Have you ever watched kids on a
merry-go-round,
or listened to rain slapping the ground?
Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight,
or gazed at the sun into the fading night?
You better slow down,
don't dance so fast,
time is short, the music won't last.
Do you run through each day on the fly,
when you ask "How are you?",
do you hear the reply?
When the day is done,
do you lie in your bed,
with the next hundred chores running through your head?
You better slow down,
don't dance so fast
time is short, the music won't last.
Ever told your child,
we'll do it tomorrow,
and in your haste, not seen his sorrow?
Ever lost touch,
let a good friendship die,
'cause you never had time to call and say "hi".
You better slow down,
don't dance so fast
time is short, the music won't last.
When you run so fast to get somewhere,
you miss half the fun of getting there,
When you worry and hurry though your day,
it is like an unopened gift thrown away.
Life is not a race,
so take it slower,
hear the music before the song is over.
- author unknown -
Don't Laugh At Me:
I'm a little boy with glasses, the one they call a
geek
a little girl who never smiles cuz I got braces on my teeth
and I know how it feels to cry myself to sleep
I'm that kid on every kid on every playground who is always chosen last
a single teenage mother trying to overcome her past
You don’t have to be my friend if it's too much to ask
Don't laugh at me, don't call me names
Don't get your pleasure from my pain
In god's eyes we're all the same
some day we'll all have perfect Wings
Don’t laugh at me
I'm a cripple on the corner
You pass me on the street
I wouldn't be out here begging if I had enough to eat
and don't think I don’t notice that our eyes never meet
I lost my wife and little boy when someone crossed that yellow line
The day we layed'em in the ground was the day I lost my mind
Right now I'm down to holding this little cardboard sign
Don't laugh at me, Don't call me names
Don't get your pleasure from my pain
In god's eyes we're all the same
Someday we'll all have perfect wings
Don’t laugh at me
I'm Fat, I'm thin
I'm Short, I'm tall
I'm deaf, I'm blind
Hey aren't we all
Don't laugh at me, Don't call me names
Don't get your pleasure from my pain
In god's eyes we're all the same
Someday we'll all have perfect wings
Don't laugh at me
Written by Allen: Shamblin and
Steve Seskin
Performed by Mark Wills
The Gift of Friendship
FRIENDSHIP is a PRICELESS GIFT
that cannot be bought or sold,
But its value is far greater,
than a mountain of gold---,
For gold is cold and lifeless,
it can neither see nor hear.
And in time of trouble
it is powerless to cheer---
It has no ears to listen.
No heart to understand.
It cannot bring you comfort
or reach out a helping hand---
So when you ask God fo a GIFT.
be thankful if HE sends
Not diamonds, pearls or riches.
but the love of true friends.
And things that happened then
Are only shadowed memories
We think of now and again...
TOMORROWS never come, they say---
At best, they prove to be
Just promises of plans fulfilled
And things we hope to see...
TODAYS are the riches close at hand
Fresh pathways to explore
New joys to lift our spirits high---
What heart could ask for more?
So why relive those days gone by
Or look so far ahead?
Let's cherish what we have right now
and live today instead!
The Most Beautiful Flower
The park bench was deserted as I
sat down to read
Beneath the long, straggly branches
of an old willow tree.
Disillusioned by life with good
reason to frown,
For the world was intent on dragging
me down.
And if that weren't enough to ruin
my day,
A young boy out of breath approached
me, all tired from play.
He stood right before me with his
head tilted down
And said with great excitement,
"Look what I found!"
In his hand was a flower, and what
a pitiful sight,
With its petals all worn-not enough
rain, or too little light.
Wanting him to take his dead flower
and go off to play,
I faked a small smile and then
shifted away.
But instead of retreating he sat
next to my side
And placed the flower to his nose
and declared with overacted surprise,
"It sure smells pretty and its
beautiful too.
Thats why I picked it; here it's
for you."
The weed before me was dying or
dead.
Not vibrant of colors, orange,
yellow, or red.
But I knew I must take it, or he
might never leave.
So I reached for the flower, and
replied, "Just what I need."
But instead of him placing the flower
in my hand,
He held it mid-air without reason
or plan.
It was then that I noticed for
the very first time
That weed-toting boy could not
see; he was blind.
