On Oceans of Blue

I love you
Not only for what you are,
But for what I am
When I am with you.

I love you,
Not only for what
You have made of yourself,
But for what
You are making of me.

I love you
For the part of me
That you bring out;

I love you
For putting your hand
Into my heaped-up heart
And passing over
All the foolish, weak things
That you can’t help
Dimly seeing there,

And for drawing out
Into the light
All the beautiful belongings
That no one else had looked
Quite far enough to find

I love you because you
Are helping me to make
Of the lumber of my life
Not a tavern
But a temple.

Out of the works
Of my every day
Not a reproach
But a song.

I love you
Because you have done
More than any creed
Could have done
To make me good.
And more than any fate
Could have done
To make me happy.

You have done it
Without a touch,
Without a word,
Without a sign.

You have done it
By being yourself.
Perhaps that is what
Being a friend means,
After all.

by Roy Croft

I am weary of the Garden,
Said the Rose;
For the winter winds are sighing,
All my playmates round me dying,
And my leaves will soon be lying
‘Neath the snows.

But I hear my Mistress coming,
Said the Rose;
She will take me to her chamber,
Where the honeysuckles clamber,
And I’ll bloom there all December
Spite the snows.

Sweeter fell her lily finger
Than the bee!
Ah, how feebly I resisted,
Smoothed my thorns, and e’en assisted
As all blushing I was twisted
Off my tree.

And she fixed me in her bosom
Like a star;
And I flashed there all the morning,
Jasmin, honeysuckle scorning
Parasites forever fawning
That they are.

And when evening came she set me
In a vase
All of rare and radiant metal,
And I felt her red lips settle
On my leaves til each proud petal
Touched her face.

And I shone about her slumbers
Like a light
And, I said, instead of weeping,
In the garden vigil keeping,
Here I’ll watch my Mistress sleeping
Every night.

But when morning with its sunbeams
Softly shone,
In the mirror where she braided
Her brown hair I saw how jaded,
Old and colorless and faded,
I had grown.

Not a drop of dew was on me,
Never one;
From my leaves no odors started,
All my perfume had departed,
I lay pale and broken-hearted
In the sun.

Still I said, her smile is better
Than the rain;
Though my fragrance may forsake me,
To her bosom she will take me,
And with crimson kisses make me
Young again.

So she took me . . . gazed a second . . .
Half a sigh . . .
Then, alas, can hearts so harden?
Without ever asking pardon,
Threw me back into the garden,
There to die.

How the jealous garden gloried
In my fall!
How the honeysuckle chid me,
How the sneering jasmins bid me
Light the long gray grass that hid me
Like a pall.

There I lay beneath her window
In a swoon,
Till the earthworm o’er me trailing
Woke me just at twilight’s failing,
As the whip-poor-will was wailing
To the moon

But I hear the storm-winds stirring
In their lair;
And I know they soon will lift me
In their giant arms and sift me
Into ashes as they drift me
Through the air.

So I pray them in their mercy
Just to take
From my heart of hearts, or near it,
The last living leaf, and bear it
To her feet, and bid her wear it
For my sake.

–George H. Miles

Two vases stood on the Shelf of Life
As Love came by to look,
One was of priceless cloisonne,
The other of solid common clay.
Which do you think Love took?

He took them both from the Shelf of Life,
He took them both with a smile;
He clasped them both with his finger tips,
And touched them both with caressing lips,
And held them both for a while.

From tired hands Love let them fall,
And never a word was spoken.
One was of priceless cloisonne,
The other of solid common clay.
Which do you think was broken?

-Nan Terrell Reed

as i slept last night

things ran through my mind

i needed to say them

to write them

to read them

so i told my dearest friend

to bounce these ideas around

"life is like a bumper car game,"

i told him

"you’re either causing the wrecks

or avoiding them"

then i thought for a moment

and finally said

"life is like a carousel

lots of pretty colors and music

that never goes anywhere"

i had to pause again

thoughts may run quickly through the mind

but slowly through the mouth

otherwise they are misconstrued

"life is like a roller coaster

ups and downs and loop de loops

you know physics keeps you in

and you cant help but scream"

i had just one more

"life is like a ferris wheel

long lines, short rides, and cold, bitter wind

most definitely not worth the tickets"

i said all of this in a matter of minutes

he gave me no reply

i asked him, in a quick, anxious voice

"what do you think it all means?

