The Seasons In Life.


, , , , , , ,

For years I’ve watched the seasons come,

And I’ve watched the seasons go.

They reflect that all living things

Change as they grow.


The seed lies dormant in the earth                                       

Found on Pinterest on 4-30-17. Saved from an article on

And then sprouts forth with life.

An infant lies in his mother’s womb

And is born with lots of strife.


A tree needs enough nutrients

In order to grow strong.

A baby needs good nourishment

For his body to grow long.


Spring brings the rain and the warm sun

That enables the tree to grow tall.

Childhood and adolescence give a child

Time to prepare for Fall.


A tree has leaves that shake and twist

In the Summer storms that pass by,

And they change to lovely colors as

The Fall season leaves them to die.


A young man faces the storms of life

With courage and a strong belief:

That God will be there through the worst

And  strengthen him in grief.


Or a man can choose to face those storms

With bitterness and hate,

And blame God for the things he lost

And leave the rest to fate.


For surely as the seasons pass,

Death comes to every man,

And he must choose to walk away,

Or reach out for God’s hand.


The tree drops seeds on the ground

And they end up down below 

The earth and wait until next Spring

When new trees will grow.








The Truth About Living.


Found on Pinterest on 10-25-15. Found on Pinterest on 10-25-15. Jackson Kiddard

When I was young, I believed true courage was accepting whatever life threw your way. That life was filled with good experiences and difficult times, and a brave man suffered in silence, did not complain, or let the world know his fears, his hurts, or disappointments,  but rather he kept his chin up and showed  the world a calm, confident, humorous face. I believed that one should always be aware of his blessings, think positive thoughts, and fight his battles alone.

I believed  stories should be kept secret if they contained elements of violence, emotional abuse, or had subject matter that had a tendency to make people feel uncomfortable, anxious , or depressed. I felt my job was to help others, and bring joy to the world by not needing anything, not burdening any one, but rather live a life of self-sacrifice.


View original post 471 more words

Fighting To Stay On Top Of The Pain.


, , , ,

When your tender heart is broken

in tiny, little pieces

and hope is slowly dying

inside you ’til it ceases;


When dreams become illusions

and nothing else is real,

past ideals have crumbled,

and you find that you can’t feel;


When life seems sad and empty

and your insides hollowed out,

you know you are drowning,

but you can’t even shout


For someone to help you 

and take you by your hand,

who restores your faith in people

and says she understands.


It is time to dig inside you

and really dig deep

to find a lot of courage

even as you weep.


Hold it tight within you

and call it by it’s name.

Sweep out past mistakes

and stop the self-blame.


Observe the world around you

and enjoy Nature’s gifts.

Try to find the positives

and give yourself a lift.


For life cannot get better

if you sit in deep despair

and refuse to make an effort

to find others who care.




Relationships We Make.


, , , ,

We spend our lives connecting

With people we don’t know.

With some, we hold on to;

With others, we let go.


Is there a hidden reason

For the choices we make?

Some bring us joy and laughter,

While others bring heartache.


There are times we get lucky

And a person comes along,

Who can teach our soul

To create a new song.


Someone who accepts us

As we really are,

And gives us the courage

To reach for a star.


Yet, there are those who use us,

Then toss us to the side,

After they enslave us 

And rip away our pride.


How can we choose more wisely

The people we let in,

So we don’t end up crying,

For “what might have been?”



Seeking Asylum In The USA. (Part Two.)


, , , , ,

Shattered, she walked across the desert sand.

All she wanted was a safe place to land.

She had her child beside her

And she prayed they would endure

The violence they encountered

And the screams they had heard.


She kept her child protected,

Who had never been neglected.

She held her daughter deep within her heart.

They had never been apart.

They were seeking  food to eat

In the midst of summer’s heat.


She saw a line of migrants ahead

And followed them and put her child to bed.

She sat and talked with them by the fire.

They all shared a dream and the desire,

To find a land where they could all live free

And have a wondrous destiny.


She walked until her shoes

Left blisters and a bruise, 

But it was worth what it took

To climb the hill and look.

She saw the USA in the morning light

And said, “we’re going to be alright.”


She went to the guard at the border’s gate.

She and her child had to stand and wait.

Someone came and took her child away.

They told her she could see her in a day.

She held her fears deep within her breast

And hoped, for her daughter, what was  best.


A year went by and still

The news made her ill.

Her daughter in a cage

Brought forth a mother’s rage.

The “great” USA

Is filled with decay.




Seeking Asylum In The USA. (Part One.)


, , , ,

These are difficult times we live in. Climate changes are disrupting our lives in ways we never anticipated. The hurricanes and the tornadoes are stronger and more intense. The floods more numerous all over the country. Homes are being destroyed, lives broken with the losses, and some have died. Temperatures are rising in the oceans and on land. Animals, birds, and insects are decreasing in number. In some parts of the world, the weather is already effecting the production of food, and water is scarce. People are on the move in order to help their families survive.

Wars are being fought because of greed and power. Corruption is rampant, even here in the United States. Terrorists and internal rival gangs are shooting people, threatening the lives of children outside our borders, and mass shootings are occurring at an unacceptable rate in our country. People leave if their children are in danger. They are looking for shelter, food, water, and safety for their families. Something we would do if we were trying to save our family members.

In America, we can choose to ignore migrants, threaten to hurt them or their children if they don’t leave, punish them by taking away their children, hold them in wire cages like animals and withhold resources, or we can treat them with the dignity and respect most of them deserve. At the very least, we can treat them with kindness and help if we can. Children do not deserve being treated like political pawns. They do not deserve to have bombs dropped on them, or to be torn from the arms of their mothers. Traumatizing them  by moving them away for long periods of time does nothing but handicap them for the rest of their lives emotionally. They are innocent and they are being punished which is wrong. There is no justification for it. A long time ago I heard a history teacher say, “What sets apart a civilized country from one that is not, is how the vulnerable are protected and cared for. “(This post comes in two parts. Part two will follow.)


