and she said
Yesterday,I lived for thoughts and dreams
but today I live in my daughter's happiness
All my goals I left behind to watch her reach her own
All my friends I do not see,to stay with her at home
Money might get tight,but what is money
compared to pure joy of a child
What is money compared to her almond eyes
Success lies dormant on shelves for years to come
But what is success compared to first giggles
to first steps, first mouthfuls and her little grabs
Compared to gurgles and babbles
to first time she calls me mama
and hold on to my hands
What is beauty in the world compared to a pearl
This innocent child,a coloured coral petite pretty girl
Yesterday,I lived for thoughts and dreams
But today I live in my daughter's happiness
I had my days of wine and chocolate eclaires
roses on doorstep,unsigned love letters
with spiced cologne and enticing words
Today I live in my daughter's shadow
To watch her live her own dream
I watch her bloom in autumn gardens
from princess of hearts become queen
Tomorrow I will not be here
She might not get to see the white of my hair
the wrinkle in my smile
But,today she knows I love her
long more after petals wither
long more after a mother's hug fades
long after I shine from the sky.
Dedicated to my beloved Christina with love
Happy first birthday wrapped with barney hugs
and Winnie the pooh kisses :-$:-|B-)
*Note: A 60-year annual tradition that involved a mysterious visitor leaving three
roses at the grave of writer Edgar Allan Poe on the anniversary of his birthday
ended in January 2010. Curators of the Poe House and Museum are at a loss to
explain who left these gifts and why they stopped. On many occasions people kept
vigils near Poe’s grave during this period that began in 1949, but no one ever saw
someone leaving the roses. In the morning, however, they were always on his
grave. Poe is considered the father of the American short story and
his poem The Raven is one of his best known works.
Once upon a midnight dreary, Poe heard a tapping at his window
While grieving the loss of his young bride, a maiden “angels named Lenore,”
A radiant teen whose long, black hair in gentle breezes would billow,
Tapping at the window ceased, but suddenly it was heard at his door
Upon opening it, a Raven flew in repeating, “Nevermore”
At first he welcomed this odd visitor until Poe whispered, “Lenore”
When he heard his word echo, the strange Raven he began to abhor
He asked if he’d see his bride again and the bird replied, “Nevermore”
Though Poe died in eighteen forty-nine, a mystery evolved much later
A century after his death, his grave had an annual visitor
Roses were left on his birthday by someone whose love appeared greater
Who had left these floral gifts forever stumped the Poe House curator
Perhaps the answer can only be explained by reincarnation
Did the Raven embody the spirit of Poe’s beloved Lenore
If so, perhaps the Raven returned again in a life rotation
In human form she visited to lay roses on the earthen floor
And upon her death in two-thousand nine, she took to the skies once more
A Raven who now joins the flock circling above her late husband’s grave \/
Could it be her spirit remains with Poe, as it did in life before \/ \/ \/
Bringing him in the afterlife all the roses a poet could crave \/ \/ \/ \/
For those who consider this possibility totally absurd
Just consider the fantasies Poe created with the written word
By Carolyn Devonshire
Contest Title: “Among the Dead,” sponsored by Constance LaFrance ~ A Rambling
Things seems to be very clear,
When actually felt it is unclear,
What really seems to be clear,
May never ever be clear for ever.
Your help for others,
May be to be appreciated,
Or taken as what is called,
to be uncounted.
My question is clear,
Why the help for others,
Is sometime never appreciated,
However it is always delivered.
In response to ethics,
lingers in my mind the answer,
To help others is not to be recognised,
But it is to be called someone,
Who can be respected.
To all, continue to help,
Not to to be appreciated by others,
But to be respected by yourself.
written 20th Aug 2001
As I woke up this morning
instantly, I began mourning
For "I should be holding you, this special day
but, I know that there "is no possible way
Wondering, if you'd think that I would forget
is just "one more thing, I am left to regret
I pray, that we will be re-united together again, real soon
till then, I've blown you a birthday kiss, I sent via the moon
Overwhelmed, I feel as if I love you even more "today
"yes, today is special, after all it is your birthday
But, I couldn't forget you, no if's, but's or maybe
for you were blessed, forever to be my baby
You are now my "six year old lovable, Hannabelle
and no one on Earth, could "ever love you as well
Known now for eternity, making this a very special day
t'was only this day, you became my daughter in every way
written for my daughter Hannabelle
*For a mothers love is never bound by distance*
Glen Campbell – A Special Person
It was September 4th, 1968 and I threw an empty suitcase into the trunk of my car, telling Joan, my daughter, that I might not be home to celebrate her birthday. She would turn 13 the following day and Wanda, my wife, had planned something special. As I dropped her off at school she had no clue as to what was in store.
