I FEEL PUSHED and BEAUTIFUL POETRY

I feel pushed and rushed…why??? I’m retired!! I’m suppose to be relaxed and have all the time in the world!

I can’t even tell you what I feel rushed and pushed about, except to think this is just part of becoming older, having nothing structured in my life, other then the usual, of beginning the day, making the bed, making breakfast, and the everyday normal stuff we do in a day.

 We do the usual visit to the Library a couple times a week, mostly because it’s a nice destination to walk to, enjoy a coffee, read the papers, pick out another load of books to take home, and most likely haul them back again a few days later. Some unread!! I like to have another book handy in case the book I started is a bummer.

Which brings me to the old saying.. “You can’t judge a book by it’s cover!”

What’s consuming my mind lately is this genealogy I’ve got myself knee deep into.

With one click of my computer key, and even after given a choice, I accidently clicked delete and my whole ancestor program with ALL the information was deleted in a blink!! Nope…not backed up!! A lesson learned!! Some information I still have, some I don’t, so have to begin again. I have about 1/3 restored. I also have taken on my Mother’s side of the family tree, but hadn’t started to input information into the ancestry program, thank goodness. But I think the whole “hobby” is beginning to drain me!

Tom said, I need to leave it all alone for awhile and let my taxed brain rest awhile, but it all becomes very addicting and exciting when you come across information or pictures of ancestor’s from long ago and then with that new information, it leads to more hunting and  trying to turn into a bloodhound and track back as far as I can. It’s addicting and so very interesting!!

So, with doing this and wanting to do nothing else but..everything else gets put off, and I suppose that’s why I feel pushed…in my own head!!

Oh the perils of Linda!!!

Right now, at this very moment, we are having something that rarely happens here and that is a lightening storm!

I do miss the Ontario big boomers and lightening, and these one’s here are like  kiddies stuff compared to back home. Just as dangerous, but still nothing like those big boomers that would rock your house and send pets scurrying under a couch or bed. But, we sure have Ontario beat on the amount of rain here! We’ve begun thinking building an ark may not be a bad idea!!

So, to be on the safe side, I still better get off here. I may get a jolt, sitting beside the window on the computer.

I have this wonderful friend, that I met on the computer who was kind enough to help me find some genealogy that I was hunting for. She writes the most fantastic poetry, and she has sent me some of her work, and I can’t believe she can’t find someone to publish her poetry. So, I’ve asked if I could put some on here and to my delight, she said yes!

So, from time to time, I’ll add another poem. I hope you enjoy this one, as I did.

 

A Walk In The Woods

We were only Tiny Tots, it seems

When we learned about the Flowers

And the ones we should never pick

And which ones could be ours

We knew the Trillium was protected

And you had to leave them there

The Government would "Prosecute"....

If ever you would dare

To touch one Purple petal

Or press a White one in a book

They grew for everyone to wonder at

So - we could only look

As their blossoms were so delicate

They took a long, long time

To open for the World to see

So, picking was a "Crime".

They were the "Emblem of Ontario"

And protected by the law

It was a Special Treat to see one

And, we must treat that find, with awe

But Buttercups and Daises

Mother Nature grew for us

We could pick those if we wanted to

As, their seeds were numerous

And Jack "The Preacher", in his pulpit

Was not for us to share

Just look and tip-toe right on by

And leave the "Gentleman, at prayer

But, Columbines and Dandelions

Would grow again real quick

So if we really wanted some

They were okay to pick

But leave the Orchids in the ditch

Don't touch their pretty flowers

They liked their damp and humid home

And did not want to come to ours

Our Mother knew about the toad-stools

Which ones you could not eat

And which ones were really mushrooms

And on toast would be a treat

The Lilies in the Pond were there

Just to look upon in Wonder

Don't go too close - You'll scare the Frogs

And they'll disappear down under

Sometimes, she'd let us bring home

A milk-weed gone to seed

Or a bunch of Pussy-Willows

If we showed a real need

But most flowers of the Forest

We left them where they grew

So they'd be there when we returned

And that was good - We Knew...!

Written By

Barbara Ruth Neish

Bermuda

September 6, 1995

 

How about some nice comments on Barbara’s poetry!