Amy's Place ... Poetry and Potpourri ... March, 2008

March 1, 2008 | JustAmy, St.Louie1, MamaBear, Billie

[JustAmy]

Welcome To....


'Amy's Place' welcomes all poets
and those who enjoy poetry.
'Amy's Place' is more than just about poetry.
Come in, relax, and share with fellow FReepers
your thoughts about any of the things on the *Menu*.

Enjoy! :)











Never Forget!





Bad Penny



Amy's personal guardian ~
the ever charming, lovable, huggable,
LouieWolf




Many thanks for stopping by. : )

[MEG33]

How pretty! Thank you jaycee..I sure hope my pruning works out!
We’ll have more fickle freezes here and see saw weather I am sure.

[MEG33]

;o
)I love that hug! I know the snow was so exciting.

[gardengirl]

How old is Marissa? (Pretty name, and I’m sure she lives up to it!) I remember those days.

If she’s asking, you must be doing something right! I told my mom when I was in first grade I was NOT wearing dresses to school! It interfered with my playground activities too much. :) Still don’t wear dresses much—never outgrew the tomboy stage!

[OESY]

Shall I Wasting in Despair

Shall I, wasting in despair,
Die because a woman’s fair?
Shall my cheeks look pale and fair,
Because another’s rosy are?
Be she fairer than the day,
or the flowrie meads of May;
Yet if she be not such to me,
What care I how fair she be?

Shall my foolish heart be pin’d
‘Cause I see a woman kind?
Or with a well-disposed nature,
Joined with a lovely feature?
Be she kind, or meeker than
Turtle-dove or pelican;
If she be not so to me,
What care I how kind she be?

Great, or good, or kind, or fair,
I will ne’er the more dispair
I she love me, this believe,
I will die ere she shall grieve.
If she slight me when I woo,
I can slight and let her go;
If she be not fit for me,
What care I for whom she be?

Shall a woman’s virtues move
Me to perish for her love?
Or her merits value known,
Make me quite forget mine own?
Be she with that goodness blest,
Which may gain her name of Best;
If she be not such to me,
What care I how good she be?

—From a manuscript in the Advocates’ Library, Edinburgh.
Also located in the Pepys Collection, and in “the Golden Garden of Princely Delights.”

NOTE: This song is thought to be the “Shall I Wasting” referred to in the Whiffenpoof Song.

.

[OESY]

KATHLEEN MAVOURNEEN, 1863
(Mavourneen is Irish, meaning my darling)

Kathleen, mavourneen, the grey dawn is breaking,
The horn of the hunter is heard on the hill.
The lark from her light wing the bright dew is shaking,
Kathleen, mavourneen, what! Slumbering still?

Oh, hast thou forgotten how soon we must sever?
Oh, hast thou forgotten this day we must part?
It may be for years, and it may be forever,
Then why art thou silent, thou voice of my heart?
It may be for years and it may be forever,
Then why art thou silent, Kathleen, mavourneen?

Kathleen, mavourneen, awake from thy slumbers,
The blue mountains glow in the sun’s golden light.
Ah! Where is the spell that once hung on thy numbers,
Arise in thy beauty, thou star of my night!

Mavourneen, mavourneen, my sad tears are falling,
To think that from Erin and thee I must part!
It may be for years, and it may be forever,
Then why art thou silent, thou voice of my heart?
It may be for years and it may be forever,
Then why art thou silent, Kathleen, mavourneen.

NOTE: This is the second tavern song referred to in
The Whiffenpoof Song--just in time for St. Patrick's Day.

.

[OESY]

In celebration of Hug A GI Day:




When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again,
Hurrah! Hurrah!
We’ll give him a hearty welcome then
Hurrah! Hurrah!
The men will cheer and the boys will shout
The ladies they will all turn out
And we’ll all feel gay,
When Johnny comes marching home.

The old church bell will peal with joy
Hurrah! Hurrah!
To welcome home our darling boy
Hurrah! Hurrah!
The village lads and lassies say
With roses they will strew the way,
And we’ll all feel gay
When Johnny comes marching home.

Get ready for the Jubilee,
Hurrah! Hurrah!
We’ll give the hero three times three,
Hurrah! Hurrah!
The laurel wreath is ready now
To place upon his loyal brow
And we’ll all feel gay
When Johnny comes marching home.

— History and words from Best Loved Songs of the American People

NOTE: This is generally credited to the Union Army bandmaster, Patrick S. Gilmore,
who wrote it in 1863. It is similar to the Irish song Johnny I Hardly Knew Ye (a tale
of a maimed soldier returning from war). Which version came first is debated.

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[NicknamedBob]

"Here’s a favorite poem of mine—NOT mine—and I don’t know where I got it, but I love it, and most important—I can remember it!"

You might enjoy this information. (I like to think all poets should be recognized for their efforts.)

Dorothy Francis Blomfield

[gardengirl]

Thanks so much, NicknamedBob! I’m the world’s worst for picking up bits and pieces and having no idea where I got them. I call it brain lint. Little factoids stick to my brain for whatever reason. It comes in really handy in trivia games!

One of my, and my children’s. fave children’s poems starts like this:

I’m hiding, I’m hiding and no one knows where...

i looked it up once. The deets I don’t remember, but it was written sometime around the end of the 1800’s.

[JustAmy]

Well Marissa is my granddaughter. She lives with us and is 8 years old. She thinks she is 18.

