Old Mrs Stanley a Poem Out Of The Early 60s
She sits on her porch and knits in the mornings, bending at the windowsill, with those old, old waxed fingers, you can almost see those old perturbing veins from where I stand, she's just smiling away-looking up and down Cayuga Street, checking out the boys and girls, the gang: my old neighbor, and widow, at ninety-three, Mrs. Stanley. When noon comes around, she'll switch windows, pull back the curtain, in the kitchen, spoon in her soup; check out the birds in her birdbath, splashing water all about, she bought it after her husband passed on, perhaps from boredom. She doesn't care if I'm looking over the fence, to see her looking back, I'm just a teenagers, wet behind the ears, a neighborhood fact, a dupe.
His Design
Design is a place. Design is to say. Design is this beauty, one sees on its way. Design always tries; never disguise. Design can afford... wisdom it buys. Design is for you. Design is for me. Questions can lock; design is that key! Away from those lies; purpose it cries! Design is a thought... when feelings arise! Relish its truth and structure it brings. Value the songs of worth that it sings! A lily, a baby; the colors we see. Dreams that we have... for all we can be! Design is that light; design is so bright. Design loves its day and shines in that night. Design will hold hands with purpose to claim.
Come To Me Killjoy - Criticize And Control Me
Come to me killjoy Show me your foul ploy To rob and steal my joy Take away my every toy To wickedly control me Conform me to your image Put me in your pitiful box Teach and tell me how to talk Mold me until I am no more Unauthentic as you to the core Fearful of others and a conformist Timid, swayable, an alarmist Impressionable and powerless Putrid, phony, and sadly joyless Two-faced and polished for society Yet privately we know you in reality Vile, cruel, precocious, and vicious Self-centered with your own interest Compare, compete, and never complete Criticize and critique from head to feet Exalt thyself above measure, your ego replete Purport and project an air of superior wisdom Until people come tenderly to sit at your feet The public display seems ever so wonderful But at home your act and talk most dreadful This evil I can't embrace, nor think to replace I prefer joy, but you can run the vain race.
Longfellow s Loves
Is it mere coincidence that Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, "The Poet of the Heart, " as he was called by his readers, was born in the month of love? Dare we imagine that Cupid arched his bow and aimed his arrow at Longfellow on February 27, 1807, the date of his birth in Portland, Maine? Now center-stage in Maine, the most popular poet of the 19th-century lives on, two hundred years after his birth, in celebrations that honor his legacy, a legacy that embraces poetry for everyone of all ages or education. In keeping with this legacy, Brunswick feets him with festivities ranging from horse-drawn wagon rides and poetry readings to music, art, stage, and dance performances Longfellow Days, the Brunswick Legacy Celebration, begins the first week in February and culminates on the beloved poet's birthday, February 27.
Valentines For Longfellow
To know him is to love him. Or so say recent scholars of the now famous Portland native, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow-a Bowdoin College graduate and professor-who went on to teach at Harvard, translate Dante, and become known as "Poet of the Heart." So here then are valentines from those who have studied the life of Longfellow: Valentines: 1. Christoph Irmscher, Professor of English, Indiana University, Author of two 2006 books, "Longfellow Redux" and "Public Poet, Private Man": "If I have learned anything from Longfellow it is to not insist too much on the importanceof myself to the rest of the world.
Longfellow Legend In Maine
Shhh. Don't tell anyone. It's just gossip. And anyway, the only two people who know the truth are Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and Susan Chase. And they are not here to defend themselves, so it's not really fair is it? But if you promise, really promise, I'll tell you the story. And it is just a story. Back in 1822 to 1825 when young Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was a student at Bowdoin College, he was reportedly seen walking from the Bowdoin College campus out to Pennellville. Now here's where the speculation begins. Did young Henry walk out Mere Point Road and then follow along the shore? Or did he walk as the crow flies?
Funny 50th Birthday Poem - How To Create A Personal Gift
It can be extremely difficult to find the perfect words when looking for a funny 50th birthday poem. Finding a funny 50th birthday poem that will not only make someone laugh but is special, personal and uplifting can be quite a quest. If you are going to write the poem yourself try to concentrate on funny aspects of the persons personality such as their annoying habits, embarrassing moments or a funny catch phrase they use over and over again. Combining these qualities will help you build a funny 50th birthday poem. There are of course people that are willing to create a funny 50th birthday poem on your behalf.
Poetry Is A Path
Ha! Life! ---------------The sound of an unstable ceiling fan The window with a permanent landscape. A buzzing noon in this cabin douses The race of life and thirsty deaths it yields. The blood the hands have washed flows down gutter. The earth treasures that in its core and grows Green on the stolen memory of fall. The rust is growing on the sinful feats. The unsent envelopes of letters are Becoming the placid playthings of mice. The message from you is one of them, torn. I look at the unstable ceiling fan. It is so effortless to waste away... That I choose to strike a matchstick instead. a path through these days ------------------------------------- The curse of a dead bird on the footstep.
My Epiphany
I was contemplating life, when I had this epiphany; All of a sudden, my life finally made sense to me. My reason was wrong, for my purpose for living; It's not about getting, life's all about giving. All of this time, I thought it was all about me; But choosing to serve, is what set me free. Kindness is an act, we all need to learn; Like a boomerang, all kind acts return. Compassion is cool, it will warm your heart; Accepting others, is a good place to start. Many of us still need to forgive; When you choose to let go, in peace you may live. Love is a word people don't understand;
Israel - Happy Birthday May, 2008
Israel and I have one thing surely in common, I am 60, and so is Israel, sort of. I also have a signed copy of the book "Israel a Personal History, " 1971, by David Ben-Gurion; one of 2000 copies printed, by "Funk & Wagnalls, Inc., New York. He was the granddaddy of all the leaders that would follow him to this day, so I believe. He was even born in the same month I was, October 16, 1886, I was born October 7, 1947, in Plonsk, Russian Poland, my grandfather was Russian, and grandmother Polish, and I was born an America. Perhaps he like I had a life time of studies; and I know he, like I traveled a lot, Mr.