Friday, November 30, 2007
Thursday, November 29, 2007
yeah,
http://www.poetrykit.org/pkp/npd2007/Another%20Day.htm
i had forgotten about this.
it was for national poetry day 07
there are some really good poems there.
they were written at different times that day and in different countries.
me, i'm there too.
i haven't been writing much.
goddamn i hate that. i really do.
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair
by Pablo Neruda
Don't go far off, not even for a day
Don't go far off, not even for a day,
Because I don't know how to say it - a day is long
And I will be waiting for you, as in
An empty station when the trains are
Parked off somewhere else, asleep.
Don't leave me, even for an hour, because then
The little drops of anguish will all run together,
The smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
Into me, choking my lost heart.
Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve
On the beach, may your eyelids never flutter
Into the empty distance. Don't LEAVE me for
A second, my dearest, because in that moment you'll
Have gone so far I'll wander mazily
Over all the earth, asking, will you
Come back? Will you leave me here, dying?
by Pablo Neruda
Don't go far off, not even for a day
Don't go far off, not even for a day,
Because I don't know how to say it - a day is long
And I will be waiting for you, as in
An empty station when the trains are
Parked off somewhere else, asleep.
Don't leave me, even for an hour, because then
The little drops of anguish will all run together,
The smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
Into me, choking my lost heart.
Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve
On the beach, may your eyelids never flutter
Into the empty distance. Don't LEAVE me for
A second, my dearest, because in that moment you'll
Have gone so far I'll wander mazily
Over all the earth, asking, will you
Come back? Will you leave me here, dying?
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
http://www.nfmidatlantic.org/
the holiday season is upon us.
there are a few NF organizations i give to. there are other causes
i support too. i have mentioned some on this blog.
this time it's the one above.
they have never failed to answer my questions or get me in touch with specialists that did their very best to answer me, help me make decisions about meds etc.
so if you want to share a little with them, check out their site.
thanks.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
To See Him Again
by Gabriela Mistral
Never, never again?
Not on nights filled with quivering stars,
or during dawn's maiden brightness
or afternoons of sacrifice?
Or at the edge of a pale path
that encircles the farmlands,
or upon the rim of a trembling fountain,
whitened by a shimmering moon?
Or beneath the forest's
luxuriant, raveled tresses
where, calling his name,
I was overtaken by the night?
Not in the grotto that returns
the echo of my cry?
Oh no. To see him again --
it would not matter where --
in heaven's deadwater
or inside the boiling vortex,
under serene moons or in bloodless fright!
To be with him...
every springtime and winter,
united in one anguished knot
around his bloody neck!
Monday, November 26, 2007
been debating about letting my hair go silver grey.
ever since the debate at the pgh women's blogging society
that we had awhile ago. actually, long before that, the thought had crept in.
my family greys early. my sister and i had grey starting about the age of 20 or so.
not sure about such a drastic change tho.
my hair is dark, dark brown.
to go to a silver grey would be sort of scary
( i write as i sit here with color on my hair! )
ever since the debate at the pgh women's blogging society
that we had awhile ago. actually, long before that, the thought had crept in.
my family greys early. my sister and i had grey starting about the age of 20 or so.
not sure about such a drastic change tho.
my hair is dark, dark brown.
to go to a silver grey would be sort of scary
( i write as i sit here with color on my hair! )
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Raw With Love
by Charles Bukowski
little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife.the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Friday, November 23, 2007
Woman Work
Maya Angelou
I've got the children to tend
The clothes to mend
The floor to mop
The food to shop
Then the chicken to fry
The baby to dry
I got company to feed
The garden to weed
I've got shirts to press
The tots to dress
The can to be cut
I gotta clean up this hut
Then see about the sick
And the cotton to pick.
Shine on me, sunshine
Rain on me, rain
Fall softly, dewdrops
And cool my brow again.
Storm, blow me from here
With your fiercest wind
Let me float across the sky
'Til I can rest again.
Fall gently, snowflakes
Cover me with white
Cold icy kisses and
Let me rest tonight.
Sun, rain, curving sky
Mountain, oceans, leaf and stone
Star shine, moon glow
You're all that I can call my own.
because there's ALWAYS room for chocolate
(and blogthingys)
(and blogthingys)
You are Milk Chocolate |
A total dreamer, you spend most of your time with your head in the clouds. You often think of the future, and you are always working toward your ideal life. Also nostalgic, you rarely forget a meaningful moment... even those from long ago. |
hooray, i found another chicken joke!