should we cause wrecks or avoid them?

should we ride a pointless ride?

should we hush and trust the rails?

should we skip the ferris wheel?"

still, he remained silent

whether in thought about my words or the road

i could not tell

then he said this,

"avoid the wrecks but learn from the ones you cant get away from.

the beauty of the animals and the music is well worth a short ride,

however meaningless it may seem.

scream as loud as you can on any roller coaster.

throw your arms in the air,

let your hair blow in the wind.

the more twists, the more fun.

one more thing,

you may never attend a fair without riding the ferris wheel.

some things just have to be done."

we sat in silence for a while

watching the houses and trees go by

until he asked what i thought.

"i think we just finished my thoughts.

now i write so i can read."

so i wrote

and now i’ll read

so i can clear my head

of county fair games

and possibly get back to real life

Good folks ever will have their way.
Good folks ever for it must pay.

But we, who are here and everywhere,
The burden of their faults must bear.

We must shoulder others’ shame,
Fight their follies, and take their blame:

Purge the body, and humor the mind;
Doctor the eyes when the soul is blind;

Build the column of health erect
On the quicksands of neglect:

Always shouldering others’ shame-
Bearing their faults and taking the blame!

Deacon Rogers, he came to me;
"Wife is a-goin’ to die," said he.

‘Doctors great, an’ doctors small,
Haven’t improved her any at all.

‘Physic and blister, powders and pills,
And nothing sure but the doctors’ bills!

"Twenty women, with remedies new,
Bother my wife the whole day through.

‘Sweet as honey, or bitter as gall
Poor old woman, she takes ‘em all.

‘Sour or sweet, whatever they choose;
Poor old woman, she daren’t refuse.

‘So she pleases whoe’er may call,
An’ Death is suited the best of all.

‘Physic and blister, powder an’ pill
Bound to conquer, and sure to kill!"

Mrs. Rogers lay in her bed,
Bandaged and blistered from foot to head.

Blistered and bandaged from head to toe,
Mrs. Rogers was very low.

Bottle and saucer, spoon and cup,
On the table stood bravely up;

Physics of high and low degree;
Calomel, catnip, boneset tea;

Everything a body could bear,
Excepting light and water and air.

I opened the blinds; the day was bright,
And God gave Mrs. Rogers some light.

I opened the window; the day was fair,
And God gave Mrs. Rogers some air.

Bottles and blisters, powders and pills,
Catnip, boneset, sirups and squills;

Drugs and medicines, high and low,
I threw them as far as I could throw.

"What are you doing?" my patient cried;
"Frightening Death," I coolly replied.

"You are crazy!" a visitor said:
I flung a bottle at his head.

Deacon Rogers he came to me,
‘Wife is a-gettin’ her health," said he.

"I really think she will worry through;
She scolds me just as she used to do.

‘All the people have poohed an’ slurred,
All the neighbors have had their word;

"’Twere better to perish, some of ‘em say,
Than be cured in such an irregular way."

"Your wife," said I, "had God’s good care,
And His remedies, light and water and air.

"All of the doctors, beyond a doubt,
Couldn’t have cured Mrs. Rogers without.’

Tle deacon smiled and bowed his head;
Then your bill is nothing," he said.

"God’s be the glory, as you say!
God bless you, Doctor! Good day! Good day!"

If ever I doctor that woman again,
I’ll give her medicine made by men.

