Rain

I opened my eyes

And looked up at the rain,

And it dripped in my head

And flowed into my brain,

And all that I hear as I lie in my bed

Is the slishity-slosh of the rain in my head.

I step very softly,

I walk very slow,

I can't do a handstand--

I might overflow,

So pardon the wild crazy thing I just said--

I'm just not the same since there's rain in my head.

Shel Silverstein

I love that poem, and it was perfect for last evening.  After several warm sunny days, a storm came in.  The skies turned black with clouds, next came rain, and then the thunder started.  It felt like it was rattling the entire house.  A perfect night for staying in my cozy home! 

The Vintage Moth Giveaway and a poem for today...

Abbie at The Vintage Moth is having a giveaway!  Go HERE to enter the giveaway for some gorgeous prints!  Abbie is one of those generous people who is constantly posting free images for you to use in your artwork.  The first image in the set is there for you to take and use.  It's beautiful!  I already have plans for using it.  The drawing is on Monday, the 19th, so get your name in now!

~   ~   ~

Continuing with Poetry Month, I selected one of Louisa May Alcott's.  It's a reflection on the death of a special lady.  It reminds me of great ladies I have known.  They were all Queens in their own way...

Transfiguration by Louisa May Alcott

Mysterious death! who in a single hour
Life's gold can so refine
And by thy art divine
Change mortal weakness to immortal power!

Bending beneath the weight of eighty years
Spent with the noble strife
of a victorious life
We watched her fading heavenward, through our tears.

But ere the sense of loss our hearts had wrung
A miracle was wrought;
And swift as happy thought
She lived again -- brave, beautiful, and young.

Age, pain, and sorrow dropped the veils they wore
And showed the tender eyes
Of angels in disguise,
Whose discipline so patiently she bore.

The past years brought their harvest rich and fair;
While memory and love,
Together, fondly wove
A golden garland for the silver hair.

How could we mourn like those who are bereft,
When every pang of grief
found balm for its relief
In counting up the treasures she had left?--

Faith that withstood the shocks of toil and time;
Hope that defied despair;
Patience that conquered care;
And loyalty, whose courage was sublime;

The great deep heart that was a home for all--
Just, eloquent, and strong
In protest against wrong;
Wide charity, that knew no sin, no fall;

The spartan spirit that made life so grand,
Mating poor daily needs
With high, heroic deeds,
That wrested happiness from Fate's hard hand.

We thought to weep, but sing for joy instead,
Full of the grateful peace
That follows her release;
For nothing but the weary dust lies dead.

Oh, noble woman! never more a queen
Than in the laying down
Of sceptre and of crown
To win a greater kingdom, yet unseen;

Teaching us how to seek the highest goal,
To earn the true success --
To live, to love, to bless --
And make death proud to take a royal soul.

Poetry and Simple Joys

 

The poem I chose today, Where the Sidewalk Ends, takes me back to childhood; the simplicity of it.  I can vividly remember the sidewalk I followed, on my way to first grade.  There were places where the smooth continuity of the pavement was disrupted by the crumbling of age; or the intrusion of some massive tree root that had pushed it's way under the squares of cement.  This caused a sudden rise, and tall grass grew in the resulting cracks.  I was fascinated by the power nature had in undoing what man had laid down.

Many of my favorite places to play were where sidewalks ended.  I loved walking the dirt road that stretched behind our house.  There were fields on each side.  In the spring, I could see the faint green shoots coming up through the dirt.  Tall grass and weeds grew along the ditch-bank.  Occasionally, a pheasant would shoot from it's cover, colors vibrant against the blue sky.  There were sounds of civilization in the distance; the drone of a mower or a tractor, the hum of a car or two speeding by; a neighboring farmer's dog barking; and occasionally, my Grandma's voice lifted in a song or a yodel.

Sitting in the long grasses at the end of the road, I let my imagination run.  I traveled far away lands and had amazing adventures.  There were lions and elephants, gypsies and pirates.  As I look out the window just behind this desk, I see a well established neighborhood.  There are rules and regulations that must be followed to live here.  The sidewalks are strictly maintained.  No long grasses or weeds are allowed.  Everything must be precisely manicured.  I do understand the need for this, but once in a while I long for those wild places.  The places where imagination ran free, where lions and gypsies walked among us. 

