My earliest recollection was being placed in a Coca Cola cooler in a Barbershop in Virginiatown Ontario. I heard the sound of the Nickle being placed in the coin slot. Then an eager little boy opened the top and peered in with twinkling blue eyes. I wondered which one of us he would choose? His tiny little hand reached towards me and guided me through a metal maze and yanked me out. He popped my top with the opener on the side of the Red machine. I wonder if that is how I got the name "Soda Pop". He held me close to his chest brought me over to his chair and placed me beside a stack of comics. I watched as he jumped up gleefully onto his chair.
He grabbed me with his two little hands and put me up to his mouth. My orange fizziness passed over his lips, onto his tongue and then down his throat. A big toothy smile and an orange coated tongue. I felt his little tummy bursting until a big burp and a giggle gave him relief. Even after my orange had been consumed he seemed to enjoy the texture of my glass as he rotated me in his hands. I remember him turning me upside down and peering at the room through my base. He liked the way I played with the light. When he was done he placed me in a paper bag with his comics to take me home.
To be continued...
If you havn't read my other Orange Crush pieces, please start at the beginning. If you like them consider reading on.
Ricky jumped off the footstool holding me tightly in his little hand. I could feel his imagination coming to life. Within his mind the clear water had turned a brilliant orange and as he drank from me he could feel the bubbles tickling his throat. I felt alive with the possibilities this imagination of his would bring to light.
The rest of the evening consisted of eating and watching images flashing on a square box. It rather bored me because they were in black and white, I much preferred looking out the picture window at people doing their thing and cars driving by. Real life was much clearer and had a lot more colors. As it got darker out, the color all seemed to fade away. I think I prefer day time. Ricky's mom said it was time for the kids to brush their teeth and go to bed. They all rushed up the stairs and I was left on the coffee table.
Ricky's mom was cleaning up and grabbed me and three Coke bottles that Dadio had emptied. She carried us to the kitchen and placed us in a segregated box beneath the sink. Just as she was about to close the door, little Ricky ran into the room and said "where's my bottle" mom responded "What do you want with a silly bottle?" he responded "I like it" His mom smiled, pulled me out of the case and handed me to Ricky. If I were able to smile I would have had a toothy grin of my own.
More adventures for "Soda Pop" if there is enough interest to carry on with the story.
Little sparrow, what troubles thee
is it the stigma you face
little sparrow, what pierces thee
is it the shame of disgrace
is it the bitterness in your heart,
or the offense you can't forgive
is it the anguish that sets you apart,
or the hurt that holds you captive
what befalls you
is neither unfelt nor unknown
God cares and calls you
when you're cast out and all alone
God will never forsake you
in your time of need;
God will never permit you
to suffer or bleed.
02/19/2014; for "TO HEAL A HEART" Contest
By John Weaver
Whenever I dream of my little girl she runs and shouts and plays
Like all the other children in all their boisterous ways
I see her skip, I see her trip; I hear her laugh and cry
Then when she’s had her fun, home she’ll run and into my arms she’ll fly
With a great big hug and a teasing tug, she’ll cuddle me close and say
‘Daddy I love you heaps and heaps’ in her cheeky little way.
Whenever I dream of my little girl, she’s healthy, fit and well
With eyes alight and a smile so bright it’s really hard to tell
That my dream is a wish and a longing, a hope for something new
For her life to be one that is normal and able-bodied too.
But then I awake and I have to forsake my dream for what is true
That she cannot walk and she cannot talk like the other children do
That she cannot shout and skip about and cuddle me close and say
The things she desperately wants to, yet in her own special way…
Instead she talks to me with her eyes and reassures me with her smile
That all is well and I can tell that she’s happy all the while
Knowing that one day in some magical way, we’ll play together and scheme
And sing and shout and skip about…in an everlasting dream.
A puzzle piece you are to me
Like a vine without any leaves.
Your heart is pure your soul is
Gold, the sweetest thing I'll
ever hold! A miracle in my eyes
it seemed, knowing they said
no babies for me! Always a
surprise you seem to be just
like a puzzle piece! At 9 months
you walked but not until 4 did
you first talk! Always a terror
making a beautiful mess always
a surprise that has yet to be
met! The twists and turns I
know we will see will seem
somewhat like a roller coaster
to me! The milestones and
special gifts you bring will make
my life seem Like a dream, my
special boy I have always said
How special I knew not till
Aspergers they said! The
journey will be trying the
journey will seem long! But
with our family together we will
chug along! My special boy I
love you so and cannot wait to
see you mature and grow! Now
we have a goal we have our
dream you see to make you the
perfect fitting puzzle piece!!
