Archive for the ‘Love’ Category
I thought we should visit some children today and read some of their outstanding poetry. Many of these kids are between the ages of 4 and 13 and are from various English-speaking countries around the globe. I find their poetry extremely innocent and pure because they write what they feel without any real awareness of political correctness or the many biases that seem to be everywhere these days. Enjoy them.
🚸🚸🚸
By Sarah Gatti, Age 10, New Zealand
THE SUNBEAMS
It’s a sunny, sunny day today,
There’s not a fluffy cloud in the sky.
The sky’s all blue in a light blue haze,
The orange sun is shining as it stalks along the sea,
And leaves a shiny golden path, for me to walk along.
🚸🚸🚸
By Nelda Dishman, Age 12, United States
TREES
The trees share their shade with
all who pass by,
But their leaves whisper secrets
only to the wind.
🚸🚸🚸
By Jewell Lawton, age 8, Australia
GOD
I wonder
how God lives
in heaven,
when the clouds
seem to be collapsing
like broken birds.
🚸🚸🚸
By Paul Thompson, Age 6, New Zealand
MY FEELINGS
I am fainty,
I am fizzy,
I am floppy.
🚸🚸🚸
THANKS TO MIRACLES & RICHARD LEWIS
In my younger days I considered myself a scratch golfer. I played with many of my friends, family, and people I worked with for years and always had a great time. I thought today I’d lighten things up a little with some golfing jokes. I’m sure all of you golfers out there will appreciate these three jokes but I can honestly say they can’t compare to the experiences I actually had with my friends and family. Enjoy . . .
- One day a man came home from work and was greeted by his wife dressed up in a very sexy nightie. “Tie me up,” she purred, “and you can do anything you want with me.” So, he tied her up and went golfing.
- So, there are three golfers, (Bob, Max and Ted) who are looking for a fourth. Bob mentions that his friend George is a pretty good golfer, so they decide to invite him for the following Saturday. “Sure, I’d love to play, says George, but I may be about 10 minutes late, so wait for me.” So, Saturday rolls around. Bob, Max, and Ted arrive promptly at 9 AM and find George already waiting for them. He plays right-handed and beats them all. Quite pleased with their new fourth, they ask him if he’d like to play again the following Saturday. “Yeah, sounds great”, says George. “But I may be about 10 minutes late, so wait for me.” The following Saturday, again, all four golfers, show up on time, but this time George plays left-handed and beats them all. As they’re getting ready to leave, George says, “See you next Saturday, but I may be about 10 minutes late, so wait for me.” Every week, George is right on time and plays great with whichever hand he decides to use and every week, he departs with the same message. After a couple of months, Ted is pretty damn tired of this routine, so he says, “Wait a minute, George. Every week you say you may be about 10 minutes late, but you’re right on time. You then beat us either left-handed or right-handed, what’s the story? “Well,” George says, “I’m kind of superstitious. When I get up in the morning, I look over at my wife. If she’s sleeping on her left side, I play left-handed, and if she’s sleeping on her right side, I play right-handed.” “So, what do you do if she’s sleeping on her back?” “Well . . . That’s one of days I’ll be 10 minutes late.”
- A man constantly and continuously talked only about golf. His angry wife threatened to leave him if he didn’t talk about something else. She: “Let’s talk about sex.” He: “I wonder if Tiger Woods got laid last night?”
FORE!
How old are you? It’s a valid question that most people ask about a stranger when discussing them with a third-party, “He’s about 20 years old.”. People who are in their 20’s think people in their 30’s are old while people in their 30’s think people in their 50’s are old. It’s all relative and silly but we do it all the time without really thinking about it. In my case I think anyone younger than 60 is just a stupid kid and that should show you how really stupid it is to judge a person by their age. Today’s post is going to list some interesting accomplishments by the age of the person doing them. Using age as way to judge someone is just ridiculous as these examples will show you.
At the Age of 1
Mary, of the House of Stewart, became Queen of Scotland.
Brooke Shields was selected as the Ivory Snow baby.