I heard my voice quiver, tears shone
like the sun
As I thanked him for picking the
very best one.
"You're welcome," he smiled, and
then ran off to play,
Unaware of the impact he'd had
on my day.
I sat there and wondered how he
managed to see
A self-pitying woman beneath an
old willow tree.
How did he know of my self-indulged
plight?
Perhaps from his heart, he'd been
blessed with true sight.
Through the eyes of a blind child,
at last I could see
The problem was not with the world;
the problem was me.
And for all of those times I myself
had been blind,
I vowed to see the beauty in life,
and appreciate every second that's
mine.
And then I held that wilted flower
up to my nose
And breathed in the fragrance of
a beautiful rose
And smiled as I watched that young
boy, another weed in his hand
About to change the life of an
unsuspecting old man
My Friend and Confidant
You are half the world away,
And my today is your tomorrow.
I have never seen your face,
Nor heard words from your lips.
I do not know your sounds of laughter,
Or the softness of your sigh.
I have not a clue as to who you
are,
Or the customs for which you live.
I do know that you are kind and
sweet,
You are a thoughtful and caring
soul.
You think of others before yourself,
ALL others, young and old.
These things I know about you,
Even though we have never met.
I have learned this by coming home
Each day and finding you here.
You are not here in body and soul,
But as a lighted rectangle.
You come to me every day as
A message on my screen,
A message that I can rely on
To cheer me up and make my day.
Through a keyboard we share
Our ups and downs.
I have opened my inner self to
you,
And you have to me as well.
We have traded secrets and laughs,
As well as sorrows and pain.
I have never met you, but feel
as if
I have known you most of my life.
To most this might sound silly,
But I assure them, it is not.
Even though we have never met,
I feel a bond between us.
A bond that should have taken years
to build,
Yet was built in a month or two.
A bond that lifelong friends should
have,
Although most never do.
A bond that I am glad to share
with you...
My Friend And Confidant.
-Poem by Steven Lowdermilk
"Please God, I’m Only 17"
The day I died was an ordinary school day.
How I wish I had taken the bus. But I was too cool for the bus. I remember how I wheedled the car out of Mom. "Special favor," I pleaded. "All the kids drive." When the 2:50 bell rang, I threw all my books in the locker. I was free until 8:40 tomorrow morning! I ran to the parking lot, excited at the thought of driving a car and being my own boss. Free!
It doesn’t matter how the accident happened. I was goofing off going too fast. Taking crazy chances. But I was enjoying my freedom and having fun. The last thing I remember, I was passing an old lady who seemed to be going awfully slowly. I heard the deafening crash and felt a terrible jolt. Glass and steel flew everywhere. My whole body seemed to be turning inside out. I heard myself scream.
Suddenly it was quiet. A police officer was standing over me. There was a doctor, and my body was mangled. I was saturated with blood. Pieces of jagged glass were sticking out all over. Strange that I couldn’t feel anything.
Hey, don’t pull that sheet over my head! I can’t be dead. I’m only 17. I’ve got a date tonight. I’m supposed to grow up and have a wonderful life. I haven’t even lived yet, I can’t be dead.
Later I was placed in a drawer. My folks had to identify me. Why did they have to see me like this? Why did my mother have to face the most terrible ordeal of her life? Why did Dad suddenly look like an old man? He told the man in charge, "Yes, that is my child."
The funeral was a weird experience. All my relatives and friends walked toward the casket. They passed by, one by one, and looked at me with the saddest eyes. Some of the boys were crying. A few of the girls touched my hand and sobbed as they walked away.
I wish someone could wake me up and get me out of this casket! My mom and dad are so broken up. My grandparents are so racked with grief that they can barely walk. My brothers and sisters stare ahead like zombies, and move like robots. No one can believe that this happened to me.
Please don’t bury me! I have lots of living to do! I want to run and jump again. I want to laugh and sing. Please don’t put me in the ground. I promise if you give me one more chance, I’ll be the most careful driver in the whole world!
Please, God, I’m only 17!
Credit to Mr. Poling is long over due. Please don't take without permission of:
Author: Dr. Michael Lee Poling
In Memory of Jimmy Rowe
So he gave you rest.
God's garden must be beautiful,
He only takes the best
And when I saw you sleeping,
So peaceful and free from pain
I could not wish you back
To suffer that again.