When she wears a dress, she knows the dress must have connected shorts or she wears biker type shorts.

Right now we are having hair style issues.



When I part her hair, she re-does it with a comb-over.
She tells me it is to cover her bald spot.
I tell her it is not a bald spot, it is a part.
Does she listen to me? ...... NO! She is convinced it is a bald spot.

[JustAmy]

Ahhhh .... poor guy. Sounds like he has Spring Fever.

Thanks for sharing.

[NicknamedBob]

"I’m hiding, I’m hiding and no one knows where..."

i looked it up once. The deets I don’t remember, but it was written sometime around the end of the 1800’s.

"I'm hiding, and no one knows where ..."

[gardengirl]

Gdaughter—wow! Love my gbaby but don’t think I’m up to chasing a toddler around again.

Both my boys insisted on crew cuts. Hubby had to have them when he was growing up/hated them. Shaking head.

Daughter was no problem—just didn’t want me brushing her hair. Anyone else was fine.

I always kept my hair so short it didn’t have to be brushed. Just shake my head and go. Now it’s past the pockets of my jeans. Go figure. If I ever cut it again, that’s it!

Did you find any dresses? Everythng is so grownup looking now, and most of it looks like it came from a hooker’s yard sale. I made a lot of Jessa’s clothes, and thank God, we never fought about what she wore. She has a much better fashion sense than her mom. I’m strictly a jeans and t shirt kinda girl. LOL

[gardengirl]

Thanks again! That’s it, except our copy is a dark orange. Part of a larger set—I have no idea where I picked the book up. I’m a great one for library book sales, etc. I’ll have to go dig it out of the attic. Gbaby is starting to show interest in books. That book has some great poetry in it. Very catchy, good rhythms, sort of like Dr. Suess.

[JustAmy]

I found 2 skirts that are long enough that she can wear to church. I also found 3 cute skorts (I think that is what they are called.) She goes to afterschool today for some folkdance lessons. We will pick her up at 5:00. I’m anxious to see what she thinks of them. She usually likes whatever I buy but she has surprised me a couple of times by telling me that she will wear it later. : ) I got the hint.

[gardengirl]

Here’s the poem:

Hiding
Dorothy Aldis
I’m hiding I’m hiding
And no one knows where;
For all they can see is my
Toes and my hair.

And I just heard my father
Say to my mother -
“But, darling, he must be
Somewhere or other;”

“Have you looked in the inkwell?”
And Mother said, “Where?”
“In the inkwell” said Father. But
I was not there.

Then “Wait!” cried my mother -
“I think that I see
Him under the carpet.” But
It was not me.
“Inside the mirror’s
A pretty good place,”
Said Father and looked, but saw
Only his face.

“We’ve hunted,” sighed Mother,
“As hard as we could
And I am so afraid that we’ve
Lost him for good.”

Then I laughed out aloud
And I wiggled my toes
And Father said - “Look, dear,
I wonder if those

“Toes could be Benny’s?
There are ten of them, see?
And they were so surprised to find
Out it was me!

Found it! Thw whole book is like that—childcraft series.
Come to think of it, the poems are very much like yours! Wonderful, catchy, evocative.

[gardengirl]

I hate to buy clothes for myself, much less anyone else. Hope she likes them. I taught Jessa to sew when she was little little. She hasn’t done any sewing in ages, but when she was about fourish, she drove us crazy with wanting to. She would even go through the motions of threading needles in her sleep.

[NicknamedBob]

"Found it! Thw whole book is like that—childcraft series.
Come to think of it, the poems are very much like yours!"

I haven't tried much to write poems for children, but here's one some grandchildren might enjoy.

I wrote it just a little bit late for last Halloween.

The Lot Of It

I went Trick or Treating,
In the strangest part of town.
The roads climbed upward gradually,
But none of them went down.

The last place that I went to,
Had a really fancy gate.
With iridescent shell-like stuff,
It really was ornate.

An old man stood attending as,
I held my bag outstretched,
He glanced at what was in the sack,
With the smile of someone “tetched”.

“I don’t have any gifts for you.
You seem to have wandered a bit,
But seeing the goodies you’ve gotten so far,
I’ll trade for the lot of it.”

Well, I’d eaten the best of the candies,
What remained didn’t matter too much,
I wondered what thing he’d be willing to trade,
This gent who was so out of touch.

So when he held out a halo,
I tendered the bag in return,
For here was a wonderful offering,
That I wasn’t quite sure I could earn.

It sure wouldn’t fit on my head-bone,
For it kept slipping down to my chest.
But I happily swapped all my candy,
As a halo in hand would be best.

I could show it with pride to my mother,
Who had thought I’d amount to no good.
And I’d certainly get some attention,
From the girls in my neighborhood.

The next thing I knew I was standing,
Right back in my own front yard.
The halo I got makes me happy,
‘Cause being that good is real hard!

NicknamedBob . . . . . November 1, 2007

[JustAmy]

Ohhh ... she loved everything. Well I did buy her 3 Hannah Montana shirts .... that won her over. She has already chosen the one she will wear tomorrow.

[gardengirl]

Perfect! You are so talented!

I may not be able to pop out great poems like you do, but i
know great ones when I read them, and yours are great!

What’s the one about Sam Magee?

[gardengirl]

Great! i’m out of the loop, I’m afraid. i have a vague idea who HM is—have a 10 year old niece. When mine were little it was Inspector Gadget and—shudder—Barney.