Everyone grumbled. The sky was grey. We had nothing to do and nothing to say. We were nearing the end of a dismal day, And then there seemed to be nothing beyond, Then Daddy fell into the pond!
And everyone’s face grew merry and bright, And Timothy danced for sheer delight. “Give me the camera, quick, oh quick! He’s crawling out of the duckweed!” Click!
Then the gardener suddenly slapped his knee, And doubled up, shaking silently, And the ducks all quacked as if they were daft, And it sounded as if the old drake laughed. Oh, there wasn’t a thing that didn’t respond When Daddy Fell into the pond!
Da spreeng ees com’ but oh, da joy Eet ees too late ! He was so cold, my leetla boy, He no could wait.
I no can count how manny week, How manny day, dat he ees seeck, how manny night I seet an’ hold da leetla hand dat was so cold.
He was so patience,oh, so sweet. Eet hurts my throat to theenk of eet: An all he evra ask ees w’en Is gona com’ da spreeng agen.
Wan day, wan brighta sunny day, He see across da alleyway, Da leetla girl dat’s liven’ dere Ees raise her window for da air, And put outside a leetla pot of w’at you call?-forget-me-not.
So smalla flower, so leetla theeng! But steel eet mak’ hees hearta seeng. “Oh, now, at las’,ees com’ da spreeng! Da leetla plant ees glad for know,
Da sun ees com’ for mak’ eet grow. So too, I am grow warm and strong. So lika dat he seeng hees song.
But, ah, da night com’ down an den, Da winter ees sneak back agen, An in da alley, all da night Eees fall da snow, so cold, so white.
An’ cover up da leetla pot Of w’at you call ? for-get-me-not. All night da leetla hand I hold.
Eees grow so cold, so cold, so cold ! Da spreeng ees come, but oh, da joy, Eet ees too late! He was so cold, my leetla boy, He no could wait.
by Thomas Augustine Daly
Thomas Augustine Daly was an Irish-American poet who is more commonly referred to as T A Daly. He was a very popular writer, mainly poetry, but he had many articles published in newspapers and magazines. He also made a good living on the lecturing and after-dinner speaking circuit where he would often recite his own poetry to appreciative audiences. His style was mostly humorous and he wrote in a curious mixture of mock Italian-American and Irish-American dialect.
I don’t like my wheelchair every day,
I don’t like my wheelchair in any way.
Every morning when I get up I pray,
God all thoughts positive may they stay.
I struggle and strive with my daily tasks,
My family and friends sincerely will ask.
How do you manage to keep up at this pace,
Handling frustrations with honor and grace.
I don’t like my wheelchair, yes I did say,
I long to take walks and go out and play.
But you do need to hear this, I really insist,
Without my wheelchair I could not exist !
Author Eileen Clark 2012
The day is ending,
The night is descending;
The marsh is frozen,
The river dead.
Through clouds like ashes
The red sun flashes
On village windows
That glimmer red.
The snow recommences;
The buried fences
Mark no longer
The road o'er the plain;
While through the meadows,
Like fearful shadows,
Slowly passes
A funeral train.The bell is pealing,
And every feeling
Within me responds
To the dismal knell;
Shadows are trailing,
My heart is bewailing
And tolling within
Like a funeral bell.by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was a Harvard scholar versed in several European languages. He was heavily influenced by Romanticism and made a name as a poet and novelist with works like Hyperion, Evangeline, Poems on Slavery and The Song of Hiawatha. He was also known for his translation of Dante’s The Divine Comedy.
It is a day, a long awaited day for you and for me,
Jehovah’s glorious day, upon us soon, for all to see.
It seems so often in the day, every day, it crosses my
mind,
It keeps me going, keeps me knowing, it soon will be
fine.
*
Through out the day, every day, I hear in my head,
Scriptures to calm me, to reassure me, that I am being led.
To a pure and gentle place, with warmth of sun and soft
misty showers,
Never again fearing the storms lashing out on us with
violent powers.
*
The day is coming when I will be clean and pure, happy and
whole,
When my body will stand tall and straight, and I won’t be old.
When I will run along side of my family and friends, and kneel
down to Jehovah to say…..
*
I have waited, and you have kept your promise, reasuring us of
this glorious day,
Thank you Oh Father, may we never again let you down we
pray.
Eileen 2012
{ After Thought }
We as Jehovah’s Witnesses believe from scriptures in the Bible that we will be living in a paradise here on this earth forever.
Psalms 37:11 But the meek will possess the earth, and they will find exquisite delight in the abundance of peace.
Knowing this helps me to deal with the arthritis pain and not being able to go for walks in the woods which I use to do often. One day while thinking about Gods promise, this poem came to be.
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