My name is Gary Fields
And I am at the Poetry Convention
Their are a myriad of Poet's
They are all in contention
There are so many that I may
Want to mention'
So, pay attention
Fore they must do this
At my table there are three
Their are four including me
The second choice in my contention
IS Dr. Ram Mehta
He is such an easy catch
He is a voice/a reflection
He shares' so much love and affection
Being one of so few words
His disposition is the best
And his Human Psyche will
Could this be some sort of test
That his deepest guarded secret's
Are guarded close to his chest
Being a doctor and all
It is unlikely that he will ever confess
Third at the table is the X DESTROYER X POET
Due to the lack of word's
She always' have something for ya
And will certainly destroy ya
If not, then simply ignore ya
Fore she deserves' to seat here
And not just on the foyer
It is a main bone of contention
There is no reason why I can't enjoy ya
Or at least releave the tension
With her advanced degree
her suplituding pensoin for Poetry
It seems' that her messages' are
Aimed straight for me
She give's to this her all
She never seem to miss a call
And to past the test
One may think that
She seem's to be a little obsessed
Most of all
She keeps' her secret
Buried so close to her breast
And what wonderful breast they
Only saving for us
The one's she profess to be the best
But never the less
She rises' among the rest
Fouth at the table is Ms. Sweetheart of Poetry
Wish she will spend more Poetry with me
And plain not just ignore me
Because I'm a fan of her now
She introduced me to this race
She is all ways' on the case
She is fully comfortable in her space
I just hope that she won't have to use
All of her mace,
She composes' herself with grace
Fore this is so much an adventure
And not just some silly old Snail Race
If I haven't said enough by now
Then it is because I am running
Out of space, or being run out of town
But, there is always one next year
Same time, manybe not
The same old place
Dr. Ram Mehta
X DESTROYER X POET
LINDA Marie/Sweetheart of Poetry
Carol (Next on Deck)
*******For the Contets "Tt The Convention
FROM OUT OF THIS EARTH, IN EVERY GENERATION
MUST ARISE A MIGHTY PROPHET...
SO DON'T YOU HAVE NO FEAR, YOU HAVE DONE YOUR SHARE, YOU ARE THE HONOURABLE
YOU BROUGHT US OUT FROM IGNORANCE,
AND FOR THIS WE WILL THANK YOU HONESTLY.
ALTHOUGH WE KNOW THAT IT WAS WRITTEN IN THE BIBLE THAT MANY WOULD BE
CALLED,BUT ONLY FEW OF THEM WOULD BE CHOOSEN.
ROBERT NESTA MARLEY, HE LIVED HIS LIFE FOR WE.
AND NOW WE HAVE GROWN, WE ARE THE SEEDS HE HAS SHOW, TILLED BY HIS IMPERIAL
OH BROTHER BOB YOU WERE ONE.
YOU WORKED FROM DAWN TILL DAWN.
NOW IN THE PHYSICAL YOU HAVWE GONE, BUT IN THE SPIRIT YOU WILL CARRY ON,
THE WORKS OF MARCUS GARVEY.(CHORUS)
NOW BOB ARISE,
OPEN THY EYES.
BECAUSE WE WANT YOU TO KNOW, I 'n' I HAVE DISCOVERED YOUR FOE,
TRAMPLED BENEATH THY FEET.
SO IF YOUR TRODDING IN A STREET,
OR IN A HIGH MOUNTAIN.
DON'T YOU HAVE NO SHAME,
REGGAE MUSIC HAS BROUGHT YOU FAME,
YOU ARE THE HONOURABLE NATTY DREAD.
(C)1982, 1996, 2006 ALBERT WILLIAMS
Jasmines are flowers of paradise...
an absolute work of God...
sense of the splendid inheritance...
omniscience of God to his servants...
nutrient for the pure of heart.
Nobody can be absolutely...
album, which sets no time...
The love for resemblance does warm the soul...
harmonic songs echo in the life of love audible noise...
actors are like living shadows...
nugget, voice and feelings of those who want to hear...
igneous flame that all travel...
exercise for the imagination of those who observe...
living is not for everyone - only the strong survive.
