THOUGHTS AT THREE A.M.

A POEM FOR FATHER'S DAY

You've always been there to help me, with any project-

Even when you were tired, or other things should have come first-

never has my plea been  rejected,regardless of  the time of day or night,

or you, by the customer was expected.

You always had a way of looking at things to shift my point of view,

or to salvage the mess I had turned it into-

and changed it into something wonderful-

a thing my peers respected.

And it didn't matter if it was a model ship or plane, or a volcano for the science fair-

or how awful it was when you arrived-

you'd roll up your sleeves, and loosen your tie,and sweat over it

as we worked shoulder to shoulder,

and with gentle instruction you explained, as we went along,

so I could do it myself,when I was older.

You taught me so much, with your big strong hands and nimble fingers,

I grew to believe that you could do anything,

as the years went by, the knowledge you imparted made me bolder-

And tho challenges were many, you've never backed away-

But laughed, a Little baffled, then brought your skills to bear,

Stroked my hair,and eventually, thought of a solution.

So Dad, on this your special day, I just want you to know,

you can relax and take it easy,

now that I am grown.

There won't be anymore projects you have to bail me out of...

at least, for a day or two!

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!

OUI?

THANKING FATHER!

Every man is different-

with personalities so unique-

that none can say that all dads like sports, or to go fishin'

or like to sing or dance.

Some would be happy with a deck of cards,some beer and pals to play poker with-

and some their ideal day is spent grilling,with lots of  friends gathered round.

And still others,just a chance to show off their toys, like boats,and bikes, and ATV's, is the best they can think of.

But I've never known one who wouldn't trade all that stuff for a chance to say,

"Good job son!" as he stepped up to claim a trophy,or just beam with pride as he said

"That's my boy, who did that!" Even if that was only to take his first step!

Or bust his buttons,while boasting about his beautiful daughter!

So, this father's day, if I give you an ugly tie,

or yet another rod and reel to just store in the trunk of the car,

or a set of tools you already have-remember...that I'm the reason  you're a father-

We all know it's true-

And it's not easy to pick the perfect gift-

For a great Dad like you!

OUI?

WANTING TO LOVE, WANTING TO LAUGH! (a poem)

A somber mood should never be wasted-

that's what the poet said-

For if your feeling introspective-

one mustn't be neglective of-

a poignancy corrective-

of the heart.

Instead be selective-

'n follow the moods directive!

Never feign love, or gaiety-

when dealing with a matter  weighty-

as the dour leaning of the whispers of your mind!

Tis a fools mission to try this disposition-

when all in this position -

by their very imposition-

mock mirth when the laughter on their lips-

cannot be seen also in their eyes!

But more the fool he, who calls out with glee-

Love to thee!

thinking she will not see-

again, it's not reflected in those same eyes!

OUI?

NEW YEARS DAY,JANUARY 2007

In the still of the night alone I listen

standing at the summit of the old year

thankful it is gone, and I am still here-

even yet gasping for breath over things that have passed

mentally-

glad they are in the past,

and tho tempted, I turn not back around to see

the stumbling path traversed thus far.

For my efforts of the climb, surely would show in my wake,

each drop of blood, tears, and sweat

highlighting every glaring mistake.

So sights are not whats needed here,

but sound.

Laughter

silver in it's intensity

Calling forward to me

surrounding what might have been my faint heart,

with shields of joy, forged by beloved voices

mingled with my own.

Lending that power to stand still

in the midst of that mighty rushing wind

in a moment when the new year, just hours old,

begins to pierce the void and creates itself,

for and by

us.

to once again, begin the climb...

OUI?

FROM AMONGST MY CHILDHOOD BOOK-SHELVES!

Our home wasn't grand enough to have one room we could use as a library, so the several bookcases we had, were sprinkled around the whole house.One or two graced every room, but the kitchen. At least one in each bedroom,two or three in the living room, opposite the wall where the baby grand piano made it's fairly permanent home,considering one doesn't usually move them around a lot,and at least three in the dinning room, since that was where we did our homework.We had everything from sci-fi, to all manner of reference works, such as the dictionary,Roget's, and encyclopedia,and books of poetry and classic fiction.One of my favorites called,"Poems Teachers Ask for" was a really old book. I can still see it...a dusty brown, with black lettering,and a soft fabric binding that had already begun to shred.Every move we have made was complicated by dozens of boxes of books, and I always figured that somewhere in that pile, was that book.Well, I was wrong.Somewhere along the line, at some point,several of my faves have drifted away, that book of poetry included.Worse yet, the one poem that I have always loved, " The Calf Path" I could only recall in part, and I had forgotten, or never knew, the author of the poem.I have searched and searched for years to find it again, hampered greatly by the one piece of knowledge that would have made it easy.Needless to say, I have now finally found it, or I wouldn't be writing this piece,and now, faithfully rendered, I present it to you, for your enjoyment,and edification.

                                                             THE CALF PATH

One day, thru the primeval wood

a calf walked home, as good calves should;

But made a trail, all bent askew,

a crooked trail, as all calves do.

Since then 300 years have fled, and

I infer the calf is dead.