Joan had become an ardent fan of a young Glen Campbell and he was due to be in town that very night for a concert. We led Joan to believe we had given up all hopes of taking her to see him since my travel plans would probably keep me out of town that night. Joan reconciled herself to the distinct possibility she would not be in attendance at his concert. She was a very understanding young lady.
When I returned home that evening, Joan was advised we would celebrate her upcoming birthday with a simple dinner out and maybe a movie. As we drove, Joan was very animated and proceeded to tell us of all the activity of the day. She didn’t pay much attention to where we were headed. Her chatter told us she wasn’t on to our plan.
Well, when we approached the Music Hall in Houston, TX Joan realized where we were and became so excited I thought she was going to faint. She shrieked with joy and showed the textbook signs of one about to see their idol. I don’t believe we had ever seen her so excited.
Wanda had managed to reserve some wonderful seats, center stage 3 rows back. We took our seats and soon were enjoying watching our daughter watch this young performer transform the audience, mostly young people, into an almost hypnotic state. We had joined Joan as fans of this young man from Arkansas. He was really putting on a great show. But something special was about to happen.
He finished the first half of his show and we sat there and listened to Joan excitedly chatter about what was taking place.
About halfway through the 2nd half Glenn pulled up a stool, sat down and asked, “Is there a Miss Joan Posey in the audience?” Joan was literally dumbfounded. We acknowledged to Glen that indeed she was here. Glen looked at here and said, “Well, tomorrow you’ll become a teenybopper. This one is for you.” He proceeded to sing “Hey, Little One” and there were probably as many tears in Dad’s eyes as in Joan’s. Her insistent question was, “How did he know?” repeated time after time.
Wanda, in her fantastic way of pulling off the impossible, had written to Glen Campbell, in care of the Music Hall, and told him of Joan’s upcoming birthday. It would mean a lot to her if he could only wish her a happy birthday. It was a long shot and he only received the letter some 2 hours before show time. Someone on his staff picked up on it and took it from there. He finished and instantly became a very special person to two proud parents. Joan became an instant VIP since almost half her class had been in attendance. It was a most memorable time and Glen Campbell will always have a special spot in our hearts…. Jake
Friends , I present to you a slice of History about the ancient Greek scientist and
mathematician Archimedes , who ran naked across the street
of Syracuse , in his birthday suit, after he discovered the Theory of Buoyancy , with which he
could find out the quantity of pure gold in the Kings crown ! Kindly read my 'Prose poetry' !
Archimedes: The First Pioneering Streaker
Of History !
( Prose Poetry)
There lived in the third century BC, in the Sicilian
town of Syracuse,
A Greek mathematician called Archimedes.
He was tasked by King Hiero of his town,
To find the purity of gold in his crown;
Suspicious of the goldsmith having mixed
in it ,
Some impure material of inferior kind,
Which he wanted Archimedes to find !
Archimedes lost in thought one day,
Entered the public bath on his way!
And as his body began to get submerged,
He happened to notice perchance ,
Water spilling over from the tub !
The answer suddenly flashed across his
And he jumped up leaving everything
Wearing only his birthday suit!
Running through the street of Syracuse ,
Exclaiming, ' Eureka! Eureka! ',
(I have found it! I have found it!)
Perhaps to become the first streaker of
While establishing the Principles of
Archimedes, son of Pheidias the astronomer,
Studied at the great Alexandrian city,
Remembered even this day for his pioneering
In Hydrostatics, Mechanics and Geometry!
With his ingenious mechanical discoveries,
Held the great Roman galleys of Marcellus
For more than three years, as Plutarch says!
Later one day, while lost in deep thought,
Trying to resolve a problem of geometry,
Refused to hear Marcellus' bidding ;
To be slain by the Roman soldier who had
come to fetch him!
O those Romans, with lesser brains and more
And some hundred and thirty years after his
death, in 75 BC ,
Cicero, the Governor of Sicily,
Found the tomb of great Archimedes, near
the Agrigentine gate,
Over grown with bushes and thorns ,
Lying buried in the scented dust of History!
