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Showing posts with label mother's day. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mother's day. Show all posts
Sunday, May 10, 2009
SUNDAY COMICS
Debbie is out enjoying time with her daughter and mom. She asked me to post this morning's Sunday Comics. Hope it is not too late.
(Click to view a larger image.)
(Click to view a larger image.)
Saturday, May 9, 2009
MOTHER'S DAY - 2009
By Debbie Bulloch
Tomorrow is Mother’s Day. If your mother is alive, and close by, go visit her and give her a hug. If she is far, call her and tell her that you’re thinking of her. If your mother is no longer in this Earth, close your eyes, think of her, and let her know that she is always in your heart.
Here are five poems, by four different authors, each with his (or her) own take on mothers and motherhood.
Someone's Mother
By Robert W. Service
Someone's Mother trails the street
Wrapt in rotted rags;
Broken slippers on her feet
Drearily she drags;
Drifting in the bitter night,
Gnawing gutter bread,
With a face of tallow white,
Listless as the dead.
Someone's Mother in the dim
Of the grey church wall
Hears within a Christmas hymn,
One she can recall
From the h so long ago,
When divinely far,
in the holy alter glow
She would kneel in prayer.
Someone's Mother, huddled there,
Had so sweet a dream;
Seemed the sky was Heaven's stair,
Golden and agleam,
Robed in gown Communion bright,
Singingly she trod
Up and up the stair of light,
And thee was waiting - God.
Someone's Mother cowers down
By the old church wall;
Soft above the sleeping town
Snow begins to fall;
Now her rags are lily fair,
but unproud is she:
Someone's Mother is not there . . .
Lo! she climbs the starry stair
Only angels see.
Spartan Mother
By Robert W. Service
My mother loved her horses and
Her hounds of pedigree;
She did not kiss the baby hand
I held to her in glee.
Of course I had a sweet nou-nou
Who tended me with care,
And mother reined her nag to view
Me with a critic air.
So I went to a famous school,
But holidays were short;
My mother thought me just a fool,
Unfit for games and sport.
For I was fond of books and art,
And hated hound and steed:
Said Mother, 'Boy, you break my heart!
You are not of our breed.'
Then came the War. The Mater said:
'Thank God, a son I give
To King and Country,'--well, I'm dead
Who would have loved to live.
'For England's sake,' said she, 'he died.
For that my boy I bore.'
And now she talks of me with pride.
A hero of the War.
Mother, I think that you are glad
I ended up that way.
Your horses and your dogs you had,
And still you have today.
Your only child you say you gave
Your Country to defend . . .
Dear Mother, from a hero's grave
I--curse you in the end.
Mother's Loss
By Ella Wheeler Wilcox
If I could clasp my little babe
Upon my breast to-night,
I would not mind the blowing wind
That shrieketh in affright.
Oh, my lost babe! my little babe,
My babe with dreamful eyes;
Thy bed is cold; and night wind bold
Shrieks woeful lullabies.
My breast is softer than the sod;
This room, with lighter hearth,
Is better place for thy sweet face
Than frozen mother eatrth.
Oh, my babe! oh, my lost babe!
Oh, babe with waxen hands,
I want thee so, I need thee so -
Come from thy mystic lands!
No love that, like a mother's fills
Each corner of the heart;
No loss like hers, that rends, and chills,
And tears the soul apart.
Oh, babe - my babe, my helpless babe!
I miss thy little form.
Would I might creep where thou dost sleep,
And clasp thee through the storm.
I hold thy pillow to my breast,
To bring a vague relief;
I sing the songs that soothed thy rest -
Ah me! no cheating grief.
My breathing babe! my sobbing babe!
I miss thy plaintive moan,
I cannot hear - thou art not near -
My little one, my own.
Thy father sleeps. He mourns thy loss,
But little fathers know
The pain that makes a mother toss
Through sleepless nights of woe.
My clinging babe! my nursing babe!
What knows thy father - man -
How my breasts miss thy lips' soft kiss -
None but a mother can.
Mothers Are a Special Gift
By Faye Diane Kilday
Mothers are a special gift sent
from God above,
They bless us with their nurturing,
And fill us with their love.
They pick us up when we are down,
And when we're sad they know,
They're always there to lend a hand,
And guide us as we go.
