Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

~ Night Dreams ~   1 comment

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Can_I_Have_This_Dance__by_CuoraColeonyx[1]

Tonight I am far away.

I am in another time and space, holding a beautiful young girl in my arms and dancing to

the melody of a soft, slow waltz.  She is smiling sweetly.  No words are spoken.  None need

be as our hearts are so entwined that each knows instinctively what the other is thinking.

There are at least a hundred other people at the dance but we neither see nor hear them as

we are lost in an intimately private world of our own.

 Veranda - Buena Vista - Biloxi

The music in the Buena Vista ballroom died and the band packed up and was leaving.  We danced out onto the veranda to the music that kept playing in our hearts that night.  Til then, neither had voiced the words “I love you”, but we’d heard them a thousand times in each other’s eyes.

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~ Stars ~   1 comment

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The night is crystal clear

And the slivered moon is bright.

Stars wink at me

From their place in the heavens tonight.

I see your reflection

In their eyes

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Posted May 22, 2017 by PapaBear in A Little Romance, Experiences, Memories, Poetry

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~~ HAPPY ST. PATRICK’S DAY ! ~~   5 comments

 

 

Know that ye can’t kiss an Irish lass by surprise,

only just sooner than she thought ye might ! 

…and now ’til day be done,

may yer day be filled wi’ Irish fun !

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Lá Shona Fhéile Pádraig go léir!
Sláinte ag!

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Posted March 17, 2017 by PapaBear in Experiences, holiday, Humor, Poetry, Uncategorized

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Prelude to St. Patrick’s Day   4 comments

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Many sites will tell you that the little trefoil known as the shamrock was once known as “seamróg“, pronounced “Seamroy”, meaning “little clover”. They also mention the fact that it is a very common clover that grows heartily in Ireland.

Many agree that the ancient Druids honored it as a sacred plant. The Druids believed the shamrock had the power to avert evil spirits. Some people still believe the shamrock has mystical, even prophetic, powers. It is said that the leaves of shamrocks turn upright whenever a storm is coming.

According to Lady Wilde, the shamrock “enlightens the brain and makes one see and know the truth“.

The ancient Irish Celts also revered the shamrock because it has three leaves, and they considered “3” to be a sacred number. The ancient Celtic Druids believed many numbers held mystical powers.

The three leaves shaped like hearts were associated with the Triple Goddess of Celtic mythology, otherwise known as the “Three Morgans”. The Triple Goddess represented the Triple Mothers, the hearts of the ancient Celtic tribes.

This Celtic tradition of honoring “3’s” continued in Ireland for millennia.

di8poo8ie1

May the worst o’ yer problems

Be a peaceful sleep,

And sweet dreams.

B1

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~~ The Page ~~   5 comments

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Now is a quiet time

A place for verse

A space for rhyme.

What better way

In heart and mind

To end the day.

The day is ended

Work is done

Wrongs are mended.

The evening sky

In star filled dark

Asks not why

We search for love

‘neath silver moon

And stars above.

In this blissful peace

We find solace

(and) all else will cease.

The spirit inside

Finds its release

And no longer hides.

Words flow easily

The dream begins

And the page is filled.

cns-therese1

GOOD NIGHT EVERYBODY !

Posted January 18, 2017 by PapaBear in Experiences, Personal, Poetry, Uncategorized

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~~ Good Night   4 comments

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Veranda - Buena Vista - Biloxi

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Sweet Dreams

Sleep doesn’t come as I close my eyes

I still see the moonlit starry skies

And hear the faint melody of the band inside

As we dance on the beautiful balcony outside

Another slow waltz, as we glide ‘cross the floor

And quietly slip away through the veranda’s back door

Was not in our mind to spend the night at a dance

When under the moonlight we dreamed of romance.

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Paul

~~~ December’s Angel ~~~   Leave a comment

Some of you may recognize this.  It’s an annual tradition of mine.  It’s to honor the memory

of a time precious to me, and a brief part of my life shared with a beautiful young woman

who chose to share her love with me.

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At the beginning of December

Conversations turned to snow

It was always in her questions

Wherever we would go

I promised I would take her

So that finally she would know

But angels came to take her home

And she never saw the snow.

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As the chill of winter settles on the land and brings gray clouds the horizon, memories of another December come to mind and I feel a presence, and I hear a soft whisper, “Don’t fret dearest.  I’ve been with you all this time, every day of every year…, and, yes darlin’, even in the snow”.  A quick caress and she is gone again. Christmas…., a time we were, sadly, never to be able to share with each other. 

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In memory of Gayle Marie
12/10/1962 Heaven gained another angel…, and another star shone brightly in the night sky.

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