FATHERS DAY 16TH JUNE
SEND YOUR POETRY IN BEFORE THE 15TH JUNE
Once there was a snowman
Stood outside the door
Thought he’d like to come inside
And run around the floor;
Thought he’d like to warm himself
By the firelight red;
Thought he’d like to climb up
On that big white bed.
So he called the North Wind,
“Help me now I pray.
I’m completely frozen,
Standing here all day.”
So the North Wind came along
And blew him in the door,
And now there’s nothing left of him
But a puddle on the floor!
My Snowman has a Noble Head
My snowman has a noble head,
he’s broader than he’s tall,
his ears are tin, his eyes are coal,
he has no neck at all.
Beneath his ragged hat he wears
a wig of tangled wool,
his barrel chest is buttoned up,
his belly’s rather full.
My snowman has a handsome face
complete with carrot nose,
his arms are long, his legs are short,
he hasn’t any toes.
He wields a broom, he puffs a pipe,
his smile is wide and bright,
“He looks like me!” my father says,
you know . . . he may be right!
Helen H. Moore
Thick and fast,
Build a snowman
Make him last . . .
My snowman melted –
Where’d he go?
Peter, the Snowman
Winifred C. Marshall
It would not seem like winter,
Without a snowman tall;
I’ve worked on one all morning,
With Ted and little Paul.
This is a jolly snowman,
With such a friendly smile,
We’ll ask you out to meet him,
In just a little while.
His hat belongs to Daddy,
His button eyes are blue,
His bright red scarf and mittens
Were knit by Cousin Sue.
We’re going to call him Peter,
We’d like to have him stay,
But sometime when we’re all at school,
He’s sure to slip away.
See the snowman
all in white –
as soft snow
on this cool
long frosty night.
Crystal flakes spin
round and fall,
Still he’ll stand
Nancy Dingman Watson
Snow woman, snow woman,
What do you know?
You sit so still
And silent in the snow.
Snow woman, snow woman,
Do you like your hat?
You sit so quiet
And comfortable and fat.
Snow woman, snow woman,
Do you like your clothes?
Your apron and your mittens
And your big carrot nose?
Snow woman, snow woman,
Sitting in the night
Does the dark scare you
Or the cold moonlight?
Snow woman, snow woman,
Here comes the sun
Are you afraid of melting
And being all done?
My Snowman Friend
I call him Mr. Frosty-Face!
He brings us so much fun,
With black coal eyes, and a carrot nose,
With a smile for everyone!
If we play Ring-a-Roses,
Then all our friends join in!
But, when the game is “Statues”,
He always knows he’ll win!
When I talk, I know he’ll listen
To every word I say.
I can shout, or knock his hat off,
And he’ll never run away!
But, when the weather’s warmer,
Then Frosty-Face must go –
Until the next time that he comes
With winter’s ice and snow.
Father’s Day is an important day world wide. It is a fine opportunity to honor the Dad’s or Father’s of the world.
In Australia, Father’s Day is celebrated on the First Sunday in September.
Father’s Day in Canada, is celebrated on the third Sunday in June.
In the U.K. Father’s Day is celebrated on the third Sunday in June.
In the United States it is celebrated on the third Sunday in June.
Many Catholics call St. Joseph’s Day, on March 19th, Father’s Day because Joseph was the father of Jesus.
Another tradition of Father’s Day is that of the Flowers, Red roses are worn on Father’s Day to signify that one’s father is living. White roses mean one’s father has died.
Tick-tock the wife collects clocks
They cover the walls
There is even one in the hall,
And in the living room
Some are small and some are tall,
She even bought one off an old bloke
Who lives down the road,
But one or two of them are broke
Now she’s bought a Cuckoo clock
But that’s the only one
That does not go tick tock,
Some clocks chime like a little rhyme
But not one will tell me the right time
DID YOU FORGET TO PUT YOUR CLOCK BACK
I remember all my Valentines
They are deep within my heart
Every one was so special
Until the day we had to part
You see my loved one past away
After many years together
All the memories of Valentines Day
To me I will always treasure
Red roses were always given to me
And a candlelit meal for two
Every time Valentines comes around
My everlasting love I send to you
And on this special day
I place by your picture frame
A bunch of red roses in memory
To ease my heartache and pain
HAPPY ANNIVERSARY GILLIAN LOVE FROM HUSBAND THOMAS XXXX Eight YEARS
It is that time of year again. We start off the new year singing “Auld Lang Syne.” One of my all time favorite movies, “When Harry Met Sally” has clever dialogue about the song. Harry: What does this song mean? My whole life, I don’t know what this song means. I mean, ‘Should old acquaintance be forgot’? Does that mean that we should forget old acquaintances, or does it mean if we happened to forget them, we should remember them, which is not possible because we already forgot? Sally: Well, maybe it just means that we should remember that we forgot them or something. Anyway, it’s about old friends.
