Good times are coming, I know they are near,
The best times, for sure, in a number of years;
I’m counting each day on my fingers and thumbs,
Until the recession has passed and the bad times have gone.
Then, when the money is flowing again,
I will thank those people, both women and men,
Who stood up to the bankers and politicians; it’s true,
That saved us, how they saved us, from a life in the poo.
**********************
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Arnie the apple hung from a tree
in an orchard a mile wide.
And every day the pickers would come
and haul dozens of apples inside.
They’d pick the prettiest of the bunch,
filling their baskets and pails.
But they always passed by Arnie,
ignoring his whines and wails.
“Please pick me!”, Arnie would cry
each time the pickers sauntered by.
“I want to go inside with you!”,
cried Arnie till he turned bright blue.
But the pickers ignored him day after day,
while Arnie hung there in dismay,
trying to nurse his shattered pride,
dying to be picked to be taken inside.
Each new dawn he’d do a trick
like spinning around on his twig.
But the picky pickers never stopped
for apples that weren’t big
or juicy or red or bright or sweet.
Poor Arnie was none of these things.
He wasn’t completely quite full grown
and he had some nicks and dings.
He dreamed what it was like inside;
lights and music all around.
Arnie just wanted to go there so badly
he flung himself to the ground.
The next day the pickers came along
and saw him lying there.
They took him inside and Arnie thought,
“This is it! I’m finally there!”
But when Arnie the Apple looked around
he realized his dreams were false,
’cause in less than 15 minutes
he was Arnie Applesauce.
(C) 1998, Arden Davidson
http://www.angelfire.com/md/byme/pocket.html
May no gift be too small to give, nor too simple to receive, which is wrapped in thoughtfulness and tied with love. Good morning! Happy Monday!!
Every morning is a wonderful blessing from God. It stands for hope which gives us another start at what we call Life. Have a good morning and great day! Happy Monday!!
The difference between me and a bear is the thought of you couldn’t make me hibernate for more than 7 hours. Good morning. Happy Monday!
A morning thought, a morning prayer, a morning wish for a good person who makes a good morning for other peoples’ lives. May God bless you always. Happy Monday!!
The breeze has awakened the earth, The sun gave brightness to the earth, Birds gave melodious music to the earth, Then its the time to wish my sweet friend Good morning. Happy Monday.
Treating Each Day As A Sunday
A Poem by Nikhil Parekh
God created all seven days of the week alike; to bask
in the glory of Nature’s bountiful endowment and
enjoy,
It was man who embraced a festoon of spurious
idiosyncrasies; frolicking in the aisles of divinely
heaven only on a Sunday; while he perspired worse
than a dog; on all other days…
God created all seven days of the week alike; to
poignantly blend with the mesmerizing beauty of this
colossal Universe,
It was man who murdered himself with his own framework
of rules; celebrating only on a Sunday; while he
tossed and squirmed like an insipid worm; all other
days…
God created all seven days of the week alike; to
majestically fulfill your duties; let the enchanting
stream of shimmering moonlight; pacify you beyond
eternal times,
It was man who disdainfully messed up life with
manipulative business; ruling like an unconquerable
king on a Sunday; while he literally licked the dust
of the roads; on all other days…
God created all seven days of the week alike; to
philanthropically march ahead with all living kind;
soar through the crimson clouds with a desire to be
triumphant glittering in your eyes,
It was man who coined tyrannical definitions of his
own; rejoiced and hugged his family only on a Sunday;
while critically lambasting them with his frustration;
on all other days…
God created all seven days of the week alike; to dance
in the aisles of uninhibited freedom; benevolently
assist your ailing mates in inexplicable pain,
It was man who acted more insanely than the
devastatingly insane; adventuring through the hills
only on a Sunday; while he compellingly measured each
of his nonchalant footsteps; on all other days…
God created all seven days of the week alike; to test
your true mettle on this planet; celestially sleep in
synergy with the unveiling of the gloriously star
studded night,
It was man who profoundly consulted the heinous devil;
tossing his children only on a Sunday; while kicking
them in the uncouth world outside to earn their own
bread; on all other days…
God created all seven days of the week alike; to
rhapsodically inhale the scent of roses; romance and
disseminate the gift of love; as each night descended
by,
It was man who savagely chopped his own feet with his
axe; feeling the richest man alive only on a Sunday;
while he spat irrevocably on his own treasury of
brilliant fortune; on all other days…
God created all seven days of the week alike; to
explore and unite with all the exotically wonderful
organisms wandering on mother earth,
It was man who wanted to consume knives instead of
supper; wholeheartedly unleashing his heart out only
on a Sunday; while he jailed himself and his comrades
together in a jail of claustrophobic despair; on all
other days….
