Amy's Place .. Poetry and Potpourri .. June 17-18-19, 2005

6-17-05 | JustAmy, St.Louie1, MamaBear, Billie

[JustAmy]

Happy Saturday!

Lori ..... thank you for this beautiful Welcome Graphic.

CG ..... Thank you for this wonderful Welcome Poem.

I enjoy seeing them again.

[JustAmy]

Happy Saturday, Valerie. MamaBear, Conspiracy Guy and I thank you. :)

We've missed seeing your beautiful pictures. Hope you will share more with us soon.

[Alamo-Girl]

I'm wishing you a happy Saturday, too, JustAmy!

[ValerieUSA]

Here ya go! Have some blue

[DollyCali]

sweet juggler.. that has been the story of my past few years (not sweet) but juggling things like crazy. A day like that today..

and my head is exploding which makes juggling a LOT tougher.might cancel dinner/movie plans for tonight if it doesn't improve.

i have enjoyed seeing the graphics & funny thoughts... always a mode elevator to visit Amy's place!!!!

[JustAmy]

Wow ....... Those are lovely flowers, Valerie and that picture is absolutely beautiful. What kind of flowers are they? I don't think I've ever seen any like that.

Thank you for sharing with us.

[JustAmy]

Good afternoon, Dolly.
Happy Saturday.

Hope your day improves;
maybe another silly juggling day cartoon will help?

[Victoria Delsoul]

Happy Juggling Day, everybody.

[Victoria Delsoul]

Hi Mayor. Thanks for your post.

Hope things are going well with your campaign.

[JustAmy]

What is a Garden
by Reginald Arkell

What is a garden?
Goodness knows!
You've got a garden,
I suppose:

To one it is a piece of ground
For which some gravel must be found.
To some, those seeds that must be sown,
To some a lawn that must be mown.
To some a ton of Cheddar rocks;
To some it means a window-box;
To some, who dare not pick a flower-
A man, at three-and-six an hour.
To some, it is a silly jest
About the latest garden pest;
To some, a haven where they find
Forgetfulness and peace of mind....

What is a garden?
Large or small,
'Tis just a garden,
After all.

[Temple Owl]

The Most Beautiful Flower

The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read
Beneath the long, straggly branches of an old willow tree
Disillusioned by life with good reason to frown 
For the world was intent on dragging me down. 

And if that weren't enough to ruin my day,
A young boy out of breath approached me,  all tired from play.
He stood right before me with his head tilted down 
And said with great excitement, "Look what I  found!" 

In his hand was a flower, and what a pitiful sight, 
With its petals all worn - not enough rain, or too little light. 
Wanting him to take his dead flower and go off to play,
I faked a small smile and then shifted away. 

But instead of retreating he sat next to my side
And placed the flower to his nose 
And declared with overacted  surprise, 
"It sure smells pretty and it's beautiful, too.
That's why I picked it; here, it's for you." 

The weed before me was dying or dead. 
No vibrant colors: orange, yellow or red.
But I knew I must take it, or he might never leave. 
So I reached for the flower and replied.  "Just what I need." 

But instead of him placing the flower in my hand, 
He held it mid-air without reason or plan. 
It was then that I noticed for the very first time 
That weed-toting boy could not see: he was blind. 

I heard my voice quiver; tears shone in the sun 
As I thanked him for picking the very best one. 
Through the eyes of a blind child, at last I could see 
The problem was not with the world; the problem was me. 

And for all of those times I myself had been blind, 
I vowed to see the beauty in life,
And appreciate every second that's mine. 
And then I held that wilted flower up to my nose 
and breathed in the fragrance of a beautiful rose 
And smiled as I watched that young boy, 
Another weed in his hand, 
About to change the life of an unsuspecting old man. 
Author: Cheryl L. Costello-Forshe

[JustAmy]

Good evening, Victoria.

I left to join the family for dinner and missed your post.

Hope you had a relaxing Saturday.

Happy Juggling Day.

[JustAmy]

Good evening, Temple Owl.

