My Writings (New 6)

A Magic Word

There is a word, a magic word,
Upon the wind it may be heard,
Ringing again and again,
Upon the blowing wind.

In every land it may be heard,
This one eternal word,
Hear the wind blow, hear the wind blow,
Upon the wind this word does flow;

Listen if you will now my friend,
Unto the blowing wind,
And you will hear, yes, you will hear,
A word whispering in your ear.

There is a word, a magic word,
Upon the wind it may be heard,
Listen now with your ear,
And you will this word hear.

Sleep

A good night's sleep brightens the world considerably. Sleep is a great healer of a troubled mind. What we were unable to solve or overcome the night before, we wake up with the confidence to handle with ease.

Sleep renews our faculties, and restores the vital rhythm of our body and mind. Sleep removes gently and imperceptively the cobwebs of worry and fear which attach to our thoughts after a long and tiring day. Sleep relaxs the tense nerves, calms the turmoil of living, and inspires us for one more day.

Sleep cleanses us of our sins, and we wake up in the morning oblivious of the cares of yesterday, our woes and foolish errors all but forgotten. To be honest sleep does not always erase all those distresses of yesterday, but it does usually lessen their intensity.

How prone are we to despair when we lack a little sleep, and how irritable and unreasonable we become when we are tired. Fatigue tends to bring out our worst side, and causes us to be less able to meet and resolve life's situations. But one good night's sleep prepares us to face the world again.

Our aspirations, our hopes, and our dreams are restored by the magic of sleep, and peace, that wonderful gift once again rests above our brow. Strength of purpose is enhanced by sleep, and he who wavered yesterday from weariness is steadfast today as a result of the miracle of sleep.

There is no describing the change wrought by a restful night's sleep. It causes one who despaired of life the night before to awaken in love with life, the sorrowful one to awaken with peace, and with faith in the future, to breathe the air with delight once again, and for a short time at least before the cares of the new day shackle one, to find a certain happiness and glory in life.

Truly sleep is one of the greatest blessings of life. If every moment could be a waking moment life would be a beautiful and happy experience.

What Do I Know?

I know very little,
I know the wind blows,
I know the sun shines,
I know that the flower grows.

I know that I breathe,
I know the sky is blue,
I know sometimes there are clouds,
I know that birds fly too.

I know there are rivers and seas,
I know the streams flow,
I know there are trees and hills,
That's about all that I know.

Once Upon A Time

Once upon a time,
I chased fireflies,
And played childhood games,
Beneath the blue skies.

Once upon a time,
I played and ran free,
And climbed the hills,
With a childlike glee.

Once upon a time,
In my youth's spring,
I thought the world was mine,
And I loved everything.

Childhood Memories

When I was a small boy on the farm I used to enjoy climbing the hill above our farmhouse and sitting and looking out over the valley below. I could see the distant hills on all sides. I would look up in the sky and watch the white clouds drift by. I sometimes imagined I could see shapes in the clouds. I saw faces, animals, ships, and all kinds of shapes form there in the clouds. I also liked to watch approaching thunderstorms from my hillside vantage point. I could see the lightening flashing in the distance and hear the rumbling sounds of distant thunder.

From my hillside I loved to listen to the sounds in my little corner of the world. My youthful ears listened with delight to the wind blowing through the trees and rustling the leaves and the stirring of the grass as the wind passed over, and delighted in the sound of birds singing in the distance and the low hum of the insects. I can remember the pleasant sounds of our farm animals, the chickens clucking contentedly, the cows lowing in the pasture, the grunting and occasional squealing of the pigs. Sometimes my little cat or dog would follow me and sit beside me there on the hillside. The purring of my cat was a comforting sound, and my little dog would wag his tail and whine for me to pet him.

It was also my fondest enjoyment to go play in the little stream that flowed near our farmhouse. The little stream always held a world of fascination for a small child such as myself. There were many wonderful things to do there and many fascinating creatures who inhabited the little stream awaiting my investigation. Foremost among the remarkable and fascinating creatures who called the little stream home were frogs, and little crawfish, minnows, strange looking little bugs and critters that never ceased to absorb and engross my childhood interest. I would spend countless hours in rapt fascination observing them.

I used to be enchanted in watching all the wonderful little inhabitants of the stream. In particular I recall one species of water creature, a spidery little critter which I believe is called a water strider. They race across the top of the water with long skinny spidery legs that act as oars. Sometimes they would climb on one another's back and ride piggy-back. I was entranced by them. I suppose most people wouldn't even notice them, but a small child notices little things older people often overlook. Especially if that child is a lonely little child who has no other children to play with and must find playmates among the animals and creatures and invent little games to play. Sometimes I also took my mother's clothespins and raced them in the stream, and other times I built little dams.

When I think back over the years I can almost hear the little stream gurgling over the rocks, and smell the freshness of the water, and feel the tingling coldness of it. Sometimes I wish I could go back there just for a day and be that little boy again

Back To My New Poetry-Page 5

Return To My Index Page 2