It’s Mother’s Day, and out upon the breeze, I hear the chime of bells,While violets blue as heavenly skies, Are blooming in the dells,And happy children wend their way, Each with a flower bright,And aged sires and women gray, Are wearing flowers white, On Mother’s Day.On Mother’s Day, if still she’s here, To love, to… Read More Its Mothers Day by Katherine Cary Place
Somewhere, someday my heartbreak will mend,But will never, no never be what it has been,The aches and the hurts have compiled inside,And I have no more places to let heartache hide.So in breaking my heart, my spirit broke too,And I can no longer spend my strength upon you.It is now my turn, after all these… Read More Heartbreak by Gaylia Kenslow Stogsdill
Alfred Cheney Johnston (April 8, 1885 – April 17, 1971) is one of my most favorite, if not my favorite photographer. My eye for art has always been drawn to the female figure and the graceful curves that God graced them with. Alfred was the photographer for the Ziegfeld Follies. The Follies were presentations on… Read More Alfred Cheney Johnston – Photographer
We’re going to miss her when she’s gone, little mother,We’re going to miss the slender grace, the gentle eyes, the patient face.We’re going to see the empty pace,And wish that we had kept her.She’s just a little frailer than she was a year ago,She’s just a little paler, and her step is getting slow,We think… Read More Mother by Katherine Cary Place
Dropping down from Flagstaff – Via Oak Creek Canyon Drive –Sharpens senses and emotions – For at last you see it live.Memories stored away from childhood – Of the mountains, oh so high –And the pines so very stately – Seem to stretch and reach the sky.Here and there the sparkling water – Flashes out… Read More Happy City by Gaylia Kenslow Stogsdill
Oh, Spring is here, and all the air, Is scented with a fragrance fine,The cardinals too, have built their nest, In the same old bougainvillea vine.The mockingbird is sitting high, And sweetly o’er the air you here,His happy song from morn till night, Telling the world that Spring is here.The March winds blow with mournful… Read More Spring by Katherine Cary Place
The GM brass were in a heated debate,Seemingly overnight the auto became a way of lifeSales are doubling, profits are through the roof.But there isn’t enough workers to cover the line.“Anyone know where we can get some labor?”Someone from Missouri raised their hand,“I know some old cotton pickers that might”A plan was laid, a bus… Read More Wanted: Hicks and Hillbillys
Hey Mister Sloan, Give me a break, I’m doing the best I can. The smoke from your welders, Its corrupting my lungs, Each breath is more of a struggle. The thunder of your presses, It’s making me deaf, My wife has to shout! I can only count to eight, Using my fingers, That missing machine… Read More Hey Mister Sloan
We all have that one pet peeve, You know the thing that sets you off. For some the sound of crunching ice, Others the sound of fingernails dragging a chalkboard, These instill a sudden madness that blocks out all sanity. For me it is incompetence. Made famous by the book, The Peter Principle. My temper… Read More INCOMPETENCE
When you credit your time that is yours to keep,As you sit at eve to rest,And view each hour through the day be long,Can you say I have done my best?Did you smile on a little child today,Did you help another along the way?As lightening the load of a weary one?If you did, you say… Read More WHEN YOU CREDIT YOUR TIME by Katherine Cary Place
Ramblings of an Old Coot 