At the Age of 2
Judy Garland launches her stage career.
Isabella II ascends to the Spanish throne.
At the Age of 3
Albert Einstein speaks for the first time.
Alice Liddell first meets Charles Dodgson (pen name of Lewis Carol) who later used her as inspiration to write Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.
At the Age of 4
Malcolm Little (who later changed his name to Malcolm X) watches as his family’s home was burned to the ground by members of the Ku Klux Klan.
Bob Hope emigrates from England to the United States
At the Age of 5
Devora Wilson, Mountain climber, scales a 4000-foot peak.
Christopher Robin Milne hears the first “Winnie the Pooh” story, with himself as the main character, made up by his father, A. A.
At the Age of 6
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart gives keyboard concerts across Europe.
Shirley Temple receives an honorary Oscar for her contribution to film.
Ron Howard stars as Opie in TV’s, The Andy Griffith Show.
At the Age of 7
Helen Keller, blind and deaf, master’s a vocabulary of 625 words.
Carol Brown, who travels more than an hour daily to attend a distant school because as a black she is denied admission to the local all-white school, motivates her father to file a lawsuit, resulting in the landmark Brown V. Board of Education Supreme Court decision which finds public-school segregation to be unconstitutional.
😉😉😉
My Credentials
Age 1 – Flung my full diaper at my mother.
Age 2 – Spoke my first word (Shit!)
Age 3 – Drew my first tree.
Age 4 – Threw up on my sister.
Age 5 – Drank my first drink of alcohol (bottle of perfume)
Age 6 – Ran away from school (police found me later)
MY PARENTS WERE SOOOO PROUD
🤠🤠🤠
If you didn’t already know this, limericks in their own way are historical documents. In the past I reprinted a selection of World War II era limericks but how could I possibly forget the interesting limericks created by some of our famous cowboy historians. I knew I would find some bawdy limericks about our western heritage as written by bored saloon patrons or from a few bored bar maidens, or even a select few university scholars like Ray Allen Billington (Limericks, Historical and Hysterical). Try these on for size.
While Sue lay supine ‘neath a willow,
She was screwed by a large armadillo,
And remarked to the same,
As both of them came,
That the next time he might bring a pillow.
🐎🐎🐎
When a lady returned from Big Moose,
Her husband exclaimed, “What the deuce,
I’m quite reconciled
To the call of the wild,
But where did you get the papoose?”
🐴🐴🐴
An Indian, who claims we can trust her,
Insists she was raped by George Custer.
Despite what he planned,
His three-inch last stand,
Was all Colonel Custer could muster.
🤠🤠🤠
Cowboys at the end of the Drive
Were so horny they scarce could survive.
So, the whores of Dodge City
Out of greed (not for pity)
Worked double shifts: from nine til five.
💩💩💩
WHO DOESN’T LOVE HISTORY?
“The poet is a reporter interviewing his own heart.”
Christopher Morely
***
Poetry at times can be beautiful. It can bring tears to your eyes and joy to your heart but as with anything it also has the ability to become something dark and disturbing. I try to make a point of reading samples of poetry from as many poets as I can. Some of the most touching poems are not about happy moments running through fields of flowers with birds flying around, but of deep sadness and pain.
On a regular basis I make purchases from thrift bookstores on eBay. A book arrived at my home recently and I knew reading it was going to be extremely difficult. It’s a selection of poetry written by young people who have had to deal with divorcing parents. The book is titled “broken hearts… healing”, Young Poets Speaking Out, compiled and edited by Tom Worthen, Ph.D. I just finished reading the first half of that book and it forced me to deal with the pain I caused to my own son. Many years ago, I ended a twenty-year marriage and caused a great deal of pain to a young man that we adopted (at age twelve) from a number of state-run foster homes. He deserved better than we were able to give him at the time, and this book brought it all back with a vengeance. Here are two poems that brought tears to my eyes.
TUG OF WAR
Nobody has the life I have,
I can’t imagine if the whole world did.
My parents don’t even talk,
They get to ask who wants us and when.
It is like me and my two sisters are in the middle of everything.