Birthdays are acts that comprise only a single contemplation...
equivalent to the jasmine garden of the Lord...
host for the coming...
real, for those who know how to love.
A Woman’s Worth
By Nate Spears
Her purpose in this world is hurting
She’s never been a designed of perfect
But she is a mom, so she’s super
Then roll up her sleeves ; and
Take care of the kids; and
Making it a home
For a beautiful family to roam
Building wonderful memories
Becoming a woman of worth
Keeping her faith through Christ
Keeping her pace through health
Keeping her sanity through managing
This is a woman’s worth
I’m giving you
Despite of all the stress
She receives her family with open arms
Through all the mess
She’s a fantastic mom
A wonderful woman
Deserving a round of applause
Plus a standing ovation
For always being an American sensation
That held this continent down since day one
Since the Plymouth Rock landed on us
Thank you for her giving
Thank you for her living
Thank you for her children
This is ,
A woman’s worth.
“Birth day” is the actual day one exits from the womb, (thereafter, “birthday”, is but a colloquialism for the anniversary of that birth). Well … today is mine. I’m finally old enough to drive … (times 4.56!). Now, I’m old enough to vote … (times 3.476!). One of my sons, too, this month, will become a half-century old … which makes me realize: I’m older’n dirt!
It is truly amazing: Once you reach this age, it really, truly is incomprehensible that so many years have passed since taking that first breath – because our minds don’t allow us to think we’re “aged”! Our thoughts tell us we can still lift that couch … or a 100 lb. sack of seed … or a box of twenty books. But … the actual attempt proves our minds still have their roots in the concrete of yesteryear, while our bodies are entrenched in the reality of … today, (that’s easily confirmed by a quick glance in a mirror!) Contrary to popular belief … we are NOT as “young as we feel” … and to defy reality by allowing our minds to trump our body’s limitations, when it comes to physical exertion, is courting a hospital stay – or worse.
For those of us whose physical attributes have waned, we have great difficulty in accepting the fact that we now are relegated to the task of “watching”, not “doing”. That’s the final hurdle we, of necessity, must overcome before we can truly accept … aging. Our children, whom we used to tell and guide in what they could/should do, and when … have now matured. We’ve taught them as best we could, and it is now their turn to drive the carriage – and, if we’re lucky, and don’t try to “boss” them, we may be asked to become passengers.
There comes a time when our day in the sun becomes a rocking chair in the twilight. We need to prepare ourselves to recognize that change of circumstance and situation.
It’ll be difficult for some of us … because WE’VE always been the one “in charge”. If we are to survive with our dignity intact and retain relationships with those we love … we have to find a way to hand over the reins – and MEAN it – to the next generation which we ourselves have spawned.
Our remaining decisions will be: Whether or not to re-bait that fishing hook … or what channel to watch … any decision more meaningful will need to be made by … our kids.
The old woman argued relentlessly, her case.
Resolute, she raved in her conviction;
two thousand and one reasons were there for her to be mad.
Eleven was given to questioning eyes.
It was September,
and Bernice brought home the bourgeois man,
and the two fell
from the pedestal
they held among friends in the big city,
(the city) a melting pot,
now a city in affliction.
Bernice’s brown eyes combed the neighborhood;
two boys, with open arms,
played aero planes;
Across the street,
the rug pilot laughed his ass off
as if mocking the bourgeois man,
and his woman hid her face in rags …,
in degradation –
but her sad eyes openly mourned her son’s suicide.
Grief of that magnitude brings offense,
and the bourgeois man was red with wrath,
and he abhors the old woman
with every inch of his being.
Racism was reversed.
He avowed by God to ruin the rug pilot,
and the people that loved him consented.
Hearts were left to wonder
what makes men so cruel.
The reasons for the old woman’s rant was explicable,
and of the grounds for the revenge
the negros conceded,
in only one instance.
Revenge was foreseeable,
and the spirit breeds more phobias.
