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All The Way Back

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One Shot Wednesday


When I was a child out shopping with my father in the busy paced Christmas season, my small steps could never match his giant ones.  For every large stride he took, I had to take three awkaward leaps to keep in step.  It was like a little red bird flying next to an eagle with his massive wing span, there was a great difference in our flight, and like the eagle my father had a great wing span.  When we were finished at the store, and the car was loaded up, he would always push the shopping cart all the way back into the store where it belonged.  I would sit in the car waiting and wondering why he took the time to do such a good deed when he had so many more important things to do.  At the time, I could not comprehend how his example of giving of himself, even in such a small way, would impact my view of the meaning of giving later in life. Last week marked the beginning of the holiday shopping season.  Once again as an adult, I found myself participating in the pyreti…

Fences

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At Christmas, all roads lead home.  ~Marjorie Holmes

One Shot Wednesday

Growing up my brother and I were raised on one hundred acres of perfect Sanger graze land, just north of Denton, Texas.  At our house there was a majestic view from every window, but the house was completely surrounded by a a fence.  It served its purpose in keeping the cattle away from the porch, yet it seemed to be the place I remained most of my childhood, staying within the fence. Looking back it seems so strange that we had all that land, but we had to remain most of the time within the confines of those closed gates.  For myself ,I could only call it a loss and go on, but for my brother Vaude it was different.  He had more freedom at a younger age than I, but when he did get it, he went as fast as he could, like a canary that broke out of its cage.  He always was a restless spirit, and peace was just not within this grasp then, and unlike the distance that seperates counties and states, I could not reach him fo…

The Bounty of God

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Magpie #45
"There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle." ~Albert Einstein






Perhaps the gravest, and yet greatest gift God gives us in this life is the ability to decide for ourselves what we will believe, and what path we will choose from the vision set before us.  We all one by one, could step into a Cathedral and peer through the beautiful stained glass windows, and each one see something a bit different.  Some choose the obvious, and clear science of logic, and then go about their way, while others look deeper, into the glass, and into the human heart, not just seeing a mother and child etched upon the glass, but they see a miracle etched upon humanity.  The wonder of the many gifts of God.  Is it a miracle, or is it the science of art?  I choose the miracle!


I hope everyone at Magpie Tales and everywhere in the blogosphere has a wonderful Christmas Holiday, no matter what your set beliefs a…

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

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Magpie #44
"Childhood is the most beautiful of all life's seasons."  ~Author Unknown



Somewhere between carelessly sliding down Maynord's hill, and carefully climbing up the ladder of success, I forgot how to simply say: weeeeeeeeeeeeee!!
To read more slippery fun click here.

A Glimpse of God

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One Shot Wednesday

It is the vast ocean, yet one tiny grain of sand.
It is the rain that feeds the river, yet the tears of just one man.
It is a meteor that lights up the dark, yet the lights reflection from one creature's eyes.
It is the instinctive migration of geese, yet one hummingbird in hovered flight.
It is the tall deep forest, yet one flower that is rare.
It is the undeniable crash of thunder, yet the wind's testimony that is unseen, but we know it is there.



No Stranger At My Door

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Magpie #43

You can't run away from trouble. There ain't no place that far. ~Uncle Remus


Trouble rides a fast horse, I once heard a famous cowboy say.  So I tiptoed like a snowflake, and flew the other way. I traveled passed missed opportunities, and stumbled over the loss. Holding regret, like a firearm, with pockets empty from the cost. I grew weary running, so I turned to hiding behind my own locked doors, never allowing trouble to dance upon my hardwood  floors. Yet, all the avoiding, and escaping was at no avail, for trouble would always find me through my own paper trail. It is a cold hard lesson, like falling off a horse in the snow. To learn that dodging all life's troubles also loses some blessing we could know. Trouble rides a fast horse, I once heard a famous cowboy say. So now I sit at my own doorstep, and simply welcome all that comes my way.
To read more Magpie Tales prompts click here.

