STAINED GLASS
BEADWORK

 

SOSOME POEMS I ENJOY

METAMORPHOSIS
Unknown

Like the butterfly, I find

I can do longer stay behind

self made walls protection.

I struggle to be free

Breaking the bonds of

what was me,

To soar in a new dimension.

 

FINDING HER HERE
Jayne Relaford Brown

I am becoming the woman I've wanted,

grey at the temples,

soft body, delighted,

cracked up by life

with a laugh that's known bitter

but, past it, got better,

knows she's a survivor -

that whatever comes,

she can outlast it.

I am becoming a deep

weathered basket.

I am becoming the woman I've longed for,

the motherly lover

with arms strong and tender, the growing up daughter

who blushes surprises.

I am becoming full moons

and sunrises.

I find her becoming,

this woman I've wanted,

who knows she'll encompass,

who knows she's sufficient,

who knows where she's going

and travels with passion.

Who remembers she's precious,

but knows she's not scarce -

who knows she is plenty,

plenty to share.

 

WARNING
Jenny Joseph

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple

With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.

And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves

And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.

I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired

And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells

And run my stick along the public railings

And make up for the sobriety of my youth.

I shall go out in my slippers in the rain

And pick the flowers in other people's gardens

And learn to spit.

 

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat

And eat three pounds of sausages at a go

Or only bread and pickle for a week

And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

 

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry

And pay our rent and not swear in the street

And set a good example for the children.

We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

 

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?

So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised

When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

Henry Van Dyke

Time is too slow for those who wait,

too swift for those who fear,

too long for those who grieve,

too short for those who rejoice,

but for those who love, time is eternity.

THE JOURNEY IS MY DESTINATION

 

Hey, we're getting pretty serious here, aren't we?
OK, here's a little non-poem to lighten the mood!

A baby chicken asks...

Am I people?

No...you are chicken.

Do chickens come from people?

No...chickens come from eggs.

Are eggs born?

No...eggs are laid.

Are people laid?

Some are, some are chicken!

LIFE IS TOO SHORT TO WEAR TIGHT SHOES