- Will M. Carleton

the head of a bull
the will of an ass
the gall of an eagle
the smarts of a fox
i hit my head against a wall
my stubborn self
my field tripping self
i intended to find my own way
my ornery self
my single minded self
i fought the good fight
or whichever one i could pick
until my knees were bloody
and my cuts had cuts
until my knuckles bared
and my teeth fell out
i knew i was a fool
i knew when i was wrong
but i could never admit it
i could never stray from my wandering path
call it pride
call it foolishness
call it whatever you please
but most of all
it was pure rebellion
i rebelled
why?
why not?

the heart of a dove
the will of an ocean
the love of a mother
the faith of a child
i turned away from my wall
my stubborn self
my field tripping self
i finally found The Way
my ornery self
my single minded self
i fight the good fight
now that i know what it is
until my heart shines
and my love has love
until my mind is pure
and my sin has fallen
i know i was a fool
i know when i was wrong
and He forgave me
although i strayed from His righteous path
call it pride
call it foolishness
call it whatever you please
but most of all
it was pure rebellion
i rebelled
now?
now i am His.

its the cooking that counts
not the recipe or the meal
or the drink or the table
its the journey that gets me there
its the winding road
and the dust at my foot
its the cooking that counts
its the mixing and the cracking
its the baking and the whisking
its the smell of the garlic being crushed
and the feel of the knife in my hand
its the anticipation in his eyes
when his nose notices
its the cooking that counts
not the place mats or the company
not the ingredients or the utensils
its the journey that gets me there
its the winding road
and the dust at my foot

Couple of guys sittin’ around drinkin’
Down at the Starlight Bar
One of ‘em says, "You know I’ve been thinking"
Other one says, "That won’t get you too far"
He says, "This is your life, and welcome to it
It’s just workin’ and drinkin’ and dreams
Ad on TV says ‘Just Do It’
Hell if I know what that means"

The secret of life is a good cup of coffee
The secret of life is keep your eye on the ball
The secret of life is a beautiful woman
And Marilyn stares down from the barroom wall

"You and me, we’re just a couple of zeros
Just a couple of down-and-outs
But movie stars and football heroes
What have they got to be unhappy about?"
So they turn to the bartender, "Sam, what do you think?
What’s the key that unlocks that door?"
Sam don’t say nothin’, just wipes off the bar
And he pours them a couple more

‘Cause the secret of life is in Sam’s martinis
The secret of life is in Marilyn’s eyes
The secret of life is in Monday Night Football
Rolling Stones records and Mom’s apple pie

Sam looks up from his Sunday paper
Says, "Boys, you’re on the wrong track
The secret of life is there ain’t no secret
And you don’t get your money back"
Hey

The secret of life is gettin’ up early
The secret of life is stayin’ up late
The secret of life is try not to hurry
But don’t wait
Don’t wait

The secret of life is a good cup of coffee
The secret of life is keep your eye on the ball
The secret of life is to find the right woman
The secret of life is nothin’ at all
Oh, it’s nothin’ at all
The secret of life

Couple of guys sittin’ around drinkin’
Down at the Starlight Bar
One of ‘em says, "You know I’ve been thinking"
Other one says, "That won’t get you too far"
"That won’t get you too far"

written by: gretchen peters
sang by: faith hill

hold fast to your dreams!
within your heart
keep one still, secret spot
where dreams may go,
and, sheltered do,
may thrive and grow
where doubt and fear are not.
o keep a place apart
withing you heart,
for little dreams to go!
think still of lovely things that are not true.
let wish and magic work at will in you.
be sometimes blind to sorrow. make believe!
forget the calme tha tlies
in disillusioned eyes.
though we all know that we must die,
yet you and i
may walk like gods and be
even now at home in immrtality.
we see so many ugly things-
deceits and wrongs and quarrelligns;
we know, alas! we know
how quickly fade
the color in the west,
the bloom upon the flower,
the bloom upon the breast
and youth’s blind hour.
yet keep withing you heart
a place apart
where little dreams may go,
may thrive and grow
hold fast- hold fast your dreams!
—louise driscoll

she stares in the mirror
examining her life
wondering where the time went
how it all flew by
she whispers softly
so that no one will hear
"i hate your lies
and the filth they become
i hate your deceit
and the heart it comes from"
she whispers so softly
so that no one can hear
except the fly on the wall
and the voice in her ear
she examines her chin
with a microscopic eye
when did this happen
she was supposed to be different
but all of that rage
wasn’t meant to be caged
it was meant to be phased
in slowly to old age
this early in life
it should not be spent
she whispers to herself
in a voice barely heard
"i hate your lies
and the filth they become
i hate your deceit
and the heart it comes from"
she whispers to herself
in a voice barely heard
so that no one could hear
except the fly on her hand
and the voice in her ear