General Chat

Spanish eyes, glad that my first poem will be of use, give my love to your friends and tell them it does get easier, but they are always in one place that is important... your heart.

Yes, I am sure I will love being part of this thread.

On a light hearted note and for those who think golf is a useless game I give you by Mark Twain

Golf is a good walk ruined.

He also said

That the worst winter he ever spent was summer in San Francisco.

One of my favourite places, and yes the weather can be unpredictable but is a great place.

Greenfingers welcome to this thread and I hope that you enjoy reading, sharing and writing the various postings.

I will write the first of your pieces on a suitable card to give to our friends who have very recently lost a son aged 30.
I look forward to reading more favourites or items you have written

To everyone else I hope you are enjoying your day. It is a very wet day here in my part of spain.

Just found this thread. Two to share with you all

The first comes from a Native American Prayer

I give you this one thought to keep
I am with you still- I do not sleep
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the mornings hush
I am the sweet uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight
I am the soft stars that shine at night
Do not think of me as gone -
I am with you in each new dawn.

I wish I had known this one when my son 23 yrs passed away nearly ten years ago.. it gives a great deal of comfort.

The other one is a little rhymme which was on a very old picture that hung on my bedroom wall when I was very small, it was of a cute dog leaning up against a chair as if in prayer and it goes like this

Oh, mistress mine remember me,
You'll soon be going out I see
I will not bark I will not stray,
I'll stay beside you all the way.
And oh I will be very good,
Just like a model doggy should.

I've never forgotten that one, who wrote it who knows

Today is looking very dark indeed, The sky is almost black and the rain is heavy, and now the thunder and lightening has started so may not be on the comp for long.
I thought that these different poems about March where rather beautiful. Hope you like them

"The air is like a butterfly
With frail blue wings.
The happy earth looks at the sky
And sings."
- Joyce Kilmer, Spring



"The afternoon is bright,
with spring in the air,
a mild March afternoon,
with the breath of April stirring,
I am alone in the quiet patio
looking for some old untried illusion -
some shadow on the whiteness of the wall
some memory asleep
on the stone rim of the fountain,
perhaps in the air
the light swish of some trailing gown."
- Antonio Machado, 1875-1939
Selected Poems, #3, Translated by Alan S. Trueblood



"Each leaf,
each blade of grass
vies for attention.

Even weeds
carry tiny blossoms
to astonish us."
- Marianne Poloskey, Sunday in Spring



"March is a month of considerable frustration - it is so near spring and yet across a great deal of the country the weather is still so violent and changeable that outdoor activity in our yards seems light years away."
- Thalassa Cruso

Plus a short piece about" March"

"The word 'March' comes from the Roman 'Martius'. This was originally the first month of the Roman calendar and was named after Mars, the god of war. March was the beginning of our calendar year. We changed to the 'New Style' or 'Gregorian calendar in 1752, and it is only since then when we the year began on 1st January. The Anglo-Saxons called the month Hlyd monath which means Stormy month, or Hraed monath which means Rugged month. All through Lent the traditional games played are marbles and skipping. The games were stopped on the stroke of twelve noon on Good Friday, which in some places was called Marble Day or Long Rope Day. The game of marbles has been played for hundreds of years and some historians say that it might have been started by rolling eggs. In the past, round stones, hazelnuts, round balls of baked clay and even cherry stones have been used."

to Spanisheyes,
one for you on PM

now are you ready for part 2?
only I'm ready to go to bed.
I hope it makes you smile.

Dafydd y Garreg Wen (David of the White Rock) is a traditional Welsh air and folk song.
David Owen the famous blind harpist and composer. Tradition has it that as he lay on hi death bed he called for his harp and composed the haunting air. The words were added nearly a hundred years lated by the poet John Ceiriog Hughes.

Bring me my harp, was David's sad sigh
I would play one more tune before I die.

Help me, dear wife, put the hands to the strings,
I wish my loved ones the blessing God brings.

Last night an angel called with heaven's breath;
David, play and come through the gates of death!
I wish my loved ones the blessing God brings.

for the Welsh speakers among your:

Cariwch medd Dafydd, fy nhelyn i mi,
Ceisiaf cyn marw roi ton arni hi
Codwch fy nwylo i gyredd y tant:
Duw a'ch bendithio fy ngweddw a'm plant

Neithiwr mi glywais lais angel felhyn
Dafydd, tyrd adref, a chwarae trwy'r glyn!

Delyn fy mebyd, ffarwel i dy dant!
Duw a'ch bendithio fy ngweddw a'm plant.

Will do, talk to you soon.

OOH welshbird201, maybe you have the same talent? Perhaps you could post some more of his work?

Georgina I am sorry that last year was not good for you, as soon as I started reading I said to myself I think this is really about a person andhow clever of them to be ablle to write about it in thiis style.
I hope that this year is kinder to you.. Please send us some of you other poems.

I will try to add some more during this week.

