Wishing Well for Life

                    Picture from Google Images

A wishing well . . .
I thought would be great,
encouraging all to participate.

A virtual well . . .
drop in coins and dreams.
My mission you see, is more than it seems.

I wear a hat . . .
It has so many faces.
They show my survival and the tell-tale traces.

A survivor . . .
With the traces it left on me.
And the scars it left on my family.

A chair person . . .
'Relay for Life' with a passion.
Proud to support in our local fashion.

Online coordinator . . .
twitter, facebook and more.
I'll rally for a cure, its what we fight for.

Team Captain . . .
I proudly cheer on my crew.
You do it for me, I'll do it for you.

A little reminder . . .
Were here to raise money.
To find a cure and save somebody's honey.

A wishing well . . .
Sits before you and me.
Drop in your coins, hope is free.

--------

My friend Heather needed my help. She needed a poem that explained her role with her local Relay for Life.

This poem is written from her view....

Childhood Magic

 

                       Photo from google images

Magic to me was Mr. Bojangles,
with his big rig diesels he drove
and those twinkling bright blue eyes.

Bojangles they called him on the CB Radio
but to us he was know as our dad.
A man who loved burgers and fries.

I learned to climb like a monkey
up into and all around that truck.
I simply could not get enough.

A rough and tumble tom-boy,
who loved working with my dad.
I wasn't scared to be greasy and tough!

The trips were adventures
on the white lined highway.
Honking the horn here and there.

I'd flash lights at the passing trucks
with the toggle switch on the dash,
as they would pass us with care.

The people we would meet
in truck stops along the way,
just loved to entertain tots.

There once was a  nice man
who made music with spoons,
Oh, how I liked him, lots!

Sometimes we would stop and see,
people we loved, our family.
It was nice seeing people we knew.

I talked dad into that puppy
while at Aunties in Sacramento.
Then, in the truck, he pooped in dads shoe!

Then that time in Des Moines, Iowa,
a rare time we stayed in a motel.
It had a pool and I just knew I could swim.

I jumped in the deep end
and floundered a bit too long
and poor dad, fully dressed, jumped in.

I will never forget the magic,
the memories and the adventures,
of my childhood life with my dad.

And even though he's now passed on
he lives on in my heart and my soul,
as the best childhood magic I had.

 

~~~~~

Written for Think Tank Thursday - Nov. 4th

The real magic wand is the child’s own mind

~Jose Ortega y Gasset

To a child magic is amazing possibilities, to a romantic it’s what happens when you fall in love and to a scientist it is something to be scoffed at, magic is something to everyone. What is magic to you?

It could be a familiar smell that brings back a memory, maybe it is silence to a frazzled mother or it might be the wonders of technology, any way you look at it magic means something to everyone. This week use your pen as a magic wand and share with us the magic in your world.

Heavens Littlest Cowboy (scrapbook page)

Heavens Littlest Cowboy

Durango born, this little cowboy
rode his way into our hearts.
The love he leaves will never go away.

With bright green eyes and a love for all,
many knew and loved him.
He'll be remembered each and every day.

Little Matt loved all things country--
horses and John Wayne,
and shooting prairie dogs with his dad.

And he had the coolest big brother Quentin.
He followed him everywhere.
He was the best big brother a boy ever had.

His sweet big sisters, Delana and Shelby,
adored him and loved him so.
He brought such joy and love to them.

And his dear Mama would hold him tight,
protective, but all out of love.
In her heart he will always be a beautiful gem.

Little Matthew lived his life,
fun and full of laughter,
and his time for Heaven came too soon.

God must have needed him
a bright and shiny cowboy.
with little boots and a heart as big as the moon!

Our hearts were blessed to know him,
even for a short while.
In our hearts he'll always live and breathe.

And one day soon we'll meet again,
somewhere sweet in heaven.
Our 'lil cowboy riding towards us carefree.

In memory of:
Matthew Dillon of NM - 4 yo
11-14-2005 thru 10-26-2010
Alaurilee © 2010

I'm Here

You take these shots every other week,
in the hopes of some remission.
The war it fights inside your body
forces you into submission.

Not everyone sees the pain I see.
They don't know how hard you try.
Not everyone sees the tears that fall
when the pain and fears make you cry.

You rest your weary head on my lap.
I run my fingers through your hair.
Softly soothing the nerves of pain.
Showing you comfort and care.

Every day the clock ticks on
and all the pain takes a toll.
I don't know how much time we have left,
but I'm blessed to know my role.

I'm here to hear your thoughts and fears,
I'm here to share your heart.
I'm here to dance our way through love,
two souls who vow to never be apart.

I'm here to love you so completely,
through moments of love and laughter.
I'm here to love you heart and soul,
from now until 'forever after'.

Poinsettia Jeanette

She's eighty-five, yet her beauty
still reminds one of Liz Taylor.
With pretty, dark, Italian hair
and gorgeous skin so pretty and fair.

Her early years spent in Washington,
the land of D.C. was her home.
She entertained during World War Two
and played the accordion in the USO too.

A little saying well know back then,
"Jeanette rides the bus, you should too!".
With her picture posted on the side,
she graced the D.C. Metrobus ride.

Remember the year the winter was warm,
yet a blizzard was everywhere else?
She prettied her hair up a bit,
and put a rosy red color upon her lip.

In the botanical gardens, her friend took a picture
for the front page of the Washington Post.
Jeanette and poinsettia's in a pretty pose,
right beside a picture of blizzard snow that rose.

One day the time came for family and love
and Sal was the man who won her heart.
Steve, Paul and Vince were their boys.
They brought laughter and a houseful of toys.

Time has passed and more than fifty years later
we watch as your memory slowly fades away.
We fill your life with hugs and "I love you's",
and play games of rummy to chase away the blues.

Our dear sweet Mom we want you to know,
forever your memories will live and breath.
We cherish your stories and each blessed day,
and deep inside our hearts you will never go away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wrote this for my dear friend from twitter, @SteveGrim.

I wrote it based on some personal info I gathered from Steve about his Mom's life. His mother, Jeanette, is battled Alzheimers, and is already at a stage where she doesn't remember all of her stories. I made this in memory of everything she was and is, and for her sons who love her dearly and cherish every moment they are blessed with.

Accidentally Happy

Who left the door open?
Do you feel that breeze?
As it wraps around my soul
I feel a gentle squeeze.

What I thought was wind;
what I thought was air;
blew itself around me
and tousled up my hair.

I didn't understand at first.
The truth evaded me.
I had floated alone so long
lost in the open sea.

But one day I saw land
and built myself a house.
Then I still felt lonely
so I made friends with a mouse.

I gave the mouse some cheese.
It gave me company.
It opened a door of happiness
deep inside of me.

A window of hope and love
in a time of a dark.
A door opened to happiness
through a moonlit park.

It something that sneaks up.
You rarely see it arrive.
But accidentally leave open a door
and watch happiness come inside.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

From a prompt from my dear friend @just1heather . . .

"Happiness often sneaks in through a door you didn't know you left open"
~ John Barrymore

Posted at dVerse Poets Pub for Open Link Night Week 14