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Archive for the ‘Poetry & Rhyme’ Category

‘Thoughts in a Garden’ by Helen L. Marshall

August 8th, 2016 Comments off

Thoughts in a Garden

by Helen Lowrie Marshall

Today, as I worked in my garden,

     I thought what a fine thing ‘twould be

If each of us could pluck the weeds

      From our garden of memory.

If all of the harsh and ugly thoughts

      And every unkind deed

Could be tossed aside, and the barren spots

      Replaced with fresh new seed.

And I thought, if we could visualize

      The memories to grow

Out of the seeds we’re planting-

      We’d live differently, I know;

We’d have more time for things worthwhile,

      The finer things, I’m sure,

And we’d plant the seed of a friendly smile

     Where a frown-weed grew before.

We’d give less thought to life’s humdrum cares

     That seem to have no end,

And we’d learn the interest an hour bears

     When invested in a friend.

And oh, I know, if we could see-

     As true as stars above-

What tomorrow’s memories would be,

     We’d have more time for love!

Long Days Alone – Whose day can you brighten?

June 28th, 2016 Comments off

He eased out of bedman13

Shuffled to the bathroom, the kitchen, the porch for the paper.

With coffee in hand he slumped into his usual chair

and turned on the early morning news. Sighed.

Checked his stocks and signed again. 

Why had he bothered to get up?

The phone rang. It was his eldest child saying she loved him and wished he’d come to visit.

hmmmm. He decided to shave for the first time in a week.  He even smiled at himself in the mirror.

mwt

Ah . . . Love . . .Why wait for a special day? Surprise her with roses!

June 27th, 2016 Comments off

My love is Like a Red, Red Rose

by Robert Burns

 MY love is like a red, red rose

That’s newly sprung in June: 

My love is like the melodie
That’s sweetly played in tune.

So fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in love am I :
And I will love thee still, my dear,
Till all the seas gang dry.

Till all the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt with the sun:
And I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands of life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only love.
And fare thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my love,
Though it were ten thousand mile.



‘One Day at a Time’ by Helen L. Marshall

May 14th, 2016 1 comment

         One Day at a Time

         by Helen Lowrie Marshall

I’m glad life is given us bit by bit, 

    In minutes, and days, and years;

For if we were faced with the whole of it

    How filled it would be with fears;

With all of its laughter, and all of its pain,

    Its sorrow and joy and care-

Why, even its beauty all at one time

    Would be more than we could bear.

But God drops a bit of happiness here,

    And lowers a shadow there,

And each of us has his portion of both,

    The bitter and the fair.

And, whether the way be rough or fine,

     It’s a comforting thing to know

We’ve only one step to take at a time,

    Just one little day to go.

Women Poets: Elizabeth Bishop

January 14th, 2016 Comments off

Sestina

 by Elizabeth Bishop

September rain falls on the house.
In the failing light, the old grandmother
sits in the kitchen with the child
beside the Little Marvel Stove,
reading the jokes from the almanac,
laughing and talking to hide her tears.

She thinks that her equinoctial tears
and the rain that beats on the roof of the house 
were both foretold by the almanac,
but only known to a grandmother.
The iron kettle sings on the stove.
She cuts some bread and says to the child,

It’s time for tea now; but the child
is watching the teakettle’s small hard tears
dance like mad on the hot black stove,
the way the rain must dance on the house.
Tidying up, the old grandmother
hangs up the clever almanac

on its string. Birdlike, the almanac
hovers half open above the child,
hovers above the old grandmother
and her teacup full of dark brown tears.
She shivers and says she thinks the house
feels chilly, and puts more wood in the stove.

It was to be, says the Marvel Stove.
I know what I know, says the almanac.
With crayons the child draws a rigid house
and a winding pathway. Then the child
puts in a man with buttons like tears
and shows it proudly to the grandmother.

But secretly, while the grandmother
busies herself about the stove,
the little moons fall down like tears
from between the pages of the almanac
into the flower bed the child
has carefully placed in the front of the house.

Time to plant tears, says the almanac.
The grandmother sings to the marvelous stove
and the child draws another inscrutable house.

Tom Dobson (My little gift to you all, Have a Wonderfilled Christmas!!)

December 10th, 2015 Comments off



Twas the day before Christmas, and all thru the house,
the gift list uncertain, “was there somebody else?”

Blindsided by the generous, you can’t ask for a redo.
What’d we get them last year? Was it equal in value?

When she says so sincere, “Let’s not give to each other.”
Don’t fall for it gents! Sage advice from your brother.

It seems so impersonal, to write them a check,
but it beats the returns, So, go ahead, what the heck.

The malls are ridiculous. Our credit limits blurry.
Once again we affirm, “Let’s start next year early!”

 

Friends

August 22nd, 2015 Comments off

                           True Friends

                                    Friends don’t come dime a dozen, true friends are beyond price.

                                    They are there when you need them, even when you don’t look so nice.

                                    Like, when your back goes out and you can’t bend, 

                                    Can’t move,

                                    All you can do is cry.

                                    You know. . . when you’re shaky,

                                    Weak and scared,

                                     And sure you’re gonna die.

                                     It’s good to hear a calming voice,  

                                     With a soothing, steady, hand,

                                     To bring you a bowl of soup and say,

                                     “Eat some, you’ll be strong again.”

                                     Thank God for friends, His hand extended,

                                     Who teach us by example

                                     What God’s love looks like on this earth,

                                     And that His love is ample.

Mary Taylor, dedicated to my friend, Arlene.

“We Are Seven” by Wordsworth, read by Tom O’Bedlam

February 26th, 2015 Comments off

‘Song’ by Margaret Widdemer

February 4th, 2015 Comments off

Going down the old way

   When the day’s through,

If I met my old love

   What should I do?

Greet him with a light word,

   Pass with a sigh?

Give pain for pain he gave

   In times gone by?

Nay – laugh for happiness,

   Cling and forget

How he left my heart sore

   And my eyes wet!

Much of Happiness is a Choice . . . Dare you?

January 5th, 2014 Comments off

Dare to be Happy

by Helen Lowrie Marshall

Dare to be happy – don’t shy away,

Reach out and capture the joy of Today!

Life is for living! Give it a try;

Open your heart to that sun in the sky.

Dare to be loving, and trusting, and true;

Treasure the hours with those dear to you.

Dare to be kind – it’s more fun than you know;

Give joy to others, and watch your own grow.

Dare to admit all your blessings, and then

Every day count them all over again.

Dare to be happy, don’t be afraid-

This is the day which the Lord hath made!

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