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Easter Joy -Promote Yourself

jesus

Jesus came to earth,
To show us how to live,
How to put others first,
How to love and how to give.

Then He set about His work,
That God sent Him to do;
He took our punishment on Himself;
He made us clean and new.

He could have saved Himself,
Calling angels from above,
But He chose to pay our price for sin;
He paid it out of love.

Our Lord died on Good Friday,
But the cross did not destroy
His resurrection on Easter morn
That fills our hearts with joy.

Now we know our earthly death,
Like His, is just a rest.
We’ll be forever with Him
In heaven, where life is best.

So we live our lives for Jesus,
Think of Him in all we do.
Thank you Savior; Thank you Lord.
Help us love like you!

By Joanna Fuchs

Demon Dialers-promote yourself

MORE THOUGHTS AT BEDTIME

pill
 
I lay upon my pillow, but sleep evaded me,
My mind was filled with the happenings of the day,
I wondered if I had made a good impression,
Or, if I needed to present myself in a different way.
 
I knew I had been helpful to many people I had met,
Which implies there were others whose needs were ignored,
In other words I had treated people differently,
Which I know is something to be deplored.
 
I think I am kind and considerate to most people,
At least that is what I always tried to be,
But some people can be difficult,
Such people evoke a different response from me.
 
It’s so easy to be nice to those who are nice to us,
It’s not so easy to be nice to those who cause us pain,
It’s not easy for us to ignore their actions,
To do so might encourage them to do the same again.
 
If we deal with people in the way that they deserve,
Hopefully they will understand that there is a lesson for them to learn,
If we do this with a sense of fairness,
There is no reason for us to feel any real concern.
 
We shall know that our actions are justified,
That we have taken every step that we should take,
We have dealt with people as they have deserved,
And that there is no reason for us to lie awake.
Ron Martin

Walls – good and bad – Promote Yourself

walls not good

ones that grow
amid friends
never fall down
friendships drown

low wall not bad
amid two houses
a place for tete-a-tete
builds friendship
as strong as high wall

high wall not good
between neighbours
icy-cold hearts
stony dead silence
such walls develop ears

‘wall-to-wall’ walls not bad
such walls build houses
if hearts build a home
without house no home
hug such wall-to-wall walls

 strong walls of a house
keep inmates warm
and secure, weak walls
of a house soon come down
till the home drowns

shaky walls of an old house
broken and mouldy
such walls weep and such
walls speak, tell sad tales of a
home that once was

Alka Girdhar
Sydney

OVERHEAD- Promote Yourself

bang

 the light bulbs expire,

Their guts bursting,

And in death their ghosts yield a softer view of life,

Harsh shadows melt away.

Reality fades into the background

and the room’s boundaries sink into infinity.

Another bursts in incandescent death.

Familiar objects take on new shapes

as possessions melt from sight.

A book left open,

the words blur into feelings.

Something calls from the darkness

waiting to be released as the last flame fades.

Walt Trizna

https://walttriznastories.wordpress.com/

From a Railway Carriage – Famous poet- Robert Louis Stevenson YOUR FAVOURITE POEM-

CARAGE
Faster than fairies, faster than witches,
Bridges and houses, hedges and ditches;
And charging along like troops in a battle,
All through the meadows the horses and cattle:
All of the sights of the hill and the plain
Fly as thick as driving rain;
And ever again, in the wink of an eye,
Painted stations whistle by.
  
Here is a child who clambers and scrambles,
All by himself and gathering brambles;
Here is a tramp who stands and gazes;
And there is the green for stringing the daisies!
Here is a cart run away in the road
Lumping along with man and load;
And here is a mill and there is a river:
Each a glimpse and gone for ever!
Robert Louis Stevenson
YOUR FAVOURITE POEM SENT IN BY YOU
WHAT’S YOURS

Solace – Promote yourself

solas

To me Breathless

I ran into the valley 

Stung Happiness – Promote Yourself

Magnificent Seven Pancake Day Ditties

pan

Shrove Tuesday – the traditional day of feasting and fun before the forty days of Lent, has its own mostly long forgotten tradition of rhymes and verses.

In centuries past a day for eating and exertion with feasting (of a kind) and football (of a sort) Shrove Tuesday has more than its fair share of unique and unusual songs, rhymes and poems. To celebrate the day here’s the Eden.co.uk collection of Seven Magnificent Pancake Day Ditties.

Pancake Tuesday is a Happy Day… in Lancsahire

Celebrating the tradition fry-up of all the forbidden foods of Lent, this is the rhyme most of us know from our school days. This one’s a 1930s Lancashire version:

Pancake Tuesday is a very happy day,
If you don’t gea us holiday we’ll aw run away,
Eating tawfy, crackin’ nut
Stuffin’ aw pancakes deawn awr guts!

Pancakes and the author of ‘In the bleak midwinter’

Christina Rossetti’s poem for Pancake Day gives outline cooking instructions including a vital hint for tossing the pancake: catch it if you can.
 
