. . . and whose day is this?

                

In nineteen hundred and sixty four

Love brought a blessing to a couple's door

Small and sweet, not much hair on his head

The tyke cried and pooped and wanted to be fed

 

Mom and Dad didn't worry, fret or care.

Their long-awaited son was finally there

They cooed and smiled, in awe of his face

Knowing full well that 9 months was no waste

 

Fast forward a mere forty-two years

Such child has made true their many fears

Also the man has brought them so much joy

That many a time they've said, "That's our boy!"

 

To us he is known as Phil the Thrill

But to those who love him he is dearer still

So on this the anniversary of his birth,

Let's all tell Phil how much he's worth.

 

Tags: poetry, Phil the Thrill, birthdays

SHE COMES TO ME NAKED . . .

SHE COMES TO ME NAKED

BY Penny Perez

She comes to me naked with a dreamy-looking face

Around the door she peeks to see if I'm in my place

She tilts her head toward me and gives a little smile

How often have I seen this face . . .it's been a little while

I know well what she asks of me - she does it every day

And asks it of another should I be far away

This day however, is such a special time for me

For in my head these words are formed for all of you to see

Her eyes are brown and sparkling - hers have the light of joy

She doesn't know the alphabet to her it's nothing but a noise

She cannot read or add things up - but knows just what she wants

For she is Guadalupe who with her smile does taunt

Maybe you thought this lovely girl in her nakedness

Had popped herhead just through my door for a loving kiss

A touch, perhaps a fling, but the dear girl with the face of flower

Is just here to ask me -- "can I please take a shower?

Bless her little eyes and face, her stubby fingers and stout frame

Keep her safe from those who shout each ugly nasty name

For written on His hand and heart before the world began

Was a name we know not - scribed in the Book of the Lamb

Precious are those who are not bright, can't read or write a book

Who offer us their simple joy, when with a smile we look

At a face so many children have and share with glee and singing

No accident of birth are they - for the Father's love they're bringing.

This poem is dedicated to Maria Guadalupe (Lupe) who shares her life with us.

If you want to know more about Down Syndrome, click.

Tags: Down Syndrome, poetry

               

How many times shall I give thanks

To the benevolent God who formed me

On Sunday in service, when I rise a rank

When things go well for all to see?

 

How can I thank Him when my day is bad

Or when illness plagues me day in and out

When my best friend dies and I feel so sad

Or with insolent kids who stomp and pout?

 

Sunday is good, and when a raise I get

When life is beautiful and all goes well

Yes these times are wonderful and yet

There will be days that just feel like hell

 

I'll thank him then for the raise I got

For the years with my friend who passed away

Because I am alive, in pain or not

For the children I love each and every day

 

I'll thank Him whether I'm flush or broke

When times are tough and I'm afraid

When I just feel like a pig in a poke

When more than my share of burdens are laid

 

Each and every day when I awake

I thank the Lord for another day

My confessions I then make

With my head bowed I do pray.

 

This day is one when we give thanks

With our hearts of gratitude

We save it up like coins in a bank

To share with others . . .that's just rude!

 

Come to the table with contrite hearts

Reliving our lives in fits and starts

Saying to Him we know what we've done

By not thanking him each morning at the rising sun

 

Eat well on this Thanksgiving Day

Bow your heads to Him do pray

Thanking Him for your wonderful life

Through times of good and times of strife

 

              

The Haze

Been feeling poorly the last few days

New medication leaves a haze

Just when I think it's getting better,

I fall all over myself and take a header.

 

We've lost five of our birdie friends

Oh! What heartbreak their passing lend.

We're not alone,that's for sure

Fourteen birds are still living here

 

The girls have next week off of school

By the end of this I'll feel a fool.

School days are happy for me

Rob and I can feel oh so free.

 

I am so tired I tho't not to write

But through the haze my brain did fight

I surely am happy to write to you

In rhyme as I am wont to do.

 

Congratulations to the Nominees!

Such great words - the eye to please

If there were a way you ALL would win

And the noise we'd make would be a great din.

 

And so my friends I must say to you

Have a great day and I will too

 

                         

 

 

"He called to Him a little child, and set him in the midst of them, and said, Verily I say unto you, Except ye turn, and become as little children, ye shall in no wise enter into the kingdom of heaven."-- Matt 18:2-3

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http://journals.aol.com/firestormkids04/FromHeretoThere

http://journals.aol.com/firestormkids04/TimeforaLittlePoetry

Tags: Mental health, new medicines, poetry

Friday the 13th

         Friday the 13th

 

It's Friday the 13th as you well know,

So many are afraid, keeping low

I'm not afraid at all you see,

For the 13th is lucky for me.

 

No pitfalls, no eerie stuff

My youthful fear was enough

School kids want to scare their friends

So well we know that's not the end.

 

A lifelong fear oft' starts in school

As an adult others tend to fuel

Triskadecaphobia which becomes so strong

Friday the 13th and superstition bring it on

 

It's not a joke or very unreal

It's just a way those folks feel.

Started in school, stays forever

Just for me, it will be never.

 

Stay calm this day and do what you must

Remember our nation says "In God We Trust"

I He can't fix it, perhaps no one will

Just say to Him "Let my heart be still"

 

Enough for today, I have work to do

Enjoy this day until it's though.