A pair of chickens walk up to the circulation desk at a public library and say, 'Buk Buk BUK.' The librarian decides that the chickens desire three books, and gives it to them...and the chickens leave shortly thereafter.
Around midday, the two chickens return to the circulation desk quite vexed and say,' Buk Buk BuKKOOK!' The librarian decides that the chickens desire another three books and gives it to them. The chickens leave as before.
The two chickens return to the library in the early afternoon, approach the librarian, looking very annoyed and say, 'Buk Buk Buk Buk Bukkooook!' The librarian is now a little suspicious of these chickens. She gives them what they request, and decides to follow them.
She followed them out of the library, out of the town, and to a park. At this point, she hid behind a tree, not wanting to be seen. She saw the two chickens throwing the books at a frog in a pond, to which the frog was saying, "Rrredit Rrredit Rrredit..."
A pair of chickens walk up to the circulation desk at a public library and say, 'Buk Buk BUK.' The librarian decides that the chickens desire three books, and gives it to them...and the chickens leave shortly thereafter.
Around midday, the two chickens return to the circulation desk quite vexed and say,' Buk Buk BuKKOOK!' The librarian decides that the chickens desire another three books and gives it to them. The chickens leave as before.
The two chickens return to the library in the early afternoon, approach the librarian, looking very annoyed and say, 'Buk Buk Buk Buk Bukkooook!' The librarian is now a little suspicious of these chickens. She gives them what they request, and decides to follow them.
She followed them out of the library, out of the town, and to a park. At this point, she hid behind a tree, not wanting to be seen. She saw the two chickens throwing the books at a frog in a pond, to which the frog was saying, "Rrredit Rrredit Rrredit..."
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
my table is covered with the ingredients for thanksgiving dinner.
2 turkeys are thawing in my fridge.
i'll be making pies tomorrow. 2 pumpkin, 2 cranberry/raisin
1 apple, 1 mincemeat and i bought a pecan pie for my mom who loves it.
2 turkeys, 2 different stuffings, mashed potatoes,gravy, broccoli
creamed pearl onions (my sister makes those)salad bread and butter
cranberry sauce (i forgot that one year, oh geezzz!)
hopefully everything will go well.
2 turkeys are thawing in my fridge.
i'll be making pies tomorrow. 2 pumpkin, 2 cranberry/raisin
1 apple, 1 mincemeat and i bought a pecan pie for my mom who loves it.
2 turkeys, 2 different stuffings, mashed potatoes,gravy, broccoli
creamed pearl onions (my sister makes those)salad bread and butter
cranberry sauce (i forgot that one year, oh geezzz!)
hopefully everything will go well.
The Pumpkin
John Greenleaf Whittier
Oh, greenly and fair in the lands of the sun,
The vines of the gourd and the rich melon run,
And the rock and the tree and the cottage enfold,
With broad leaves all greenness and blossoms all gold,
Like that which o'er Nineveh's prophet once grew,
While he waited to know that his warning was true,
And longed for the storm-cloud, and listened in vain
For the rush of the whirlwind and red fire-rain.
On the banks of the Xenil the dark Spanish maiden
Comes up with the fruit of the tangled vine laden;
And the Creole of Cuba laughs out to behold
Through orange-leaves shining the broad spheres of gold;
Yet with dearer delight from his home in the North,
On the fields of his harvest the Yankee looks forth,
Where crook-necks are coiling and yellow fruit shines,
And the sun of September melts down on his vines.
Ah! on Thanksgiving day, when from East and from West,
From North and from South comes the pilgrim and guest;
When the gray-haired New Englander sees round his board
The old broken links of affection restored;
When the care-wearied man seeks his mother once more,
And the worn matron smiles where the girl smiled before;
What moistens the lip and what brightens the eye,
What calls back the past, like the rich Pumpkin pie?
Oh, fruit loved of boyhood! the old days recalling,
When wood-grapes were purpling and brown nuts were falling!
When wild, ugly faces we carved in its skin,
Glaring out through the dark with a candle within!
When we laughed round the corn-heap, with hearts all in tune,
Our chair a broad pumpkin, -- our lantern the moon,
Telling tales of the fairy who travelled like steam
In a pumpkin-shell coach, with two rats for her team!
Then thanks for thy present! none sweeter or better
E'er smoked from an oven or circled a platter!
Fairer hands never wrought at a pastry more fine,
Brighter eyes never watched o'er its baking, than thine!
