web analytics
Showing posts with label poems. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poems. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 27, 2015

What A Difference A Week Can Make

It was just around a week ago that I was so ill and confused that I wasn't making much sense most of the time. I will never forget going to the gas station because my gas tank was showing the empty warning. I wanted to drive myself to the Grief Share meeting the next evening which was only four miles from home. Well, anyway about a week ago when I went to get the gas I was not able to do the simple activity that I have probably done hundreds or more times. My brain was so scrambled in that a good person nearby observed and offered to help me. I was so appreciative! And, then I headed home which was very nearby.  My blood pressure was still in the "danger-danger zone" at 172/107.

Today, is a really nice day. My blood pressure this AM is 139/88 and has been in the normal range for a few days and I am starting to feel like the self that I know. I am continuing to closely monitor my BP readings and my current medication dosages.  I am so Happy and Grateful with this very noticeable improvement

My response and recovery with the Grief process is going so much better. And, I will be going to my weekly Grief Share meeting. The weekend was good but I still have to limit what I do and where I go. I have been able to start to take care of lots of things here at home, like sorting stuff and organizing. And, very short periods of time in the yard. You know those leaves keep falling! But, I can't do anything to demanding. Friends have been so very helpful with their emotional support and offers of help.

My heart and body are filling with peace. Progress - but a long way to go. I am beginning to think "You can't keep an ol" gal down for very long".

I am hoping to start planning with others, A Tribute To The Memory of my friend at our church for our little community and church family. More on that as it evolves.

This little sign hung in Bud's home office!

I would like to share a little poem that I recently came across in my continual search that is driven by my intense curiosity about most every thing.

Gone Fishing 
I've finished life's chores assigned to me
So put me on a boat headed out to see
Please send along my fishing pole
For I've been invited to the fishin' hole

Where every day is a day to fish
To fill your heart with every wish
Don't worry, or feel sad for me
I'm fishing' with the Master of the sea

We will miss each other for awhile
But you will come and bring your smile
That won't be long you will see
Till we're together you and me

To all of those that think of me
Be happy as I go out to sea
If others wonder why I'm missin'
Just tell 'em I've gone fishin'
                       by Dalmar Pepper


A Tired Happy Fisherman - Not bad for 85 - yes, that is years!

Wishing you a Warm and Cozy Day - especially if your weather conditions are harsh!


Saturday, August 08, 2009

The Prophet

For many years, I have enjoyed the writings of Kahlil Gabran pronounced (Ha-lil) ( Joo-bran) who lived from 1883 to 1931. He was a Lebanese born poet, philosopher and artist. I first became acquainted with his writings when I somehow had the opportunity to read his 1923 writing "On Children" about the time my own children were trying to formulate their own life journey. That is not an easy time in a mothers life. This is the poem:


Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let our bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

---------------Kahlil Gabran

"The Prophet" is written in a very lyrical and simple style which makes it very readable. I characterize it as having little vignettes of his thoughts on various topics from birth to death.

I hope you enjoy reading this poem.


Monday, June 22, 2009

Along Came A Spider

I had such a HUGE surprise in the garden when I was watering this past week. It was the first time that I have ever seen a Black Widow Spider. I could hardly believe my eyes! But, there was no mistaking that it was a black widow spider. His body was quite large and very shiny. And, as he tried to scamper away, I could see the red on the belly.

This sighting made me think of the Little Miss Muffet rhyme.

Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet
Eating her curds and whey,
Along came a spider,
Who sat down beside her
And frightened Miss Muffett away

This is one of many stories about the Little Miss Muffet rhyme:

"Little Miss Muffet was a small girl whose name was Patience Muffet. Her stepfather, Dr. Muffet (1553-1604) was a famous entomologist who wrote the first scientific catalogue of British Insects. Whilst eating her breakfast of curds and whey Little Miss Muffet was frightened by one of his spiders and ran away! This particular Nursery Rhyme of Little Miss Muffet reputedly dates back to the 16th century as indicated by the birth date of Dr. Muffet!"

In my quest to find a little information about this rhyme, I came upon this artist's rendering by Scott Gustafson of Little Miss Muffet. I think the picture is especially fetching because there is a little Cavalier King Charles Spaniel dog, just like my Lily, sitting next to Miss Muffet! I love it.


Saturday, June 13, 2009

On The Grasshopper And Cricket

The poetry of earth is never dead:
When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead:
This is the grasshopper's---he takes the lead
In summer luxury,---he has never done
With his delights, for when tired out with fun
He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.
The poetry of earth is ceasing never:
On a lone winter evening, when the frost
Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills
The cricket's song, in warmth increasing ever,
And seems to one, in drowsiness half-lost,
The grasshopper's among some grassy hills.
by John Keats

Listen carefully, you never know what you might hear.


Some Additional Special Photos


Mother's Day 2012

Mother's Day 2012

Happy Family (2014)

Happy Family (2014)
Grandma Pride

Valentine's Day 2013

Valentine's Day 2013

High School (1957) Friends Of Mine On The Left Live In New York and We Met In Canada In 2011

High School (1957) Friends Of Mine On The Left Live In New York and We Met In Canada In 2011

Bud Mietz

Bud Mietz
1928 - 2014