Written by: Christina Kirks
McCullouch 04/05/2012 For
Jonathan S McCullouch Jr
Mommy loves you to eternity
and beyond! Forever and
Hello world here I am this is how it is going to go you accept me for who I am or you are not.
I am a child of God and I know for a fact that he made me in his own special way.
So sick and tired of people saying what is beautiful and what is not.
I am like a rose so delicate, soft and beautiful I shine like the sun with that special glow.
So sick and tired of the magazines saying that I have to be a size in order to be accepted.
I have to look like a movie star I have to have big breasts, a flat stomach and a big butt.
In order to be called beautiful I am a goddess anyhow I am a queen who shines with the stars who glows with the moon and who is beaming like the sun.
I am who I am and I refuse to change for anyone they are going to have to accept me for who I am or they are going to have to keep it moving.
I love who I am in this skin I am in this skin I shine in this skin I glow in this skin I am a child if God.
By John Weaver & Dedicated to Liz
Who cares for the carer? is the question that I ask.
Who is helping them help another with their overwhelming task
Who is trying to ensure they remain healthy, fit and strong
As they nurse and feed the one in need all day and all night long?
Who thinks about the carer? is the thought that comes to me
When all thought is for the needy and that’s the way it ought to be
But just a little bit of thoughtfulness would not go astray
For the one who works and struggles without a thought for pay.
Who worries about the carer? is my other great concern
If they should fall to sickness where would the needy turn?
The one they love is the one they want and on whom they depend
To wash and feed and dress them and to be with them to the end
Who would care for the needy? is the fact we have to face
If something happened to the carer then who would replace
That committed and devoted, caring loving soul
Who gave their all without complaint in a hard and stressful role.
But we know who will care for the carer
When their mortal coil is through
When all their earthly labours get the recognition that is due
When at last they can rest eternal with no further demands
In peace and joy and secure in the Greatest Carer’s hands.
By John Weaver
‘What right has she got to be happy?’ said a friend to me one day,
With people at war and wanting and suffering in every way.
What right has she got to be happy with taxes as high as the sky,
And with the cost of living still rising, why is she so happy, why?
What right has she got to be happy when the weather’s so miserably bleak,
When the sun shines for a day and then goes away and it’s wet for the rest of the week?
What right has she got be happy when she can’t walk or talk or see,
Why is she smiling so brightly, it’s truly a mystery to me?
‘What right have you got to be moaning;’ came my eventual reply.
You should be glad to be fit and able and grateful, not to decry
What right have you got to be moaning, just look at her and you’ll see
That the only reason she’s happy is – she’s simply decided to be.
A dozen siblings we are in number.
One by one we come and go to slumber.
To hold your feasts,festivals,anniversaries,.. as a reminder;
That's why you cannot do without a calender.
Siblings we know we are to the core.
Yet we've never seen each other before.
Since the very past we've always been in groups of four;
And in some parts of our world, in two halves for a reason.
All because each of us has a favorite respective season.
To us a second is just like a cell;our basic unit of life.
When we are together, our lucky numbers are 366 or 365.
Four of us age 30; like a middle aged man.
Seven of us are older just by one.
The second of us rather the youngest,
From 28 he leaps to 29, and then reverses like a protest.
The 12th Child cannot miss Christmas.
The 4th Child cannot miss fools' day when people are spun around like discuss.
Just take a smart look at your MOUTH and then,
Summersult the middle to an N.
Yes! 12 we were and 12 we are..
For 12 shall we be fore ever..
