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Post by silver on Sept 14, 2013 18:12:29 GMT -5
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Post by silver on Sept 19, 2013 0:41:11 GMT -5
Hey Sean, my boy...The poem below was written by a friend quite a while back - I'd been sifting through my many emails that I never deleted and it's really sweet, so I'm re-dedicating it to you.
Love mom
When You Are Away
When you are away and I lie here alone Night becomes the day I sit here on my own The whole world is broken hearted Lost it’s love like souls departed In the dark no flowers grow In the cold on barren snow
The smells and noise fill the air everyone’s mad with greed You said love was lost but you sold it fair And gave up freedom for material need But I know where the sun shines Deep inside a white light blinds Or I’d be lost and alone In the dark on cold stone
But in my heart good seed was sewn Where the coloured flowers have grown And where once lay a desert unknown A forest stands by a river flowing And longing I’m reminded Though parted we are binded And I lay here at dawn When you’re gone
And all night long the lights are blinding In the dark we can not see When you are away I miss you so desperately When you are away. __________________
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Post by silver on Sept 19, 2013 0:45:21 GMT -5
I like to imagine that this is what you look like as an angel .......don't worry folks, I know it's my imagination at play here......
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Post by silver on Sept 21, 2013 10:58:12 GMT -5
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Post by silver on Sept 26, 2013 21:52:56 GMT -5
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Post by Deleted on Sept 28, 2013 4:04:24 GMT -5
Going before the other.
believing you lead me to myself your lies introducing me to nothing, Nothing at all amounting to death of the known and not caring I plunged into darkness and drowned, you watching on in intense pain not-knowing either.
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Post by silver on Sept 29, 2013 15:42:04 GMT -5
that is incredibly beautiful, alfio.
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Post by silver on Oct 1, 2013 22:30:03 GMT -5
Annie's pooch, Lucky after his grooming appointment today.
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Post by Deleted on Oct 3, 2013 3:22:11 GMT -5
As I sat at my computer tonight, I started sweating bullets for no Apparent reason, and I wondered What the heck... I prepared the pup n me for bed One of those thoughts came drifting in And then went on its merry way…and Another checked in and would not go. My son, a very big man, his body was Seen being placed on the autopsy table. My eyes opened wide and I just…. Nothing more in the way of wondering. Maybe that's why I started sweating So profusely -- maybe he drifted on in For a friendly visit, my mind, my emo, My heart flits about not knowing where to land. I sensed that you had lost someone, 'but a child' I thought. Hope I am soft-enough to speak with, as I've never lost a child. My mil did though, she never healed. As a father of 6, although absent I certainly feared my children dying before me. (glad they never told me what they were up-to) I figured it best I go first but it doesn't always happen the best way round.
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Post by silver on Oct 13, 2013 22:16:26 GMT -5
Can we talk? Can we, can we, can we? Is it too much to ask While you're floating away Up high on your cloud?
Can you hear me? Can you, can you, can you? Maybe that's just too much to ask Is it a crime for a heart to yearn? But, I know...soon it will be my turn.
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Post by acewall on Oct 13, 2013 22:41:46 GMT -5
Can we talk? Can we, can we, can we? Is it too much to ask While you're floating away Up high on your cloud? Can you hear me? Can you, can you, can you? Maybe that's just too much to ask Is it a crime for a heart to yearn? But, I know...soon it will be my turn. .
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Post by silver on Oct 14, 2013 23:28:01 GMT -5
This should the the easiest thing to do... For a mom -- it's the hardest thing to do -- but it must be done.
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Post by silver on Oct 20, 2013 19:14:09 GMT -5
Is innocence really dead?
It's the time of the season and time of my life I'm going to relive some of those innocent experiences and memories that seem to have a life of their own.
My grandma was a seamstress and her life revolved around her sewing machine. She had so much in the way of paraphernalia it was genuinely amazing. She had a big bag of fabric remnants, drawers full of bric-a-brac, spools and bobbins filled with every color thread imaginable…
The really magical thing she had was a big round tin filled with all shapes, sizes and colors of buttons -- glorious buttons - some shimmered and glowed, some had golden edgings, square shapes, dome-shaped, fabric-covered, leather-covered, some with two holes, some with four…as a tyke, I'd never seen such a treasure.
When I was young, there were so many things that seemed magical but weren't. Now, I look back and see the real magic, like the windows in winter etched with intricate, icy fern drawings that often covered all of our windows. The glow of halo'ed Christmas candles reflecting off the windows after dark.
Then, there was the big open birdfeeder, filled with seed for the sparrows and jays, grosbeak and cardinal (mom's favorite), grackles and fluffy-tailed squirrels. Huge tufts of rhubarb growing in a row just this side of dad's vegetable garden, In front of which was mom's flower garden that I loved helping her with.
Every time I think I've come up with just about every mystical, magical thing about my time growing up, another one pops up and fills my eyes with tears. The lightning bugs, yes - of course…a most magical tradition of the grown-ups dragging out a few lawn chairs while they sit in the fabulous black of evening
while all of us kids run around catching the fireflies in jars or just in the palms of our hands, peeking in at them and letting them go again, trying our best to track them. I loved the idea of letting a few loose inside the house…one friend had a different idea though. She'd smash them on her fingernails so they'd glow...
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Post by silver on Nov 6, 2013 0:48:46 GMT -5
This one isn't mine, but it's not half bad. A Tear and a Smile I would not exchange the sorrows of my heart for the joys of the multitude. And I would not have the tears that sadness makes to flow from my every part turn into laughter. I would that my life remain a tear and a smile. A tear to purify my heart and give me understanding of life's secrets and hidden things. A smile to draw me nigh to the sons of my kind and to be a symbol of my glorification of the gods. A tear to unite me with those of broken heart; a smile to be a sign of my joy in existence. I would rather that I died in yearning and longing than that I live weary and despairing. I want the hunger for love and beauty to be in the depths of my spirit, for I have seen those who are satisfied the most wretched of people. I have heard the sigh of those in yearning and longing, and it is sweeter than the sweetest melody. With evening's coming the flower folds her petals and sleeps, embracing her longing. At morning's approach she opens her lips to meet the sun's kiss. The life of a flower is longing and fulfilment. A tear and a smile. The waters of the sea become vapour and rise and come together and area cloud. And the cloud floats above the hills and valleys until it meets the gentle breeze, then falls weeping to the fields and joins with brooks and rivers to return to the sea, it's home. The life of clouds is a parting and a meeting. A tear and a smile. And so does the spirit become separated from the greater spirit to move in the world of matter and pass as a cloud over the mountain of sorrow and the plains of joy to meet the breeze of death and return whence it came. To the ocean of love and beauty ...... to God. ~Kahlil Gibran I dearly love this poem, and I think about what it says all the time.
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Post by silver on Nov 14, 2013 20:21:27 GMT -5
It's so hard to escape gravity's pull
you died on me I look up I see nothing
I look down and I know it's there the void
it scares me at first and then my weariness overtakes...
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