It Is Still A Beautiful World

It is still a beautiful world

Dear Lincoln,

I thought today I would share some more poetry with you.  The poem I want to share with you is by Max Ehrmann.  Max Ehrmann was born in Terre Haute, Indiana on September 16, 1872 to German immigrant parents. In 1894 he graduated from DePauw University in Greencastle. Later Ehrmann studied law and philosophy at Harvard University. He returned to Terre Haute where he practiced law. When he began writing, he devoted every day to his work. Ehrmann wrote many poems, but his most famous poems are ‘Desiderata’ (1927) and ‘A Prayer (1906)’.

“Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly, and listen to others, even the dull and ignorant; they too have their story. Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love – for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment is it perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you from misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labours and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.
― Max Ehrmann, Desiderata: A Poem for a Way of Life

Lincoln, today the world was beautiful because you and I spent the early morning at the beach.  You are no doubt, your momma’s boy, fearlessly playing in the water, always looking for the next thrill that sends you laughing hysterically.  Yes Lincoln, today the world was beautiful because we were together enjoying the moment, and setting worries aside.

I love you to the moon and back little man, Puppa

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Bug Hunting In The Wild

Bug Hunting 2k13

 

Dear Lincoln,

The other day brought some light showers and it helped cool things down a bit so your momma and I took you outside to burn off some of your built up energy.  You thoroughly enjoyed being barefoot and running around in the wet grass as a light mist of rain danced on your face.

It wasn’t long before you found some Pill Bugs in the garden and, just like your momma when she was young, you were determined to find more and either play with them or examine them.

Watching you play in the rain with your momma brought this poem to mind and I hope you enjoy it as much as your momma and Aunt Carlee did when I would read it to them when they were little.

“There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we’ll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we’ll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.”
― Shel Silverstein, Where the Sidewalk Ends

 

I love you little man, Puppa.

 

Grace me with a stolen moment

Grace me with a stolen moment, let me know why…

Like all the stars of the night sky, give me just one reason…

One reason for my heart to sigh.

Standing amidst the ocean of night and gale, I question why…

Like memories and feelings in the mind and heart, tell me how one exists…

In a land of fairy tales, hummingbirds and butterflies.

A Grand Hall of music and song, It seduces me into asking why…

Like how time can never stop, not even for a world…

Where flowers and yes, even dreams must die.

Mortals share precious moments, and time has no meaning, I challenge why…

Maybe, just maybe, there doesn’t need to be a reason why…

Faith is enough when placed in the hands of Mother Earth and Father Sky.

I am….

I Am

I am simple yet complex

I wonder about God and my purpose

I hear the wind whisper

I see beauty everywhere

I want happiness

I am simple yet complex

 

I pretend to be content

I feel blessed for the simple things

I touch my imagination

I worry about those I love

I cry for those that don’t appreciate what they have

I am simple yet complex

 

I understand that to love and be loved is enough

I say to live without hesitation

I dream of a better understanding of who I am

I try to leave whispers of my footprints on tiny hearts

I hope for love and understanding

I am simple yet complex 

Poem for a Sunday Morning

I Am

I am simple yet complex

I wonder about God and my purpose

I hear the wind whisper

I see beauty everywhere

I want happiness

I am simple yet complex

 

I pretend to be content

I feel blessed for the simple things

I touch my imagination

I worry about those I love

I cry for those that don’t appreciate what they have

I am simple yet complex

 

I understand that to love and be loved is enough

I say to live without hesitation

I dream of a better understanding of who I am

I try to leave whispers of my footprints on tiny hearts

I hope for love and understanding

I am simple yet complex