This Life

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Magpie Tales #42


"What we are is God's gift to us. What we become is our gift to God." ~Eleanor Powell







Gently take hold of me with both hands and then keep on moving on your race each breath a new gift each step you take becomes the prize you make.

To read more prize offerings check out lovely Willow's Magpie Tales 

Fulfillment

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Think Tank #25 Thankfulness
"He is a wise man who does not grieve for the things which he has not, but rejoices for those which he has."  ~Epictetus






You can eat a full bowl of potatoes, or a full plate of sirloin steak.
You can hold a full glass of milk, or drink a full goblet of champagne.
You can play in a full toy box, or own a millionaire's full house.
You can enjoy a full retirement, or save a full bank account.
But if your heart is empty, and their are holes in your soul,
you will remain hungry, and always long for something more.

Flowers Do Grow In The Rain

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You ask why life has so many tears why life's road is always rough?... but with each day and every year we learn another lesson about love.
Sometimes the path we choose can seem to be too hard... but how much more can we loose with just one more broken heart?
A finished diamond ring is not beautiful all my itself... it cannot do a thing without the polish cutter's help.
Going up mountains and over hills we are running into walls... we cannot learn the growing skill until we learn to fall.
A heart like a flower grows and reaches for the stars... but our eyes do not always know the necessity of lifes scars.
Some flowers along the beaten path are hidden among the weeds... the rain showers they must have are what help the many planted seeds.
Sometimes it takes hitting a valley low to make us finally look up... at times only a heartache's blow can make us feel true love.
You ask why there is so much sorrow why does life give us so much pain?... but too much sunshine provides no rainbow, for flowers do grow…

The Magician's Tools

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Magpie #41
He is like a fickle lover, awkwardly gone before morning, yet smooth like the wrinkled sheets he left behind. He is a true magician with tricks up a sleeve, and well crafted illusions between each line. He raises up youth in a elevation act dangling upon a string. Only to let go and drop it in a disappearing act for all to see. Pulling moments out of a hat, like rabbits, that we can never retrieve. A continuous magic show that you have to see to truly believe. Yes, time is the great illusionist, and the clock one tool upon a stage, for God, and man's time and calenders have never been the same.

To read more moments in time....check out lovely Willow's Magpie Tales

The Two Sides of Regret

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One Shot Wednesday

It is a broken window that has two different views looking out it is a distant ocean that we can never swim and looking in it is an endless beach with sand that lingers forever in the shoes upon our feet
It is a jagged tree that has only two branches the one we grasp tightly afraid of the fall if we let go and the other we can only gaze at for it is far beyond our reach
It is a torn map with just one chartered road that leads two ways to the east it is a place we wish we could forget and to the west it is a trip to a aged loved one we never took that we shall always grieve

The Strongest Strand

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Magpie #40
If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other. ~Mother Teresa

We stand together an assortment of pearls tightly strung in place embracing hope's truest strand longing for something greater in the end but when our clasp together catches on the snags of life we rip apart scattering in all dirrections yet unlike the pearl that gets lost amongst the rubble underneath a couch never to be found man makes his way back fastening together thread to stone hand to hand one heart at a time.




I have always been fascinated by the way that mankind has so many different cultures, traditions and beliefs, and yet, ultimately,we are all truly the same.  We nurture and adore our children ,work in some way to put food on the table, and long to make a difference in our sphere of influence.  We are worlds apart, yet as close knit as jewels on a strand.  Humanity, not matter how diverse, truly is an emblem of the bonds of the heart.