Twenty one years of your love,
Twenty one years of your hugs,
A tale of our happy home,
All wrapped in one poem,
Our wonderful kids,
Twenty one years of bliss,
We now sing in chorus,
How much this means to us,
And it doesn't need to be said,
The best times are ahead,
Where our love always will,
Grow even moreso still,
I love your scrunched up grin,
You are indeed my best friend,
You have cared for me always,
And now I want more todays,
When you jump in my arms,
Full of pure love and charm,
I thank the Lord for all I have,
As a spoiled husband and Dad,
So on this most precious and revered day,
Vickie, I love you in every possible way,
And thank the Lord you agreed to marry,
Me, on this great day, our anniversary,
Old Rinzburger was dead,
only his wife has doubts.
Death certificate had been signed.
by the banker, his best friend,
He will soon take bids on his property.
An ancient once busy windmill
dominates the old Rinzburger place
as a memory that comes and goes
in the mind of great-grandma.
Her dementia is getting worse.
Her only child and his wife,
the last of the Rinzburgers,
have five grown daughters.
Sixteen grands smile, recalling
Gram's special Christmas feasts.
Like the old family mill
grandma is one of a kind;
she was driven by the wind
to serve her family and friends
especially during the holidays.
This Christmas may be their last
Grandma has come as a guest.
Someone brought fried chicken,
deep-fried from KFC, with lots of
biscuits and gravy and sides.
The younger male cousins
brought sacks of White Castles,
and mom picked up a couple of
salads from Kroger-deli
and Haagen-Dazs for dessert.
The winds of Christmas blow,
winds of the past, winds of the almost gone,
winds of the present, and future winds.
Will the Rinzburger fortune be lost;
will the family will drift apart?
Grandpa died last Christmas season
and the old windmill may succumb
but both memories will survive
being torn down, demolished.
Thoughtfully, a grandson asked:
"Why just tear it down?
It would make a fantastic museum?
Folks could visit and learn so much
about their ancestors' way of life.
And another spoke up:
"We could remodel or modernize it.
Maybe build an addition with electric
power. We could provide
jobs for people at a new plant.
Still another grandchild said:
"My vote is to sell it, and donate the funds
to support medical research on
would have done that for Gram."
Then Gram herself waved a fragile hand.
In one of her more lucid moments
she commended all their ideas
"The Rinzburger name may die
but your Grandpa's spirit lives strong."
He would be proud of all of you.
Two years down the road, Rinzburgers gather;
Gran left them on last Christmas Day.
Building and hiring for a new mill - well-underway.
The windmill stands in front - a museum.
AFA is slated to receive a generous yearly check
from the Rinzburger Winds of Christmas Fund.
This is my poem No. Seventeen Hundred
Gadzooks, that's a boatload of poems
Think my brain would have turned to mush
Or perhaps I'd wind up in a home
Nope, it appears I'm as prolific as ever
Have delayed my downhill slide
Inevitable as it is, I'm fighting it off still
With the help of my blushing bride
Still call her honey after all these years
I refuse to let time win the battle
No matter the years or how grey I get
This dude refuses to get rattled
It doesn't hurt that I come from good stock
Seven siblings lived to seventy or more
I tend to overeat, I break all the rules
But I'm still winning the damn war
So getting back to my poems, let me know
If you notice I'm on a downhill slide
Sure wouldn't want to embarrass myself
After all, I've still got my pride
© Jack Ellison 2015
“Full house,” she said “Every seat’s taken
There’s an excitement out there!” she said
All he saw was the empty stage
a Steinway Grand its bench
His accompanist stood off
cigarette in hand just exhaling a puff
He was nervous very nervous
He was always nervous and for hours before
He’d thrown up in the rest room a few minutes ago
He often threw up before a recital
Wild thoughts went through his head
(those tall thick billowing curtains
looked strangely threatening
so dark blue grotesque)
His mouth felt dry
(what if he should choke during the opening work?)
He felt a bit dizzy
(what if he should pass out?
the fall shattering his priceless Stradivarius)
Was it too late to cancel the concert?