Making New Year’s Resolutions are also quite popular at the stroke of midnight. Some will last until the next New Year’s Eve while others don’t make it a day into the new year. Some interesting statistics… A 2007 study by Richard Wisemen from the University of Bristol involving 3,000 people showed that 88% of those who set New Year resolutions fail, despite the fact that 52% of the study’s participants were confident of success at the beginning. Men achieved their goal 22% more often when they engaged in goal setting, (a system where small measurable goals are being set; such as, a pound a week, instead of saying “lose weight”), while women succeeded 10% more when they made their goals public and got support from their friends.
Here are the 10 most popular New Year’s Resolutions:
WHAT DO YOU THINK?
YOU CAN SEND YOURS TO THIS WEBSITE
EMAIL – firstname.lastname@example.org
The term “armistice” means a cessation of hostilities as a prelude to peace negotiations. In the context of the First World War ‘the armistice’ is generally referred to in context of the agreement between the Germans and the Allies to end the war on November 11, 1918.
For the Fallen by Lawrence Binyon
With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.
Solemn the drums thrill: Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres.
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.
They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old;
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
They mingle not with laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England’s foam.
But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;
As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain,
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.
Ich hatt’ einen Kameraden by Ludwig Uhland
Ich hatt’ einen Kameraden,
Einen bessern findst du nit.
Die Trommel schlug zum Streite,
Er ging an meiner Seite
In gleichem Schritt und Tritt.
Eine Kugel kam geflogen:
Gilt’s mir oder gilt sie dir?
Sie hat ihn weggerissen,
Er liegt zu meinen Füßen
Als wär’s ein Stück von mir
Will mir die Hand noch reichen,
Derweil ich eben lad’.
“Kann dir die Hand nicht geben,
Bleib du im ew’gen Leben
Mein guter Kamerad!”
Remembrance Sunday is held “to commemorate the contribution of British and Commonwealth military and civilian servicemen and women in the two World Wars and later conflicts
Autumn, ah it’s a painting on canvas
With splashes of colour everywhere
It’s not hidden away from view
It is an occasion for all to share
An artist has created it
With colours of every shade
The vibrant shades of beauty
In their splendor are on parade
Each tree and shrub stands proud
Making an hypnotic colourful display
Of leaves falling gently to the ground
Creating a carpet of colour where they lay
As the winter winds grow stronger
They tantalize the fallen leaves
All whipped up in frenzy
Stripping all the shrubs and tree’s
Now the canvas has been completed
The paints and brushes packed away
Mother Nature displays her painting
Of the perfect Autumn Day
The Legend of St. George and the Dragon
St. George travelled for many months by land and sea until he came to Libya. Here he met a poor hermit who told him that everyone in that land was in great distress, for a dragon had long ravaged the country.
‘Every day,’ said the old man, ‘he demands the sacrifice of a beautiful maiden and now all the young girls have been killed. The king’s daughter alone remains, and unless we can find a knight who can slay the dragon she will be sacrificed tomorrow. The king of Egypt will give his daughter in marriage to the champion who overcomes this terrible monster.’
When St. George heard this story, he was determined to try and save the princess, so he rested that night in the hermit’s hut, and at daybreak set out to the valley where the dragon lived. When he drew near he saw a little procession of women, headed by a beautiful girl dressed in pure Arabian silk. The princess Sabra was being led by her attendants to the place of death. The knight spurred his horse and overtook the ladies. He comforted them with brave words and persuaded the princess to return to the palace. Then he entered the valley.
As soon as the dragon saw him it rushed from its cave, roaring with a sound louder than thunder. Its head was immense and its tail fifty feet long. But St. George was not afraid. He struck the monster with his spear, hoping he would wound it.
The dragon’s scales were so hard that the spear broke into a thousand pieces. and St. George fell from his horse. Fortunately he rolled under an enchanted orange tree against which poison could not prevail, so that the venomous dragon was unable to hurt him. Within a few minutes he had recovered his strength and was able to fight again.
