Long At the end of the day Poems
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Have you ever wondered why we love reading bedtime stories to our children
once they pray to God their soul to keep?
It’s more than, as parents, we are tired and we’d like to get some sleep.
It’s a wonderful moment at the end of the day
when the world slows down a tad
a quiet, intimate moment between a child, Mom and Dad.
We sit together on the bed…whatever trials and tribulations of the day are freed
as we wait with bated breath…for the story we’re about to read.
It’s like the bed is a roller coaster…and we’re all strapped in there
knowing sometimes we’ll have to hold on tight
while other times we’ll raise our arms high in the air.
We don’t know what’s in store…what pitfalls we’ll have to weather….
dragons, pirates, ogres, witches…we will face them all…together.
We enter each page hand-in-hand
unaware as to which way our imaginations will be bending
and knowing the heroes are depending on us to help them reach a happy ending.
And when we finish the story…that might not be the end
because there is a good chance we’ll be asked to read it all again.
When their eyes finally close we gently rise, quietly turn out the light
we pull their blankets up, tuck them in and kiss their head…good night.
We stop at the door, we turn, we smile
knowing this story, like all bedtime stories, was much more that is seems….
It’s about love and family and sharing a moment together with our child
and…teaching them to dream.
Aren’t words meant to hurt and heal us.
Why do we cry when they hurt?
But feel comforted when they heal.
Is it because of a lesson not learnt?
or we want them to obey how we feel.
Words are just words, innocent on both sides.
while humans enjoy using them footwear slides
To portray love or hate for another,
an enemy, neighbour, relative or a partner.
Humans are more guilty not them words.
Without humans they would remain there
unused as they mean no hate.
yet humans use them to harm.
unused as they mean no love.
but humans use them to speak love.
Why do we hate jiggered words?
But like the ones that make us
to smile, ear to ear, all day
and lure us to whatever one has to say.
Why don’t we hate the people who use.
those jiggered words instead of words?
Why don’t we like the people who use?
those lullabying words along with words.
At the end of the day
Words are just words, waiting to be used, right?
To heal and hurt
To love and hate.
Our four grandchildren have grown up before our eyes…it’s hard to imagine that!
Which means it’s been years since they spent the night with us and Deborah and I babysat.
So, when our son and daughter-in-law asked us to watch their golden lab, Juniper
We said yes without so much as a dialogue…
With all our experience babysitting grandchildren we thought it’d be easy babysitting a dog.
And it was…it truly was…because it turns out…this may sound a little wild…
babysitting a dog is a lot like babysitting a child.
They all liked to go on long walks…whether in a wagon or on a leash
they were happy…we could tell…
Our grandchildren loved the sights and sounds while Juniper loved the smells.
They all loved to eat and eat often…meals, in between meal snacks…ice cream and more
(which had us wondering if their parents had ever fed them before).
They had their favorite games…like fetch and Candy Land…and when
that game was completed, they loved playing it over and over again!
One thing we had forgotten about babysitting was all the energy it required…
as our grandchildren and Juniper were ready to continue playing
long after the two of us were tired.
They all loved love and attention…having their hearts and souls nurtured and fed
and they all loved that time at the end of the day when we’d snuggle together in bed.
Babysitting Juniper reminded us of something else we’d forgotten that we knew…
the happy tiredness and contentment you feel when the babysitting’s through.
When you look around your empty house…
that moments ago was filled with so much energy and activity…
and then
You sigh…smile at one another…knowing after a little rest
you’l be ready to babysit again.
So thanks Juniper…
for helping us remember…all those things with the grandchildren we use to do…
which we probably wouldn’t have thought about….if we hadn’t been babysitting you.
Love is war but it’s worth the scar
Love is defined by who we are
Go after it with all of your might
See it to the end and never give up the fight
Don’t loose to fear or succumb to loves combat
I know deep down your stronger than that
Meet your opponent on the open field
Wear your heart on your sleeve as your own shield
Take them down don’t run and hide
Beat them off with your feelings from inside
Don’t loose to fear or succumb to loves combat
I know deep down your stronger than that
If your love is true fate will win at the end of the day
Your sweetheart will run to you in there own way
Why would you give up on the one you love
Defeat who ever stands in your way and thank god up above
Don’t loose to fear or succumb to loves combat
I know deep down your stronger than that
There, in the kitchen of this modest dwelling,
A cheerful room, in spite of its lack of grandness
Home to the little family
Who gathered together each evening
For string beans and mashed potatoes,
Eating with relish at the rectangle of oak
They recounted a day filled with stories
Of the playground mishap,
Of the clearance sale at the hardware store,
Significant things or things without matter
The scene reconstructed, each night of the week
With new accounts of a busy day
A ritual never lacking in importance.
This coming together at the end of the day,
While chomping away on an unidentifiable casserole,
Filling the belly, as well as the soul,
Consuming tidbits of noodles, and wisdom and the love of being together.
Until, one day it was time to retire
The humble piece of oak with the four wobbly legs
For something more presentable. Something more impressive,
That would serve the expanse of a family
Which had grown in numbers throughout the years.
How could anyone have known the significance
Of that aging old table with its warp in the middle?
The sag she had tried to hide with a checkered cloth.
Those who sat there day after day, hardly aware of it's meaning.
This old oak piece, having withstood crayon marks, spilled milk,
Even small holes from the time when father, while repairing a picture frame,
Had accidently hammered nails all the way through and into it's top.
