(Monday, April 21 this year)The concept of freedom, to have and to hold,To most of the world has no chance to unfold.Reality patterns its days to extreme;Thus making the concept of freedom a dream.What freedom they have will be tightly controlled;Existing and doing just what they are told.So freedom to
I cannot sing much, and I don’t do it well,But here I must sing, in attempting to tellTo all here assembled the love I now feelFor making their friendliness being so real.The human equation will often mislead,A friendliness shown that is based on the need;The atmosphere then will be less
What matters most in life? How can one know?What I may think may not be yours at all.In fact, I doubt there is an average call,But then, it does present a challenge though.Regardless, it’s intriguing, even so;No single one would all of us enthrall,The depth into which all opinions fallPrevents
The absolute in dangerous human traits is greed!It has so many facets, it well may be a creed.No matter where or when, or how or why, it thrives;It is a certainty, it touches all our lives.The greed factor exists in other ways than take;It leads a healthy life in methods
I’m proud to be American, and say so, long and loud;But what I saw and felt the other day was extra proud.A young and vibrant person had been taken from our midst;This was her viewing, our goodbye, tradition we enlist.What happens lies beyond the scope of any normal call;The outpouring
All Leprechauns are ambidextrous, with a twist;They’re really all left-handed, a fact most often missed.Just when you think you’ve caught one, he will throw his right—But with his left throw pixie dust—he’s out of sight!Not only does he vanish, your memory is gone.You don’t remember him at all, but blunder
In every union, there’s a better half;And, in acknowledgement, no need to laugh.But I’ve a question few will ever do;That is: what is the better half of you?You must admit the question is quite fair;Which side of you would you most like to share?Okay, that is your good side, but,
Our history has followed one evoking plot:That every time “What if?” was asked, we’d voice “Why not?”Each ‘firm belief’ we had would soon be proven wrong;We’d prove the term ‘it can’t be done’ did not belong.We never stopped to marvel—everything was ‘now!’We’d swiftly set about improving it somehow.So one thing
Beyond the biological dictates one knows,There’s more to being grandma than one might suppose.Just like each stage of life, she’s given ways to live,Which comes down to precisely how she wants to give.To give, most people think you first determine what,Which well may be determined by just what you’ve got.But
It’s nice to have a Valentine’s Day,Just think of what you then can say,I mean, in any kind of wayThat voices what you would convey.Okay—so we are not kids –so?And technically, you are a No!But Valentines are safe bets though,To simply let affection show.With great elan, we play the game;The
I would not have wanted it this way,Being here, with you so far away.Memories are giving me, at least,Precious moments on which I can feast.Time and distance then are dimmed somewhatEasing this life in which I’ve been caught.Loving you remains my heart’s desire,In which there’s an undiminished fire.Saying that “I
I have said this before, and I say it again…Happy New Year!With the smile that I wore, back when I said it then,Happy to cheer!Don’t bother to smirk, thinking once more’s too much,For if it is to work, have that warm human touch,For it cannot be said by you, if
With all due respect, I do not think I’m asking too much;For all I am asking is you have a positive touch.Most likely, each day is predictably one of routine;And whether it’s school, work, whatever, that’s all that is seen.So day after day after day after day it is always
I am sorry you missed the Depression back whenWe supposedly were Oh, so desperate then.I agree that it was a realistic bad time—Where you could have heard daily “Can you spare a dime?”But what you would have seen was the national mood;It was anything but one that cowered and brewed.We
Who is that coming down the stair,Tip-toeing softly to my chair,Clad in pajamas, pink and bright,Coming to kiss her Dad good night.Littlest angel in disguise,Trying to take me by surprise,Breathless with laughter, pert and smart,Welcoming love with all her heart.The final rush and delighted squeal,The living proof that love is
I really do not think I should be telling you,Where do I get off telling you just what to do?For what I was about to mention, you know well;So it is obviously nonsensical to tell.But I am one who likes to see the good things last;So, while Christmas is over,
The author Dickens did not have to make up Scrooge;That type had been around forever, like as not.Nor did he have to invent Cratchit as a stooge;For some example of him we can see a lot.So human nature can be seen as rubber stamps,There is not one which any author
Okay, you hate the Jews, so you don’t need to lie;But there are many factors here which must apply.So now before you take a stance, and hoist a cry,You must, in all sincerity of mind, state… Why!This is ‘the down and dirty time’ I must persist;I’m hoping that your mind-set’s
If you believe in God, alert to greed and sin,How often have you wondered this: Where has He been?”The truth is this—He’s been around more than you think,If He were there in front of you, He’d simply wink.That wink would tell you—look around, if you need proof,For there’s enough, decidedly,
I know that in your mind you understand the words you read,And that is most important in this realm of human need;But how you then interpret them, in what they mean to you,May change the author’s intent altogether…oh!, so true!So take a bit more time in reading Christmas cards you