 

        

 

A Promise I Keep

A poem a day I promised to you

And though my day's nearly through

I thought I'd share what I did today

Instead of Pogo all day play

 

I've been resting a lot you see

Body aches, etc., have been plaguing me.

Decided yesterday enough is enough

Determined today to be real tough.

 

I cleaned the table beside my head

And vowed to do more beside my bed.

Farmer's market and mall we walked

Bought not much but we talked, talked, talked.

 

Stopped by the pastor's to drop off keys

Came home by noon, pretty as you please.

Back to my chores, ever so much work

I can't believe what things I did shirk.

 

Sent information I needed to send

I thought my work would never end.

We got the girls at their school

Went to get our water bottles full.

 

It seems a boring day, I know it's true

Exciting for me and boring for you.

Why exciting? you may ask

It's been e'er so long since I've done a task.

 

Tonite I am tired, through and through

But remembered I promised a poem to you

So. . . quick of wit, savvy and a poet's brain

I came here to give you this refrain.

 

I'll end it here with a quick "Good night"

Sleep well and don't let the bedbugs bite.

 

 

          

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Lord's Promise

Fred has aske me to put a poem of my own in.  I have many squirreled away, but found this among the papers in my folder here. 

I wrote this poem to my soon-to-be husband just before we left Mexico to be married here. 

                         The Lord's Promise

I never knew until that day

What promise the Lord would send my way.

I rested in Him - He was my guide

And He sent you to be at my side.

My heart rejoiced, but was full of fear

But fullness of love helped me, dear.

To see that service to the King

Is better with two than anything

And here we are - ready to start

A brand new life with open hearts

Open to serve, open to pray

Open to live in the Lord's own way'

I love you Robert, with my heart and soul

Together we'll make a perfect whole.

 

           Love, Penny

 

 

 

Love Letter

On Hotel Californian, Fresno, CA stationary 9-10-39

Dearest:

    Throughout this long and tedious drive,

    I didn't have to strive and strive

          To think of you

   For all unbidden throughout the day

  My thoughts to you would stray and stray

         And  make me glad

 I didn't mind the dust and heat

 Because to me you're sweet so sweet

       And love me so

And so to God My voice I raise

In thankful, humble notes of praise

     That I love you

 

                     Will

The Pin

This was probably written around 1921 ior 1922:

                                        THE PIN 

 

The pin in my opinion, is a blessing to mankind,

For everywhere and everyplace, a use for it we find

It has so many relatives, so many kith and kin,

That for every little service, there is some sort of pin.

 

From babyhood to oldest age, there service we require -

And oft, indeed, they rescue us from situations dire.

Consider now the safety pin - a friend so tried and true

From very earliest infancy their services we knew.

 

We use them by the dozens and lose them by the score

And we're always finding further use and always buying more

We fasten baby's little BVD's and little shimmy shirts

And pin the little dresses and dainty little skirts.

 

And then when baby goes to sleep, we pin the covers tight.

And when a little older, his britches he does tear,

A safety pin will close the breech and hide what else were bare

And if,  perchance, a button needs, or two

It is marvelous what wondrous things a safety pin will do.

 

For Ma says, "Pa there's lots of pins upon the chiffonier -

You'll have to use a safety pin - I'm much too busy, dear."

And Pa says, "Ma, in days of old, it would not have been thus."

But promptly grabs a safety pin - and thus avoid a fuss.

 

                      William Kurtz Booth

 

These next words are from Ruth DeHority Booth (nee Metz):

While being installed as Treasurer of the Board of Lakeview Presbyterian Church, Chicago, Illinois, Will K. Booth saw a pin on the floor in front of him.  As Ruth prepared Sunday dinner, Will kept chuckling to himself as he jotted down the above.  Our two little girls had outgrown the three-cornered stage;  they were brought up in the days of "Vantas" and were not "pinned up" - they were "tied up"

 

I will start with my Grandfather

My grandfather was a hopeless romantic.  He and my grandmother called each other "dearie" throughout their life together.  The name Dearie stuck for him and that's what we called him.  Our grandmother was Boosie for a child's way of saying Ruthie.

I'll be sharing his poetry first.  Then I will share mine.  Without further delay and in no particular order:

on a letter head from The Booth Electrical Furnace Company, Chicago, Illinois -  dated July 20th 1923

Sometimes I think, Oh!  yes I do,

I'd like a letter soon from you.

I know you're almost tired to death

And can't sit down to get your breath.

But a real good letter now and then,

Is relished by the best of men.

A card, a note and a day between,

To me it seems most awful lean.

You do not need to write a book,

For its hard to find a quiet nook.

But you know what I like to hear,

Just write a good long letter, dear.

I toil by day and sometimes night,

But very seldom fail to write.

Though social pleasures fill my card,

And writing seems most awful hard,

With picnics every day or two

I ever, dear, do think of you.

And, sometimes, I do more than think,

For each night e'er I sleep a wink,

I whisper in you very ear,

I love you sweetheart, ever dear.

And to make as official out of this,

I seal my message with a kiss.

Perhaps these love words went astray,

Among the stars of the milky way.

Or maybe they were lost in the crowd

Or are gamboling aloft on a fleecy cloud

Or your receiver may not have been in tune

And they traveled to you by way of the moon

But wherever or however the case may be,

Each night this message goes from me.

This really is not a complaint    

Don't read a thought in here that "ain't"

'Tis just a suggestion, dear, for you

To keep your boy from feelin' blue.

 

Will

7-20-23