To see more takes on the prompt check o…

The Power Amongst The Weeds

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One Shot Wednesday
A whisper is just a whisper that when uttered in a crowd is hard to hear, yet in the hush of loneliness it's meaning becomes quite clear. A penny is just a penny that in our pocket humbly sits, yet if we dropped it from a skyscraper oh the damage it could inflict. A cardboard box is just a cardboard box that on it's shelf we do place, yet if it stood in a busy highway so many changes it would make. A weed is just a weed that among the flowers we regret it grows, yet they hold the power to make us tend our garden, for otherwise we sometimes won't.
Also sharing with lovely Emily at Imperfect Prose

Where The River Ends

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One Shot Wednesday Week #18
Our lives are like a river each flowing a certain stream as we try to go the distance to the grand destination we must reach there are hazardous twists and bends that make us sway and hard rocks and branches we must cross along the way yet we must remember when we reach the final descent that where  the river ends is simply where the ocean does begin...
......and there we shall meet again.

For Seth



The Dash

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Magpie #38

It is not the day we are born nor the moment of our passing that leaves a lasting mark. It is the dash inbetween the life we have lived that shapes and touches our hearts.


February 15 1922 - August 11, 1992
Parkes Van Horn
My father was a wonderful man who accompllished many amazing things even though he had led a very difficult childhood.  His mother was sick for many years with MS, and passed away when he was merely 9 years old.  By the time he was 11 he was orphaned, and had to live with who ever would take him in.  He started working at the age of 12 as a door to door salesman.  Dispite all of his hardships he eventually went in the Navy as well as the Army, and served in WWII.  He worked his way through college graduating from Rice University in Houston, TX to become a aeronautics engineer.  He practically raised me and my brother by himself, and we never went without.  There is no way that I could ever attempt to fill his shoes, yet his integrity and example have carried me, …

Aunt Matilda's Big Purse

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Monday's Child #18
Aunt Matilda had a big purse that appeared to be larger than life. It was wider than a cavern and taller than a kite. She carried it on her elbow, or clutched it with her wrist. And if anyone  tried to take it, they would surely receive a fist. We joked that if you put your hand in, a rabbit would be pulled out. For magicly she had everything needed to solve a dillemma without a doubt. One time she sent me to get her wallet for money for the icecream man, and when I reached inside, I found a set of pots and pans. Yes, Aunt Matilda had a big purse that was bigger than us tykes. It was wider than a cavern, and taller than a kite.










What Remains

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Magpie #37
Also sharing with beautiful Emily at Imperfect Prose take a look you will be blessed.



God gave us memories that we might have roses in December.  ~J.M. Barrie, Courage, 1922




Time burns her memory like a building on flame and my heart keeps re-entering to salvage what could be lost soft cuddles pushes on the swing thoughts shared all return to view I cradle them out of the wreckage with the tenderness of a mother yet fervour of an explorer certain I will retrieve something new that had been once consumed by time's tarnishing way one vision at a time relinquished like a photograph taken out from underneath the protective glass yet they still fade tattered at the edges and dust inbetween reflecting the weakness of my memory to capture every moment like a camera but I will carry on with the recovery holding on to each one like a child's hand afraid of loosing them out in the open streets for I am the guardian and sole heir of them all and I will carry them with me in homage…

The Soul's Tattoo

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Poets United Think Tank Prompt #20 The ugly that is beautiful

The stumblings of our youth can leave a lasting mark reminding us where we have been and directing us where we are a source of evidence that lingers for all eyes to behold a roadmap of the past and still a tattoo of the soul.



The Glory In Kneeling

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Imperfect Prose with Emily take a look you will be blessed.
There is more strength in letting go of the tears than in all the callus one can hold. There is more courage in reaching out for help than facing all the demons alone. There is more power in our silence than all the words we can say. There is more glory in kneeling in the shadows in prayer than just standing in the light's way.


