Deep red the garnet
And carnation petals bright
Snow white the tiny child
A dainty snowdrop white
Soft as the blooms
Are cheeks of rosey red
She is carried quietly
And softly tucked in bed
Someday the little princess
Beloved girl first born
Will wear a garnet ring
To welcome in the morn
As January passes
And winter slips away
A book with these pressed flowers
Will remind us of this day
So many poemless years,
Not describing your true beauty.
You’re more than an Angel,
Here on angelic duty.
Your face echoes truth,
Of divine radiance on earth.
Your presence warms my soul,
And gives my life its worth.
You’re the one I think about,
With an honest heart so true.
I just want to speak from my within,
And wish a happy birthday to you.
As I bring you a little closer,
Your angelic dust disappears.
I have always wanted to whisper,
Happy birthday in your ear.
Today is the day of reckoning,
As my lips whisper this greeting.
And praise a wonderful day,
While in our secret meeting.
Not a meeting of lustful acts,
But a meeting of a warm embrace.
I have always been mesmerized,
When I look upon your face.
I’m happy and contented,
I feel like I could burst.
When the cake came out,
I got my mitts in first.
Some call me a glutton,
others say I’m speedy.
Actually, I’m just smart,
energetic and speedy.
I hope that on your birthday,
you somehow get the urge.
According to my book,
it’s your turn to splurge!
They said we'd never make it
They said we would not last
And though we've had it rough, dear
For us, the dye's long been cast
They don't seem to understand it
They don't have a single clue
That though we have our problems
There is a magic glue
A glue so rare and precious
A glue so exquisitely fine
Forged out of our young love
Making you forever mine
We have a precious daughter
She is the forever bond
The union of our souls is she
Of whom you are so fond
Today as I watched you sleep
I longed to kiss you awake
With passion dipped words to say:
“Wake up, sweet love let’s make!”
And so I teased and I pleased you
Laid your head on my bare breast
I smiled at myself for I knew
That would bring on all the rest
I was not disappointed
You made me scream and sign
With techniques tried and true
You took me to the heavens high
And now you're getting older
You're climbing the ladder of time
Remember when you're old and grey
I'll still think you are sublime!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
A Little Background:
I wrote this some time ago for my husband, but I added to it to post it today. I met him when we were twelve, he asked me out at 14, I accepted him at 17 when I came back from the States, I married him at 26. We were neighbors, but our families were rivals of sorts. Regular Montegues and Capulets. His parents threatened to disown him if he married me. He was willing to go through the risk. This explains the beginning of the poem. It's been twenty years now. We are still together. The Title of the poem, a song by Sheena Easton, was "Our SONG."
Do you hear what I hear
in the far off fields?
Farmers tending to their crops
and counting out their yields.
Sheep are mewing,cattle too
like those so long ago.
When little baby Jesus
did set the stars aglow.
Three wise men did travel far
to see this glorious sight.
They carried precious oils and such
to give to Him that night.
The babe was wrapped in ragged cloth
but never did He cry.
He smiled sweet as heavenly hosts
did flutter wings nearby.
So do you hear what I hear
into this night as then?
A chorus of angels,shepherds too
singing good news again.
Today is ur day
Sister, be glad and
For Allah has brought
To you all you
Forget not to be full
Of thanks and not
party like the fool
Who tanx Him not
But complains a lot!
May u see more
And years with
courage and not
In this deen
Islam that fits u as a
AND MAY YOU DIE
THE DEATH BEST
AS A MUSLIM THAT
IS TRUSTED AFTER
Stillness feels deep here in these halls;
Silent vistas offer relief;
Death brings sure sleep at curtain call;
Cold agendas in grief's sad brief.
Long passageways and rows and rows;
Lonely sailings to unknown shores;
The dead don't say what yonder grows;
We the living wish we knew more.
Our visit here to greet the dead,
To pray for souls to rest in peace;
Let kinship steer fate's sure parade;
We feel the hold, the dead at ease.
