Poetry thread anyone?

to top it off Mazy

my boys are Lazy

aaargh

I feel a community poem coming on....eveyone just adds a line.

it really does suck

to top it off Mazy

my boys are Lazy

I will have to get back at it as things here improve SLOWLY

Time time time

it really does suck

to top it off Mazy

my boys are Lazy

I will have to get back at it as things here improve SLOWLY

Time time time

we don't have to rhyme

tomorrow is my day, how am I to deal

will anyone remember

or am I alone.

---------------------------

it really does suck

to top it off Mazy

my boys are Lazy

I will have to get back at it as things here improve SLOWLY

Time time time

we don't have to rhyme

tomorrow is my day, how am I to deal

will anyone remember

or am I alone.

I am here but I may forget

Since I often am totally stoned

pwned

this thread needs a bump

to think it all started with a lump

Oh Lord please help me not be a grump

Help me, Oh Lord to learn how to jump

as my lump, I think, is off to the dump

Very nice Farila! What is your area/subject of teaching?

you wonder what they do with all the tissue they remove... you'd

think they wouldn't want it to go to waste - maybe make dogfood

I thought of mortality

and then of fertility

and the utility of pleasure

and the futility of worry

and our responsibility to

live with nobility of purpose.

I think of the cancer growing within

and pray that I'll live to begin

the life worthy of what I've been given.

Cleansing Cry 

Teary, sad and hopeless it seems

When I think too much

I shouldn't allow myself to go there

Makes me cry and such

Sit and think of the worst

When I am alone

I should get out and go for a walk

But I choose to stay home

Sobbing and gasping in anger

As this evil fungus tries to control

I allowed it to bring me down again

It reaches in and takes hold

Drying my eyes and breathing deep

I hear loved one's voices

Telling me it will be alright

God is helping me make choices

I have had my cleansing cry

It will make me stronger for the effort

It's always such a comfort

That God knows of my tears and hurt

I can handle so many plans:

The service, what to do with my remains,

who gets my jewelry, my prized possesions?

Then one night I looked at my purse

and was undone!

Someone will have to go thru such personal stuff!

It makes me cry to think of our purses.......

I pondered whether to submit this or not last night... but after reading Saint's submission I thought I would... it's not mine... but thought it was good.

There was a young woman who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and had been given three months to live. So as she was getting her things 'in order,' she contacted her Pastor and had him come to her house to discuss certain aspects of her final wishes.

She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures she would like read, and what outfit she wanted to be buried in.

Everything was in order and the Pastor was preparing to leave when the young woman suddenly remembered something very important to her.

'There's one more thing,' she said excitedly..

'What's that?' came the Pastor's reply.

'This is very important,' the young woman continued. 'I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand.'

The Pastor stood looking at the young woman, not knowing quite what to say.

That surprises you, doesn't it?' the young woman asked.

'Well, to be honest, I'm puzzled by the request,' said the Pastor.

The young woman explained. 'My grandmother once told me this story, and from that time on I have always tried to pass along its message to those I love and those who are in need of encouragement. In all my years of attending socials and dinners, I always remember that when the dishes of the main course were being cleared, someone would inevitably lean over and say, 'Keep your fork.' It was my favorite part because I knew that something better was coming...like velvety chocolate cake or deep-dish apple pie. Something wonderful, and with substance!'

So, I just want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand and I want them to wonder 'What's with the fork?' Then I want you to tell them: 'Keep your fork .the best is yet to come.'

The Pastor's eyes welled up with tears of joy as he hugged the young woman good-bye. He knew this would be one of the last times he would see her before her death. But he also knew that the young woman had a better grasp of heaven than he did.. She had a better grasp of what heaven would be like than many people twice her age, with twice as much experience and knowledge. She KNEW that something better was coming.

At the funeral people were walking by the young woman's casket and they saw the cloak she was wearing and the fork placed in her right hand. Over and over, the Pastor heard the question, 'What's with the fork?' And over and over he smiled.

During his message, the Pastor told the people of the conversation he had with the young woman shortly before she died. He also told them about the fork and about what it symbolized to her. He told the people how he could not stop thinking about the fork and told them that they probably would not be able to stop thinking about it either.

He was right. So the next time you reach down for your fork let it remind you, ever so gently, that the best is yet to come.

that's wonderful Saint.. so helpful.

Wow is all I can say.  There are so many threads on this website.  So many great threads!  This is one.  For the 3 weeks I couldn't drive after my mastectomy, I have never felt so down in my life.  The first week I could drive, the church I used to go to had an adult bible school class.  It was like Giod thumped me on my head one night and said I have angels all around you.  It was the morning after I wrote my first poem, Expectations:

Expectations.

Why do we get them?

Why are they there?

For disappointments,

It seems come from everywhere.

We have expectations for ourselves,

We have expectations for others.

Our sons, our daughters

Our fathers,  our mothers.

We are to trust in God, not in man.

His promises are true,

No expectations needed,

We just need to do as He said we should do.

Give all to the Lord, no matter what.

From tears and sorrow, to happiness and joy.

Our burdens seem heavy,

but the Lord said with Me they are light.

Through every day and the darkest night.

Expectations,

Why do we get them?

Why are they there?

For disappointments,

It seems come from everywhere.

From ourselves, from others,

From sons, from daughters,

From fathers, from mothers.

But not from the One in whom all our trust we should give.

Just read His letters daily,

They show us how to live.

Expectations.

Why do we get them?

Why are they there?

With our friend and our Lord,

No expectations are needed,

Our burdens, our sorrows, He will gladly bear.

 For the first time in this whole cancer deal, I realized I had put unspoken expectations on other people.  Thinking completely of me first and not looking at what they were going through.  I realized my children were doing as much as they could for me.  I had not thought of their daily lives they had before I had cancer.  The morning after I wrote this, I basically got thumped.  It was like God said, think about all who have been around you, look at what everyone has done, look at what I have done for you.   

Veil with holes

This veil, this robe, as dark as coal

Alas it badly fails to achieve the intended goal

This skin covering is just playing foul

For I need a veil to cover my soul

I fear not my flesh and skin of doing skin

As I fear the passions that rage within

Within my heart, within my soul

On whom I fail to put a veil or gain my control

Anyway even I draw a veil over my face

To hide those feelings which would cause me disgrace

My awakened conscience asks me, "Is this right?"

But resigns calling me a hypocrite

I can't help it, for there many ifs and buts

And to not be a hypocrite I don't have enough guts............

Dressing

Ketchup with my heart,

Dress it up with love.

You musta heard I love you,

And that your my A1