If Suddenly You Forget Me

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.

- Pablo Neruda

"The Second Coming"

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of "Spiritus Mundi"
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

-- William Butler Yeats, "The Second Coming"

Related:Related: Reading Shakespeare has dramatic effect on human brain

Anonymous Poem from Elderly Woman

What Do You See? What do you see, nurses, what do you see,
what are you thinking when you're looking at me?

A crabby old woman, not very wise, uncertain of habit, with faraway eyes.
Who dribbles her food and makes no reply when you say in a loud voice, "I do wish you'd try?"

Who seems not to notice the things that you do, and forever is losing a stocking or shoe.

Who, resisting or not, lets you do as you will with bathing and feeding, the long day to fill.
Is that what you're thinking? Is that what you see?

Then open your eyes, nurse; you're not looking at me.
I'll tell you who I am as I sit here so still, as I use at your bidding, as I eat at your will.

I'm a small child of ten with a father and mother, brothers and sisters, who love one another.
A young girl of sixteen, with wings on her feet, dreaming that soon now a lover she'll meet.

A bride soon at twenty-my heart gives a leap, remembering the vows that I promised to keep.
At twenty-five now, I have young of my own who need me to guide and a secure happy home.

A woman of thirty, my young now grown fast, bound to each other with ties that should last.

At forty my young sons have grown and are gone, but my man's beside me to see I don't mourn.

At fifty once more babies play round my knee, again we know children, my loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead;
I look at the future, I shudder with dread.....

For my young are all rearing young of their own,
and I think of the years and the love that I've known.

I'm now an old woman and nature is cruel;
'tis jest to make old age look like a fool.

The body, it crumbles, grace and vigour depart,
there is now a stone where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells,
and now and again my battered heart swells.

I remember the joys, I remember the pain,
and I'm loving and living life over again.

I think of the years; all too few, gone too fast,
and accept the stark fact that nothing can last.

So open your eyes, nurses, open and see,
not a crabby old woman; look closer - see ME!!

Anonymous.

This anonymous poem has been attributed to several sources. It is generally described as having been found among the possessions of an older woman who died in a geriatric ward of a hospital.

"A Lily or a Rose? Which flower do I give?"

"A Lily or a Rose?
Which flower do I give?
I can't really decide,
So I only wish you to live.

A Lily or a Rose?
White isn't always pure,
Does red always mean blood?
Such raging emotions with no cure.

A Lily or a Rose?
A hard decision to make.
I couldn't do it,
So a Lily and a Rose I'll take.

A Lily or a Rose,
Such a sweet question of the heart.
I guess I'd want to make a new flower,
One that shows all the emotions and how you've been hurt.

A Lily or a Rose.
Neither is what I say,
For neither one is needed,
As long as you live another day."

By, Saddened Laughter.

The Past is the Past

If your past has not been good, then don't dwell on it, nor bring it up in conversation nor think about it.
Leave the past in the past.

Brethren, I count not myself to have apprehended: but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, ... Philippians 3:13

Weekend Fun -Evolution-

A little girl asked her mother:
'How did the human race appear?'

The mother answered, 'God made Adam and Eve;
they had children; and so was all mankind made.'

Two days later the girl asked her father the same question.
The father answered,

'Many years ago there were monkeys fromwhich the human race evolved.'
The confused girl returned to her mother and said,

'Mom, how is it possible that you told me the human race was created by God,
and Dad said they developed from monkeys?'

The mother answered,

'Well, Dear, it is very simple.

I told you about my side of the family,

and your father told you about his.'

The Face

I am the face of abuse
I hold the scares
Seen and unseen
I am the child
With innocence stolen
I am the young girl
That trusted wrongly
I am the woman
That chose poorly
Then suffered greatly
I am the voice
That cries out
In the darkness
I am the personality
Shattered and robed
Yes I am the face of abuse
That found the strength
To become a survivor
Red 3-11-07

The Rain People

The Rain People

The Rain People are you and me and all people
immersed in the human frailty of emotionalism.

The Rain People are the drops of substance on
your window, your windshield when it rains.

The Rain People are those drops of water that dance
so closely, but afraid to touch and are so weak in
the abyss of love, for should they make
one mistake in love, and cry!........ they wash
themselves away and dissolve, becoming a vast
sheet of nothingness............ to love no more!

by poetry byWilly Art by The Peter Jones Studio and Gallery

Guardianship Hearing Caught on Video

Are You Quicker than Sheep?

by Investalot

I thought I'd start my quest to improve the mental health of the human race by pitting you against a recalcitrant gang of sleepy sheep. How quick are your reactions ? You gotta shoot 'em before they escape ! Beware - it's addictive - you have been warned!

Sheepometer

Are We Here to Take Life From the Future, Or to Give Life to the Future?

Credit Thomas Panto, thank you for the wonderful picture and the thought evoking question.

W/End Music Thread - Faye Wong- Eyes on Me

A Poem for Guardians: by Janet Phelan

Buy low
Sell high
Get rich
You still die

Kill the old
Rob their breath
Stuff your pockets
With your Second Death

Kill the old
Kill their young
Kill the song
Before it's sung

Burn the fields
Poison the well
Stick your profits
In your bank in Hell

There's a snake in the garden
There's a snake in your bed
There's a snake in your mirror
There's a snake in your head

It's a beautiful planet
So rich and green
And the Angel of God
Is nowhere to be seen

It's here for the taking
And when the day is through
It's all about money
And it's all about you

Janet Phelan

Slow Dance

SLOW DANCE

Have you ever watched kids
On a merry-go-round?
Or listened to the rain
slapping on 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'd 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 see
his sorrow?
Ever lost touch, Let a good
friendship die?
Cause you never had time
To call and say,'Hi'
You'd 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 through your
day
It is like an unopened gift....
thrown away.
Life is not a race
Do take it slower
Hear the music
Before the song is over.

This is a poem written by a teenager with cancer. She wants to see how many people get her poem. It is quite the poem Please pass it on. She is a terminally ill young girl in a New York Hospital. It was sent by a medical doctor -

O Captain! My Captain! -

Walt Whitman (1819?1892). Leaves of Grass. 1900.

O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather?d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up?for you the flag is flung?for you the bugle trills;

For you bouquets and ribbon?d wreaths?for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck
You?ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor?d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.