/cs6/stop.html

Quote from: Emily Dickinson
Because I could not stop for Death

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labor, and my leisure too,
For his civility.

We passed the school, where children strove
At recess, in the ring;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.

Or rather, be passed us;
The dews grew quivering and chill,
For only gossamer my gown,
My tippet only tulle.

We paused before house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Since then 'tis centuries, and yet each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.

Mostly just the first part of the first stanza, but details.

Posted on: September 15, 2006, 08:10:56 PM

---

Quote from: Marco on September 18, 2006, 07:13:29 PM
That last one you wrote Tinkerbell, is my favorite so far. You should think of publishing.

                                Marco

                         

publishing it?  no, I don't need the migraines from that! I'm a very busy girl as it is....I just write for fun not for profit

tinkerbell

P.S.  actually I kind of like that one too....mysterious, no?
Posted on: September 18, 2006, 07:19:29 PM

---

Oh Tinkerbell, you have such a wonderful description of mother.  I only wish it had been true.  I envy people who love their mothers.

Sarah L.

BIRCHES                                                           


When I see birches bend to left and right

Across the lines of straighter darker trees,

I like to think some boy's been swinging them.

But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay.

Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen them

Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning

After a rain. They click upon themselves

As the breeze rises, and turn many-coloured

As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.

Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells

Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust

Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away

You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.

They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,

And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed

So low for long, they never right themselves:

You may see their trunks arching in the woods

Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground,

Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair

Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.

But I was going to say when Truth broke in

With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm,

I should prefer to have some boy bend them

As he went out and in to fetch the cows--

Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,

Whose only play was what he found himself,

Summer or winter, and could play alone.

One by one he subdued his father's trees

By riding them down over and over again

Until he took the stiffness out of them,

And not one but hung limp, not one was left

For him to conquer. He learned all there was

To learn about not launching out too soon

And so not carrying the tree away

Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise

To the top branches, climbing carefully

With the same pains you use to fill a cup

Up to the brim, and even above the brim.

Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,

Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.

So was I once myself a swinger of birches.

And so I dream of going back to be.

It's when I'm weary of considerations,

And life is too much like a pathless wood

Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs

Broken across it, and one eye is weeping

>From a twig's having lashed across it open.

I'd like to get away from earth awhile

And then come back to it and begin over.

May no fate willfully misunderstand me

And half grant what I wish and snatch me away

Not to return. Earth's the right place for love:

I don't know where it's likely to go better.

I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree

And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk

Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,

But dipped its top and set me down again.

That would be good both going and coming back.

One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.

By Robert Frost

October

O hushed October morning mild,
Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;
Tomorrow's wind, if it be wild,
Should waste them all.
The crows above the forest call;
Tomorrow they may form and go.
O hushed October morning mild,
Begin the hours of this day slow.
Make the day seem to us less brief.
Hearts not averse to being beguiled,
Beguile us in the way you know.
Release one leaf at break of day;
At noon release another leaf;
one from our trees, one far away.
Retard the sun with gentle mist;
Enchant the land with amethyst.
Slow, slow!
For the grapes' sake, if the were all,
Whose leaves already are burnt with frost,
Whose clustered fruit must else be lost--
For the grapes' sake along the all.

by Robert Frost






Posted on: October 10, 2006, 03:39:14 AM

---

Greatly Missed

A grandfather's touch, A grandpa's kiss,
A grieving grand daughter, You're greatly missed.

An empty house, An empty chair,
A grandfathers love, No longer there.

A broken heart, Tear filled eye,
Another soul to fill the sky.

Many memories in my mind,
Some I laugh, Some I cry.

The times we shared, The laughs we had,
Things I miss when I think of you grandpa.

Realizing that's all I have to hold on too,
Only memories, Of what once was you.

Missing your laugh, I will never again hear.
That is the reality that fills me with so much fear.

No more smile on your face,
No more warmth of your embrace.

The last hug, The last kiss,
The last "goodbye" leaves me with one last wish...

To have you grandpa, here today,
Never to leave your grand daughter this way.

A grandfather's touch, A grandpa's kiss,
A grieving grand daughter, YOU'RE GREATLY MISSED! 




tinkerbell

Quote from: Cindianna_Jones on October 10, 2006, 11:54:17 PM

Longing grief saddens you
And alas, my friend it grieves me too.
Your family's love extends,
embraces,
caresses,
to help mend
painful loss and emptiness.

Distant friends can only wait and pray,
wanting and searching for words to convey,
hoping to ease your grief and ease the way,
of suffering the death of your patriarch.

Remember him fondly,
bring forth his sweetest memory,
share it with your family.
Abuelito will live on as long as he is remembered.

Sleep well my friend.  May you and your family
be blessed with comfort in this the saddest of times.

Cindi

  May God bless you, Cindi.  My angel without wings.. do you know you have a beautiful soul?  You do!

tinkerbell

                                                GONE

                In the blink of an eye. Where have you gone? I know to better place

                I have been afraid of this all my life. What will I do when you are gone?

                Who will answer the questions I will always have? When will I see you again?