A Funeral, Two Soft Giggles, and The Color Orange

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Poets United Think Tank #19 Color
One of the most amazing men I have ever known was my son's paternal grandfather, George Thackeray.  He was an intelligent and hardworking man with a heart of gold, but what I loved most about him was his wonderful sense of humor.  He was always telling jokes, being silly, and making you laugh.  He was an utter joy to be around, and I am certain he was the glue that held his family together.  When he passed away back in 1991, it was a deep loss for the whole family.  A wonderful, joyous,and kind soul that we would miss dearly.  His wife whose name is Georgia, remains with us, is also a wonderful soul, and she has always been known for having taste in things that were loud and colorful.  Her favorite color is orange, and she always wears very colorful dresses and likes very big and unusual things.  When we were at the grave side service, the pastor was talking about what George was doing in Heaven.  George had a painting business that supported his f…

Broken

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One Shot Poetry

Some things when they fall they shatter and seem beyond repair while others seem to brace the fall but invisibly they are impaired a heart can see another's fall and then itself break in two but tears like glistening diamonds will fall and make it new God bless the heart that is broken for another's pain it has truly felt and seen but God help the heart that will not break for it is surely broken indeed.

What The Trees Know

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Magpie #35

The trees know a certain unity that we do not understand. They face what the wind blows in, and together they shall stand. When autumn's wind reaches out to them her subtle hand, the leaves turn hue and fall and still together they do land. The forest knows a certain hope that lingers in winter's cold. It is the certainty of spring when new leaves will all unfold. Yet, in the swelter of summer, at the hand of man alone, a flicker becomes a flame and takes back what nature has bestowed. Still, trees know a certain peace that man cannot recall. For united they will stand, and still together they will fall.




I have always believed that nature has her own sweet knowing that mankind has not quite grasped.  All of creation thrives and co-exists like an elegant dance to a beautiful song.  It is God's other textbook to teach us how to live, yet we take it for granted, awkwardly disregarding the steps.  If we would only take time to listen to the rustling of the leaves in the bree…

The Keepers And The Swift

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Magpie #34
When I was an older child, I was fascinated by running my fingers swiftly through the flickering flame...it seemed as if my fingers, and the flame for a moment were within each others embrace...but I was careful to not linger...all too aware of the sting that could remain.  Some lovers can be that way...fasinated by the warmth of the embrace, yet they will not linger, for they are afraid of getting burned.



We long for the spark of something more warmth of light enveloping an empty orb solitude extinguished and kinship ignited with one touch of the match onto the wick yet once the flicker transforms into a steady flame a mystery smolders in the light some hearts will hold the flame true like a sturdy lamp embracing the beauty's glow and it's sting but like the scattering of dry leaves some lovers swiftly move on for fear of getting burned.




I recently went with my husband to his 30 year class reunion.  There were many people there with the same old story; they had married, had child…

Through The Eyes of The Mother

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Poets United Think Tank Prompt # 17

He stands before the world, and he does not stand much of a chance, to overcome the adversity of his circumstance. He is just a prodigal in a world that knows no grace, for all the world sees when it looks at Tyron is a bad statistic in the human race. The cop just shook his head when he saw the criminal of the law, and the preacher over looked him in his holy cause. The teacher saw a waste of time on her agenda for the day, and the neighbor clinched his fist at the good for nothing in his way. The world just saw a statistic to sweep underneath a rug, so why is it any wonder why Tyron just gave up. Yet, through the eyes of the mother, there is a different view. She does not see a statistic,a criminal, nor a fool. She sees beyond the world's half hearted kind of man. The kind only a mother would truly understand. She does not shake her head, nor clinch her angry fist. She only holds her heart when she looks at him. She sees half of boy in this half hearted man, …

A Slice of Heaven

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Magpie # 33
It is not the slant of my lips nor the curve of my hips it is not the perfume on my wrist nor the taste of warmth in my kiss that he cannot ever resist... it is my pie and warm biscuits that keep him truly in bliss.


I guess sometimes the way to a man's heart truly is through his stomach! :-)

Like A Forest

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Think Tank Prompt #16
This life is like a forest and our world is but a tree and humanity is a flow of many colors like an abundant growth of leaves each spread out and grow reaching toward the sky and when the time is right we break loose and start to fly but like the changing seasons our flight is soon a fall we reach out like a weary hand and embrace heaven's call.