He smote the beast with his sword, but the dragon poured poison on him and his armour split in two. Once more he refreshed himself from the orange tree and then, with his sword in his hand, he rushed at the dragon and pierced it under the wing where there were no scales, so that it fell dead at his feet.
Easter time is upon us
Spring has come at last
Displaying all her beauty
Like a carpet she has cast
Out of the dreary winter
With colours of every shade
A breath-taking panorama
That Mother Nature has made
Frogs in the Lilly ponds
With frogspawn all around
Soon there will be tadpoles
Jumping up and down
Birds are also busy
Building with haste and zest
Making ready for new life
As they build their precious nest
Children prepare their Easter bonnets
Decorated with chicks eggs and glue
Display them at the Easter Parade
For the delights of me and you
It’s a time of new beginnings
To focus on new things to do
Be more positive in your thinking
To create a better future for you
Mothers Day will be upon us soon
How are we going to celebrate this event?
Shall we buy her chocolates and flowers?
Or buy her an expensive bottle of scent
We all take mothers for granted
Expecting she will always be there
She is always a good listener
And all your problems she will share
She sometimes becomes a nurse and a doctor
When you have hurt yourself at play
She will sit you upon her lap
Until the pain goes away
She will do these things all of your life
In sickness and in health
She will never give up on you
For a mother never thinks of her self
A champion to all of the family
At times she will have her say
For a mother is the kingpin of the family
So show your appreciation on this her special day
Mothers Day will be upon us soon
How are we going to celebrate this event?
Why not dedicate a poem to your Mother
SEND YOUR DEDICATIONS OR POEMS
1 Paint eggs. Armed with a colouring set, box of eggs, and newspaper spread over the kitchen table, you can keep kids quiet for hours. House of Fraser stocks an egg slicer (£5) with a handy “spike” to help at the hollowing-out stage.
2 Learn about chocolate. The eggheads at London’s Natural History Museum are giving a fun, free talk on everyone’s favourite Easter treat tomorrow. Cromwell Road, London SW7, 020 7942 5792,
3 Go to a Punch and Judy show. The 30-minute shows run from today to Easter Monday at the Pleasure Gardens at Blenheim Palace (Woodstock, Oxfordshire.
4 Throw a doll’s tea party. Serve tiny food – mini eggs will be popular – in a doll’s tea service, sandwiches cut into shapes with cookie cutters, and you’ll keep a roomful of little girls happy.
5 Build an indoor den. Blankets draped over furniture will do for younger children. Older ones might prefer to convert the cupboard under the stairs.
6 Introduce them to karaoke. Give kids a microphone and tell them to rehearse their favourite songs for a Eurovision-style performance. Retreat out of earshot. For those with a games console, invest in SingStar, which comes with two microphones and various tracks (£49.99 from music stores nationwide).
7 Play party games. There’s no reason why musical statues, musical chairs and blind man’s bluff should only be trotted out at children’s parties.
8 Do experiments. Kitchen-table science is educational as well as entertaining. Baking soda, vinegar and food colouring are the key ingredients to create a foaming lava from a worktop volcano.
9 Put on an Easter play. Assign roles, invite your oldest to oversee action sequences, and leave room for the others to improvise.
10 Get cooking. Children love spending quality time in the kitchen. Teach them – or learn yourself – how to make hot cross buns.
I want one so bad I begin to itch
But the more I have the more I get a stitch,
When I have one I feel satisfied
But the more I have the more I might die,
The one after tea is definitely the best
But the more I have,the more pains in my chest,
I used to run,I used to be fit
I need to cut down or definitely quit,
From freshness to blackness I can’t understand
My body was good,but now it is bad
All of them kill,no matter the brand,
You can kick it,yes you can,
Put it out before you choke
Trust me mate, please don’t smoke
By Christopher Wolvett
A little leprechaun sat pondering
Saint Patrick’s Day was fast approaching
For he wanted to learn to sing
But his voice needed coaching
So he went to see his friend Mick
Who’s voice was so sweet and true
I want to sing like an angel
Would you tell me what to do?
Let me hear you sing said Mick
His voice brought Mick to tears
The sound of his voice was so terrible
Mick stood with his hands over his ears
Mick was not put off by his voice
Placing the leprechaun inside a fairy ring
Did a jig of magical mystery
To enable the leprechaun to sing
Then the leprechaun was happy
Thanking Mick, he went on his way
For now, he had a beautiful voice
For him to sing on Saint Patrick’s Day
The Story of Burns Night
On or around January 25, his believed birthday, the life and work of Scottish poet Rabbie Burns is celebrated with a ritual of food, drink and poetry.