And the prayer, which my mouth is too full to express,
Swells my heart that thy shadow may never be less,
That the days of thy lot may be lengthened below,
And the fame of thy worth like a pumpkin-vine grow,
And thy life be as sweet, and its last sunset sky
Golden-tinted and fair as thy own Pumpkin pie!
John Greenleaf Whittier
Oh, greenly and fair in the lands of the sun,
The vines of the gourd and the rich melon run,
And the rock and the tree and the cottage enfold,
With broad leaves all greenness and blossoms all gold,
Like that which o'er Nineveh's prophet once grew,
While he waited to know that his warning was true,
And longed for the storm-cloud, and listened in vain
For the rush of the whirlwind and red fire-rain.
On the banks of the Xenil the dark Spanish maiden
Comes up with the fruit of the tangled vine laden;
And the Creole of Cuba laughs out to behold
Through orange-leaves shining the broad spheres of gold;
Yet with dearer delight from his home in the North,
On the fields of his harvest the Yankee looks forth,
Where crook-necks are coiling and yellow fruit shines,
And the sun of September melts down on his vines.
Ah! on Thanksgiving day, when from East and from West,
From North and from South comes the pilgrim and guest;
When the gray-haired New Englander sees round his board
The old broken links of affection restored;
When the care-wearied man seeks his mother once more,
And the worn matron smiles where the girl smiled before;
What moistens the lip and what brightens the eye,
What calls back the past, like the rich Pumpkin pie?
Oh, fruit loved of boyhood! the old days recalling,
When wood-grapes were purpling and brown nuts were falling!
When wild, ugly faces we carved in its skin,
Glaring out through the dark with a candle within!
When we laughed round the corn-heap, with hearts all in tune,
Our chair a broad pumpkin, -- our lantern the moon,
Telling tales of the fairy who travelled like steam
In a pumpkin-shell coach, with two rats for her team!
Then thanks for thy present! none sweeter or better
E'er smoked from an oven or circled a platter!
Fairer hands never wrought at a pastry more fine,
Brighter eyes never watched o'er its baking, than thine!
And the prayer, which my mouth is too full to express,
Swells my heart that thy shadow may never be less,
That the days of thy lot may be lengthened below,
And the fame of thy worth like a pumpkin-vine grow,
And thy life be as sweet, and its last sunset sky
Golden-tinted and fair as thy own Pumpkin pie!
Monday, November 19, 2007
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Saturday, November 17, 2007
trying to get some useful things done but all i can
think about is tonight's fundraiser.
i really believe in these scholarships and i'd hate to see them have to be cut back or done away with.
i love reading the essays that are submitted and the recommendations from the teachers etc. keeps my hopes up for the future to see all these hardworking kids that go that extra mile to try and make it.
think about is tonight's fundraiser.
i really believe in these scholarships and i'd hate to see them have to be cut back or done away with.
i love reading the essays that are submitted and the recommendations from the teachers etc. keeps my hopes up for the future to see all these hardworking kids that go that extra mile to try and make it.
Friday, November 16, 2007
there is a dusting of that "powdered sugar" snow
over the carpet of brown leaves. yet there are still loads of leaves
a lot, still green, on the trees.
the weather folks say it's because of the odd summer we had.
they are not sure if that will damage the trees in the spring.
hope not.
me, i just hate the thought of cold.
over the carpet of brown leaves. yet there are still loads of leaves
a lot, still green, on the trees.
the weather folks say it's because of the odd summer we had.
they are not sure if that will damage the trees in the spring.
hope not.
me, i just hate the thought of cold.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
november is national adoption month
i can not thank enough, there are no words really
to express my thanks to all of the people and agencies and governments
that gave the greatest gift to my family. my beautiful granddaughter.
our joy and our blessing.
there are people that my family, that i know that, i will never meet
that have my heartfelt gratitude. i hope they can feel it tho, in some
cosmic way i guess.
most of all i thank my little sweetie for gracing us with her presence
for becoming family.
she is. i think she always was, even before she was born.
thank you.
i can not thank enough, there are no words really
to express my thanks to all of the people and agencies and governments
that gave the greatest gift to my family. my beautiful granddaughter.
our joy and our blessing.
there are people that my family, that i know that, i will never meet
that have my heartfelt gratitude. i hope they can feel it tho, in some
cosmic way i guess.
most of all i thank my little sweetie for gracing us with her presence
for becoming family.
she is. i think she always was, even before she was born.
