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Bautista's, Gina Poetry Home Page ~ nicely done personal page
Poetry Daily a new poem every day ~ one source of many words
Spilled Ink - creative thought journal ~ authors offers from poems to short stories
Symmetry Associates ~ Ila Marie Goodey, PhD shares some poetic thoughts as an LAtW neighbor
Suggest a relative site others may wish to LK AROUND - submit your recommendation!

"Children Learn What They Live"

If children live with criticism, they learn to condemn.
If children live with hostility, they learn to fight.
If children live with fear, they learn to be apprehensive.
If children live with pity, they learn to feel sorry for themselves.
If children live with ridicule, they learn to be shy.
If children live with jealousy, they learn what envy is.
If children live with shame, they learn to feel guilty.

If children live with tolerance, they learn to be patient.
If children live with encouragement, they learn to be confident.
If children live with praise, they learn to appreciate.
If children live with approval, they learn to like themselves.
If children live with acceptance, they learn to find love in the world.
If children live with recognition, they learn to have a goal.
If children live with sharing, they learn to be generous.

If children live with honesty and fairness,
they learn what truth and justice are.
If children live with security,
they learn to have faith in themselves and those around them.
If children live with friendliness,
they learn that the world is a nice place in which to live.
If children live with serenity, they learn to have a peace of mind.

With what are your children living?

Dorothy L. Nolte

The Dash

I read of a reverend who stood to speak
At the funeral of his friend.
He referred to the dates on her tombstone
From the beginning...to the end.

He noted that first came the date of her birth
And spoke of the following date with tears,
But he said what mattered most of all
Was the dash between those years.

For that dash represents all the time
That she spent alive on earth.
And now only those who loved her
Know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not, how much we own;
The cars, the house, the cash.
What matters is how we live and love
And how we spend our dash.

So think about this long and hard;
Are there things you'd like to change?
For you never know how much time is left.
(You could be at "dash mid-range.")

If we could just slow down enough
To consider what's true and real,
And always try to understand
The way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger,
And show appreciation more,
And love the people in our lives
Like we've never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect,
And more often wear a smile;
Remembering that this special dash
Might only last a little while.

So, when your eulogy's being read
With your life's actions to rehash...
Would you be proud of the things they say
About how you spent your dash?

Linda Ellis
(© reprinted with permission)

                Remember When ...
 
                A computer was something on TV 
                from a science fiction show of note  
                a window was something you hated to clean... 
                And ram was the cousin of a goat.... 
 
                Meg was the name of my girlfriend 
                and gig was a job for the nights 
                now they all mean different things 
                and that really mega bytes 
 
                An application was for employment 
                a program was a TV show 
                a cursor used profanity 
                a keyboard was a piano 
 
                Memory was something that you lost with age 
                a cd was a bank account 
                and if you had a 3 1/2" floppy 
                you hoped nobody found out 
 
                Compress was something you did to the garbage 
                not something you did to a file 
                and if you unzipped anything in public 
                you'd be in jail for a while 
 
                Log on was adding wood to the fire 
                hard drive was a long trip on the road 
                a mouse pad was where a mouse lived 
                and a backup happened to your commode 
  
                Cut you did with a pocket knife 
                paste you did with glue 
                a web was a spider's home 
                and a virus was the flu 
   
                I guess I'll stick to my pad and paper 
                and the memory in my head 
                I hear nobody's been killed in a computer crash 
                but when it happens they wish they were dead
 
                author unknown

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updated November 17, 1998
created October 6, 1997
http://www.lookaround123.com/lapoetry.htm

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