(he was still slightly nauseous)
What would people think?
What would people say?
His accompanist was so calm
(his accompanist must hate him –
hope that he might play poorly
look how he raised his chin as he inhaled
what was he looking at?
What was he thinking?)
There was that one passage in the concerto
(he’d played it hundreds of times
never quite perfect
what if he fumbled that passage
even just one note?)
His tails felt tight
(he should have had them altered
What if the underarms split out?)
Everything at once!
He felt like running!
(don’t be ridiculous!)
His manager was all smiles
“I tell you, Robert, there’s excitement out there!” she said
Robert’s knees were knocking
“You all ready?” she asked
Robert nodded, yes
The house lights dimmed
Boris, his accompanist, stomped his cigarette
“Out you go!” she smiled
(please don’t tell me to ‘break a leg’) he thought
When we start to think about high school
We think about way way back then
Where all of us knew each other
But only a handful of us were friends
I remember your faces way back then when we use to pass in the hall
Who’d ever thought the time would come again where I would see you all
Now that the jerri curl has been replaced by the balding and the grey
We cant help but remenisis about the fun we had back in the day
The funny way we looked and the funny way we dressed
And all the great things we did together back at old C.H.S.
The old teachers that we hated ,the old friends that we dated
The lunch that was so bad those exams that mad us so mad
That old school tiger pride which was lead by mike and clyde
And even all the mess that we stirred up at recess……
Now those are the days that I remember best
As I look out today at all of you where all my joys has been entrusted
And still I cant help but to remember the one that are no longer with us
Just to think how we were we had such a communion
And a lot of us would not have seen one another again if not for this reunion
We were the elite we were supreme we were rebels without a pause
We were the young and the extreme that use to run these halls
but look like time crept in and took a toll of us all
It’s been thirty years believe it only heaven knows if we’d see thirty more
So as we reunite today to once again I raise my glass to the class of 84
GOODBYE MORNING PERSON
Head quite empty
No remembered dreams
Before anything else COFFEE!
It’s the cats and me
Sponge bath or shower
Just plain naked
On the avenue (back of my mind) wheels haven’t started
their daily spin
The weather channel (with its mindless music)
A neighborhood feel – what goes on next door in the
Yes! now it begins
It’s a neighborhood thing
Cannot be helped – it starts
An up-and-down-the-block thing
Mentally I’m out the door
There are streets avenues stores a mall
Something is alive out there
The conviction strangely eases
With the first taste I start to function
And function is what it’s all about
ask any newscaster
Realizing this “function” it eases
There is some ridiculous wholeness some sanity
The night? the dream? unreal!
By noon all is GO!
Another drag-ass day
I am this other person this programmed stiff
The morning person is distant
I do not even want to recall that jelly
Some formula has taken hold
has been in the veins all along
Yes! the VEINS!
There are numbers flowing
Problems with no answers
Problems kicked aside
The “ME” has taken over
Going down the same uniform avenues
Feeling the same guilt same lust
Same unstoppable drive
Goodbye morning person
On this day 16 years ago a beautiful baby girl was born.
As I cried they took her away.
My grandmother watching as if nothing were wrong.
Photos came for a brief moment then stopped
She was gone never to be herd from or seen.
It seemed as if she just vanished.
The agencies said her new family had moved.
No forwarding address to be found.
They apologize for the inconvenience.
Trying to convince me not to give up hope.
Hope what is this, something I find hard to have.
Years have come and gone and not a word.
The last photo I reserved she must have been 3 or 4 years old.
My search it still continues today,
but not a trace of her or her family do I see.
On this the anniversary of her birth
I still cry for the loss of my baby girl I bore so long ago.
A Slow drift in warm, slimy, stagnate waters that is what we have become.
He comes in the door and doesn't speak daily; He never asks me how I am.
His only response is no....
Just a touch in all the right time and places would mean so much.
The seven year itch has a hold on me accompanied by severe sadness that no pill
Losing long time neighbors often has my clock ticking noticably by me.
