Amy's Place .. Poetry and Potpourri .. May 2-3-4-5, 2005

5-2-05 | 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 always charming, lovable, huggable,
LouieWolf




Many thanks for stopping by. : )

[JustAmy]

Happy Monday, Meekie. I started at the end of the thread instead of the beginning this time. :)

[JustAmy]

Good evening, OESY.

Hope your Monday was great.

Sorry that I missed most of the day. Hope to see you tomorrow. Have a terrific Tuesday.

[JustAmy]

You've posted another wonderful collection of Bush/Cheney pictures. Thank you!! Do you have all of the photos saved? I'm impressed.

Thank you for sharing these on Brothers and Sisters Day.

Have a Terrific Tuesday.

[JustAmy]

What a wonderful picture. Thank you for sharing it with us, OESY.

Let us not forget our brothers and sisters who protect our freedoms.

[JustAmy]

Good evening, Mayor.

Thank you for bringing us Our Daily Bread and coffee this morning.

The scriptures you bring help us get started on the right path every morning.

[JustAmy]

5-2-05
Graphic by Billie

A Spectrum in Black and White

The light that shines inside your mind, puts color in your world.
A kaleidoscopic maelstrom which will leave your senses whirled.
Great adventures, and great beasts, excite the youthful mind,
And thrilling places never seen, are waiting here to find.

Come on aboard! The train of thought awaits each lad and lass,
And every time we turn a page, we find a boarding pass.
The world is here, as seen by those exciting minds we know,
So settle down, get comfortable, and let us start the show.

NicknamedBob . . . . . . . . . . . . . August 15, 2004
© 2004

[JustAmy]

[JustAmy]

WHOSE CHILD IS THIS?
-Author Unknown-

"Whose child is this?" I asked one day
Seeing a little one out at play
"Mine", said the parent with a tender smile
"Mine to keep a little while
To bathe his hands and comb his hair
To tell him what he is to wear
To prepare him that he may always be good
And each day do the things he should"

"Whose child is this?" I asked again
As the door opened and someone came in
"Mine", said the teacher with the same tender smile
"Mine, to keep just for a little while
To teach him how to be gentle and kind
To train and direct his dear little mind
To help him live by every rule
And get the best he can from school"

"Whose child is this?" I ask once more
Just as the little one entered the door
"Ours" said the parent and the teacher as they smiled
And each took the hand of the little child
"Ours to love and train together
Ours this blessed task forever."


Happy Teacher Day!

[Alamo-Girl]

Thank y'all for this beautiful poem and graphic!

[DollyCali]

for those who have perhaps lost siblings along the way. The one poem that "stuck" with me after school.

We Are Seven

William Wordsworth (1770–1850)
 
 
A SIMPLE Child,	
That lightly draws its breath,	
And feels its life in every limb,	
What should it know of death?	
 
I met a little cottage Girl:	        5
She was eight years old, she said;	
Her hair was thick with many a curl	
That clustered round her head.	
 
She had a rustic, woodland air,	
And she was wildly clad:	        10
Her eyes were fair, and very fair;	
—Her beauty made me glad.	
 
‘Sisters and brothers, little Maid,	
How many may you be?’	
‘How many? Seven in all,’ she said,	        15
And wondering looked at me.	
 
‘And where are they? I pray you tell.’	
She answered, ‘Seven are we;	
And two of us at Conway dwell,	
And two are gone to sea.	        20
 
‘Two of us in the church-yard lie,	
My sister and my brother;	
And, in the church-yard cottage, I	
Dwell near them with my mother.’	
 
‘You say that two at Conway dwell,	        25
And two are gone to sea,	
Yet ye are seven!—I pray you tell,	
Sweet Maid, how this may be.’	
 
Then did the little Maid reply,	
‘Seven boys and girls are we;	        30
Two of us in the church-yard lie,	
Beneath the church-yard tree.’	
 
‘You run above, my little Maid,	
Your limbs they are alive;	
If two are in the church-yard laid,	        35
Then ye are only five.’	
 
‘Their graves are green, they may be seen,’	
The little Maid replied,	
‘Twelve steps or more from my mother’s door,	
And they are side by side.	        40
 
‘My stockings there I often knit,	
My kerchief there I hem;	
And there upon the ground I sit,	
And sing a song to them.	
 
‘And often after sun-set, Sir,	        45
When it is light and fair,	
I take my little porringer,	
And eat my supper there.	
 
‘The first that died was sister Jane;	
In bed she moaning lay,	        50
Till God released her of her pain;	
And then she went away.	
 
‘So in the church-yard she was laid;	
And, when the grass was dry,	
Together round her grave we played,	        55
My brother John and I	
 
‘And when the ground was white with snow,	
And I could run and slide,	
My brother John was forced to go,	
And he lies by her side.’	        60
 
‘How many are you, then,’ said I,	
‘If they two are in heaven?’	
Quick was the little Maid’s reply,	
‘O Master! we are seven.’	
 
‘But they are dead; those two are dead!	        65
Their spirits are in heaven!’	
’Twas throwing words away; for still	
The little Maid would have her will,	
And said, ‘Nay, we are seven!’

[JustAmy]

Unity
-Ray A. Lingenfelter-

I dreamed I stood in a studio
And watched two sculptors there,
The clay they used was a young child’s mind
And they fashioned it with care.

One was a teacher:
the tools she used were books and music and art;
One was a parent
With a guiding hand and gentle loving heart.

And when at last their work was done,
They were proud of what they had wrought.
For the things they had worked into the child
Could never be sold or bought!

