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Archive for November, 2016

Do you remember that hour
In a nook of the flowing uplands
When you found for me, at the cornfield’s edge,
A golden and purple flower?
Heartsease, you said.  I thought it might be
A token that love meant well by you and me.

I shall not find it again
With you no more to guide me.
I could not bear to find it now
With anyone else beside me.
And the heartsease is far less rare
Than what it is named for, what I can feel nowhere.

Once again it is summer:
Wildflowers beflag the lane
That takes me away from our golden uplands,
Heart-wrung and alone.
The best I can look for, by vale or hill,
A herb they tell me is common enough , self-heal.

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copyright C. Day Lewis 1948

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Heartsease I found, where Love lies bleeding
Empurpled all the ground:
Whatever flowers I missed unheeding,
Heartsease I found.
Yet still my garden mound
Stood sore in need of watering, weeding,
And binding growths unbound.
Ah, when shades fell to light succeeding
I scarcely dared look round:
Love lies bleeding was all my pleading,
Heartsease I found.

copyright Christina Rossetti 1893

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There is a flower I wish to wear,

But not until first worn by you,

Heartsease of all Earth’s flowers most rare;

Bring it; and bring enough for two.

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An infusion of Heartsease is said to mend a broken heart.

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Our hearts may break when loved ones die,
We live, we love, we often cry,
Though time may heal, it can’t replace
That look of grief that clouds our face.
But once I heard some words so wise,
That dried the tears behind my eyes.
Imagine this; a calm blue sea,
A sailing ship, so fine, so free.
It sails away and looks quite small,
Until it can’t be seen at all,
But even though the vision’s gone,
Its chartered course still carries on.
We’re privileged to see it go,
To other shores?..we’ll never know.
Copyright S.Stone 5/7/16

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Reminds me of a special time with my Dad.

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As I walked out on Christmas Day
I met a little boy at play,
And though the snow was crisp and deep
He wore no shoes upon his feet
But slippers showing dinosaurs
That long ago had lost their roars,
No gloves had he or cosy coat,
No woolly scarf about his throat,
But in his hand he proudly gripped
A paper kite, creased and ripped,
I called out “That’s a bonny kite,
Is that what Santa left last night?”
He smiled at me and with a cry
He threw the kite up to the sky,
It soared above us as we gazed
And as he laughed I was amazed
That such an uninspiring toy
Could give such pleasure to the boy.
That afternoon I felt so sad
While thinking of the little lad,
Then went upstairs and filled a box
With toys my kids had long forgot,
And through the snow ,excitedly,
The little boy I went to see
Imagining his little face
When in his hands the toys I placed.
I saw the house, the windows bright,
Curtains open to the night,
And through the window I could see
The members of his family,
His father proudly held the lad
Who sat in wonder on his lap,
They sang together merrily
As mother laughed and poured the tea,
No China cups, no steaming ham,
Just saucers cracked, just bread and jam,
The room was bare but filled with joy
That spread it’s arms around the boy,
Twas obvious that they were poor,
But not in love, of that I’m sure.
One moment more I stood and watched
The boy that Santa Claus forgot,
I didn’t knock, there was no need,
I left the toys where he would see
Then turned around and walked back home
To spend my Christmas all alone.

Copyright Catherine Turner November 2016

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I looked in the mirror and what did I see,
but a little old lady peering back at me.
With bags and sags and wrinkles and wispy white hair
and I asked my reflection, how did you get there?

You once were straight and vigorous
and now you’re stooped and weak
when I tried so hard to keep you
from becoming an antique.

My reflection’s eyes twinkled and she solemnly replied,
‘You’re looking at the gift wrap and not the jewel inside’
a living gem and precious of unimagined worth,
unique and true the real you. The only you on earth.

The years that spoil your gift wrap with other things more cruel
should purify and strengthen and polish up that jewel.So focus your attention on the inside, not the out.
On being kinder, wiser, more content and more devout.

Then, when your gift wrap’s stripped away,
your jewel will be set free
to radiate God’s glory,
throughout eternity.

Copyright Wanda Goines 2016

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Hello Lord. It’s me. Do you remember me at all?

I’m sorry that it’s been so long since I last gave you a call

It was late one Christmas evening; I was only six or seven

I prayed for you to send a teddy bear to me from Heaven

 

I haven’t asked for anything since that Christmas eve

I thought that I was too mature, too grown up to believe

But Lord, I’ve lost the angel who overheard that prayer

She left her children far behind to live with you up there

 

You must be very happy with the new friend that you’ve got

But Lord, I’m feeling lonely, and I cry an awful lot.

I wonder can you spare the time to help me out somehow

I didn’t need you in the past but, Lord, I need you now

 

I know you’ve lots of souls to save and spirits to set free

I know there must be millions who need you more than me

But could you find a moment in your hectic life up there

And send a speedy answer to my selfish little prayer

 

There’s one more favour I must ask before I say goodbye

If you see my angel as you’re travelling round the sky

Please don’t mention anything about this conversation

I wouldn’t want to worry her or cause her aggravation

 

Don’t let her know how weak I am, or that my tears still fall

Keep our little secret………just tell her Cathy called

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