Sickness and aging has a deep sadness gripping my heart. I know to hold on to
hope and make the day a blessing. Overwhelming pain takes my happy places.
Tomorrow......there is hope!
It’s another red-letter day
a holiday in the U.S.
a national, religious holiday
known also as a ‘Turkey Day’
a very important day.
A chance to be reconnected,
a moment of being together,
a salutary occasion for gratitude,
full with family folderol.
There are historic reasons
this American celebration
has its origin centuries ago;
as the Pilgrims did it and -
invited neighboring Indian tribes.
To hold it with a feast –
A celebration for God’s blessing.
giving thanks for a common purpose,
freedom, justice, and worship in God.
Through Sarah Josepha Hale
this event has become a tradition
a realization that came to fulfillment
marked with significance, thus far.
With church services elsewhere
wth family reunions all over
with customary turkey dinner
oh, a reminder of the historic past:
at the Pilgrims’ big celebration.
In many homes and families
Table fellowships spice up the day
with turkey, mashed potatoes,
cranberry sauce, maize, pumpkin pie
and other vegetables and desserts.
a complete picture of this great tradition.
I want a happy anniversary kind of love
I don’t want a fall in love at first sight kind of love
I don’t want a puppy love kind of love
I don’t want an only in my dream kind of love
I want a happy anniversary kind of love
I want a look into your eyes
And know you will always be mine
I am in love with you
Happy anniversary kind of love
5,10,15,20 year kind of love
A silver, pearl, coral, ruby, sapphire kind of love
A 50,55,60,65,70,75 diamond year kind of love
I want a happy anniversary kind of love
A Happy Anniversary Kind Of Love
Imagine how sad December would seem
if Christmas didn't exist; only the chill
and wind would be felt through the frozen bones,
nobody would live in these northern, frigid zones.
What was the true purpose of Jesus's birth?
Some even would say that it never occurred,
and why would the Magi travel long days
and nights to pay homage to the humblest of Kings?
It was prophesied by Isaiah in the Old testament and the Wise Men believed him,
following with awe the biggest and brightest star that they had ever seen;
and didn't it seem strange that God would choose those simple shepherds
to be the first to hear that message sung by a thousands of angels?
Wouldn't you be happy when a child cries out and enters life?
Wouldn't you celebrate that event with overwhelming joy and grace?
The same way Jesus entered this world to suffer and die,
and if Christmas didn't exist, who would remember who He was?
Wouldn't that envious angel, whom God expelled from Heaven with haste,
laugh loudly, knowing that we don't worship Him in spirit and faith?
Fallen Angels are the eternal enemies of this Child, who atoned our sins
by paying with His precious blood...to vindicate the Devil's astute lies!
If Christmas didn't exist, some unbelievers would shout and rejoice,
happy to erase Christ's redemptive message from the earth's surface...
contradicting the Scriptures themselves and the Divinity behind it!
Didn't Herod the Great hate Jesus, fearing He would have become the new King?
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
It is there when all is silent and quiet.
With sugar plums and misled toes dancing in thoughts.
Most time you can see the snow fall as kids play about.
As it is winter time and Christmas is hear again.
And it’s peace and giving again.
But do we always give thanks?
Or is it just during certain times of the year.
But do we truly remember the day!
The day when Christ our Savoir was born.
It was that of a Christmas day.
When Mary gave birth and gifts come from far and beyond.
For this day, there was a new King that had been born.
That all gave glory before Christmas was destroyed.
For there in his heart he gave Jesus unto us to rein.
That in the days at hand, we would know the true love.
And in our hearts he would rein.
It was there somewhere far beyond.
That Christmas is known as king of the year.
For it is there to which a new year rings in.
For there I say Merry Christmas and God Bless my friend.
Hope you think of the real meaning of Christmas this year..
To always be thankful through out the year.
For each day is a blessing just to breathe.
But each day was about giving and caring about the one of no name.
That in your heart, you find a love of that Christmas day.
As you find the spirit of kindness everyday.
May you share a joy of it to the passer by...?
That the spirit of Christmas lives and never dies.
That each day will be in Christ our King.