” ‘Tis The Last Rose Of Summer,” by Thomas Moore.


, , , , ,

” The following poem written by Thomas Moore, ‘Tis The Last Rose Of Summer, is a sad poem but it resonates deep in me as I grow older. It is a poem of death,loss, and what is valuable in this life.

When we reach a certain age, we begin noticing in the obituaries, people we once interacted with and had relationships with. With the death of each person, we feel a sense of loss. A part of our life falls away like roses losing their petals in the Fall. It is only inevitable that we start asking ourselves if life is still worth living without friends and family we love. This question is also reflected in Thomas Moore’s poem.”            Yu/stan/kema


“Tis the last rose of summer

Left blooming alone,

All her lovely companions

Are faded and gone;

No flower of her kindred,

No rosebud, is nigh,

To reflect back her blushes,

To give sigh for sigh.


I’ll not leave thee, thou lone one,

To pine on the stem;

Since the lovely are sleeping,

Go sleep thou with them.

Thus kindly I scatter,

Thy leaves o’er the bed,

Where thy mates of the garden

Lie scentless and dead.


So soon may I follow

When friendships decay,

And from Love’s shinning circle

The gems drop away!

When the hearts lie wither’d,

And fond ones are flown,

Oh! who would inhabit

This bleak world alone?


Building Defenses.

” One of the hardest things to accomplish is learning new ways to cope with trauma that is re-triggered from past trauma. Our thoughts and emotions are often in conflict with each other. Our values often play a part in our struggle to create new pathways in handling old pain. We are torn by love and hurt, forgiveness and resentment, pleasing others or being compassionate with our internal selves. Do we build walls or do we risk being open? This “art of living” is indeed a tough skill to master. The following poem, I wrote three years ago, reflects this.” Yu/stan/kema


Found on Pinterest on 3-25-16. Found on Pinterest on 3-25-16.

Old familiar faces rise up

Like ghosts from the past

To rattle my defenses

In an effort to get

My complete attention.

Time has given me

A different perspective

On pain that lasted,

It seemed like forever,

In the center of my heart.

I am still empty in places

Where love once grew,

And trust is hard to find

In the corners of my

once shattered mind.

Time has given me

The courage I need,

To heal from these tears,

And not repeat old ways

Of acting and feeling.

Lessons I have learned

From  the scars I wear,

Keep me on my path,

And help me create

Walls to keep you out.


View original post

” What Matters To The Old.”


, , , ,

In my previous post, I shared with my readers the poem: “Growing Old,” written by Ella Wheeler Wilcox. As I read it, I was reminded that we move through different developmental stages while walking down the road of life. Our goals and what we choose to focus our energies upon change from one developmental stage to another if we are growing as mature human beings. Our thoughts, feelings, and fears change as well.

As I grew older, I became aware that friendships and good relationships with others increased in importance, and a sense of family and belonging was necessary for survival. It mattered more, in the long run, than being rich, having adventures, being successful in what I attempted, or having a lot of status. These things are often lost along the way. As we age, loving, being loved, and being protected matter. We cherish the memories we form from such experiences, the human touch from those that care for us, and the resources, information, and feelings of belonging we get from being connected with others.

I am in my seventies and have encountered many losses along the way. My income has decreased, my status in society has dropped, my health has deteriorated, and I can no longer do the job I loved because of health problems. I have struggled to make sense of a Country I love becoming a place I no longer recognize or respect. I have lost faith and trust in Her. My former ideals have taken a beating. Yet, I still fight for what She once stood for.

Even though life has brought losses, it also has brought blessings and wonderful connections. I have friends, contacts with family, and supportive people in my life. I have shelter, water, and food to eat. My mind still works, and I have people who encourage me to grow emotionally and spiritually. They have taught me valuable skills, and I am in the process of changing.

Growing older, I am less preoccupied with dying and more focused on living in the here and now. I appreciate others more and say “I love you” to those who matter, because I may not get another chance later. I am more attuned to what is just, what is true, and what is morally good in life rather than following the crowd. My need for silence and solitude grows with every year that passes, and i have less desire to interact with technology and the media which is time consuming. Being comfortable is more important than being stylish. Talking about things of value is desired rather than superficial conversations. I think more about God and spirituality than clothes and the shoes I should wear.

My environment and the beauty of nature is essential for my survival. I will fight to protect them. All human beings are necessary for survival. We are connected to one another as human beings and spiritual entities. We all suffer losses, feel joy, share sadness, dream dreams, and have the need to be accepted by others, to feel we belong. We share the earth and resources so we can survive. Being compassionate towards other human beings does matter.



“Growing Old,” by Ella Wheeler Wilcox.


, , ,

              ” I came across this poem and it spoke to me. I hope you like it.”          Yu/stan/keema.



The days grow shorter, the nights grow longer, 

The headstones thicken along the way;

And life grows sadder, but love grows stronger

For those who walk with us day by day.


The tear comes quicker, the laugh comes slower;

The courage is lesser to do and to dare;

And the tide of joy in the heart falls lower

And seldom covers the reefs of care.


But all true things in the world seem truer,

And the better things of earth seem best,

And friends are dearer, as friends are fewer,

And love is all as our sun dips west.


Then let us clasp hands as we walk together,

And let us speak softly in low, sweet tone,

For no man knows on the morrow whether

We two pass on– or but one alone.