thank you.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
yes, YES, here it is THE dumpster. oft written about
the place where i commune with my muse!
there's a wooden bench to the right of it.
where i can sit and look down from the small deck
outside of the club's kitchen.
karen, the bartender and a few of the members, asked why i was taking
a picture (in the dark yet!)of the dumpster.
i explained. they looked at me a little oddly(tho they are used to me so...)
and HERE it is. TAH DAH! just for you guys!
the place where i commune with my muse!
there's a wooden bench to the right of it.
where i can sit and look down from the small deck
outside of the club's kitchen.
karen, the bartender and a few of the members, asked why i was taking
a picture (in the dark yet!)of the dumpster.
i explained. they looked at me a little oddly(tho they are used to me so...)
and HERE it is. TAH DAH! just for you guys!
It's Dark in Here
by Shel Silverstein
I am writing these poems
From inside a lion,
And it's rather dark in here.
So please excuse the handwriting
Which may not be too clear.
But this afternoon by the lion's cage
I'm afraid I got too near.
And I'm writing these lines
From inside a lion,
And it's rather dark in here.
by Shel Silverstein
I am writing these poems
From inside a lion,
And it's rather dark in here.
So please excuse the handwriting
Which may not be too clear.
But this afternoon by the lion's cage
I'm afraid I got too near.
And I'm writing these lines
From inside a lion,
And it's rather dark in here.
poetry block. it's strange what poets will do to get past one.
we pk'rs had discussions on this subject before. some read more, some will stop reading poetry altogether. we take walks or naps or drink, pace or talk to the walls or our pets.we make love or yes, just fuck. funny, we rarely talk to others about it while in the depths of one. i've known people that have cut words from newspapers and tossed them about a room, picking them up randomly and waiting for the muse. i've found mine once or twice staring into the industrial garbage bin at the back of the club i belong to.
i tend to read poetry when i'm empty of words. filling myself up but trying to be careful that the overflow is mine and not someone else's. bukowski usually helps me out, sometimes cummings, rarely neruda tho i adore him.
nikki giovanni strengthens me to endure the times when i have convinced myself that i am so much,"less than".
we pk'rs had discussions on this subject before. some read more, some will stop reading poetry altogether. we take walks or naps or drink, pace or talk to the walls or our pets.we make love or yes, just fuck. funny, we rarely talk to others about it while in the depths of one. i've known people that have cut words from newspapers and tossed them about a room, picking them up randomly and waiting for the muse. i've found mine once or twice staring into the industrial garbage bin at the back of the club i belong to.
i tend to read poetry when i'm empty of words. filling myself up but trying to be careful that the overflow is mine and not someone else's. bukowski usually helps me out, sometimes cummings, rarely neruda tho i adore him.
nikki giovanni strengthens me to endure the times when i have convinced myself that i am so much,"less than".
THANKS JOHNNY MAC, YOU ROCK!
from
http://www.macyapper.blogspot.com/
MAC-YIPPER SHERRY ON WHY A KDKA HOST WOULD CHOOSE HIS NICKNAME
as to "round mound of sound" that is wayyyy too easy to make fun of so i agree, why ANYONE would hang that around their neck without threats is beyond me.
you rock.
take care, sherry
MacYapper - Sherry is also a blogger who I failed to mention in praising chick bloggers recently.
Her blog is at www.afterthebridge.blogspot.com
And she contributes to that whole nutty chick blogger thing that Lesbian Correspondent Sue Kerr is also part of at:
http://pghwomenbloggers.blogspot.com/
from
http://www.macyapper.blogspot.com/
MAC-YIPPER SHERRY ON WHY A KDKA HOST WOULD CHOOSE HIS NICKNAME
as to "round mound of sound" that is wayyyy too easy to make fun of so i agree, why ANYONE would hang that around their neck without threats is beyond me.
you rock.
take care, sherry
MacYapper - Sherry is also a blogger who I failed to mention in praising chick bloggers recently.
Her blog is at www.afterthebridge.blogspot.com
And she contributes to that whole nutty chick blogger thing that Lesbian Correspondent Sue Kerr is also part of at:
http://pghwomenbloggers.blogspot.com/
Monday, November 12, 2007
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Friday, November 09, 2007
We came,
we saw,
we ran in 90 degree weather and wore our NF singlets proudly!!
Chicago was a huge success, but we are not done......