@ Principle of Buoyancy = any floating object displaces its
own weight of fluid ! Wt. displaced by a crown of pure gold and
the one already made could be compared to find the truth !
Birthdays come and go, and we can’t avoid them
Some excite us with expectations
Others we dread, because they remind us
Of the swiftness of years far behind us
But each anniversary of the day we were born…
must be borne…
or perhaps be acknowledged in some customary form
If nothing else, but to please those who try so hard to conform ….
to the norms of a proper celebration.
Perhaps if we are lucky,..a dinner, a few gifts, and the singing “the” song….
Nothing wrong with that!
A celebration it may be, with streamers and games…a piñata to claim…
but often the same…
When one gets older, we don’t need such pictures to frame.
So to recall my “event”…this particular birthday I spent…
Nice enough, …but the sparkle had dents.
We rushed to this place, on a workday eve.
Not much time to dine, not much hoopla, home by nine.
A restaurant table….just a few of us able
No balloons, no cake, no candle, no flames
But acknowledgement, just the same
Over plates of ravioli…and eggplant parmesan
So nice….. but did I notice a few yawns???
Then one special moment, that won’t be forgotten
My little blonde grandson….who gave me a gift
He reached into his pocket…with a shy little grin
Said, “Here is Darth Vader….He is all that there is"….
And opened his hand, and his eyes so sincere
And gave me a gift to remember for years...
"It’s all that I have, I like him a lot....I almost forgot"
"But he's yours if you like him….…he's the only one I’ve got."
Happy Birthday Grandma….
Happy Birthday To Me !!
For Joyce's Contest : Emotional Response
“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.
Ok let's go up to the fire tower, talk with Ranger Ricky, Heh, heh,. What's so funny Harry. When I was a kid we use to watch the Ranger Ricky Show. He would run Popeye the Sailor cartoons and every week He would say "An a very Hap-py Birthday to the viewers."An a very Hap-py Birthday to Harry, he is 8 years old today.He helps his Mom around the house by doing the dishes and sweeping the floors. Morning Rick, morning Harry, I've been expecting you. I have some bad news, the avalanch started at the top of Demons Bluff. Your chances of finding those kids are slim and even slimmer finding them alive. There is some good news, 7 members of Killington Rescue have joined the search.That's great, the four of us have 2 advantages, we only have to climb 50 feet to the top of the mountain. Demons Bluff is on the otherside, down hill with very little snow
for 3 quarters of a mile. What's the secound reason asked Billy. Harry cooks as well
as he knows this mountain, he is an Ace Rick, stop! Alright, I have 5 thermo-laser poles, should we bring the 5th one. Yep, I'll carry it.
To be Cont.
Author's note: This all took place in less than a 5 minute span if you think we were Dilly-dallying
"Imagine a lovely garden, tea for two and this story"....A Rambling Poet
Just nine years old but she had a dream
of serving others, of doing good.
Adults were failing, but this young girl
decided to do everything she could.
Her birthday was coming, she had a plan.
She asked her mama, who soon agreed.
No gifts wanted by birthday girl,
but rather money for world in need.
She’d heard of the children in Africa
with no fresh water to cool their thirst.
She wanted to cure all of their ills
and need for water would be the first.
Three hundred dollars she set as a goal,
which she almost reached by her birthday.
She didn’t give up, she would find the rest.
She must have three hundred to send away.
There are other children who’ve done the same,
given up their gifts for the water cause,
but Rachel’s story is quite unique
which I’ll tell you now, but I must pause
To steady my hands to pour the tea
and to wipe away this unwanted tear.
More of her story I’ll tell you now.
New twists and turns will soon appear.
Rachel was traveling with her mom,
on some good deed, I have no doubt.
A car pile up and a child was hurt.
That ‘s what this tale is all about.
Rachel died, but ere she did
she begged her mommy to finish her dream,
to get the money to Africa,
so they needn’t drink from polluted stream.
Over a million dollars raised
by tender souls who have heard her plea.
The money just keeps pouring in
from simple folks like you and me.
“A little child shall lead them”.
Dear, sweet Rachel was one of those.
She put the needs of others above
desire for birthday toys and clothes.
By: Joyce Johnson
August 16, 2011
For Constance's contest "I fancy another sad poem" Won no. 3