Serenity

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One Shot Wednesday
It lingers in the waters at the stillness of the dawn. It stumbles with the awkward grace of an innocent fawn. It glides the sky underneath the wings of a snow white dove. It glimmers from the eyes of a young woman deep in love. It's fragrance fills the air of a rose garden in the spring. It is heard from the cathedral as the choir begins to sing. It roams the hills with wild horses that have ventured afar. Yet, it cannot be captured until you search inside your heart.

His Name Is Forever

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Magpie # 32


When we are children time is always our friend, we play hand in hand for hours on end.
One day we grow up and we become distant and lose touch. We start running through life in a big rush.
Years go by, and one day, he calls and knocks at our door. We remember, catch up, and plan to do more.
Then we are elderly, and our days become few, he clings to our side like a friend that is true.
At the moment when we will say farewell to this place, he does not stop nor leave, but accompanies us to heaven's gates.
To read more prompts visit Willow's Magpie Tales.

Grandma's Way

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Think Tank Prompt #15
Memory is a child walking along a seashore.  You never can tell what small pebble it will pick up and store away among its treasured things.  ~Pierce Harris


There once was an old lady with hair a light shade of blue. Her face was slowly falling and her heart was tried but true.
She loved to feed the alley cats and tell them of her dreams. She squatted in her lilly garden to plant her plastic queens.
I loved to hear her stories of life and days gone by. Her voice was soft and wistful that never told a lie.
Her manner was truly graceful as she tied her sheer pink scarf. Her words were always gentle as she touched you with her heart.
She prayed over my pillow, and cast her faith on high. She always looked so peaceful when she glanced up at the sky.
Her hands were warm and true when she brushed my tangled hair, and she always intently listened to all my hopes and cares.
She lived her life truly smiling, day after day. A rainbow in the storm, that was just her way.
Even though she is…

The Colliding of Two Worlds

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One Shot Wednesday
Man rushes down narrow freeways with common destinations yet diverse dreams not always aware of the hidden eyes that may reflect from his high beams the doe enters the clearing and steps onto pavement full of grace ignorant of the dangers that she may soon face our worlds like boxes in a closet set together yet worlds apart they intersect and collide briefly but they both leave a lasting mark.




The Child Speaks

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Monday's Child #12
The child will freely stare, but the adult will merely glance.
The child always goes eagerly out on a limb, but the adult steps out carefully afraid to fall.
The child asks simply for one reason why, but the adult preoccupies with the answers to it all.
The child embraces love whole heartedly, but the adult slowly touches it scared it will swallow them whole.
The child speaks his mind honestly, but the adult only says what he cares to show.
Monday's Child a wonderful site for poets check it out. :-)

A Mighty Weakness

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Poets United Think Tank Prompt #14
I am a wall I can be made of cement and rise up many yards high, or I may be made of brick or stone, and reach out across the county side.
Sometimes I am a memorial that represents millions of brave souls, and other times I am a fortress of protection that tells you where not to go.
But I hold up at my most mighty, and yet at my weakest place, when I am built with fear, and doubt littered with pride's own waste.


There are walls that protect...

There are walls that remember...


There are walls that divide....


and there are walls that are destructive...


I am all too familiar with the walls a broken heart can build. My father and brother had a "falling out", and were at odds with each other for years. They did not speak for long periods of time, and never resolved their hard feelings. When my father passed away in 1992 my brother was devastated. He was in a form of grief the rest of his life. He passed away in 2002. I have faith, and I am certain that they …

The Winds of Hardship Blow In All Directions

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Magpie #31
We are not that different you and I I can feel it in your gentle sway you can see it in my weary eyes like a high flag we must face the wind's blow with a lumber strength deep in our soul I might shift and you may bend but we both stand up to what life blows in side by side or worlds apart each soul has hardships and storms at dark we are not that different you and I for we all long for acceptance and peaceful skies.
Click here to see Willow's Magpie Tales...you will be glad you did. :-)

May there be peace on earth for EVERY man,woman, and child...no matter where they live, or what they believe.