Where: Phoenix
When: January 13th, 2008
What: Full or half marathon ~Plenty of time for ANYONE to train to walk or run an event
Team goal: $50,000
What to do: register for an event at http://www.rnraz.com/
email me at debbi@run4nf.org (call 616.889.6314)
begin a firstgiving page at www.firstgiving.com/run4nf
Let the NF Inc team continue to grow.................
The possibilities are limitless..........
check out who we are at http://www.run4nf.org/.
(an NF Inc. team to fundraise and promote awareness for those affected by neurofibromatosis)
passing this info on.
me, not a runner, but maybe some of you?
Thursday, November 08, 2007
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
go vote.
Freedoms Plow by Langston Hughes
When a man starts out with nothing,
When a man starts out with his hands
Empty, but clean,
When a man starts to build a world,
He starts first with himself
And the faith that is in his heart-
The strength there,
The will there to build.
First in the heart is the dream-
Then the mind starts seeking a way.
His eyes look out on the world,
On the great wooded world,
On the rich soil of the world,
On the rivers of the world.
The eyes see there materials for building,
See the difficulties, too, and the obstacles.
The mind seeks a way to overcome these obstacles.
The hand seeks tools to cut the wood,
To till the soil, and harness the power of the waters.
Then the hand seeks other hands to help,
A community of hands to help-
Thus the dream becomes not one man's dream alone,
But a community dream.
Not my dream alone, but our dream.
Not my world alone,
But your world and my world,
Belonging to all the hands who build.
A long time ago, but not too long ago,
Ships came from across the sea
Bringing the Pilgrims and prayer-makers,
Adventurers and booty seekers,
Free men and indentured servants,
Slave men and slave masters, all new-
To a new world, America!
With billowing sails the galleons came
Bringing men and dreams, women and dreams.
In little bands together,
Heart reaching out to heart,
Hand reaching out to hand,
They began to build our land.
Some were free hands
Seeking a greater freedom,
Some were indentured hands
Hoping to find their freedom,
Some were slave hands
Guarding in their hearts the seed of freedom,
But the word was there always:
Freedom.
Down into the earth went the plow
In the free hands and the slave hands,
In indentured hands and adventurous hands,
Turning the rich soil went the plow in many hands
That planted and harvested the food that fed
And the cotton that clothed America.
Clang against the trees went the ax into many hands
That hewed and shaped the rooftops of America.
Splash into the rivers and the seas went the boat-hulls
That moved and transported America.
Crack went the whips that drove the horses
Across the plains of America.
Free hands and slave hands,
Indentured hands, adventurous hands,
White hands and black hands
Held the plow handles,
Ax handles, hammer handles,
Launched the boats and whipped the horses
That fed and housed and moved America.
Thus together through labor,
All these hands made America.
Labor! Out of labor came villages
And the towns that grew cities.
Labor! Out of labor came the rowboats
And the sailboats and the steamboats,
Came the wagons, and the coaches,
Covered wagons, stage coaches,
Out of labor came the factories,
Came the foundries, came the railroads.
Came the marts and markets, shops and stores,
Came the mighty products moulded, manufactured,
Sold in shops, piled in warehouses,
Shipped the wide world over:
Out of labor-white hands and black hands-
Came the dream, the strength, the will,
And the way to build America.
Now it is Me here, and You there.
Now it's Manhattan, Chicago,
Seattle, New Orleans,
Boston and El Paso-
Now it's the U.S.A.
A long time ago, but not too long ago, a man said:
ALL MEN ARE CREATED EQUAL--
ENDOWED BY THEIR CREATOR
WITH CERTAIN UNALIENABLE RIGHTS--
AMONG THESE LIFE, LIBERTY
AND THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS.
His name was Jefferson. There were slaves then,
But in their hearts the slaves believed him, too,
And silently too for granted
That what he said was also meant for them.
It was a long time ago,
But not so long ago at that, Lincoln said:
NO MAN IS GOOD ENOUGH
TO GOVERN ANOTHER MAN
WITHOUT THAT OTHER'S CONSENT.
There were slaves then, too,
But in their hearts the slaves knew
What he said must be meant for every human being-
Else it had no meaning for anyone.
Then a man said:
BETTER TO DIE FREE
THAN TO LIVE SLAVES
He was a colored man who had been a slave
But had run away to freedom.
And the slaves knew
What Frederick Douglass said was true.
With John Brown at Harper's Ferry, Negroes died.
John Brown was hung.
Before the Civil War, days were dark,
And nobody knew for sure
When freedom would triumph
"Or if it would," thought some.
But others new it had to triumph.