But still, he left behind his trail

and thereby hangs my mortal tale.

The trail was taken up next day

By a lone dog that passed that way.

And then, the wise bell weathered Sheep

pursued the trail, o're vail and steep,

and drew the flocks behind him too

As good bell weathers always do.

And from the day, o're hill and glade                                              

thru those old woods a path was made

And many men wound in and out,

and dodged and turned and bent about,

and uttered words of righteous wrath,

Because t'was such a crooked path,

But still they followed, do not laugh,

the first migrations of that calf .

And thru the winding woodways stalked,

because he wobbled, when he walked.

The forest path became a lane

That bent, and turned, and turned again.

This crooked lane became road

Where many a poor horse with his load

toiled on beneath the burning sun

and traveled some three miles in one.

And thus a century and a half,

they trod the footsteps of that calf.

The years passed on in swiftness fleet,

the road became a village street.

And this, before men were aware,

a cities crowded thoroughfare.

And soon the central street was this

Of a renowned metropolis.

And men, two centuries and a half

Trod the footsteps of that calf.

Each day a 100 thousand route

followed the zig-zag calf about,

and o'er his crooked journey went

the traffic of a continent.

A 100 thousand men were led

By one calf near three centuries dead.

They followed still  his crooked way,

and lost 100 years per day....

for thus such reverence is lent

to well established precedent.

A moral lesson this might teach,

were I ordained...and called to preach.

For men are prone to go it blind along the calf paths of the mind,

And work away from sun to sun, to do what other men have done.

They follow in the beaten track,and in and out,

and forth and back,

And still their devious course pursue,to keep the paths that others do.

They keep the paths- a sacred groove, along which all their lives they move.

But how the wise old wood gods must laugh,

Who saw that first primeval calf....

Sam Walter Foss

Now, this is the poem as I remember it, but my source included a line I don't recall ever hearing, so I have included it, separately, even though I feel it's a bit redundant...

(Ah, many  things this tale might teach,But I am not ordained to preach.)

Just to be complete.

As a child, I found this poem to be hysterically funny, and never forgot it's point, so I guess that is why I have always been a bit of a rebel.And my favorite parts are:

"And thru the winding woodway stalked, because he wobbled, when he walked..."

and,"For men are prone to go it blind along the calf paths of the mind...and work away from sun to sun, to do what other men have done."

and"And in and out, and forth and back, and still their devious course pursue, to keep the paths that  others do."

I hope that you appreciate this work one quarter as much as I enjoyed bringing it to you, because it is as true today as it was in Sam Walter Foss's day who lived from 1858-1911! As far as I am concerned, he was well ahead of his time. What do you think? How many calves did you follow today?

OUI?

WHERE DID YOU COME FROM,BABY DEAR?

Where did you come from, baby dear?

Out of the Everywhere into the here.

Where did you get your eyes so blue?

Out of the sky as I came through.

What makes the light in them sparkle and spin?

Some of the starry spikes left in.

Where did you get that little tear?

I found it waiting when I got here.

What makes your forehead so smooth and high?

A soft hand stroked it as I went by.

What makes your cheek like a warm white rose?

I saw something better than anyone knows.

Whence that three-cornered smile of bliss?

Three Angels gave me at once a kiss.

Where did you get this pearly ear?

God spoke,and it came out to hear.

Where did you get those arms and hands?

Love made itself into hooks and bands.

Feet, whence did you come, you darling things?

From the same box as the cherubs' wings.

How did they all just come to be you?

God thought about me,and so I grew.

But how did you come to us, you dear?

God thought about you, and so I am here.

George McDonald,author.

OUI?

THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER

The sun was shining on the sea-shining with all his might:

He did his very best to make the billows smooth and bright-

and this was odd, because it was the middle of the night.

The moom was shining sulkily, because she thought the sun

had got no business to be there -after the day was done--

"It's very rude of him." she said," to come and spoil the fun!"

The sea was wet as wet could be- the sands were dry as dry.

You could not see a cloud,because no cloud was in the sky:

No birds were flying overhead- there were no birds to fly.

The Walrus  and the Carpenter were walking close at hand;

they wept like anything to see such quanitites of sand:

" If this were only cleared away,"they said," It would be grand!"

"If seven maids,with seven mops swept it for half a year, Do you suppose,"

The Walrus said, "that they could get it clear?"

" I doubt it," said the Carpenter, and shed a bitter tear.

O Oysters dear, come walk with us! The Walrus did beseech,

A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk, along the briny beach:

We cannot do with more than four, to give a hand to each.

The Eldest Oyster looked at him but never a word he said,

The Eldest Oyster winked his eye, and shook his heavy head-

meaning to say he did not choose to leave the Oyster bed.

But four young Oysters hurried up, all eager for the treat:

Their coats were brushed, their faces washed, their shoes were clean and neat-

and this was odd, because you know, they hadn't any feet.

Four other Oysters followed them, and yet another four:

And thick and fast they came at last, all hopping through the frothy waves,

and scrambling to the shore.

The Walrus and the Carpenter walked on a mile or so,

And then they rested on a rock Conveniently low:

And all the Oysters stood and waited in a row.

