What Are Heavy ~ Poem by Christina Rossetti

What Are Heavy?

By Christina Rossetti

What are heavy? Sea-sand and sorrow;
What are brief? Today and tomorrow;
What are frail? Spring blossoms and youth;
What are deep? The ocean and truth.


Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/what-are-heavy-by-christina-rossetti


The Dog ~ Poem by Ogden Nash

The Dog

by Ogden Nash

The truth I do not stretch or shove
When I state that the dog is full of love.
I’ve also found, by actual test,
A wet dog is the lovingest.

Someone Should Start Laughing Now – Poem by Hafez

Someone Should Start Laughing Now

by Hafez

I have a thousand brilliant lies
For the question:

How are you?

I have a thousand brilliant lies
For the question:

What is God?

If you think that the Truth can be known
From words,

If you think that the Sun and the Ocean

Can pass through that tiny opening Called the mouth,

O someone should start laughing!
Someone should start wildly Laughing ‘Now!


The Playground of Life XIX – Poem by Khalil Gibran

The Playground of Life XIX by Khalil Gibran

One hour devoted to the pursuit of Beauty 
And Love is worth a full century of glory 
Given by the frightened weak to the strong. 

From that hour comes man’s Truth; and 
During that century Truth sleeps between 
The restless arms of disturbing dreams. 

In that hour the soul sees for herself 
The Natural Law, and for that century she 
Imprisons herself behind the law of man; 
And she is shackled with irons of oppression. 

That hour was the inspiration of the Songs 
Of Solomon, an that century was the blind 
Power which destroyed the temple of Baalbek. 

That hour was the birth of the Sermon on the 
Mount, and that century wrecked the castles of 
Palmyra and the Tower of Babylon. 

That hour was the Hegira of Mohammed and that 
Century forgot Allah, Golgotha, and Sinai. 

One hour devoted to mourning and lamenting the 
Stolen equality of the weak is nobler than a 
Century filled with greed and usurpation. 

It is at that hour when the heart is 
Purified by flaming sorrow and 
Illuminated by the torch of Love. 
And in that century, desires for Truth 
Are buried in the bosom of the earth. 
That hour is the root which must flourish. 
That hour of meditation, the hour of 
Prayer, and the hour of a new era of good. 

And that century is a life of Nero spent 
On self-investment taken solely from 
Earthly substance. 

This is life. 
Portrayed on the stage for ages; 
Recorded earthly for centuries; 
Lived in strangeness for years; 
Sung as a hymn for days; 
Exalted but for an hour, but the 
Hour is treasured by Eternity as a jewel.

The Best Thing in The World – A Poem by Elizabeth Barret Browning

The Best Thing In The World

by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

What’s the best thing in the world?
June-rose, by May-dew impearled;
Sweet south-wind, that means no rain;
Truth, not cruel to a friend;
Pleasure, not in haste to end;
Beauty, not self-decked and curled
Till its pride is over-plain;
Light, that never makes you wink;
Memory, that gives no pain;
Love, when, so, you’re loved again.
What’s the best thing in the world?
Something out of it, I think.

I Don’t Do Fridge’s, Floors or Flamingos

Today is trash day. Three cheers for Tuesday trash day. I’ll add an extra T and make it an alliteration. It’s Tuesday Terrific Trash day. It’s terrific because the trash smells. I decided to clean the refrigerator this past weekend.

“Hold on, Ray. Who cleaned the refrigerator this past weekend?”

“I bolted the door. Set the alarm. How did you bypass my security, Tay?”

“I made friends with a mystery writer on a blog close by. Have to say it, Ray. Her blog is much more interesting than some I’ve read.”

“Why are you rolling your eyes? And, what does your friend’s blog have to do with you bypassing my fool proof system?”

“She’s a mystery writer and wrote a few lines having me pick the lock and disarming the alarm. Simple enough. Go girl power. BTW, we’re having girls’ night out and spending it here.”

“I’m fine with that. Can I join?”

“There you go spoiling everything. We’ll hold it at the mystery writer’s blog. Now, let’s get back to reality, who cleaned the fridge?”

“It was my idea, Tay.”

“Who cleaned the fridge, Ray?”

“Not you.”

“Darn right. I don’t do fridge’s, floors, or flamingos.”

“Where did flamingo’s come from?”

“You started the alliteration thing. Now, fess up, who cleaned it?”

“Maid 911. I didn’t catch her name. She was too busy telling me I need to get rid of outdated and moldy stuff.”

“Now you wonder why I like to eat out, often, very often, every night if possible.”

“No, I never wondered. My fridge sparkles. Smells great.”

“When are you going to fill it?”

“Let me enjoy the clean, almost new feeling.”

“We could have cut this blog in half if you came clean quickly.”

“There are guys who read this blog. Coming clean is a step by step process for my species. It’s like tying a shoe. First, you put your shoe on. Second, check to make sure it’s on the right foot.”

“Stop, Ray. Stop.”

“BTW, can I join you at the mystery writer’s blog?”

Being truthful isn’t easy, especially when it comes to acknowledging something we’ve done or failed to do. Being truthful is important to a healthy, loving relationship. It’s the glue that builds trust one step at a time. 


My Mom’s Lesson

My mom grew up the hard way. A daughter of immigrant parents, her mother died when she was two. Her older sister raised mom and her three other siblings. She stopped attending school when she was in fourth grade. This uneducated woman was one of the most intelligent and compassionate people I’ve known. I recall early in my life when she took me to the library and made sure I had a library card. She made sure I read, read, and read some more. She never asked me, What did you do today?” She always asked me, “What did you learn today?” In her wisdom, she reminded me over and again, “Ray, learn something new every day.”

Learn something new every day. A simple sentence from a simple woman holding a deep, profound truth. If I am learning something new, I am growing. I am capable of changing. I am capable of adapting. I am not quitting. I am not deferring. I am capable of doing much, much more than I am doing at the moment.

Her simple lesson has helped me through my grieving process. I discovered grieving throws you on a steep learning curve with only two choices: Learn and grow or stop learning and atrophy. I’ve chosen to learn and grow. Thank you, mom.

Alone But Not Lonely

Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
And I don’t believe I’m wrong
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone. ~ Alone by Maya Angelou
Being alone takes a lot of getting used to. Anyone can make a bed, cook a healthy meal, exercise, and read a book.
Being alone takes a lot of getting used to.
Being alone is missing the mug clink with coffee cups in the morning. It’s missing the surprise kisses that come out of nowhere, for no reason other than someone loves you. It’s missing silly conversations, laughing together, and walking hand in hand, words not needed.
Being alone takes a lot of getting used to.
“That nobody, but nobody, can make it out here alone.” The truth in Maya Angelu’s poem resonates deep within me. I discovered that life calls me to reach out to others. I’m getting used to saying, “Hi, my name is Ray, what’s yours?” At first, it was difficult, extending my arm, smiling, and introducing myself. It’s not something most people make a daily habit. I do. And, it has made all the difference. I no longer feel alone, although I’m dancing alone. I discovered a genuine warmth, compassion, and love in the people I’ve met. In spite of the cable news, the world is a friendly place, people are good, and each person I meet brightens my life.
Hi, my name is Ray. What’s yours?