And mothers are like special jewels
that can't be bought or sold...
A mother's love's more precious
than the rarest gem or gold.
Yes, mothers are a special gift sent
from God above,
And we'll be blessed forever with
their never ending love!
Prayer For a New Mother
By Dorothy Parker
The things she knew, let her forget again-
The voices in the sky, the fear, the cold,
The gaping shepherds, and the queer old men
Piling their clumsy gifts of foreign gold.
Let her have laughter with her little one;
Teach her the endless, tuneless songs to sing,
Grant her her right to whisper to her son
The foolish names one dare not call a king.
Keep from her dreams the rumble of a crowd,
The smell of rough-cut wood, the trail of red,
The thick and chilly whiteness of the shroud
That wraps the strange new body of the dead.
Ah, let her go, kind Lord, where mothers go
And boast his pretty words and ways, and plan
The proud and happy years that they shall know
Together, when her son is grown a man.
In closing, here is a song by one of my favorite songwriters, Paul Simon. I am not quite sure what the lyrics mean, but they do have the words “mother” and “child” so I suppose it fits for Mother’s Day.
"Mother and Child Reunion”
By Paul Simon.
No I would not give you false hope
On this strange and mournful day
But the mother and child reu-nion
Is only a motion away, oh, little darling of mine.
I cant for the life of me
Remember a sadder day
I know they say let it be
But it just dont work out that way
And the course of a lifetime runs
Over and over again
No I would not give you false hope
On this strange and mournful day
But the mother and child reu-nion
Is only a motion away, oh, little darling of mine.
I just cant believe its so,
And though it seems strange to say
I never been laid so low
In such a mysterious way
And the course of a lifetime runs
Over and over again
But I would not give you false hope
On this strange and mournful day
When the mother and child reu-nion
Is only a motion away,
Oh, oh the mother and child reunion
Is only a motion away
Oh the mother and child reu-nion
Is only a moment away …
(This is a reggae cover by Ziggy Marley- I thought you’d enjoy it.)
The essence of motherhood.
MOTHER POLAR BEAR AND CUBS – WAPUSK NATIONAL PARK, MANITOBA, CANADA.
Copyright © “First People.” All rights fully reserved.
For more images and information on ”First People” please click the link below.
First People
Have a wonderful day.
Tomorrow is Mother’s Day. If your mother is alive, and close by, go visit her and give her a hug. If she is far, call her and tell her that you’re thinking of her. If your mother is no longer in this Earth, close your eyes, think of her, and let her know that she is always in your heart.
Here are five poems, by four different authors, each with his (or her) own take on mothers and motherhood.
Someone's Mother
By Robert W. Service
Someone's Mother trails the street
Wrapt in rotted rags;
Broken slippers on her feet
Drearily she drags;
Drifting in the bitter night,
Gnawing gutter bread,
With a face of tallow white,
Listless as the dead.
Someone's Mother in the dim
Of the grey church wall
Hears within a Christmas hymn,
One she can recall
From the h so long ago,
When divinely far,
in the holy alter glow
She would kneel in prayer.
Someone's Mother, huddled there,
Had so sweet a dream;
Seemed the sky was Heaven's stair,
Golden and agleam,
Robed in gown Communion bright,
Singingly she trod
Up and up the stair of light,
And thee was waiting - God.
Someone's Mother cowers down
By the old church wall;
Soft above the sleeping town
Snow begins to fall;
Now her rags are lily fair,
but unproud is she:
Someone's Mother is not there . . .
Lo! she climbs the starry stair
Only angels see.
Spartan Mother
By Robert W. Service
My mother loved her horses and
Her hounds of pedigree;
She did not kiss the baby hand
I held to her in glee.
Of course I had a sweet nou-nou
Who tended me with care,
And mother reined her nag to view
Me with a critic air.
So I went to a famous school,
But holidays were short;
My mother thought me just a fool,
Unfit for games and sport.
For I was fond of books and art,
And hated hound and steed:
Said Mother, 'Boy, you break my heart!
You are not of our breed.'
Then came the War. The Mater said:
'Thank God, a son I give
To King and Country,'--well, I'm dead
Who would have loved to live.
'For England's sake,' said she, 'he died.
