If Suddenly You Forget Me

"The Second Coming"

Related: Reading Shakespeare has dramatic effect on human brain

Slow Dance

This is a poem written by a teenager with cancer. She wants to see how many people get her poem. It is quite the poem Please pass it on. She is a terminally ill young girl in a New York Hospital. It was sent by a medical doctor - Make sure to read the closing statement after the poem.

SLOW DANCE

Have you ever watched kids
On a merry-go-round?
Or listened to the rain
slapping on the ground?
Ever followed a butterfly's
erratic flight?
Or gazed at the sun into the
fading night?
You better slow down don't
dance so fast
Time is short the music won't
last
Do you run through each day
on the fly?
When you ask How are you?
Do you hear the reply?
When the day is done do you lie
in your bed
with the next hundred chores
running through your head?
You'd better slow down
Don't dance so fast
Time is short the music won't
last
Ever told your child, We'll do
it tomorrow?
And in your haste, Not see
his sorrow?
Ever lost touch, Let a good
friendship die?
Cause you never had time
To call and say,'Hi'
You'd better slow down
Don't dance so fast
Time is short the music won't
last
When you run so fast to get somewhere
You miss half the fun of getting there
When you worry and hurry through your
day
It is like an unopened gift....
thrown away.
Life is not a race
Do take it slower
Hear the music
Before the song is over.

FORWARDED E-MAILS ARE TRACKED TO OBTAIN THE TOTAL COUNT.
Dear All: PLEASE pass this mail on to everyone you know - even to those you don't know! It is the request of aspecial girl who will soon leave this world due to cancer. This young girl has 6 months left to live, and as her dying wish, she wanted to send a letter telling everyone to live their life to the fullest, since she never will. She'll never make it to prom, graduate from high school, or get married and have a family of her own. By you sending this to as many people as possible, you can give her and her family a little hope, because with every name that this is sent to, The American Cancer Society will donate 3 cents per name to her treatment and recovery plan.
One person sent this to 500 people! So I know that we can at least send it to 5 or 6.

It's not even your money, just your time! PLEASE PASS IT ON AS A LAST REQUEST. Dr. Dennis Shields, ProfessorDepartment of Developmental and Molecular Biology1300 Morris Park AvenueBronx , New York 10461

Again!

Don't forget the spring of yesterday

that has gone never to return

Don't forget the kiss that I gave you

that like the spring will never be the same

Although the cold my brittle my bones

and the snow might whiten my hair

That kiss that you gave me will always

warm my heart

Although the leaves are falling off the trees

Like the years we have together still

But one day it will be spring again

And the leaves will cover the trees

Again

by Ray Fernandez

Tears Are Like Raindrops

Michael writes on 12-16-2007:

Tears like raindrops

tears like raindrops
fill my face
memories of unspeakable
acts done to me

the pleasent times
are lost among the
thorns and prickers
that poke and scrape me

Tears fill my face
like raindrops
as they fall in
the here and now

a place I rarely
stayed, but now
it is safe enough
to wonder freely

Tears like raindrops
dried on my face
as I look out my
window and see today

Michael Joseph

Remember My Name

By AUSTIN CUNNINGHAM

"My story must be told,

Must remain in constant memory

So my daughters won't cry my tears,

Or follow my tortured legacy ...

Love ain't a tricky thing if it's coming

From a healthy place ...

Maybe I should have loved him a little less ...

Maybe I should have not believed he'd

Never hit me again;

All those maybes will not bring me back again."

That's a prose poem by a dying woman and I've taken liberties in compressing the words of a final victim of domestic violence -- repetitive, relentless, domestic violence, a war between the sexes. We're aware of its presence, going on behind those walls we walk by, drive by every day. Maybe we're tired of hearing about it, bored by it because of its propinquity (nearness). Behind expensive walls but mostly behind dirty, littered walls. It's as old as Genesis but as current as the next 15 minutes, a strong body beating on a weaker body with fists, furniture, whatever's handy. The reasons are multiple, no single pattern. A man (most often) with the self control of a child. In his mindless fury taking his revenge on adults like those others who may have abused him when he was weak, helpless and tiny.

"The Two Wolves": A Cherokee's Story About Native Wisdom.

Courtesy of Sonia Revised from 5-12-07

"THE TWO WOLVES": A CHEROKEE’S STORY ABOUT NATIVE WISDOM.-

I read this story for the first time a few years ago on True Nature, Jenny’s blog, and now I want to share with you all this amazing Native Wisdom’s Story.
..........
A Grandfather from the Cherokee Nation was talking with his grandson.

"A fight is going on inside me," he said to the boy."It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves."

"One wolf is evil and ugly: He is anger, envy, war, greed, self-pity, sorrow, regret, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, selfishness and arrogance."