In those dark days of slavery,
Guarding in their hearts the seed of freedom,
The slaves made up a song:
Keep Your Hand On The Plow! Hold On!
That song meant just what it said: Hold On!
Freedom will come!
Keep Your Hand On The Plow! Hold On!
Out of war it came, bloody and terrible!
But it came!
Some there were, as always,
Who doubted that the war would end right,
That the slaves would be free,
Or that the union would stand,
But now we know how it all came out.
Out of the darkest days for people and a nation,
We know now how it came out.
There was light when the battle clouds rolled away.
There was a great wooded land,
And men united as a nation.
America is a dream.
The poet says it was promises.
The people say it is promises-that will come true.
The people do not always say things out loud,
Nor write them down on paper.
The people often hold
Great thoughts in their deepest hearts
And sometimes only blunderingly express them,
Haltingly and stumblingly say them,
And faultily put them into practice.
The people do not always understand each other.
But there is, somewhere there,
Always the trying to understand,
And the trying to say,
"You are a man. Together we are building our land."
America!
Land created in common,
Dream nourished in common,
Keep your hand on the plow! Hold on!
If the house is not yet finished,
Don't be discouraged, builder!
If the fight is not yet won,
Don't be weary, soldier!
The plan and the pattern is here,
Woven from the beginning
Into the warp and woof of America:
ALL MEN ARE CREATED EQUAL.
NO MAN IS GOOD ENOUGH
TO GOVERN ANOTHER MAN
WITHOUT HIS CONSENT.
BETTER DIE FREE,
THAN TO LIVE SLAVES.
Who said those things? Americans!
Who owns those words? America!
Who is America? You, me!
We are America!
To the enemy who would conquer us from without,
We say, NO!
To the enemy who would divide
And conquer us from within,
We say, NO!
FREEDOM!
BROTHERHOOD!
DEMOCRACY!
To all the enemies of these great words:
We say, NO!
A long time ago,
An enslaved people heading toward freedom
Made up a song:
Keep Your Hand On The Plow! Hold On!
The plow plowed a new furrow
Across the field of history.
Into that furrow the freedom seed was dropped.
From that seed a tree grew, is growing, will ever grow.
That tree is for everybody,
For all America, for all the world.
May its branches spread and shelter grow
Until all races and all peoples know its shade.
KEEP YOUR HAND ON THE PLOW! HOLD ON!
Freedoms Plow by Langston Hughes
When a man starts out with nothing,
When a man starts out with his hands
Empty, but clean,
When a man starts to build a world,
He starts first with himself
And the faith that is in his heart-
The strength there,
The will there to build.
First in the heart is the dream-
Then the mind starts seeking a way.
His eyes look out on the world,
On the great wooded world,
On the rich soil of the world,
On the rivers of the world.
The eyes see there materials for building,
See the difficulties, too, and the obstacles.
The mind seeks a way to overcome these obstacles.
The hand seeks tools to cut the wood,
To till the soil, and harness the power of the waters.
Then the hand seeks other hands to help,
A community of hands to help-
Thus the dream becomes not one man's dream alone,
But a community dream.
Not my dream alone, but our dream.
Not my world alone,
But your world and my world,
Belonging to all the hands who build.
A long time ago, but not too long ago,
Ships came from across the sea
Bringing the Pilgrims and prayer-makers,
Adventurers and booty seekers,
Free men and indentured servants,
Slave men and slave masters, all new-
To a new world, America!
With billowing sails the galleons came
Bringing men and dreams, women and dreams.
In little bands together,
Heart reaching out to heart,
Hand reaching out to hand,
They began to build our land.
Some were free hands
Seeking a greater freedom,
Some were indentured hands
Hoping to find their freedom,
Some were slave hands
Guarding in their hearts the seed of freedom,
But the word was there always:
Freedom.
Down into the earth went the plow
In the free hands and the slave hands,
In indentured hands and adventurous hands,
Turning the rich soil went the plow in many hands
That planted and harvested the food that fed
And the cotton that clothed America.
Clang against the trees went the ax into many hands
That hewed and shaped the rooftops of America.
Splash into the rivers and the seas went the boat-hulls
That moved and transported America.
Crack went the whips that drove the horses
Across the plains of America.
Free hands and slave hands,
Indentured hands, adventurous hands,
White hands and black hands
Held the plow handles,
Ax handles, hammer handles,
Launched the boats and whipped the horses
That fed and housed and moved America.
Thus together through labor,
All these hands made America.