The Burns’ Supper was started by friends of Burns, a few years after his death in 1796, as a tribute to his memory, but it has also become a celebration of Scottishness, and, increasingly in Northern Ireland, America, and Canada of Scottish ancestry. It is important to note that Burns was also a Freemason and many of these celebrations are open to the public locally at Masonic Lodges.
Wherever you are, and however Scottish you are, you can join in with our recipes for the supper and a selection of the great man’s poems and songs.
Northern Ireland has its own tradition of poets in the Burns’ style, the weaver poets of Antrim and Down.
Who Was “Rabbie” Burns?
Born on 25th January 1759, in the parish of Alloway, Ayrshire, Burns was the eldest of seven children to William Burness and Agnes Brown (or Broun). Well educated in a variety of subjects, from Scottish history and folklore to literature, Burns was forced to assist his father in working on the family farm, and took over at 25 when his father died in 1784.
By 28, Burns was beginning to be well known in his literary career; In 1786 he published “Poems: Chiefly in Scottish Dialect”, which was expanded in 1787 and again in 1793 (Ibid.). Beginning in 1786, Burns would spend much time in Edinburgh among the elite and intellectuals of Scottish society, although Burns felt that they were only patronizing him because his soul of literary genius lied within the body of a country bumpkin. He returned to Ayrshire and unsuccessfully tried farming; in 1791 he became an exciseman, or customs agent, and joined the local yeomanry unit, the Dumfriesshire Volunteers. However, the physical and mental toll of his hard life, plus growing financial burdens, weakened him, and in 1796, Burns died of rheumatic heart disease, caused by his lack of a healthy diet in his younger years.
However, physical and financial matters were not the only things that troubled Robert; The Kirk of Scotland (The Presbyterian Church) and it’s opposition to his lifestyle was another. In particular, Burns’s sexual escapades caused much hostility between him and the church. Burns fathered a number of illegitimate children, including one by his future wife, Jean Armour, the daughter of a Master Mason. Burns wanted to marry Jean; her father refused and Burns and Jean appeared for penance in church to “receive public reproof for the sin of fornication” Burns would continue his rampant sexual activities right up until several years before his death. He never stopped his literary war against Scottish Calvinism, and lampooned it in a number of poems, including “Holy Willie’s Prayer”, “The Holy Fair”, and others.
Besides his rather libertine actions with women, Burns was also a political radical, and a rather strange mix at that. From reading Scottish history, Burns became an ardent nationalist, writing many romantic ballads about Scottish attempts to secure their independence from the English, from Robert the Bruce to Bonny Prince Charlie. This can be seen in poems like “Scots wha Hae”, “Charlie is My Darling”, “The White Cockade”, and many others.
Burns combined his Jacobite sympathies of the past with Jacobin politics of the present. He vocally supported the French and American Revolutions, which aroused suspicion of his loyalties, especially when in the service of His Majesty’s government as an exciseman, although Burns did recant his French tendencies when Britain and France went to war in 1792 . And while Burns may have been inspired by the French Revolution, his involvement in Freemasonry certainly played a large part in his opinions in favour of both secular and religious equity
He was only 37 when he died of heart disease but in that last year of his life he had written some of his most-respected works, such as The Lea Rig, Tam O’Shanter and O, My Love is Like a Red, Red Rose.
When the children have finished play
They suddenly remember its Pancake day
Inside they run to see all the treats
That will surround their Pancake feast,
Jams fruit and cream a Pancake dream
The children lick their lips
Whilst mum masters the mixture and whips,
All the magic ingredients together
To produce batter as light as a feather
patiently the children wait,
Whilst mother designs and creates
This scrumptious feast
That will knock them off their feet
Once the Pancakes have reached their plates
She relishes in their happy faces
Their eyes light up with such joy
Like Christmas all over when opening their toys.
By Gillian Sims
The children all look forward
To the tradition of Pancake Day
Whilst mother cooked the pancakes
The children went outside to play
The smell of the pancakes cooking
Creating an hypnotic aroma in the air
Children just like a magnet
Drawn inside, just to stop and stare
They stood watching their Mother
Tossing the pancake with glee
Children shouting.” Please don’t drop it”
Landing safely back in pan for all to see
Out came the oranges and lemons
Making them delicious to eat
Children tucking into the pancakes
Everyone enjoyed that pancake treat.