"The other wolf is beautiful and good: He is friendly, joyful, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, justice, fairness, empathy, generosity, true, compassion, gratitude, and deep VISION."

"This same fight is going on inside you, and inside every other human as well.

"The grandson paused in deep reflection because of what his grandfather had just said.

Then he finally cried out; "Oyee! Grandfather, which wolf will win?"

The elder Cherokee replied, "The wolf that you feed."

Click to see Cherokee's Words of Wisdom
Click to see The Wolf Den Homepage pictures, facts, resources
Click to see Cherokee Home Page
Click to see Cherokee Culture and History Links
Click to hear Cherokee Songs in MP3 Format

Awaken Your Creativity Come and Ride the 'Haiku" Train

Ray said...

A train my life is

On the rails of time

Never knowing when or why

The last stop will be....

Fledgling Poet said...

The last stop will be

When the tracks end suddenly

Stop and breathe the view....

Alone

Reflections of shattered memories

that are long gone in the lapse of time we call

Eternity

Alone

We spend each golden moment silently awaiting for that which must come.

Alone

We are friends even thou I am

Alone

I learn to use each moment and to be

Alone

Lao Tsu

“Watch your thoughts, for they become words.

Watch your words, for they become actions.

Watch your actions, for they become habits.

Watch your habits, for they become character.

Watch your character, for it becomes your destiny.”

Los Hermanos -A Poem-

...................A poem by Horacio Laitano
..............Los Hermanos ........

A medida que el silencio los separalos hermanos se saludan entre dientes.

Tanto da que se miren a la caracomo que alguien los señale con el dedo.

Ellos son los que transitan de mañanadespojados de los lazos familiares.

Los que vuelven opacas las palabrasreducidos al vaivén de alguna herencia.Apenas un recuerdo los reúnedetenido en las sombras de sus cuerpos.

The Face

I am the face of abuse
I hold the scares
Seen and unseen
I am the child
With innocence stolen
I am the young girl
That trusted wrongly
I am the woman
That chose poorly
Then suffered greatly
I am the voice
That cries out
In the darkness
I am the personality
Shattered and robed
Yes I am the face of abuse
That found the strength
To become a survivor
Red 3-11-07©

Anonymous Poem from Elderly Woman

What Do You See? What do you see, nurses, what do you see,
what are you thinking when you're looking at me?

A crabby old woman, not very wise, uncertain of habit, with faraway eyes.
Who dribbles her food and makes no reply when you say in a loud voice, "I do wish you'd try?"

Who seems not to notice the things that you do, and forever is losing a stocking or shoe.

Who, resisting or not, lets you do as you will with bathing and feeding, the long day to fill.
Is that what you're thinking? Is that what you see?

Then open your eyes, nurse; you're not looking at me.
I'll tell you who I am as I sit here so still, as I use at your bidding, as I eat at your will.

I'm a small child of ten with a father and mother, brothers and sisters, who love one another.
A young girl of sixteen, with wings on her feet, dreaming that soon now a lover she'll meet.

A bride soon at twenty-my heart gives a leap, remembering the vows that I promised to keep.
At twenty-five now, I have young of my own who need me to guide and a secure happy home.

A woman of thirty, my young now grown fast, bound to each other with ties that should last.

At forty my young sons have grown and are gone, but my man's beside me to see I don't mourn.

At fifty once more babies play round my knee, again we know children, my loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead; I look at the future, I shudder with dread.....

For my young are all rearing young of their own, and I think of the years and the love that I've known.

I'm now an old woman and nature is cruel; 'tis jest to make old age look like a fool.

The body, it crumbles, grace and vigour depart, there is now a stone where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells, and now and again my battered heart swells.

I remember the joys, I remember the pain, and I'm loving and living life over again.

I think of the years; all too few, gone too fast, and accept the stark fact that nothing can last.

So open your eyes, nurses, open and see, not a crabby old woman; look closer - see ME!!

Anonymous.

This anonymous poem has been attributed to several sources. It is generally described as having been found among the possessions of an older woman who died in a geriatric ward of a hospital.

"A Lily or a Rose? Which flower do I give?"

"A Lily or a Rose?
Which flower do I give?
I can't really decide,
So I only wish you to live.

A Lily or a Rose?
White isn't always pure,
Does red always mean blood?
Such raging emotions with no cure.

A Lily or a Rose?
A hard decision to make.
I couldn't do it,
So a Lily and a Rose I'll take.

A Lily or a Rose,
Such a sweet question of the heart.
I guess I'd want to make a new flower,
One that shows all the emotions and how you've been hurt.

A Lily or a Rose.
Neither is what I say,
For neither one is needed,
As long as you live another day."

By, Saddened Laughter.