Labor! Out of labor came villages
And the towns that grew cities.
Labor! Out of labor came the rowboats
And the sailboats and the steamboats,
Came the wagons, and the coaches,
Covered wagons, stage coaches,
Out of labor came the factories,
Came the foundries, came the railroads.
Came the marts and markets, shops and stores,
Came the mighty products moulded, manufactured,
Sold in shops, piled in warehouses,
Shipped the wide world over:
Out of labor-white hands and black hands-
Came the dream, the strength, the will,
And the way to build America.
Now it is Me here, and You there.
Now it's Manhattan, Chicago,
Seattle, New Orleans,
Boston and El Paso-
Now it's the U.S.A.
A long time ago, but not too long ago, a man said:
ALL MEN ARE CREATED EQUAL--
ENDOWED BY THEIR CREATOR
WITH CERTAIN UNALIENABLE RIGHTS--
AMONG THESE LIFE, LIBERTY
AND THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS.
His name was Jefferson. There were slaves then,
But in their hearts the slaves believed him, too,
And silently too for granted
That what he said was also meant for them.
It was a long time ago,
But not so long ago at that, Lincoln said:
NO MAN IS GOOD ENOUGH
TO GOVERN ANOTHER MAN
WITHOUT THAT OTHER'S CONSENT.
There were slaves then, too,
But in their hearts the slaves knew
What he said must be meant for every human being-
Else it had no meaning for anyone.
Then a man said:
BETTER TO DIE FREE
THAN TO LIVE SLAVES
He was a colored man who had been a slave
But had run away to freedom.
And the slaves knew
What Frederick Douglass said was true.
With John Brown at Harper's Ferry, Negroes died.
John Brown was hung.
Before the Civil War, days were dark,
And nobody knew for sure
When freedom would triumph
"Or if it would," thought some.
But others new it had to triumph.
In those dark days of slavery,
Guarding in their hearts the seed of freedom,
The slaves made up a song:
Keep Your Hand On The Plow! Hold On!
That song meant just what it said: Hold On!
Freedom will come!
Keep Your Hand On The Plow! Hold On!
Out of war it came, bloody and terrible!
But it came!
Some there were, as always,
Who doubted that the war would end right,
That the slaves would be free,
Or that the union would stand,
But now we know how it all came out.
Out of the darkest days for people and a nation,
We know now how it came out.
There was light when the battle clouds rolled away.
There was a great wooded land,
And men united as a nation.
America is a dream.
The poet says it was promises.
The people say it is promises-that will come true.
The people do not always say things out loud,
Nor write them down on paper.
The people often hold
Great thoughts in their deepest hearts
And sometimes only blunderingly express them,
Haltingly and stumblingly say them,
And faultily put them into practice.
The people do not always understand each other.
But there is, somewhere there,
Always the trying to understand,
And the trying to say,
"You are a man. Together we are building our land."
America!
Land created in common,
Dream nourished in common,
Keep your hand on the plow! Hold on!
If the house is not yet finished,
Don't be discouraged, builder!
If the fight is not yet won,
Don't be weary, soldier!
The plan and the pattern is here,
Woven from the beginning
Into the warp and woof of America:
ALL MEN ARE CREATED EQUAL.
NO MAN IS GOOD ENOUGH
TO GOVERN ANOTHER MAN
WITHOUT HIS CONSENT.
BETTER DIE FREE,
THAN TO LIVE SLAVES.
Who said those things? Americans!
Who owns those words? America!
Who is America? You, me!
We are America!
To the enemy who would conquer us from without,
We say, NO!
To the enemy who would divide
And conquer us from within,
We say, NO!
FREEDOM!
BROTHERHOOD!
DEMOCRACY!
To all the enemies of these great words:
We say, NO!
A long time ago,
An enslaved people heading toward freedom
Made up a song:
Keep Your Hand On The Plow! Hold On!
The plow plowed a new furrow
Across the field of history.
Into that furrow the freedom seed was dropped.
From that seed a tree grew, is growing, will ever grow.
That tree is for everybody,
For all America, for all the world.
May its branches spread and shelter grow
Until all races and all peoples know its shade.
KEEP YOUR HAND ON THE PLOW! HOLD ON!
Monday, November 05, 2007
teeny rant:
jingle THIS!!!!
stopped for a few of life's necessities at a local store yesterday.
you know, milk, bread, eyeliner and some sort of miracle cure for weak split nails
and COOKIES. all the things i can not survive without.
anyway, xmas music, low, but xmas music none the less!!!!
hey, i still have a thanksgiving dinner complete with 2 turkeys and numerous pies to plan!
yeah, war on xmas my a--!