I love this - author unknown

17th Century Nun's Prayer

Lord thou knowest better than I know myself that Iam growing older
and will someday be old.
Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking I must say something on every
subject and on every occasion.
Release me from craving to straighten out everybody's affairs.
Make me thoughtful but not moody: helpful but not bossy.
With my vast store of wisdon, it seems a pity not to sue it all, but Thou
knowest Lort that I want a few friends at the end.
Keep my mind free from the recital of endless details; giv me wings to get to the point. Seal my lips on my sches and pains. They are increasing and love of rehearsing them is becoming sweeter as the years go by.
I dare not ask for grace enough to enjoy the tales of other pains, but help me to endure them with patience.
I dare not ask for improved memory, but for a growing humility and a lessing cocksureness when my memory seems to clash with the memories of others. Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be mistaken.
Keep me reasonably sweet; I do not want to be a Saint - some of them are so hard to live with -but a sour old person is one of the crowning works of the devil.
Give me the ability to see good things in unexpected places and talents in unexpected people. And, give me O Lord, the grace to tell them so.
AMEN

A belated thank you for your St.Davids Day wishes. I love the poems especially St.Davids Day. I am distantly connected to John Ceirog Hughes the Welsh poet and Bard.

Spanisheyes, I'm so sorry for your loss, a family friend commited suicide last summer. It is such an awful thing. My thoughts are with you.

Thanks nellie,
it was one of a few pieces I wrote during a very bad year.

This poem caught my eye, again I find it quite harassing.

'The Snare' by James Stephens.

I hear a sudden cry of pain!
There is a rabbit in a snare:
Now I hear the cry again,
But I cannot tell from where.

But I cannot tell from where
He is crying out for aid;
Crying on the frightened air,
Making everything afraid.

Making everything afraid,
wrinkling up his little face,
As he cries again for aid;
And I cannot find the place!

And I cannot find the place
Where his paw is in the snare;
Little one! Oh, little one!
I am searching everywhere.

Wishing any Welsh friends a Happy St Davids' Day

St Davids Day
A cause for celebration
Carried out in
THE WELSH WAY
A time of daffodils and leeks
Our day should last for several weeks!
A time to hear the children sing
Enjoy a feast fit for a King
And wear our National Costume proud
While shouting LONG LIVE WALES
Lorelei Marks

**

Aberystwyth

The costal tides
Bring breeze to the air
The sweet sunshine
Lights the sails, bow and sea
A glisten from the moonlit night
Saw the dawn flee with fright

Sunny beach of sand and rock.
Mocking birds who sing and talk
Washed up wonders
Broken things
Reincarnated with springs sweet wings
A dew which sets
From morning gale
Emily Kingston

**

St Davids Day Poems

Our Noble Wye

On the banks of this gentle, noble Wye,
Where you and I did sit and dream,
Of days to come, and times to be,
And nights of dancing fleeting by,
To taste the things of youth and try,
When we were young love, you and I.
We did not fear age creeping by,
No thought gave we to growing old,
When in our youth both quick and free,
As we sat on the bank of Noble Wye,
So much in love, just you, and I,
Closer now as the years go by.
Old time, and youth, how fast they fly,
Just memories of those days remain,
An age it seems, since we sat in love,
Two as one, just you, and I,
Watching the river gliding by,
On the willowed banks of the Noble Wye.
We dreamed as the river ran swiftly by,
Of houses gardens, and children too,
We swore that we would never part,
And swore true love until we die,
And those eyes I hoped would never cry,
On the banks of the gentle Noble Wye.
The summer breeze singing in grasses dry,
The songs we knew so long ago,
And the dancing on the village green,
The cygnets call as they learn to fly,
Leather on Willow, and the fielders cry,
Echo down through the ages of the Noble Wye,
As we lay in wind blown grasses high,
And recall those days when first we met,
Places we knew, still in memory clear,
And our life together, you and I,
Like the hurrying water passing by,
The banks of this gentle, Noble Wye.
Gwyn Tilley

What is this life if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs

And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,

Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,

Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty's glance,

And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can

Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.


I absolutely love this poem, it is the first poem I ever learnt and was only 6 when I first recited it on stage. that was in 1952!!

I have a copy of this on my March page of my calendar

"I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze."
- William Wordsworth, Daffodils

Time 05,50
Poems for March

"I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze."
- William Wordsworth, Daffodils



"Last day of Winter,
leafless walnut trees--
form is emptiness.
First day of Spring,
clear sky to Mt. Shasta--
emptiness is form."
- Michael P. Garofalo, Cuttings: March

Ah niigglynellie,

Thank you for your kind words
.I would like to telephone our friend but feel it would be invasive. We are his Spanish expate friends and would never have met him if we had not bought houses in the same area. he is only here for a few weeks at a time throughout the year.
I told my children who were very close to my parents the same message about stars and we used to stand in our garden and try to decide which star was Grandma and which was Grandad.

we have decided to call him on Saturday on Sunday and my husband will call him.

There is little else we can do, except pray for him.

In our family we always say that when someone dies, or even a beloved animal (!) that they become a star and they are watching over you. It's always been faintly comforting. We also believe that even though someone as died they are stll a member of our family and that it is quite in order to talk about them, and wonder what they would have thought and said. I am reminded of yet another wartime snippet:-

Went the day well?
We died and never knew,
But well or ill,
England, we died for you.

Thank you Mummo for this posting