And if you couldn’t listen to God; I know for sure you
would never listen to me; even if I quit life to tell
you; to live life like a king; each day of the week,
Don’t worry I have better alternatives still; you
remain blessed writhing like a commercial commodity
all your lives; while I was definitely the wealthiest
man alive; treating each day as a Sunday.
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
*
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap,
*
Then out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
*
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
*
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
*
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St. Nicholas too.
*
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
*
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
*
His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
*
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.
*
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
*
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
*
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night.”
Merry Christmas, everyone!
Oh, I wish I’d looked after me feet,
And spotted the perils beneath,
All the miles that I walked,
And the shoes that I bought,
Oh, I wish I’d looked after me feet.
*
I wish I’d been that much more willin’
And provided more space for the fillin’
To pass up winklepickers,
From respect to me kippers
And to buy something else with me shillin’.
*
When I think of the miles that I trekked,
And the hills that I climbed without a heck,
Potholes, big and little,
Ruined my feet, so very brittle,
My kippers are horribly fecked.
*
My Mother, she told me no end,
“Good feet are always your friends”
I was young then, and brainless,
My shoe choice so careless,
I never had much time to spend.
*
Oh I showed them the new shoes so bright,
I flashed them about with delight,
But up-and-down walkin’
And kickin’ and rushin’
Played havoc with my dainty delights.
*
If I’d known I was paving the way,
To verrucae, corns and decay,
The pain of arthritis,
Gout and detritus,
I’d have thrown all me show shoes away.
*
So I sit in the podiatrist’s chair,
And I hear his diagnosis in despair,
Telling me what I should have done,
And the shoes I should have donned,
“They’ll only last,” he’ll say, “for a few more days.”
*
How I laughed at my Mother’s false leg,
As she struggled with it clunkin’ beneath,
But now comes the reckonin’
It’s me it is beckonin’
Oh, I wish I’d looked after me feet.
Today I went Christmas shopping,
Eyes a popping, so much to see.
**********
All around me things to buy,
This is now my time to live.
**********
I make a purchase, then another,
It’s no wonder I am confused!
**********
Lights a sparkle, Christmas glory,
Festive story, all around.
**********
Each queue I join, more souls to greet,
To chat and meet, and share this time.
**********
When shopping’s over, it’s time to ponder,
The meaning of Christmas day.
***********
The Christ boy-child, cahe down to earth,
Of virgin birth, heralding peace and joy.
**********
So, do remember this here story,
And share your luck with those in need.
**********
Alice in Wonderland and Fle set about making some Arcanum.
A new Alice in Wonderland Christmas story
Is it Christmas or Xmas, that’s what I say,
Be it Christmas or Xmas; it’s such a wonderful day,
With pressies and drinkies and all of that stuff,
Whether it’s Christmas or Xmas doesn’t bother me much.
There was a young lad named Paul,
Who wanted to get away from it all,
So he took up sea swimming,
Then set off one evening,
Now he’s nowhere at all,
*****
I dwell in a lonely house I know
That vanished many a summer ago,
And left no trace but the cellar walls,
And a cellar in which the daylight falls,
And the purple-stemmed wild raspberries grow.
.
O’er ruined fences the grape-vines shield
The woods come back to the mowing field;
The orchard tree has grown one copse
Of new wood and old where the woodpecker chops;
The footpath down to the well is healed.
.
I dwell with a strangely aching heart
In that vanished abode there far apart
On that disused and forgotten road
That has no dust-bath now for the toad.
Night comes; the black bats tumble and dart;
.
The whippoorwill is coming to shout
And hush and cluck and flutter about:
I hear him begin far enough away
Full many a time to say his say
Before he arrives to say it out.
.
It is under the small, dim, summer star.
I know not who these mute folk are
Who share the unlit place with me—
Those stones out under the low-limbed tree
Doubtless bear names that the mosses mar.
.
They are tireless folk, but slow and sad,
Though two, close-keeping, are lass and lad,—
With none among them that ever sings,
And yet, in view of how many things,
As sweet companions as might be had.
……………..
The Crazymad Writer Writes Again 