   

Where the Sidewalk Ends 

by Shel Silverstein

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,

And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.


 

I hope you enjoyed traveling back in time with me.  Poetry month has caused me to search my mind for poems that meant something to me.  I love this poem. I love thinking about the simple joys of childhood.  

Now before I forget, please feel free to take the image and use it.  It came to me from Dover Publications as a royalty free image.  Click on the it to enlarge, then right click, and save to your computer.

Wishing you a gorgeous springtime afternoon!

Childhood

As children, we viewed life differently than seen through our eyes as adults.  In that child world, imagination plays an important role.  We pretend to hear things which are impossible to hear; we feign understanding of  the language of nature, the voices of flowers.  We are caught up in a web of unreality... or are we?

Forgotten Language

Once I spoke the language of the flowers,
Once I understood each word the caterpillar said,
Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings,
And shared a conversation with the housefly in my bed.
Once I heard and answered all the questions of the crickets,
And joined the crying of each falling dying flake of snow,
Once I spoke the language of the flowers. . . .
How did it go?
How did it go?

Shel Silverstein


A big "Thank You" to Dawn of The Feathered Nest for the use of this image! Visit her beautiful blog for more images and some great decorating ideas among other things!

Springtime

I love listening to the end of 60 Minutes each Sunday... the rambling thoughts of Andy Rooney.  This week he was admonishing us, and himself, against the impulse to look too far forward.  On some program, he'd heard the announcer say that Summer was just around the corner.  To this, Andy pointed out that Summer does not begin until June 21st... weeks away from now... not "around the corner"  as quoted. 

When we think too far forward, we forget the many random pleasures of today.  This day, the air is cold, crisp, and the sky is overcast.  There are Robins in my yard, and other various birds are flitting back and forth
from the nests they have built.  There are songs and bird calls in the air.  My tulips are near to perfection.  The trees in the lane are covered with tiny white flowers.  I don't want to look forward so much that I miss this moment in time.  Following is a poem by Robert Frost, that describes the pleasures of Spring:

A Prayer in Spring 

by Robert Frost

Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers to-day;
And give us not to think so far away
As the uncertain harvest; keep us here
All simply in the springing of the year.

Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white,
Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night;
And make us happy in the happy bees,
The swarm dilating round the perfect trees.

And make us happy in the darting bird
That suddenly above the bees is heard,
The meteor that thrusts in with needle bill,
And off a blossom in mid air stands still.

For this is love and nothing else is love,
The which it is reserved for God above
To sanctify to what far ends He will,
But which it only needs that we fulfil.

I hope you will take the time to enjoy this day, this moment.  Breath it all in.  Let it fill your senses to overflowing.  Let your spirit dance the happy dance of Spring.

Life Looks Better Today...

I know my last post was very sad... There are reasons.  One of them... my husband received an email from a dear friend yesterday.  Her husband has been battling Pancreatic Cancer for the past year or so.  He is now in the last stages.  Even in his weakened state, he typed a short note in the email asking everyone to pray for his wife to have strength and comfort.  That is a true example of the kind of people they are.  Caring, loving Christians, who put others before themselves.  Please pray for them, pray for their children...

And, while you are praying, please remember Pam Warden and her husband John, and their children and grandchildren.  You can visit Pam at Pam Warden Art and at Faith Folk Cafe.

I had uplifting messages from Pam yesterday and even late into the night.  With all she is dealing with, she took the time to reach out to me.  I've also had two phone calls from my dear Margie D.  She's the lady who always knew when something was going on in my Grandma's life.  The phone would ring, and it would be Margie saying "I've been prayin' on you... what's going on?"  She had a spirit connection with Grandma.  They had been friends for many years.  She has now connected with me.  Her phone calls come just when I need them!  Another friend chatted with me online into the wee hours... I am so blessed!

I hope each of you have those kind of special friendships in your life.  Dear friends who are there when they are most needed!  I want to leave you on a happy note... in honor of Poetry Month, here is a favorite of mine:

The Top Step in the Hotel in Junin

by Jimmy Stewart

The top step in the hotel in Junin is mean.

Like the Devil is mean.

And it lies at the top of the other steps,

So quiet, so still, so serene.