For that my boy I bore.'
And now she talks of me with pride.
A hero of the War.
Mother, I think that you are glad
I ended up that way.
Your horses and your dogs you had,
And still you have today.
Your only child you say you gave
Your Country to defend . . .
Dear Mother, from a hero's grave
I--curse you in the end.
Mother's Loss
By Ella Wheeler Wilcox
If I could clasp my little babe
Upon my breast to-night,
I would not mind the blowing wind
That shrieketh in affright.
Oh, my lost babe! my little babe,
My babe with dreamful eyes;
Thy bed is cold; and night wind bold
Shrieks woeful lullabies.
My breast is softer than the sod;
This room, with lighter hearth,
Is better place for thy sweet face
Than frozen mother eatrth.
Oh, my babe! oh, my lost babe!
Oh, babe with waxen hands,
I want thee so, I need thee so -
Come from thy mystic lands!
No love that, like a mother's fills
Each corner of the heart;
No loss like hers, that rends, and chills,
And tears the soul apart.
Oh, babe - my babe, my helpless babe!
I miss thy little form.
Would I might creep where thou dost sleep,
And clasp thee through the storm.
I hold thy pillow to my breast,
To bring a vague relief;
I sing the songs that soothed thy rest -
Ah me! no cheating grief.
My breathing babe! my sobbing babe!
I miss thy plaintive moan,
I cannot hear - thou art not near -
My little one, my own.
Thy father sleeps. He mourns thy loss,
But little fathers know
The pain that makes a mother toss
Through sleepless nights of woe.
My clinging babe! my nursing babe!
What knows thy father - man -
How my breasts miss thy lips' soft kiss -
None but a mother can.
Mothers Are a Special Gift
By Faye Diane Kilday
Mothers are a special gift sent
from God above,
They bless us with their nurturing,
And fill us with their love.
They pick us up when we are down,
And when we're sad they know,
They're always there to lend a hand,
And guide us as we go.
And mothers are like special jewels
that can't be bought or sold...
A mother's love's more precious
than the rarest gem or gold.
Yes, mothers are a special gift sent
from God above,
And we'll be blessed forever with
their never ending love!
Prayer For a New Mother
By Dorothy Parker
The things she knew, let her forget again-
The voices in the sky, the fear, the cold,
The gaping shepherds, and the queer old men
Piling their clumsy gifts of foreign gold.
Let her have laughter with her little one;
Teach her the endless, tuneless songs to sing,
Grant her her right to whisper to her son
The foolish names one dare not call a king.
Keep from her dreams the rumble of a crowd,
The smell of rough-cut wood, the trail of red,
The thick and chilly whiteness of the shroud
That wraps the strange new body of the dead.
Ah, let her go, kind Lord, where mothers go
And boast his pretty words and ways, and plan
The proud and happy years that they shall know
Together, when her son is grown a man.
In closing, here is a song by one of my favorite songwriters, Paul Simon. I am not quite sure what the lyrics mean, but they do have the words “mother” and “child” so I suppose it fits for Mother’s Day.
"Mother and Child Reunion”
By Paul Simon.
No I would not give you false hope
On this strange and mournful day
But the mother and child reu-nion
Is only a motion away, oh, little darling of mine.
I cant for the life of me
Remember a sadder day
I know they say let it be
But it just dont work out that way
And the course of a lifetime runs
Over and over again
No I would not give you false hope
On this strange and mournful day
But the mother and child reu-nion
Is only a motion away, oh, little darling of mine.
I just cant believe its so,
And though it seems strange to say
I never been laid so low
In such a mysterious way
And the course of a lifetime runs
Over and over again
But I would not give you false hope
On this strange and mournful day
When the mother and child reu-nion
Is only a motion away,
Oh, oh the mother and child reunion
Is only a motion away
Oh the mother and child reu-nion
Is only a moment away …
(This is a reggae cover by Ziggy Marley- I thought you’d enjoy it.)
The essence of motherhood.
MOTHER POLAR BEAR AND CUBS – WAPUSK NATIONAL PARK, MANITOBA, CANADA.
Copyright © “First People.” All rights fully reserved.
For more images and information on ”First People” please click the link below.
First People
Have a wonderful day.
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