Flowers, grass, bushes, trees, attracted me in garden
In centre, a tree stump seemed to have complain
Stump was sobbing, none was caring
Moved by tears, I moved closer to stump
Stump bit in solace, narrated nostalgia bit by bit
“ Was once gardens fame tree, grew lovers favorite flowers,
Lovers plucked flowers, friends wish came true for sure
On Valentine day, seeking wish fulfilling flower
Lovers thronged, broke stem as they hysterically lunged,
Lovers got flowers, their love life flowered
A child could not get flower, wept on failure
Queried, you are a child, flowers are for lovers
Child wept louder said he too was a lover
Flower he wanted to present it to his Mother
Tears kept trickling , as if stump it was watering
Since then, every day child devotedly kept watering
Waiting for flower, be first one to pluck fresh flower
And present it to his dear Mother "
Deeply moved by childs love for stump,
I felt ashamed for mad urge of plucking flower
Flowers, thereafter, never plucked, left on tree to adore
Not wanting to be sinned for depriving any child's present for mother
Now all stumps attracting me first and more than flowers
( Entry for Members Contest - I fell in love with a Tree stump by Matt Caliri )
There’s another child on the way
I’ll still be here
As I was for generations
Year after year after year
I’ve seen a revolution and a Civil war
Brother against brother and cities burned
Memories of Cassie and me on the front porch
Waiting for her soldier who never returned
Each generation had its’ own story
From heartbreak and tears to romance and love
I was sitting there through it all
Warm sunny days and nights with the stars up above
I was handed down as the torch was passed
Another child born, time moves so fast
As each generation came to be
Mother and child came to me
I was there in the sun so warm
A sense of serenity after the storm
They came to me with love and tears
Seeing many emotions throughout those years
Times have changed, progress to blame
Many things different but a few are the same
Like the seasons changing, one to another
And the bond that exists between child and mother
There’s another child on the way
I’ll still be here
As I was for generations
Year after year after year.
This bumpy ride, it frightens me!
The sun beats down upon my hide
They've tied me up, we're on our way!
They said they're tossing me away!
As wind whips by, we're gaining speed
My cries unheard, no voice to plead
I'm swaying like a drunken fool
This old truck jars, with every turn
A fear in me as tires burn
I'm pushed aside,
They called me names
"Worn out, has seen much better days"
Outlived, they say, my days are done
To be replaced
Forgotten that beneath my skin
Of peeling paint, of beaten face
A life in me, a charm within
This heartless deed, how can this be?...
Please, won't you see the priceless me?
Beneath the grime, is treasured wood
A little care, restore my good!
I've seen so much in all my years
Your child in laughter, yourself in tears
And while you rocked, I soothed your fears
Tis not my fault that I've grown old
While offering you a place to hold
You bounced your child upon a knee
Please hold a spot of care for me!
Don't dump me in among the muck
Among the heap of worthless rot
Have pity, please!!...forsake me not!
I'm worthy of a place, a part
A spot of mercy from your heart!
Please turn around, back to my home
I'll offer rest, for weary bones
When days are hard, and winter comes
I'll hold you up, when you're alone.
Revised for Matt Caliri's contest "Speak, Chair, Speak"
TODAY I STAND NO LONGER CONSIDERED A PUPPET OR A TOOL.
TODAY I STAND ON THE FOUNDATION OF JESUS CHRIST.
I STAND FOR PEACE, LOVE AND JOY I MAY HAVE TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS.
BUT I KNOW THAT GOD IS THERE TO HELP ME THROUGH IT HE SEES MY HEARTACHE AND MY PAIN.
HE BROUGHT ME OUT OF MY STORMS AND THE POURING RAIN.
HE CLEANSED ME AND MADE ME WHOLE.
I WILL NO LONGER ALLOW THE ENEMY TO DEFINE ME TO SAY WHO I AM TO PUT ME DOWN.
HE TRIED TO TAKE ME OUT SO MANY HE HAD ME IN BONDAGE BUT NOW I AM SET FREE.
I KNOW THAT I AM NOT PERFECT BUT I KNOW THAT I MUST RISE UP AND TRY AGAIN.
SERVING HIM IS THE SWEETEST REWARD I KNOW THAT IT COMES WITH MANY OBSTACLES.
BUT IT IS WELL WORTH IT I AM A CHILD OF GOD SO IF YOU KNOW BY EXPERIENCE YOU NEVER MESS WITH A CHILD OF GOD.
from mom to dad from my lord god
you create me
when you saw , you saw a precious child
a child of god with so much charm
the gift is so real it made her cry
her laughter made it the most of all
and with in and with out they saw a beautiful child sent from god
God made each Child unique.
Some can soar higher than an Eagle, and can meet life storms head on,
but each Child can fly the best they can.
My prayer is that as a Child grows into Adulthood, that they will continue to
see each person as a human being.
God has made each one of us differently,
Each Child is special, with different talents and gifts.
For each Child is fearfully and wonderfully made by the Lord, and
that each Child is a beautiful creation.