So I hope you don’t have the life I have,
And if you do I’m sorry.
by Beth, Age 11
***
WHERE IS MY DAD?
He comes around like he cares,
but when I was young he was not there.
He has a new family and a wife to love dear,
when I was around he made me feel weird.
When I was alone crying in my bed,
was he there, no, it was mom instead.
When I look at my friends with their moms and dads,
I think if he didn’t mess it up,
Oh, what I could have had!
by Dana, Age 13
***
“Poetry is to prose as dancing is to walking.”
by John Wain
***
As I worked my way slowly through the public school system back in the 1960’s I received little or no information or exposure to poetry. It was mentioned in passing in some classes but there never was any serious time devoted to it. It just seems to me that making some poetry (not just the classics) available to younger students might just motivate them to either read more poetry or to write their own. A gentlemen named Richard Lewis, a lecturer on children’s literature and creative writing, apparently agreed with me. In cooperation with UNESCO, he traveled through eighteen English speaking countries around the world collecting poetry written by children between the ages of five and thirteen. Three thousand poems were collected with the best 200 published in his book, “Miracles” published in 1966. I’ve picked out two samples to give you some idea of just how talented many of the youngsters can be when expressing their thoughts in a poetic fashion.
THUNDER
by Glenys Van Every, Age 9, Australia
I hear
the drummers
strike
the sky.
***
SUMMER
by Margaret Bendig, Age 10, United States
Inviting, rippling waters
Waiting for little toes
Hurry, go get changed!
***
After reading a few pages of these poems I had a minor epiphany. These children were not trained in poetry but as they wrote their poems many of them began to look very much like free-verse haiku’s. Having no set restrictions on the length of lines and syllable counting allows the young poets freedom to truly express themselves.
Of course, being the irreverent SOB that I am I decided to write this haiku of mine and take it down a road not normally traveled. It contains some reference to nature but also just a touch of my humor. It’s a poetic mortal sin to write them this way and I’m sure it will tweak the noses of a few people. It’s always fun at times to make some people a little crazy.
*❤️*
NATURAL
by Me, Age: Old
Out of the corner of my eye
A bird sails quietly by.
A flash of golden sunlight,
And I have bird shit on my thigh.
***
SMILE, I DID INCLUDE SOME NATURE
‘The best craftsmanship always leaves holes and gaps . . . so that something
that is not in the poem can creep, crawl, flash, or thunder in.”
Dylan Thomas (1914-1953)
Well, welcome back to 2024. I hope you enjoyed the last post concerning Mr. Poe because I certainly did. I thought today I would begin talking about haikus. The current requirements for haikus are a first line with five syllables, a second line with seven syllables, and a third line of five syllables. When I first discovered the haiku I thought the rigidity of this design didn’t make a lot of sense. The more I learned about haikus the wiser I thought I became. Here are two examples of haiku’s written by a gentleman from Japan who is considered the father of haikus, Matsuo Kinsaku (1644-1694). He began writing haikus under the name of Basho in 1672. In Basho’s humble opinion a haiku should be created using a minimum of words to paint a mental picture for the reader. Basho included descriptions of nature in most of his haikus but wasn’t limited to a fixed syllable count. I’m all for free-verse haiku’s but I still find the nature requirement of Basho a bit restrictive. Here are couple of samples of Basho’s haikus published in the 1680’s. See what you think.
Spring rain –
under trees
a crystal stream.
***
On the dead limb
squats a crow –
autumn night.
The structure of haikus as mentioned above were created by two poets, Sokan (1458-1546) and Moritake (1472-1549). In Basho’s opinion their works were terse but failed to adequately evoke nature. Three hundred years later a haiku school, the Soun, was opened celebrating Basho’s free-verse approach. The haiku should be based on content not on the number of syllables in each line. With this I whole heartedly agree.
Here is a little something I discovered recently. It’s shows the form of a free-verse haiku but was simply published as a standard poem. References to nature are gone offering a more interesting take on life, love, and people.
we are the dreamers
we are the dancers
life is the music
love is the song.