                 You are gone from this place, but not from my heart, and not from my soul

                  Forever there, you will remain, and not a day shall pass that I will not recall

                   your face, your wisdom, and you smile. I will love you forever all the way into

                                                             Eternity


               Marco

Quote from: Marco on October 12, 2006, 03:25:58 PM
                                                GONE

                In the blink of an eye. Where have you gone? I know to better place

                I have been afraid of this all my life. What will I do when you are gone?

                Who will answer the questions I will always have? When will I see you again?

                 You are gone from this place, but not from my heart, and not from my soul

                  Forever there, you will remain, and not a day shall pass that I will not recall

                   your face, your wisdom, and you smile. I will love you forever all the way into

                                                             Eternity


               Marco

Thank you Marco; it was very thoughtful of you to post that poem.
tinkerbell
Posted on: October 12, 2006, 07:08:15 PM

---

Grandpa

I said good bye to my grandpa today
Many people whom I did not know came to say the same thing
I wonder why God chose you and you know what?
I think I have the answer...
...God needed one more angel to fill the empty space,
he looked around our family and saw your sweet face,
when you stopped breathing,
we knew you were gone,
you went so peacefully,
so we knew you chose the right home,
we knew your skies weren't so blue,
and the roads were getting too tough for you,
but you were always strong as a rock,
and you did the best you could do,
the best part was that you didn't die alone,
the day God sent you home.
Te quiero mucho abuelito
Y siempre viviras en mi...

tinkerbell

I messed up on what day today was You are strong Tink. I am glad you were ok. He is in a better place

                                            Marco

My Beloved Feline


I was walking along the footpath one night
When I saw you, a stray kitten roaming throughout the shadowy streets You
being so tiny and emaciated was a piteous sight I had no choice but to
bring you home with me

As I carried you, you did nothing but rested beneath my arms
And glimpsed at the corner where you were born
Your white silken fur with shades of black and brown were filled with
charms Brought you to my flat so you wouldn't die famished and forlorn

I offered you fried fish and you ate it with quick speed
And then gave me a look like you were thanking me
You were my cherished pet whom I was to care for daily and feed
I gave you your first bath but you kept running away so swiftly

I assume you were a month old when I first got you
You looked incredibly adorable but too little and fragile
I loved you like you were human and I know you loved me too
For you would always greet me while I'd pet you every once in a while

Several weeks went by and I watched you steadily grow
You looked even more beautiful while being older
To learn that my neighbors hated you filled me with great sorrow
Couldn't keep you in my apartment and each time they saw you they'd get
colder

Dad said, "Cats spoil our furniture and bring sickness"
But I ignored him and invited you to my room whenever I could
You being kicked by tormentors, I did not want to witness
I got into so many troubles but to leave you outside in the cold I
never would

How wonderful it was to watch you eat
Hearing your meows outside the front door
Every single day you'd beg for food beneath my feet
Tuna and sardines were your favorite as you kept asking for more

Milk and water I gave you to drink
And while you did so, your furry tail would move up and down
"How kind this person is, unlike the rest," You would think
Whenever I passed by you I'd give a smile and clear my constant frown

Your deep olive-green iris endlessly sparkled in the dark
Your delicate whiskers flew gently with the rushing wind
Together you and I would play with yarns and lark
If only we had a garden, it would have been your own park

Time passed and you became pregnant
You gave birth to three kittens, all gorgeous and flamboyant
Two coated with black and white fur and the smallest one all brown and
white Always together like a real family and never getting into a fight

Those three were like you, often timid but you all loved to explore
Your environment and the people around you
I got rather surprised when I initially saw your newborns at my door
Didn't get the chance to know them because of what happened which made me
forever blue

Some hostile neighbor sent you and your kittens away
To a deserted land so to me you won't return
I wept so much that night I wished so bad that you could stay
To my parents I acted all splenetic and stern

The next morning I found out that you came back to me
I caressed you with full devotion
The friendship between you and I, not a single one could see
You filled my vacant life with high spirits and a loving emotion

You brought with you your youngest kitten that looked exactly like your
departed friend And then you'd travel all the way to where that tyrant had
abandoned you And bring all your kittens together, for you were the one
whom they can only depend Lifting each kitten one by one to where I waited
for you

Somehow I felt like you were asking me to watch over your little ones
after you're gone But I couldn't because you were sent away again, this
time by my Dad He left you and your family beside a high-class restaurant
at dawn Not finding you anywhere when I got up late made me extremely sad

I cried so hard like a part of me had been removed
You never reappeared when I expected you to do so
To this new residence, I wish we'd never moved
Every hour I'd wait for you by the gate, feeling more disheartened and low

I shed tears as I write this poem which I'm sure you won't understand
We've known each other for ten months and yet I feel like we've been
together for a decade I look at these remarkable photos of you and I
stroke it with my hand The more I imagine you by my side, the more I am
dismayed

From the bottom of my heart I pray
That wherever you are, you and your family shall stay safe each and
every other day
I earnestly hope for your well-being
And I'm certain that you're aware of how I'm feeling
I'm missing you so much and I shall wait by the gate again today
For the time being, I lie on my bed listening to your meows all far away
And weep as I see an image of you in the ceiling I miss you, my beloved
feline "I miss you too," That quote I've always wanted to hear you say.