That is a lovely poem and a beautiful story. I'm saving it to use at some future date. Thank you for sharing it with us.

Hope you are having a wonderful weekend.

[JustAmy]

6-19-05
Graphic by MamaBear

Dads

Dads are not the speciallest things that ever came to be,
They only seem to be that way to everyone, and me.
My own dad was a giant, when I was two feet tall,
But as I grew, he never seemed to get to being small.

I learned new ways to measure. Wish I could measure up.
Best I could do was making sure that I drank from his cup.
He never had an enemy, because he was a friend.
Whoever needed help somehow he had it there to lend.

He was not a wealthy man. He worked hard just to get by,
And when someone had a challenge he said, “Let’s give it a try.”
He never feared a failure. He knew we learned that way,
He made sure that he could look proudly on his day.

He gave me living lessons, in what to do and be.
He knew just by being there he’d make a man of me.
I know that there are places, where fathers have gone by,
That’s why when someone needs me I say, “Let’s give it a try.”

I show them what I learned from him, and why I cared so much,
And why I know that every child still needs a father’s touch.
So if you can please try to put your arms around your Dad,
And tell him he’s the best one any kid has ever had.


NicknamedBob . . . . . . . . . . June 19, 2004
© 2004 - 2005

[JustAmy]

Graphic by MamaBear

Dad

I didn’t buy you flowers,
No candy or a card.
Picking out a gift for you,
Is really very hard.
What gift would say what I feel,
About just who you are?
You worked two jobs to feed us,
You let me wreck the car.
You picked our mom, made a home,
For all of that, “Thank you.”
I hope, I have made you proud,
I hope regrets are few.
There is one thing you should know,
I haven’t told you yet.
It seems the older I become,
The more like you I get.
Happy Father’s Day, to you,
Just one more thing I'll say.
Love you Dad, but not enough,
To wear my hair that way.

Conspiracy Guy 6/17/04
aka DIF © 2004 - 2005

[JustAmy]

Graphic by MamaBear

Dad Comes Home

When Dad comes home it’s Holiday, just any time of year.
My Daddy makes me glad to see him when he’s here.
I think my Mom gets jealous, because I make a fuss,
But heck, I’ve got her all the time, and Dad comes home to Us!!

I greet him at the doorway. I like to get a hug.
I’d run to get there quicker but I stumble on the rug.
But Daddy always catches me, he watches me real good,
And I’d go off with him to work, at least, I wish I could.

But I must stay with Mommy, we need to practice smile,
So that we will be ready when he comes back after while.
It is a game like peek-a-boo. We play it every day.
We have to do it all the time. He’s not so good at play.

NicknamedBob . . . . . . . . . June 19,2004
© 2004 - 2005

[JustAmy]

Graphic by MamaBear

Happy 27th Birthday, Garfield!

[JustAmy]

Happy Birthday, Darks!!
Hope you enjoy a fun day.

[JustAmy]

Happy 4th FR Anniversary, Aquamarine.
We are happy that you are a part of our FR Family.

[JustAmy]

Graphic by MamaBear

Butterfly

What’s in those flowers that you sip,
That makes you seem so tipsy?
We can’t tell if you’re coming from,
Albany or Poughkeepsie,

Or even if you’re going to,
One place or the other.
The way you travel seems to be,
You’re looking for your mother!

Just as a toddler wanders round,
With no fixed course in sight,
The butterfly flits both here and yon,
In most erratic flight.

It seems so inefficient,
Why can’t you just hold still?
And then you stop, and fold your wings,
Upon a daffodil.

You daintily step forward,
“I haven’t touched a drop!”
And just as sober as a Judge,
You spread your wings and FLOP!

And Flip, and Flap, and bounce.
A goonie in reverse.
How can you be so comical?
I know you don’t rehearse.

And yet you get where you must go,
God knows how you can do it.
Perhaps the use of folded hands,
And faith just leads you to it.

By NicknamedBob . . . . March 30, 2004
© 2004 - 2005