But this top step has something quite special,

A very ingenious device:

It's half an inch higher than the other steps,

A whole inch to be more precise.

And it uses this inch as a weapon,

The guests of the place to harass:

For when you reach the third floor

of that hotel in Junin,

The top step trips you right on your ass.

Now I've had my share of knocks on the head,

I've felt enemy gunfire in war.

But if you want my opinion of what's really bad,

I'll be glad to give you the score.

Of all the degrading, inhuman, mean things,

That I in my life have yet seen,

The gross, most despicable one of them all

Is the top step in the hotel in Junin.

This poem makes me laugh.  The only thing better than reading it, would be hearing Jimmy Stewart reciting it.  I'm sure his distinctive voice would have given it an even funnier edge.

Finally, I leave you with a bumper sticker quote my husband sent me a few minutes ago.  I don't put much thought into end times, I try to live my best each day just for the challenge of it.  But this one had me laughing out loud:

Jesus is Coming...
Look Busy!

April Is The Cruelest Month...

I just read a post by Inland Empire Girl.  It was on the loss and hope that April brings.  I couldn't help but remember that April brought loss to my life, more than once.  It has often felt cruel. It's a month tinged with sadness along with the joy of the coming warmth and beauty. 

It was always puzzling to me why someone would "go" just when the promise of springtime had arrived.  Perhaps they could see a much brighter "springtime" with their spirit eyes.  For some, I know it was not a choice.  That made it harder... sitting on the steps, missing a sweet friend, and hearing the songbirds continue to sing.  I can only hope as those dear ones left this life for the next, they were accompanied by anthems of hope... starting with the songbirds and ending with them being greeted by a Heavenly chorus. 

May April bring you hope for brighter days...

The Brenda Photo Challenge - Black & White

It's time for another Brenda Photo Challenge.  To see my entries, go Here.  To see all the other entries, go to Brenda Photo Challenge.

It's been a crazy week.  Haven't had time to post any more poetry.  Will try to get back on track in a day or so.  Until then...

A Most Happy and Blessed Easter to All!

I wish each of you the joy of family, faith, friends, and love.

Feel free to copy this image.  It's free clip art, compliments of Dover Publications. 

Since this is National Poetry Month, I am making an effort to post some poetry.  I hoped to post one daily, but I'll be content if I post twice a week. 

Here is an old, but beautiful poem. 

Easter by Edmund Spenser

MOST glorious Lord of Lyfe! that, on this day,
Didst make Thy triumph over death and sin;
And, having harrowd hell, didst bring away
Captivity thence captive, us to win:
This joyous day, deare Lord, with joy begin;
And grant that we, for whom thou diddest dye,
Being with Thy deare blood clene washt from sin,
May live for ever in felicity!

And that Thy love we weighing worthily,
May likewise love Thee for the same againe;
And for Thy sake, that all lyke deare didst buy,
With love may one another entertayne!
So let us love, deare Love, lyke as we ought,
--Love is the lesson which the Lord us taught.

I leave you with that thought... 

Love is the lesson which the Lord us taught... Beautiful!

A Most Happy and Blessed Easter to All!

Roberts Family Article & Video

I wanted to share an article that features my family. There is a photo of the grandparents who raised my sister and I.  There is also a video with my uncle and cousins talking about our family.  It was a lot of fun listening to the video clip.  I hope you enjoy it.

Idaho Press-Tribune Cavalcade - Roberts Legacy

Posted using ShareThis 

~        ~       ~

April is National Poetry Month.  I was reminded when I went to visit one of my favorite blogs, Inland Empire Girl. Click on the name to visit her.  I doubt I will get a poem posted each day, but I'll try for a few.  I do love poetry of all kinds.  I selected two in honor of the unpredictable springtime weather.  I'll start with Emily Dickinson.

Nature

LXXX

The sky is low, the clouds are mean,

A travelling flake of snow

Across a barn or through a rut

Debates if it will go.

A narrow wind complains all day

How some one treated him;

Nature, like us, is sometimes caught 

Without her diadem.

(Free Image from The Graphics Fairy)

And, one from Robert Louis Stevenson,
for the child in us...

Rain

The rain is raining all around,

It falls on field and tree,

It rains on the umbrellas here,

And on the ships at sea.