By Mariam D. Mababaya

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Posted on: October 16, 2006, 06:39:00 PM

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Revelation

We make ourselves a place apart
Behind light words that tease and flout,
But oh, the agitated hear
Till someone really find us out.

'Tis pity if the case require
(Or so we say) that in the end
We speak the literal to inspire
The understanding of a friend.

But so with all, from babes that play
At hid-and-seek to God afar,
So all who hide too well away
Must speak and tell us where they are.


By Robert Frost


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Love and a Question


A stranger came to the door at eve,
And he spoke the bridegroom fair.
He bore a green-white stick in his hand,
And, for all burden, care.
He asked with the eyes more than the lips
For a shelter for the night,
And he turned and looked at the road afar
Without a window light.

The bridegroom came forth into the porch
With, 'Let us look at the sky,
And question what of the night to be,
Stranger, you and I.'
The woodbine leaves littered the yard,
The woodbine berries were blue,
Autumn, yes, winter was in the wind;
'Stranger, I wish I knew.'

Within, the bride in the dusk alone
Bent over the open fire,
Her face rose-red with the glowing coal
And the thought of the heart's desire.

The bridegroom looked at the weary road,
Yet saw but her within,
And wished her heart in a case of gold
And pinned with a silver pin.

The bridegroom thought it little to give
A dole of bread, a purse,
A heartfelt prayer for the poor of God,
Or for the rich a curse;

But whether or not a man was asked
To mar the love of two
By harboring woe in the bridal house,
The bridegroom wished he knew.

By Robert Frost

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My Butterfly

Thine emulous fond flowers are dead, too,
And the daft sun-assaulter, he
That frightened thee so oft, is fled or dead:
Saave only me
(Nor is it sad to thee!)
Save only me
There is none left to mourn thee in the fields.

The gray grass is scarce dappled with the snow;
Its two banks have not shut upon the river;
But it is long ago--
It seems forever--
Since first I saw thee glance,
WIth all thy dazzling other ones,
In airy dalliance,
Precipitate in love,
Tossed, tangled, whirled and whirled above,
Like a linp rose-wreath in a fairy dance.

When that was, the soft mist
Of my regret hung not on all the land,
And I was glad for thee,
And glad for me, I wist.

Thou didst not know, who tottered, wandering on high,
That fate had made thee for the pleasure of the wind,
With those great careless wings,
Nor yet did I.

And there were othe rthings:
It seemed God let thee flutter from his gentle clasp:
Then fearful he had let thee win
TOo far beyond him to be gathered in,
Santched thee, o'ereager, with ungentle gasp.

Ah! I remember me
How once conspiracy was rife
Against my life--
The languor of it and the dreaming fond;
Surging, the grasses dizzied me of thought,
The breeze three odors brought,
And a gem-flower waved in a wand!

Then when I was distraught
And could not speak,
Sidelong, full on my cheek,
What should that reckless zephyr fling
But the wild touch of thy dye-dusty wing!

I found that wing broken today!
For thou art dead, I said,
And the strang birds say.
I found it with the withered leaves
Under the eaves.

By Robert Frost

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Pensamiento

"En las brasas de una hoguera ayer queme tus recuerdos,no eran anillos ni cartas sino silencios y juegos.  Ayer empece a olvidarte y le di tu cariño al viento y le dije muchas veces que ya no te quiero"



tinkerbell

Posted on: October 17, 2006, 01:06:38 AM

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When God Made Cats



When God made the world, He chose to put animals in it, and decided to give each whatever it wanted. All the animals formed a long line before His throne, and the cat quietly went to the end of the line. To the elephant and the bear He gave strength, to the rabbit and the deer, swiftness; to the owl, the ability to see at night, to the birds and the butterflies, great beauty; to the fox, cunning; to the monkey, intelligence; to the dog, loyalty; to the lion, courage; to the otter, playfulness. And all these were things the animals begged of God. At last he came to the end of the line, and there sat the little cat, waiting patiently. "What will YOU have?" God asked the cat.

The cat shrugged modestly. "Oh, whatever scraps you have left over. I don't mind."

"But I'm God. I have everything left over."

"Then I'll have a little of everything, please."

And God gave a great shout of laughter at the cleverness of this small animal, and gave the cat everything she asked for, adding grace and elegance and, only for her, a gentle purr that would always attract humans and assure her a warm and comfortable home.

By Lenore Fleischer




Awe!  what a cute poem!

Quote from: Poem"What will YOU have?" God asked the cat.
The cat shrugged modestly. "Oh, whatever scraps you have left over. I don't mind." "But I'm God. I have everything left over." "Then I'll have a little of everything, please."

A little of everything???  I don't know about that! My cats are more mature and smarter than some people of my own species...

tinkerbell