And In your heart, he will always rein
And that is a true Christmas Day!
For over a century I have stood brave and free
and suffered many things even before my birth
yet I stood
I have felt the pain of pelting sand on my face
as it tried to strip away my very heart and soul
and I stayed
and heard the beating of drums across my land
and seen the trail of tears run deep into the earth
and I wept
Watched the buffalo roam wild on the vast plains
heard the thundering hoofs of wild horses run free
and I smiled
Felt the rumble of black oil deep down in the earth
as it gushed forth from beneath the solid ground
and I watched
I saw tall buildings go up from border to border
and great storms take them down in a moment
and I cried
People stood brave and strong and eager to build
Cities spring up from east to west north to south
and I was proud
I was born a hundred years ago in middle of the USA
my people live in peace one with another I thank God
Yes I am "OKLAHOMA"
As we embark on the 10 year anniversery of 9/11,
I look up in the sky and realize how lucky I am to be alive.
So many people lost their loved ones on that tragic day.
All the brave, couragous, selfeless people that ran in to help total strangers!
They never for once thought about their life but, only wanted to others survive.
The day the two towers fell, those suicide bomber's died and went to hell!
The United States suffered a great loss, so much death was in the air.
I pray every night for those who lost their life, for their families to keep astride.
I know what it is like to lose loved ones but, in the mist of all the tragedy,
a phoenix shall rise and the eagel shall fly high!
The terrorists thought we would just run and hide.
But, what we did was fly OLD GLORY HIGH!
We as a nation banded together and helped pray for one another.
September 11,2001, we will never foreget all the losses.
All the people that did not survive, they are watching over us,
dancing high in the skies!
I got a call, I am to report for military duty in the morning..
I reluctantly tell my wife as she was doing her usual cleaning.
She covers her face with her hands and begins to cry.
I gathered her in my arms and told her I would be back by her side.
Holding my wife, I drifted off on the couch, listening to music.
She was singing and humming quietly to the songs and their lyrics.
She tells me she understands and shows her love and support.
Morning finally came, and she drove me to the airport.
We exchange vows again, and I kiss her tenderly..
She whispers that she will remember this moment blithely.
She received his letters, read and cherished every one of them.
Thinking of the times they were together and the essence of him.
A month went by and she tried every possible way to find her soldier.
She closed her pocket filled eyes and prayed he was out of danger.
Three months passed by without word of his well being.
Trying to stay positive but, in her heart was a dreadful feeling.
She felt so oppressed and worried her hands were trembling.
She was weak and weary, her gait was somewhat stumbling.
She hasn't slept, it seems~since he left.
She takes some sleeping pills and takes a long deep breath.
Couple of days go by and he "rolls" through the doors.
He looked at her paleness and begins to feel remorse.
His thoughts start to torment, right or wrong, was now confusing..
Tears fall from his weary face, his mind is loosing…
She deserves better, he tries to reason with himself.
Reaching, he loads the contents~placing the box back on a shelf......
As I cope with the grim realities, that are the anniversary of my birth, children are
being born to share it. However they unlike me are not informed about their reality. They
are not presented with a script that tells them when they can eat or when they'll be
loved. They are at the mercy of the first person they see and whether that person will
Condemned to live in uncertainty, with various educations. The ones with the least to
offer have my sympathy. These children unlike their wealthier counterparts will most
likely have worse lives then their parents, with less benefits and yet still be offered
the promise of happiness and financial independence, which is the cruelest lie of all.
Because ...fore most of the infants born today are equal in their first few minutes of
life, their places in society have already been decided.
Decided by people they may or may not ever meet. Their lives destined to fork off and be
divided into different worlds. Their small minds filled with various knowledge. Some good,
some bad and some deadly.
However we will always be linked by an anniversary. The only evidence we were ever equal.
A testament to innocence that's robbed from us all too soon. We go about our days never
thinking it, we concentrate on what we see. However a birthday is a global anniversary and
we should celebrate not only ourselves but each other.
The people we love, the people we hate,
...the old, the young and the just born.