And each agreed she would have failed
if she had worked alone.
For behind the parent stood the school,
and behind the teacher stood the home!

[JustAmy]

[JustAmy]

Thank you, A-G

We are celebrating Teacher Day. This seemed like a good day to re-run the Graphic and the Poem.

Hope your day is perfect.

[JustAmy]

That is a wonderful poem in rememberance of lost siblings.

Thank you for sharing it, Dolly!

Hope your Tuesday is terrific.

[JustAmy]

[DollyCali]

What a complete hoot

commonoverhere Polly & MamaB so we can hiss meet you.

Actually no one here will hiss at you . in fact Woolfie might give you a first class welcome with a wolfe whistle...if he visits.

Polly is a long time lurker who finally registered & jumped into the frying pan at the trash/defend Laura thread yesterday.(actually I just checked, it is still going on) HERE

MamaB, I did NOT intend to put the poem in the "Laura" thread.(yet alone twice - yikes) I intended it for here with the ping to you here.. but messed up in my hurry to leave for evening. I know you are a bit blue over the loss of your daughter(angel) Jan & Amy had shared she lost her younger sister... Lots of common threads & opportunities for love & sharing at FR...as well as places to spur, if that is one's thing.

{{{{{ MamaB }}}}}

[DollyCali]

School Days
School Day
Good Ol Fashiom Rule Days
Readin N Ritin' N Rithmatic
Taught to the tune of
A Hickory stick... 

School Day Memories

I used to be a pedagog of country school degree,
I used to spank the towsled kid across my bended knee, 
I used to teach some thirty brats for six months in the year 
And sweep the floor and build the fires for forty dollars per.
      
I sit today and weave these rhymes and thank my lucky stars 
I do not have to hunt for verbs for busy brains to parse, 
I do not eat cold lunch at noon and wade the mud and snow; 
I gave up all those dreary things a dozen years ago.
 
And yet, when summer days are gone and autumn comes apace, 
An impulse springs within my soul, usurping reason's place. 
The sun is slanting to the south, the days are clear and cool 
And something seems to tell me that I'd like to teach a school.
      
A vision flits across my mind___a school house small and white, 
With many a knot hole in the wall and broken window light,
      
A lane that came up from the south, with sunflower,  blooming high 
And tufts of yellow goldenrod, delightful to the eye
 
I like to think those boys and girls who gathered round my knee 
Are better men and women now for going to school to me 
And as they rise to conquer in this world of smile and   strife 
I only hope I had a part in helping them through life
 
It seems as years go floating by on wings so sure and fleet 
There s something blots the bitter out and leaves me all the sweet; 
For memory can't be trusted if once we give her rein
She brings us all our pleasures back and buries all our pain.

 

Verdigris Valley Verse
Albert Stroud
(Coffeyville, Kansas: The Journal Press. 1917)
Page 98 

[DollyCali]

(been around a bit, but in case you missed it.. why teachers have a "tough" time..?)

Why you can't spell.


If you ever feel stupid, then just read on. If you've learned to speak fluent English, you must be a genius! This little treatise on the lovely language we share is only for the brave. Pursue at your leisure, English lovers. Reasons why the English language is so hard to learn:

1) The bandage was wound around the wound.
2) The farm was used to produce produce.
3) The dump was so full that it had to refuse more refuse.
4) We must polish the Polish furniture.
5) He could lead if he would get the lead out.
6) The soldier decided to desert his dessert in the desert..
7) Since there is no time like the present, he thought it was time to present the present.
8) A bass was painted ! on the head of the bass drum.
9) When shot at, the dove dove into the bushes.
10) I did not object to the object.
11) The insurance was invalid for the invalid.
12) There was a row among the oarsmen about how to row.
13) They wer! e too close to the door to close it.
14) The buck does funny things when the does are present.
15) A seamstress and a sewer fell down into a sewer line.
16) To help with planting, the farmer taught his sow to sow.
17) The wind was too strong to wind the sail
18) After a number of injections my jaw got number.
19) Upon seeing the tear in the painting I shed a tear.
20) I had to subject the subject to a series of tests.
21) How can I intimate this to my most intimate friend?

There is no egg in eggplant nor ham in hamburger; neither apple nor pine in pineapple. English muffins weren't invented in England or French fries in France(Surprise!). Sweetmeats are candies while! sweetbreads, ! which aren't sw! eet, are meat.

Quicksand works slowly, boxing r ings are square and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea or is it a pig. And why is it that writers write but fingers don't fing, grocers don't groce and hammers don't ham?

If the plural of tooth is teeth, why isn't the plural of booth beeth? One goose, 2 geese. So one moose, 2 meese? Does! n't it seem crazy that you can make amends but not one amend. If you have a bunch of odds and ends and get rid of all but one of them, what do you call it? Is it an odd, or an end?

If teachers taught, why didn't preachers praught? If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat? In what language do people recite at a play and play at a recital? Ship by truck and send cargo by ship? Have noses that run and feet that smell?

How can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a wise man and a wise guy are opposites? You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language in which your house can burn up as ! it burns down, in which you fill in a form by fi! lling it out, and in which, an alarm goes off by going on.

English was invented by people, not computers, and it reflects the creativity of the human race, which, of course, is not a race at all. That is why, when the stars are out, they are visible, but when the lights are out, they are invisible.

P.S. - Why doesn't "Buick" rhyme with "quick"?

[MeekOneGOP]

Oh, good. :)

[MeekOneGOP]

Mornin', everybody ! Happy Monday!

52 degrees right now, headin' for 61 today. Rain likely.