Childishness

It’s been a very trying day, so for today’s poetry post I give you simply this.

I Resign

I am hereby officially tendering my resignation as an adult.
I have decided I would like to accept the responsibilities of an 8-year-old again.
I want to go to McDonald’s and think that it’s a four star restaurant.
I want to sail sticks across a fresh mud puddle and make ripples with rocks.
I want to think M&Ms are better than money because you can eat them.
I want to lie under a big oak tree and run a lemonade stand with my friends on a hot summer day.
I want to return to a time when life was simple.

When all you knew were colors, multiplication tables, and nursery rhymes, but that didn’t bother you, because you didn’t know what you didn’t know and you didn’t care.
All you knew was to be happy because you were blissfully unaware of all the things that should make you worried or upset.

I want to think the world is fair. That everyone is honest and good.
I want to believe that anything is possible.
I want to be oblivious to the complexities of life and be overly excited by the little things again.
I want to live simple again.
I don’t want my day to consist of computer crashes, mountains of paperwork, depressing news, how to survive more days in the month than there is money in the bank, doctor bills, gossip,illness, and loss of loved ones.
I want to believe in the power of smiles, hugs, a kind word, truth, justice, peace, dreams, the imagination, mankind, and making angels in the snow.

So…here’s my checkbook and my car keys, my credit cards and all my responsibility.

I am officially resigning from adulthood. And if you want to discuss this further, you’ll have to catch me first, ’cause,

“Tag! You’re it.”

~ Unkown

Scrawled on an old school desk….

Latin is a language,
As dead, as dead can be.
First it killed the Romans,
And now it’s killing me!

Sometimes it’s a wonder that the English language doesn’t go the same way!

I shared an image about the English language on my Facebook page yesterday, and it sparked some interesting conversation between the boyfriend and I over drinks in the pub, not to mention the seeking out of this favourite childhood poem of mine, which he found rather amusing given he’d never heard it before.

The English Language

Some words have different meanings
and yet they’re spelled the same.
A cricket is an insect,
to play it – it’s a game.

On every hand, in every land,
it’s thoroughly agreed,
The English language to explain,
is very hard indeed.

Some people say that you’re dear,
yet dear is far from cheap.
A jumper is a thing to wear,
yet a jumper has to leap.

It’s very clear, it’s very queer,
and, pray who to blame
For different meanings to some words,
pronounced and spelled the same?

A little journey is a trip,
a trip is when you fall.
It doesn’t mean you have to dance,
whene’er you hold a ball.

Now here’s a thing that puzzles me:
musicians of good taste
Will very often form a band -
I have one around my waist!

You spin a top, go for a spin,
or spin yarn maybe -
Yet every spin’s a different spin,
as you can plainly see.

Now here’s a most peculiar thing,
’twas told me as a joke -
A dumb man wouldn’t speak a word,
yet seized a wheel and spoke!

A door may often be ajar,
but give the door a slam
And then your nerves receive a jar -
and then there’s jars of jam.

You’ve heard, of course, of traffic jams,
and jams you give your thumbs.
And adders, too, one is a snake,
the other adds up sums.

A policeman is a copper,
it’s nickname (impolite!)
Yet a copper in the kitchen,
is an article you light.

On every hand, in every land,
it’s thoroughly agreed,
The English language to explain,
is very hard indeed!

Harry Hemsley, 1962

Something we can all take a little from…

I first heard this poem read out at the development course I recently took part in. I’ve just remembered about it, and have chosen to share it, not just because it’s poetry week this week, but because I think it’s something that whatever your state of mind, whatever you are trying to discover about yourself, or life, I think we can all take something away from these words.

Autobiography in five chapters.

I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk
I fall in.
I am lost… I am hopeless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I’m in the same place.
But it isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in… it’s a habit
My eyes are open
I know where I am
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

I walk down another street.

~ Portia Nelson

Don’t Quit – A mid month motivational post

I should have called this poetry week instead of thought week, so I’m going to change it to that, because I am really struggling to come up with ideas of what to write with regards to the “thoughtful” heading. In fact most of the posts I’ve come up with over the last few days have been scheduled for my general week next week, because that’s where they fit.

So for today I am giving you a motivational post, because I am not going to let my struggle with this topic stop me from my post a day. There is always a way to carry on when you are stuck even if it does mean changing the focus of this week. I am going to get on with getting on. I am going to make the changes that are required, because one thing is certain. I am *not* going to quit this challenge.

Don’t Quit

When things go wrong as they sometimes will;
When the road you’re trudging seems all uphill;
When the funds are low, and the debts are high;
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh;
When care is pressing you down a bit
Rest if you must, but don’t you quit.

Success is failure turned inside out;
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt;
And you can never tell how close you are;
It may be near when it seems afar.
So, stick to the fight when you’re hardest hit
It’s when things go wrong that you mustn’t quit.

Friendship

An old friend once gave me this little poem on a wooden plaque. I’ve long since misplaced both the plaque and the friend, but I’ve never forgotten the words.

Friendship

Life is mostly froth and bubble
Two things stand like stone
Kindness in another’s trouble
Comfort in your own.