We were all the same in the beginning.
- This is an essay I wrote about birthdays and their paradox. I posted it as a narrative
because I wanted to share it.
An attack of this magnitude
was completely unforeseeable;
and who thought that an unguarded city
had to feel that sense of solitude...
through an urealistic exodus so undiscernible,
and later reclaim its struck territory!
What we lost...is not the superb Twin Towers:
the pride of the wealthiest nation on earth,
towers that can be rebuilt in years;
it's those lives that enmity cut short!
And they tried to disorientate us,
and disrupt our ingenuous and lively living
by spreading unrest and choas
with absurd and infernal thinking!
This infamy is so ineffaceable
from the mind of the unfoolish,
fair and reasoning man with greater intellect...
that it becomes so inexplicable;
a shameful act not condoned by civilization,
confirmed by unsympathetic sentiments!
What we lost ...is truly irreplaceable
by every imaginable remedy:
its the worth, the comfort and the unbroken joy,
which dazzled in the NewYorkers' eyes...
making their days so livable!
What we lost...is eternally
carved out into those shining stones:
bearing glorious names to withstand time itself1
This is who I'll be
The one who wipe away all your tears
The one who understands everything about you
The one who's there for good times and bad times
This is who I'll Be
Your very best friend,never turning my back on you
The one who will always love you
The one who will never ever stop loving you
This is who I'll be
The one with no unbroken promises
The one who keeps you completely satisfied
The one who makes all your wishes and dreams come true
This is who I'll be
The one who's faithful and true
The one who makes you smile without saying a word
The one you're always thinking of
This is who I'll be
The one that give you NO doubt when it comes to real love
The one who show you that you can love again
The one who treats you like a lady
This is who I'll be
The one that knows how to make love a forever lasting experience
The one who makes you feel very special
The one who's not about lies,drama or playing games
AND THE ONE WHO YOU WILL VERY PROUDLY SAY YES THAT'S MY MAN
NOW THAT'S EXACTLY WHO I'LL BE!!!"
She smoothed the worn out roses on the apron in her lap
lamplight mellowed roughened knuckles
as she spread out her treasures
Like Silas Marner,thumbing his golden coins
Martha gently fingered every token of her life's journey
Some she even kissed,tenderly,reverently,recalling
some dear face,a memory,attached as surely as if it was
etched,permanently ,on her heart.
Martha smiled,whispered,and prayed as one by one she
placed her keepsakes back in a cedar box
until she came to the one thing she always saved til last
Her wedding veil. still crinkly and alive though yellowed with time
she took it up and put it on.Stiffly she hobbled to the mirror
In the looking glass she was nineteen and aglow with love
Arthur stood behind her,smoothing her hair.
she turned as he lifted the veil to kiss her,
Come my love,let's go down to dinner,he mummered in her hair
She took his arm and let him escort her to the dining room
The reception was a great success,or so the nurses told her
as they dressed her for bed and carefully put the mischievious
veil back in the cedar box beside her bed.
It has been a long time since I asked you to share my name,
Thirty seven years from a glowing ember to a bright burning flame.
I can remember seeing you back then,
How you’d just sit and practice writing your new name over and over again.
No one thought our love could ever grow,
Most gave us only a year but they didn’t know.
They didn’t know our hearts or the love that caused this burning desire.
They didn’t know that one little spark could kindle such a warm burning fire.
And now when we speak it’s two voices as one.
And always wanting what’s best for the other is how this is done.
Compassion and pain are the things that make a love grow.
Loving someone is compassion and feeling their pain is letting them know.
Like any marriage we’ve had dark clouds that loomed up above.
But they weren’t strong enough to diminish our forever love.
A Norman Rockwell painting we were not and that is for sure.
Family Circle cartoon would better depict us and the life we’ve had to endure.
But looking back brings a smile and that’s what it’s all about.
And would I do it over again in a heartbeat without hesitation or doubt.
Happy Anniversary to you, my Darling, the Love Of My Life.
With gratitude and love I thank you for being my lady, for being my wife.
I Love You