I Love to Be a Mother #40

I Love To Be a Mother



Some houses try to hide the fact

that children shelter there.

Ours boasts of it quite openly,

the signs are everywhere.

For smears are on the windows,

little smudges on the doors,

I should apologize, I guess,

for toys strewn on the floor.

But I sat down with the children

and we played and laughed and read;

And if the doorbell doesn't shine,

their eyes will shine instead.

For when at times I'm forced to choose

the one job or the other;

I like to be a housewife but

I love to be a mother.

...Author Unknown

Challenge #39 I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud


by William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee;
A poet could not be but gay,
In such a jocund company!
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

Challenge #38 Calmly We Walk Through This April's Day

Calmly We Walk Through This April's Day
by Delmore Schwartz


Calmly we walk through this April's day,
Metropolitan poetry here and there,
In the park sit pauper and rentier,
The screaming children, the motor-car
Fugitive about us, running away,
Between the worker and the millionaire
Number provides all distances,
It is Nineteen Thirty-Seven now,
Many great dears are taken away,
What will become of you and me
(This is the school in which we learn...)
Besides the photo and the memory?
(...that time is the fire in which we burn.)
(This is the school in which we learn...)
What is the self amid this blaze?
What am I now that I was then
Which I shall suffer and act again,
The theodicy I wrote in my high school days
Restored all life from infancy,
The children shouting are bright as they run
(This is the school in which they learn . . .)
Ravished entirely in their passing play!
(...that time is the fire in which they burn.)
Avid its rush, that reeling blaze!
Where is my father and Eleanor?
Not where are they now, dead seven years,
But what they were then?
No more? No more?
From Nineteen-Fourteen to the present day,
Bert Spira and Rhoda consume, consume
Not where they are now (where are they now?)
But what they were then, both beautiful;
Each minute bursts in the burning room,
The great globe reels in the solar fire,
Spinning the trivial and unique away.
(How all things flash! How all things flare!)
What am I now that I was then?
May memory restore again and again
The smallest color of the smallest day:
Time is the school in which we learn,
Time is the fire in which we burn.

Challenge #37 Spring Pools

Spring Pools
by Robert Frost
These pools that, though in forests, still reflect
The total sky almost without defect,
And like the flowers beside them, chill and shiver,
Will like the flowers beside them soon be gone,
And yet not out by any brook or river,
But up by roots to bring dark foliage on.
The trees that have it in their pent-up buds
To darken nature and be summer woods---
Let them think twice before they use their powers
To blot out and drink up and sweep away
These flowery waters and these watery flowers
from snow that melted only yesterday.

Challenge #36 March

March


by Lucy Larcom

"March! March! March! They are coming
In troops to the tune of the wind.
Redheaded woodpeckers drumming,
Gold - crested thrushes behind;
Sparrows in brown jackets, hopping
Past every gateway and door;
Finches, with crimson caps, stopping
Just where they stopped before.
March! March! March! They are slipping
Into their places at last. . .
Literature white lily buds, dripping
Under the showers that fall fast;
Buttercups, violets, roses;
Snowdrop and bluebell and pink,
Throng upon throng of sweet posies
Bending the dewdrops to drink.
March! March! March! They will hurry
Forth at the wild bugle sound,
Blossoms and birds in a flurry,
Fluttering all over the ground.
Shake out your flags, birch and willow!
Shake out your red tassels, larch!
Grass blades, up from your earth - pillow.
Hear who is calling you. . . March."

Challenge #35 Children

Children

by Khalil Gibran

And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, 'Speak to us of Children.'

And he said:

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts.

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;

For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.

Challenge #34 May You Always Feel Loved

May You Always Feel Loved


by Sandra Sturtz Hauss



May you find serenity and tranquility in a world

You may not always understand.

May the pain you have known and conflict you have experienced

Give you the strength to walk through life

Facing each new situation with courage and optimism.

Always know that there are those whose love and understanding

Will always be there, even when you feel most alone.

May you discover enough goodness in others

To believe in a world of peace.

May a kind word, a reassuring touch, a warm smile be yours

Every day of your life,

And may you give these gifts as well as receive them.

Remember the sunshine when the storm seems unending.

Teach love to those who know hate,

And let that love embrace you as you go into the world.

May the teaching of those you admire become part of you,

So that you may call upon them.

Remember, those whose lives you have touched

And who have touched yours are always a part of you,

Even if the encounters were less than you would have wished.

It is the content of the encounter that is more important than it's form.

May you not become too concerned with material matters,

But instead place immeasurable value on the goodness in your heart.

Find time in each day to see the beauty and love in the world around you.

Realize that each person has limitless abilities,

But each of us is different in our own way.

What you may feel you lack in one regard

May be more than compensated for in another.

What you feel you lack in the present

May become one of your strengths in the future.

May you see your future as one filled with promise and possibility.

Learn to view everything as a worthwhile experience.

May you find enough inner strength to determine your own worth by yourself,

And not be dependent on another's judgement of your accomplishments.

May you always feel loved.


--- Copyright © 1987 Sandra Sturtz Hauss ---