"The time has come,"The Walrus said, "to talk of many things:

of shoes--and ships--and sealing wax-- and cabbages and Kings--

and why the sea is boiling hot--and whether pigs have wings."

"But wait a bit," the Oysters cried, "before we have our chat;

for some of us are out of breath,and all of us are fat!"

"No hurry," Said the Carpenter. They thanked him much for that.

"A loaf of bread," The Walrus said," Is what we chiefly need:

Pepper and Vinegar besides are very good indeed--Now if your ready,

Oysters dear, we can begin to feed."

"But not on us!" the Oysters cried, turning a little blue,

"after such kindness, that would be a dismal thing to do!"

"The night is fine, the Walrus said. Do you admire the view?

It was so kind of you to come! And you are very nice!"

The Carpenter said nothing but, "Cut us another slice:

I wish you were not quite so deaf--I've had to ask you twice!"

It seems a shame, the Walrus said, to play them such a trick,

After we've brought them out so far, and made them trot so quick!

The Carpenter said nothing but," The butter's spread too thick!"

"I weep for you, the Walrus said, I deeply sympathize."

With sobs and tears he sorted out those of the largest size,

holding his pocket-handkerchief before his streaming eyes.

"O Oysters, said the Carpenter, You've had a pleasant run!

Shall we be trotting home again?"

But answer came there none--and this was scarcely odd, because

they'd eaten every one.

(From "Alice in Wonderland" Written by Lewis Carroll)

OUI?

TIME!!

Yon son was put on hold this morning, and he got a silly look on his face:

"Time!! said he, " whose got the time?" Time to waste, time to dream, time to wait!

time to scheme, time for plots anew to arise, time to slip on our clever disguise!

and if it be prudent, and if it be wise

time to leave the dark and eerie shadows that cloud our minds!

Time in the garden, time at the gate

all alone, sometime we will wait, outside the gate

and if we have wasted time, what will be our fate?

will we be  on time, or will we be too late?

will we be welcomed, or asked to leave?

will we rejoice, or will we grieve?

Only time...!"

                                    by Yon son

OUI?

WHO WROTE, "YOU'LL BE A MAN MY SON", AND THE POEM!!

First, I must apologize for making the reference without the notation of it's source, but honestly it never occured to me that anyone wouldn't know. My mistake. Here again, I am responding to a referer I followed back, who wanted to know where it came from. It is from a Poem by Rudyard Kipling. Now, I just know you have Kipled, whether you realize it or not. He wrote "Jungle Book" as well as " Rikitiki tavi"among others, and he also wrote "IF" Which is the source of my quote, and which follows, now!

                                                                          "IF"

If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs, and blaming it on you:

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, but make allowances for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, or being lied about, don't deal in lies;

Or being hated, don't give way to hating and yet don't look too good, nor talk to wise;

If you can dream and not make dreams your masters;

If you can think, and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with triumph and disaster and treat those two imposters just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools;

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, and stoop and build 'em up with worn out tools;

If you can make one head of all your winnings and risk it on one turn of pitch and toss;

And lose, and start again at your beginnings and never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew to serve your turn long after they are gone;

And so hold on when there is nothing in you except the will which says to them, "hold on."

If you can walk with crowds and keep your virtue or walk with kings, and not lose the common touch;

If neither foe nor loving friends can hurt you;

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it;

And, which is more, you'll be a man, my son.

                                                                                               Rudyard Kipling

I cannot recall a time when I did not" Kiple", but I was about 10 or 12 when I first read this piece. It never fails to bring a lump to my throat, and a tear to my eye. I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did bringing it to you. Thanks for making me drag it out of the bookcase and blow the dust off. Even with the mousie bites and the mold spores, it is worth reading all over again, from cover to cover. Can't wait to read "Gunga Din" again!

OUI?

HELPING THE KIDS NAME A NEW PET, AND POETRY!

From the time they were little on, when bedtime came I would read story books, sing songs, and recite poetry to the children. This, was one of the most favorite ones:

MARY HAD A LITTLE LAMB, HIS FLEECE WAS BLACK AS SOOT,

AND INTO MARY'S BOWL OF MILK, HIS SOOTY FOOT HE PUT!

They loved that! They would laugh and fall back on the bed, squealing with delight...particularly when I would run the last four words together as though they were one word! As "sootyfootieput"

Well, at the height of this little poems popularity, we happened to acquire a small Grey kitten, and wouldn't you just know, the first thing we did was to give her a bowl of milk, and that is when the children named her.It was a natural.And here, I thought it would take them a day or two to come up with a name they liked. Nope! It was easy, and immediate.

Sootyfootieput!

Of course, I called her just "sooty" for short, but I was the only one.Which only goes to prove, you have to be careful what sort of poetry you expose your children to, because they will use it against you.

Here's a piece brought home by my niece, Debrah.

Oowie-gooey was a worm, a mighty worm was he,

he crawled upon the railroad tracks, the train he did not see,

"oowie-gooey!"

Which she was so proud of, she came out and recited it for company, every time,just before dinner! Boy, did that visiting pastor enjoy that!

OUI?