For all of you Star Trek fans out there, this was written some years ago by Leonard Nimoy and was included in his book of poetry “A Lifetime of Love” published in 2002.
“The true poet dreams being awake.”
Charles Lamb
I thought I’d start this year with a most interesting writer and poet, Edgar Allen Poe. I was introduced to him in high school way back in the days of covered wagons and wild Indians (that was sarcasm). His poetry was spooky, dark, and mysterious which drew me to it immediately. What 15-year-old kid wouldn’t love that? As with most school systems of the time they offered only a few of his writings for classroom work and discussion. The Raven stands as one of his greatest works and we were required to read and memorize certain passages to get a passing grade and then we moved on to other things. My second Poe favorite was Anabel Lee. A love story for the ages except Anabel doesn’t long survive the experience. The flow of his words in that poem grabbed me immediately and I was able to quote some of its passages for years and occasionally still do.
As I aged and was able to read more about Poe and his strange approach to life, the more attention I began to pay to poetry in general. I still think that actual world class poets are few and far between, but Poe was the real deal. Along with Emily Dickenson they are my two favorites. I especially liked Poe because he wrote what he felt and really did nothing to pander to the masses. In my opinion that’s what gives his works real meaning and weight.
Another of Poe’s works has slowly over the years made its way to the top of my favorites list, even more so than the Raven and Anabel Lee. I stumbled on to it quite by accident years ago and it has become one of those rare things that periodically calls to me to be read again. As with all of Poe’s poetry it’s best read while wrapped in a warm blanket on a dark and stormy night by candlelight.
ALONE
From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were – I have not seen
As others saw – I could not bring
My passions from a common spring –
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow – I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone –
And all I lov’d – I lov’d alone –
Then – in my childhood – in the dawn
Of a most stormy life – was drawn
From ev’ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still –
From the torrent, or the fountain –
From the red cliff of the mountain –
From the sun that ’round me roll’d
In its autumn tint of gold –
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by –
From the thunder, and the storm –
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.
1829
***
WELCOME TO 2024
Quote of the Day
“Three may keep a Secret if two of them are dead.”
Benjamin Franklin
🤪🤪🤪
Joke of the Day #1
The kindergarten class had a homework assignment to find out about something exciting that would be related to the class the next day. When the time came for the little kids to give their reports, the teacher began calling on them one at a time. She was reluctant to call on Little Johnny, knowing that he sometimes could be a little crude. Eventually his turn came, and Little Johnny walked up to the front of the class and, with a piece of chalk, made a small white dot on the blackboard, and then sat back down. Well, the teacher couldn’t figure out what Johnny had in mind for his report, so she asked him what that dot meant. “It’s a period,” reported Johnny. “Well, I can see that,” she said. “But what is so exciting about a period?” “Damned if I know,” said Johnny. “But this morning my sister said she missed one. Then my daddy had a heart attack, mommy fainted, and the man next door shot himself.”
☘️☘️☘️
Limerick of the Day
There was a young lady, named Frances,
Who decided to better her chances,
By cleverly adding
Appropriate padding,
To enlarge her protuberances!
🤡🤡🤡
Joke of the Day #2
News Flash: Today the world was stunned by the death of the Energizer Bunny. He was thirty six years old. Authorities believe that the death occurred at approximately 8:42 PM last evening. Best known as the irritating pink bunny that kept going, and going and going, “Pinkie” as he was known to his friends and family, was alone at the time of his death. An emergency autopsy was performed early this morning. Chief Medical Examiner, Dura Cell, concluded that the cause of death was acute cardiac arrest induced by sexual overstimulation. Apparently, someone put the bunny’s batteries in backwards and he kept coming, and coming, and coming . . .
🤗🤗🤗
Wisdom of the Day
Much learning does not teach understanding.
EMILY
***
I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along
The unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
Till ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime,
A chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
Then from each black, accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound
The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
And made forlorn
The households born
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
And in despair I bowed my head;
“There is no peace on earth,” I said;
“For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!”
Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
“God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men.”