Mix a pancake,
Stir a pancake,
Pop it in the pan;
Fry the pancake,
Toss the pancake,
Catch it if you can.

Shakspeare’s Henry IV and Pancake Tuesday

Shakespeare’s Shrove Tuesday rhyme says something about the importance of the day and the feasting that went with it. In Henry IV part 2, Justice Silence sings:
 
Be merry, be merry, my wife has all;
For women are shrews, both short and tall;
‘Tis merry in hall, when beards wag all,
And welcome merry shrove-tide.
Be merry, be merry.

Good eating and the Cheshire Guttit Bell

In the Middle Ages Shrovetide feasting was announced throughout England with the 11am ‘Pancake Bell’. In Cheshire the signal was called the ‘good-eating’ ‘Guttit’ bell:
 
But hark, I hear the pancake bell,
And fritters make a gallant smell.
The cooks are baking, frying, boiling,
Stewing, mincing, cutting, broiling,
Carving, gourmandizing, roasting,
Carbonading, cracking, slashing, toasting.

Shrove Tuesday final score: Derby 0 The Army 1

Disorderly, Shrovetide football involving whole towns, were common throughout England. In Derby the 1839 game was so unruly it had to be ended by the intervention of the army:

Pancakes and Fritters say the Bells of St. Peter’s
When will the ball come? Say the bells of St Alkmun,
At two they will throw, says St Werabo,
Oh very well, says little St Mich-ael.

Pancake Day-light robbery going door to door

‘Lensharding’ or ‘Shroving’ was the Lenten version of Christmas carolling and little more than begging with menaces. Most Shroving adventures were accompanied by singing this threat:
 
Please I’ve come a-shroving
For a piece of pancake
Or a little ruckle cheese
Of your own making.
If you don’t give me some,
If you don’t give me none,
I’ll knock down your door
With a great marrow bone
And away I’ll run.

Mardi de crêpe est un jour heureux

Back to the Lenten themes of feasting, fasting and looking forward to Easter, this is a Shrove Tuesday rhyme from probably the best pancake makers in the world, and its translation:
 
Alegre, Diou nous alegre,
Cachofué ven, tout ben ven,
Diou nous fague la graci di veïre l’an que ven.
Se sian pas mai,
Que siguen pas men!”

Let us rejoice, and may God keep us merry,
For Cachofué, the season of All Good, is coming.
May God protect us in the year ahead,
And if we cannot grow fat,
May we at least not be lean!

“A Dance of Fire and Imprisoned Stars”: – Promote Yourself

If You Forget Me – by Pablo Neruda-YOUR FAVOURITE POEM

FORGET
I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine

by Pablo Neruda
YOUR FAVOURITE POEM
SENT IN BY YOU WHAT’S YOURS

You – Promote Yourself

the

“Gift Receipt”:

made

PARIS SHOOTING – Promote Yourself

paris

Two Petals – Time Will Tell – Promote Yourself

pet

Nasty Christians Need To Learn-promote yourself

Midnight-

ghost

The ghosts of Auchwitz are chasing me again

just like they did when I was ten
I sat with in the kitchen with my mom
trying to speak, I was quite dumb

Tried to listen to what she had to say
wished it was just another regular day
and now its midnight and I am drunk
smoked a cigar and smell like a skunk
what is the meaning of life, I try to figure
with the skills of a mathematician and all its rigor

Menke Kalisch, Kopel Reich
those are important figures in my psych
I can feel them fight
with all their might
“Torah is important, everything else is fake”
No! More dough you got to make

Mom would wake up every morning
and sort of go into mourning
Where is her family and Galanta, she tried to shout
Do you know what this is about?

Lisa lies next to me. so innocent
never had to deal with anything indecent
wish I could be like her
and think that life is fair
But I think of my uncle, whom I never met
but can’t seem to be able to forget
and both of my grandparents
and their families
rolling in their grave
whom no one wanted to save

By Izzy Nelken

Holocaust

Auschwitz-456x288_3176326a
The rain how it fell; the cadaver smell
My eyes transfixed on that pit of Hell,
Vapid flesh foul, horrendously bland.
But why this carnage, I don’t understand;

Retching, gagging, holding back the bile.
I turn from the evil to rest for a while,
From decomposing mothers, fathers and child;
Satan’s work, merciless, callously wild.

Laid out in graves grotesquely remorse,
Lucifer’s carnage has taken its course
In a dance of death, contorted and thin,
Thousands of bodies, bound together by skin.

Now sixty years passed, will I ever forget.
That day when in person, with Satan I met;
He showed me firsthand his evil, his sin.
Flames of contempt still burn deep within.

Wise men instruct us ‘we must never, forget’,
Upon the memory of them, ‘let the sun never set’;
For six million Jews paid the ultimate cost,
I know, I was there, at the great Holocaust.

Alf Hutchison :
As seen through the eyes of those who witnessed first hand,
and liberated the scenes of the Holocaust
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