Today my aunt turns 98
And for her age, she’s doing great,
So we came down to celebrate,
The least that we can do.
We schmoozed a little yesterday
With snacks we picked up on the way
And brought an ice cream treat today
(Since I had craved one, too).
Then on to mah jongg in a place
Where seniors gather, face to face,
To play a game they all embrace
(The rules of which I knew).
Two hours flew by and then back where
Three huge bouquets were waiting there,
Plus cards and phone calls, all to share
Her birthday, right on cue.
Tonight, there’ll be a dinner out;
That’s what a birthday’s all about,
And at that age, there is no doubt
Best wishes sure are due.
Figure of Eight got me thinking
It's infinity on its side!
Eight days a week, I rode till dawn.
Slipping behind eight ball's shadow.
On Cloud Eight, with just one to come.
While strumming eight-note blues on drums;
I figured eight had found me out~
Swirling around its loopty-loops.
"Fall seven times and stand up eight," the old proverb sings,
A lantern lit for weary hearts with weather-broken wings.
Each stumble shapes a steadier stride, each tear a clearer view;
The strongest trees are those that learn to dance with storms anew.
I cannot choose the winds that blow nor every hill I climb,
But hope can turn the roughest road into a path through time.
When doubt declares the night too deep, I answer with one spark,
For faith remembers dawn before it brightens all the dark.
So I will rise with grateful hands, though yesterday was long;
The scars become a quiet proof that brokenness grows strong.
"When hope takes the first brave step,
tomorrow finds the courage to follow."
Millions of decades ago,
ancient humankind had one purpose in life:
to find prey
every day,
a stomach that stayed full
until the next breath,
until the last breath.
Ideas stormed,
things evolved,
brains grew creative,
and eventually, we were called the smartest species on Earth.
Here we are, humans of today’s bin,
seeing the air around us
and wondering:
is this how it has always been?
This very planet once had souls whose purpose was big, yet small.
"Laughter, smiles — that's all we want."
However, today's baby is born with a paper and pen.
They start writing down desires, one after another, until the last day.
And boom — the list has already crossed a thousand before the age of ten.
From one corner of the world come screams for money and hymns,
while from another come cries for love.
This world is now full of deafening screams.
People are becoming breathless, chasing empty dreams.
A smile, evoked by ninety-nine reasons,
vanishes because of one statement.
The heart is weak,
the brain dominates.
It's the new normal.
The 8 billion pockets are getting heavy,
but are we ready?
Just nudging seventy eight
This so called "old" age it must wait
Not ready to be known yet as late
Have much control over my eventual fate
Much time left to spend with my lover who is also my best mate
Many many interests that daily satiate
Mindset frequency attuned to a positive state
Some day with God we'll arrange a meeting on a mutual date
Your love came at a snail’s pace
And left at a cheetah’s speed.
I thought I had healed,
Only to find myself back in trauma.
I returned to my indoor life after you left,
Solitude resting on my shoulder.
I still don’t know why you chose to abandon me
My heart still aches.
Imagine a bus that runs Eight Days a Week
with seats made of slimy leek
sliming further for every sitter
and sputtering out oil with every creak.
Imagine not getting to get the bus
'less you come on frying leeks, making a fuss
’bout passengers not letting you get oil from under their seats,
provoking your pan to concuss!
Imagine all the people concussed by pans
on the Eight Days a Week bus – The Beatles fans.
Hold me, love me Eight Days a Week
while we make bus seat slimy leek flans.
Fancy riding on a sturdy open topped crust
with leek-based lube setting our lust?
Why, to society’s travel regulations
should we have to adjust?
Bouncing on a slime seat with nude bum cheeks is fun.
Let’s also slime our face cheeks to shield from the sun
on my mind Eight Days a Week, My Leek.
Massage me with oil – this bus has a ton!
Eight years ago, the world gained a light,
With blonde hair shining and eyes ocean-blue,
A girl who is bubbly, courageous, and bright,
There's truly nobody quite like you.
You're smart and you're sassy, a whirlwind of fun,
Dancing to K-pop with rhythm and grace,
With the heart of a Hunter, the battle is won,
With a smile that can light up the loneliest place.
You've got Stitch for the mischief and Angel for love,
And Labubus tucked in your arms for a squeeze,
A mix of the sunshine and stars from above,
Moving through life with such laughter and ease.
So stay sweet and carefree, keep dreaming so big,
The world is your stage, and you're the star of the show.
From every small hop to each K-pop jig,
We're so proud to watch you continue to grow.
Happy 8th Birthday!
Jalyn
ONE happily splits into TWO
joy of THREE becomes FOUR’s stability
salt transforms into amber in FIVE’s multiplicities
SIX races into externalisations and insertion
matrices to dust as SEVEN links Earth to Heaven
EIGHT the Ouroboros ~ Infinity’ Gift as leaven
NINE summation and crescendo _______we begin once more...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Now folks—let’s sit down and face the truth,
There’s eight bad habits that’ll steal your youth.
They live in the mind and talk real sweet,
But they’ll drag your soul right off its feet.
First comes Denial, wears a crown of lies,
Says, “Ain’t my fault” while your conscience dies.
Then Blame, his brother, points all around,
He never looks down at his own ground.
Anger rides shotgun, loud and proud,
Breaks every heart that dares speak out loud.
Fear lurks silent, dressed in gray,
He steals your dreams before you pray.
Then Excuse, slick as oil and thin,
Tells you losing’s fine, you almost win.
Jealousy slinks with a serpent’s grin,
Turns friends to foes, blood to sin.
Self-Pity wails in a corner dark,
Snuffs your spark before you start.
And Pride, that last one, smiles so wide—
He builds your coffin from the inside.
Now, you can’t fix what you won’t admit,
You can’t heal if you won’t commit.
Face these eight, and take your stand—
Or the Evil Eight will take your hand.
I've never before made it fit,
For eight rhymes in one line to sit.
Though it isn't wise,
I'd best stick with pi(e)s,
Smit wit quit, lit grit spit Brit ... snit.
Six plus three is eight
School is really great
Two plus five is nine
It’s never been this fine
One times one is four
My teacher I adore
Math comes to me so easily
~ Why’d I get a ‘B’
I am grateful for for knowing the eight words
in life that if spoken…will take everybody far…
And I’m grateful to repeat them often:
I love you just the way you are.
A Jaw biopsy was done to determine the issue,
The Doctors first response “looks like scar tissue”.
His next question was, “have you ever been hit on the Jaw”?
In an attempt to be funny my response brought no hurrah,
“Yes, I have on a few occasions, hit a fist with my face”,
when endeavoring to put another, in what I thought, was his place.
From the lab I waited three days, then came my answer.
The Doctor quickly said Tom “You have Parotid Gland cancer”.
So cancer became the match that would set my fields on fire,
I sought the face of Jesus and once more I could easily respire.
In faith I asked Jesus, i believed, and confessed my sin,
and at that moment I felt forgiven and became born again.
Now many years and speed bumps later I still grasp his hand,
Jesus is still my captain and I’m still under his command.
.
The Eighth day of life is calling you'
His heart is open; always true!
The Beatles sang about this man?
I'd say un-aware' of His plan.?
Gifted artists..Whom He endowed!
World sucess.' And millions wow'd
Jesus ready to return again
Although un-worthy I raise my pen.!
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