Each niche a tale of life now flown;
Each face once walked this earthly plain;
Now silence trails lost bygone moans;
Now stillness talks where no voice gains.
Memorial day for our lost kin;
A prayer fond, a mindset still;
Whispers now stay for peace within;
Stroll by this lawn, mourning hearts feel.
With soul and heart, talk to the dead;
We know they hear our inner voice;
Life circle parts beyond all dread;
Cycles endear sound grace and poise.
Brief tablets speak where words now fail;
Deeply attuned with wise intent,
Each mounts a peak beyond the veil:
Feel hint and tune frame lost content.
As shadows fall in the last light,
We take a stroll here first and last;
Live sweet and gall with new-found sight;
Life's on a roll in feast or fast.
The dead remind that life goes on;
The grim reaper awaits each soul;
Discern the find here and beyond;
Soon each sleeper will circle whole.
Sunlight now fails, winds of change blow;
Horizons pale, lost of sure breath;
Death's icy gale fills each hollow;
And thus soul sails to greet kind death!
Here by this route where hallways meet,
All thoughts and deeds return to rest;
Death is time-out for two-way street;
Each cycle seeds soul journey quest.
We take our time to simply dwell,
Observe and know time here is brief;
Heed love's fond chimes to live life well;
Then candle blows with joy not grief.
Now once again, we carry on
To weather all, to live our best
With poise laid plain, feel once upon
A time that call to feel love's quest.
Our prayers laid, our kinship made,
We take our leave in heartfelt calm;
Feel love repaid in succinct trade;
Forsake this grief with cheery psalm.
28 Mar 2014
(Dedication: For my late mother on her birthday
anniversary, born 28 March 1927.)
The Wenatchee River Festival
Held the third weekend of June
The four of us attended
To hear a Bluegrass tune
Friday the seventeenth,
This year’s opening day
The day I turned seventy five
A time to celebrate and play
I have a special lawn chair
It seems to fit me right
Sitting in the sixth row
The stage was in good sight
A group was performing
Bluegrass at its best
When I had to get up and go
A “must” I will confess
As I was returning
My name was being paged
So I yelled “Here I am”
To the group up the stage
They said “we’ve been told
Your Seventy-Five today”
“We wish you Happy Birthday”
Then they began to play
The Happy Birthday Song
Was sung just for me
The audience even sang along
I was speechless as can be
How could this happen?
My head began to spin
It must have been Chuck Egner
He proved it with his grin
My wife, daughter, grand-daughter
We didn’t know what to say
But thanks for the birthday present
You gave to me that day
The Last Day
The first day is like an unwrapped mystery
Christmas, birthday, holiday present
Oxygen and nitrogen fills the air with freshness
Like news, wet ink from press, unread paper and baby’s breath
The second day is like an unmade bed and breakfast
The sky opens up at high noon for business, middle life
Half time, savory centered, comes with existence, full flavored
Balance takes on the order of the day, remains, saved
The last day is like charcoal grays washed away with rain
Colors fade, grains of sand dance out the counted hours
Doomsday is right around the corner casting shadows
Let’s keep it there, under wraps, under the Christmas trees of past
Happy birthday to me
I'm fourteen years to see
Each year flying by
All the memories... sigh
Today's my day, tonight my night
And I will be the brightest light
I'll wish on that candle hard
And stash the money from that birthday card!!!!
We all sing and wish Happy Birthdays to friends
To family, too, we always wish them the best
I’m here to say and maybe sing a song for you
Thereby overshadowing all you heard from the rest
Happy Birthday to you, my dearest of friend
You make my life better just knowing you
You’ve given me gifts since we first met
I give back some love that you can hold true
It’s not in a pretty box, nor comes with a card
There are no lottery tickets for you to scratch
Happy Birthday to you my dearest of friend
From the person whose heart you did catch
Happy Birthday, today you’re only twenty one (haha)
May you be blessed with love, joy and glee
Happy Birthday to you my dearest of friend
This is sent with honest love, to you, from me