Monday, April 21, 2014

Celebrating National Poetry Month

The Purple Problem
By C. L. Collar

This isn’t fun !
 This isn’t Fair !
I was born with purple hair !

When I was little, it was sweet.
Everyone exclaimed, “How unique !”
And I was happy, believe it or not,
Because of all the attention I got.

But, then it happened. It opened my eyes.
Junior High would be my demise.
The other kids, my new found friends,
Pointed and cackled like a bunch of hens !

They shouted and cried, “Look over there !
Look at the girl with the purple hair !”
I vowed that day, my hair would change color,
By one method, or another.

Bleach I was quick to think,
But the results were a pukey pink.
It wasn’t much better, that’s for sure.
Oh ! There just must be a cure !

Dye it brown ! That would do fine !
 But mauve was not the color in mind.
There had to be something that would work,
Or I would soon go berserk !

Black, was the color, I was saved !
But the black washed away and the purple stayed.
Oh, I didn’t know what to do.
my hair now had a tint of blue.

It isn’t fun !
 It isn’t fair !
To be born with purple hair !

Fashion mags by the ton I bought.
A cure for purple hair, I sought.
Then there it was, right before my eyes,

What a fad ! Just what I needed.
 Soon my hair went unheeded.
Everyone’s hair was many colors.
Mine was mild, compared to others.

I went along in ignorant bliss.
Enjoyed companionship I’d missed.
Kept up with the fashion pages,
Wore my hair in the latest rages.

But, then it happened, While thumbing through,
A fashion mag, I’d bought brand new.
As I turned the page the caption read:

My face turned white as white could be.
They say it was a sight to see.
My cure had faded with the fad,
And purple hair, I still had.

So, now I’m right back where I started.
My hair is permed, purple and parted.
My friends will have to like me for me
For there is no solution that I can see.

It isn’t fun !
It isn’t fair !
But, I guess I’m stuck with purple hair.

Sunday, April 20, 2014

Happy Easter!

The CrossBy C. L. Collar

The Cross; there it stands
Bold and brave.
The symbol of a miracle worker
Who made man out of clay.
Through six suns and six moons
The earth he carefully made.
And rested a well earned rest,
On the seventh day.

The Cross; stands there reminding me
Of all the things he did.
He sent a son from heaven above
To live as we all live.
He taught us of goodness and kindness
And our sins he did forgive.
And what did we repay him with
But cruelty, all the time he lived.

The Cross; reminds me most of all
Of Jesus being crucified.
After all he did, all he helped
And oh how hard he tried,
To teach us of the Lord above
Who had given us all life.
And his repay for all he did,
Was to be crucified.

The Cross; now is a symbol
Of the holiness in this land.
Where almost everyone worships
The man whose giant hand.
Carved this world into what is today,
But I still don’t  understand.
Why it took us all so long to find,
The Holy King Of Man.

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Natrional Poetry Month

Today I am celebrating National Poetry Month and Easter with this inspirational poem. I hope you like it.

I Touched The Hand of God Today

I touched the hand of God today
and I was blown away.
A newborn’s touch of innocence
to bless me on this day.

I saw the hand of God today
and I was blown away.
The young girl said they are all jerks
 her friend brushed tears away.

I touched the hand of God today
and I was blown away.
The young man handed me the drugs
then he knelt down to pray.

I heard the hand of God today
and I was blown away.
The mother said, “Take that truck back
to steal is not God’s way.”

I touched the hand of God today
and I was blown away.
Wrinkled and rough, the old man’s hands
as he went home today.

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

It's National Poetry Month!

To Be a Butterfly
By Cathy Collar

I’d love to be a butterfly, so beautiful and free,
To float along with the clouds, all the world to see.
I’d like to be a butterfly, and flutter till I settle,
On a soft and colorful, velvet rose petal.
To drift from flower to flower and blend in beautifully,
With my many glorious colors, shinning joyously.
If I could be as carefree as a butterfly,
I would not be afraid to live or afraid to die.
I would not have to worry of what was planned to come.
I would just be proud to know,
That God’s will was done.

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

Twiddle Fun

Twiddle Fun

By C.L. Collar

Twiddle Dee and Twiddle Dum,
Went outside for a run.
Said Twiddle Dee to Twiddle Dum,
"I think we are too round to run."
Said Twiddle Dum to Twiddle Dee,
"Then we will walk to the trees."

Twiddle Dum and Twiddle Dee,
Decided to climb a tree.
Said Twiddle Dum to Twiddle Dee,
"We are too short to climb a tree."
Said Twiddle Dee to Twiddle Dum,
"Then we will hop to have or fun."

"Now, let's do what we do best!
It's more fun than all the rest!"
They put their arms around there chests,
And then the two rolled down the hill.
They rolled and rolled just for the thrill.

Twiddle Dum and Twiddle Dee,
Sat down underneath the tree.
Said Twiddle Dee to Twiddle Dum,
"We have walked and hopped for fun.
Then we rolled for the thrill,
Down the steep and bumpy hill."

Said Twiddle Dee to Twiddle Dum,
"I like to play outside for fun,
But I see the setting sun.
Which means our time for play is done.
We must head home now, Twiddle Dum."