Who knew that a weathered old piece of wood would be witness
To such love and importance
And in itself, was more worthy than
Anything this family could have ever imagined?
For one hundred and twenty-nine years McVities’ digestives have been eaten.
They are touted as good for digestion, and their chocolate version cannot be beaten.
Tesco, Doves Farm and Mark and Spencer have all jumped into the biscuit game.
Attempting to overthrow McVities as the number one, but their biscuits re not the same.
A mere eighty-four calories, if you only have one or two or three it will be okay.
But sometimes I am worn out and irritated and eat a package at the end of the day.
I reach for chocolate ones, which are tastier than the American’s Graham Cracker.
Or water biscuit to you, if you are English, and am not sure of their terms whacker.
The digestive originated in Scotland, but do we want to give all the credit to them?
After all we have perfected our eating of it with your pinkie held up as a little stem.
With double cream or gammon, and possibly a bit of golden syrup too,
We like our tasty bites in secret, or with choice guests, whose blood is blue.
It says on McVites website that an employee Alexander Grant formulated secret recipe.
They use whole wheat flour and baking soda, so an antacid, they pretend it can be.
In actuality, it is a sweet meal biscuit, and it is good for eating with your Earl Gray.
I am going to have to leave you now, for my salivating mouth is getting in my way.
Empty
A hammock swings to and fro in the wind
As if propelled by an unseen foot.
A tricycle lies abandoned by the porch,
One handle grip with its multicolored
Streamers long gone, a wheel missing,
Its once-resplendent pink paint eaten with rust.
The “For Sale” is old. It sways tipsily,
Tilting in the wind, covered in graffiti.
Where is the little girl who used to play
In this lonely and forsaken yard?
Where is the boy who whiled away the hours
Reading and dreaming in the hammock?
Where is the mother who tended these gardens,
Now full of weeds, and the father whose children
Greeted him joyfully at the end of the day?
What calamitous series of disasters
Befell this family, to force them out,
To make them leave the home they loved?
Maybe they sleep now in cheap motels and
Eat their frugal meal at a breakfast bar
Or live in a noisy, overcrowded shelter.
Or do they move from place to place,
Rootless, living in a car, dreaming of that
Joy-filled home they left behind, a lifetime ago?
The staring house now stands bereft,
Bewildered, wondering - where is the family that
Once lived and loved inside its empty shell?
It seems to wait in loneliness, pining for
Those happier days of oh, so long ago,
While the hammock swings to and fro in the wind.
The older we get, the longer the time
It takes for our bodies to heal,
So we shouldn’t regret, since we’re out of our prime,
That we aren’t as strong as we feel.
Be it virus or flu or a cut or a bruise,
What took days to improve now takes weeks.
The old cures we once knew our new selves just refuse
To allow us to climb to our peaks.
Our two choices then are to ignore the advice
And resume our activities fast,
Or, though it seems bizarre, to avoid rolling dice
And slow down ‘til all symptoms have passed.
What will be, either way, if we rush or we halt,
We’ll be subject to what fate has planned.
At the end of the day, it is nobody’s fault,
Due to forces we can’t understand.
Have you ever loved and been disillusioned
Causing you to come to the conclusion
Love is like the sun at the end of the day
It slowly slips over the horizon and fades away
Through the night tears fall from your eyes
Tossing, turning, memories of good times and lies
The dark moon glimmering through the window
Flooding your heart with sadness of love can't rekindle
Just as the sun slips over the horizon and fades away
It returns with brilliant bright colors the very next day
A ray of sunlight drying each tear
Trying to heal your heart and take away your fear
Fear of never another love and best friend
When will this heartache ever end
Just as the sun fades over the horizon each day
Over the hills and valleys in the morning it always finds it's way
A humble man is what I am before you.
You see, I am not worthy to say…
“Sir, may I have your daughter’s hand,
But please yield to your wife’s pleas:
Calm down a while as I explain what’s deep in my heart.
Why deprive your daughter of a possible life of pure bliss..?
Because sir, understand that love’s triumph seldom fails.
You see sir, “a humble man standing before you is what I am.
The love and protection you have for your daughter I understand.
But you see “simple is what raised me,
A simple man, with simple needs.
A simple man who is able to love deeply and fairly.
Yes I have made my fair share of mistakes.
Might have scarred an angel or two,
But who was ever born with a heart of gold..?
A humble man is what I am before you.
You see sir; the heart is simply out of our control.
How can one ignore a beautiful feeling?
A feeling that pulls hard at every fore of your soul.
How at some point we all wish we could roll over and forget its undying existence.
But sir, who was ever given a constraint heart..?
Yes, a humble man is what I am.
You see, I work sir, to earn a living
You may as you have, call it slave work,
Unworthy to have your daughter as my own.
But you see, these hands are built,
Built to struggle and earn a better life,
No man was ever born fulfilled sir,
And no man ever chooses to be born poor.
A humble man is what I was brought up to be,
But you see sir; it hurts me to see your daughter turn her face away
Turn away, to hide soft tears, which ooze dejectedly from her pure eyes.
What crime have I committed not to be regarded worthy..?
Because you see sir, at the end of the day love’s triumph seldom fails.
A humble man, with a heart that will strive,
Simple ways that will overcome all tribulations,
A heart that has been pulled from its place of sheer hopelessness
Hands that will slave for a better life and future for your daughter.
An upbringing that will sweep her off her feet every chance there is;
Is what I am sir.
So you see sir, please listen and understand that love’s triumph seldom fails
When two hearts are willing.