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Sally's Journal
May 25th, 2009
10:51 pm


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The seasons turn and turn again
The days are flying by so fast
The future's questions looming large
Yet shadowed over by the past

And yet as still the world turns round
The bluebells bloom within the wood
Bright captured sky within the glade
Untouched by 'must' or 'can't' or 'should'

The bluebells bloom. The summer comes
And I have lived, and loved, and lost
And fallen from the sun-kissed heights
And stood while others paid the cost

From valley's depth to mountains tall
So weary are the feet that climb
So weary, and the road so long!
Yet take it one step at a time

Just one step at a time, my love
Through snow and wind and pouring rain
And hold within your doubting mind
The fact the bluebells bloom again.

You can't cross the same river twice. You can't undo what is done. Fifty years is far too short a span to do all that I want to do with my life, and I can't solve all the worlds problems single handedly. But I can return to the Lakes, and swim in cool water, and see the world stretched out and shining at my feet, and feel the sun and wind skirmish together over my face, and remember my love for God, and the world, and for all the people in it. Especially the ones who make such times happen. I am blessed.

(6 comments | Leave a comment)

[User Picture]
Date:May 25th, 2009 10:52 pm (UTC)
Fifty years is far too short a span to do all that I want to do with my life

If I'm ever feeling down, I always try to remember this! If there are a million things I want to do with my life, and some are awesome, and some are just pretty good - I don't have the time to do them all. So I can just do all the awesome ones - nothing but awesomeness - and then I'm done, and dead. Awesome all the way through!
[User Picture]
Date:May 26th, 2009 07:30 am (UTC)
I don't think it's bad poetry.
[User Picture]
Date:May 26th, 2009 07:38 am (UTC)

Then we must conclude it's not really LJ, that our original assumption was flawed, or there'll be some bad poetry along _really soon_ now < /mathmo >

My Weekend, by Sally aged 26 and a half

I climbed the mountains steepest side
I gazed out to the sea
And loved the shining vista wide
And got stung by a bee.

Edited at 2009-05-26 07:38 am (UTC)
[User Picture]
Date:May 26th, 2009 07:48 am (UTC)
Or I have no taste? I like that one too...
[User Picture]
Date:May 26th, 2009 08:19 am (UTC)

I will write my poems for you, and care not what the critics say then ;-)

Two people, when walking one day
Saw a tarn where they wanted to stay
But the gales grew all night
Giving them quite a fright
And their tent nearly blew clean away!

Said one to the other, "I fear,
That the morning is not drawing near,
If I just close my eyes
We may take to the skies
And we'll find ourselves drowned in the mere!'

'Fear not, dear' the other one said
'It's unlikely we'll both end up dead
There are hills, stars and streams
It's the place of our dreams
And tomorrow, I'll find you a bed'
[User Picture]
Date:May 26th, 2009 08:40 am (UTC)
I like your bad poems too :)

The stress pattern of the limerick makes that final verse unintentionally (I assume?) sinister. "It's unlikely we'll BOTH end up dead..."

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