Sunday, November 04, 2007
on the way to a latte
i passed a man who
was poking at road kill with a stick
poke poke poke
and i wanted to stop my car and ask
why but the driven look
to his
poke
poke
poke with that long stick that
sent me down the asphalt
gritting my teeth.
i passed a shoe
brown suede long laces
sitting on the double yellow line
one shoe
nobody with a stick
no mate down the road a piece
one shoe
no one hit that shoe
carefully driving around it
made me think
but by then the starbucks' drive-thru
came into view.
i passed a man who
was poking at road kill with a stick
poke poke poke
and i wanted to stop my car and ask
why but the driven look
to his
poke
poke
poke with that long stick that
sent me down the asphalt
gritting my teeth.
i passed a shoe
brown suede long laces
sitting on the double yellow line
one shoe
nobody with a stick
no mate down the road a piece
one shoe
no one hit that shoe
carefully driving around it
made me think
but by then the starbucks' drive-thru
came into view.
Saturday, November 03, 2007
Friday, November 02, 2007
something from my old hometown:
Young Brothers Tae Kwon Do is having a Break-A-Thon & Silent Auction Fundraising Event for the family of Noah Mass. We are asking for donations of all kinds for the AUCTION, gift cards, gift baskets, products, services, etc. (Please call 412-781-5004 to arrange for pick up or delivery of donations) Young Brothers Tae Kwon Do of Aspinwall has a membership of 100+ families and we are expecting a great turnout.
About Noah - Over the last several years, grandmaster Kong has sponsored many break-a-thons for people in need such as the victims of Hurricane Katrina, Hurricane Ivan, 9/11, the Autism Society and the UPMC Cancer Centers. Unfortunately, this time the break-a-thon is for one of our own Young Brothers students, Noah Mass. Noah is an 8-1/2 year old Young Brother's student who began his training at age 6. From the start Noah was energetic, enthusiastic and focused. He loves Tae Kwon Do and his goal was to become a Black Belt this October. Noah became very ill this past September and is in a medically induced coma. Noah is being cared for at Children's Hospital. Noah's parents, Jonathan and Allison have taken turns staying by Noah's side since he fell ill several weeks ago. Noah's little sister Sarah is 5 years old and misses her brother very much. Grandmaster Kong insisted that this year's Break-a-thon benefit Noah's family because of mounting medical expenses and long absences from work. We hope that you will find it in your heart to help out by participating in this event.
All are welcome to attend! Young Brothers Break-A-Thon & Silent Auction
Where: Young Brothers Tae Kwon Do 345 Freeport Rd. Pittsburgh, PA 15215 412.781.5004
When: November 3rd. 2007 at 10am. We ask that donations be made by Saturday morning before the break-a-thon. Please call Brianne Mallozzi with any questions 412-781-5004.
Thank You!
this is gl, pudd'n boy (her sweet hubby)surprised her with a trip to cincinnati
for the steeler game there.
gl has been a cincinnati fan for ages(a steeler fan when the bengals and the steelers aren't in the same game) and so pudd'n took her for a game.
he was dressed in his steeler gear, she in the (boo hiss)bengal's attire!
they both had a wonderful time and said the city was beautiful and the people there very friendly.
and there were a ton of steeler fans there.
they are everywhere you know!
a bunch of kid jokes because i didn't want to climb out from the down comforter and so i'm running late. it's cold!
Q: what sound do porcupines make when they kiss?
A: Ouch
Q: what did one fish say to the other?
A: if you keep your mouth closed you will not get caught.
Q: why are fish so smart?
A: because they live in schools.
Q: what is the longest word in the dictionary?
A: the word smiles because there is a mile between each s.
Q: who earns a living driving their customers away?
A: a taxi driver.
Q: what do you get when you cross a dog with an elephant?
A: a very nervous postman.
Q: what sound do porcupines make when they kiss?
A: Ouch
Q: what did one fish say to the other?
A: if you keep your mouth closed you will not get caught.
Q: why are fish so smart?
A: because they live in schools.
Q: what is the longest word in the dictionary?
A: the word smiles because there is a mile between each s.
Q: who earns a living driving their customers away?
A: a taxi driver.
Q: what do you get when you cross a dog with an elephant?
A: a very nervous postman.
Thursday, November 01, 2007
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