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Consequences of Inaction
George W. Cecil said:
“Upon the plains of hesitation
Lie the bones of countless thousands
Who, on the threshold of victory,
Sat down to wait,
And, in waiting, they died.”
Ask yourself: What am I waiting for? The perfect time?
There is no perfect time as it does not exist.
If you have a goal, begin to move toward it.
If you want to reach for a star,
You may not succeed in reaching it
But you will, indeed, go farther than one
Who will never begin by taking that first step.
Poppy of Remembrance
Red paints the fields where the poppies grow
After the battles there long ago.
Warmed by sunshine, watered by tears,
They still bravely bloom to remember those years.
Our soldiers were sent to a foreign land
To fight out of deep trenches in making their stand.
They struggled hard to remain warm and dry in the mud, rain, and snow
When they fought the Kaiser’s army so long ago.
Little imitation poppies were sold in the millions back then
To support the war effort and our fighting men.
They’re deep red like the bloodshed on the mud and snow,
These beautiful red poppies in the field where they grow.
Take just a moment to think and reflect.
Take the time to offer a thank you prayer in respect.
Someone order champagne and quickly remove the cork.
Let’s toast our dough boys and our hero, Sergeant York.
They still grow in the fields of yesterday.
They stand in remembrance and still hold sway.
In yesteryear, these poppies played their part.
When you wear one, I hope it matches the poppy in your heart.
THOUGHTS OF SPRING
I sat upon a park bench, writing pad in hand,
Enjoying flowering shrubs and warmth upon the land
As cacophony of sound assaults both my ears:
Birds singing, dogs barking, and children’s laughter at play.
Then, not one but three lasses appeared
With bonnets and flower baskets at arm.
They wore floral-colored smocks,
Emitting Old World charm.
“I see you are a writer, sir,” one said
As her laughter broke the air.
At a loss for words, I simply smiled,
Caught up in her blue-eyed snare.
“Please do write us a sonnet,” said the second lass.
“Oh, no, a poem,” pleaded the third.
I smiled at all three,
Completely lost for word.
Their little faces in mock pout,
Their dresses so colorful and gay,
Added the finishing touch on the canvas
Of this beautiful, fine Spring Day.
I cleared my throat and spoke, “Oh, I suppose,
A line or two I’ll jot of spring-time prose.
With a smile and a thank you, they skipped away, arms interlocked.
As they moved away, I couldn’t help but notice: The flowers matched their frocks.
The sun was warm, and the wind was balmy.
White fluffy clouds adorned the sky.
I stretched and yawned like a Cheshire cat,
Releasing a contented sigh.
Mother Nature had once again blessed the land,
Calling forth different flowers in abundant array.
While I watched butterflies and birds flit about
On this gorgeous, balmy Spring Day.
Spring tulips
Spring has sprung!
Daddy and Momma Mallard with 10 new ducklings
Daddy and Momma Canadian Geese with 2 new goslings
Double Bearded Iris
He Lives!
He walked among us over rocky pathways
Many long years ago.
The message He brought was the one He taught
To free us and let us know.
Numbered among transgressors,
Beaten and scorned with shame.
He shouldered false accusations bravely
And never placed the blame.
Not happy with His suffering,
They sentenced Him to death.
They nailed Him to a cross
To draw His last earthly breath.
He was buried in a sepulcher
Which was hewn in stone.
Women prepared His body for eternal rest
And left Him all alone.
Just as the prophecy had foretold,
The stone was rolled aside:
Three days later, our Savior arose
To ascend and forever to abide.
The ultimate sacrifice for our sins –
A price we could not pay –
Was paid in full by our Savior.
Each year, we celebrate this act on each Easter Day.
Happy Easter, Everyone!
W. Foster Welborn
Wouldn’t You Know It?
Beautiful roses, rough soil can endure…
The sweetest most often
Live and grow in debris and manure.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
Reflections
There are so many, I know not where to start.
As I sit quietly and reflect,
My wondering thoughts and memories to collect,
Memories stir in my consciousness which awaken my heart.
Foolish words and deeds,
Poor choices made in youth without reason,
Like layers of paint on the wall
Add up, season after season.
Young and crazy, detached and aloof,
Speaking lies, innuendo, trash without proof.
Age brings wisdom.
Reflection brings enlightenment.
Rake not among old bones, searching for the truth.
If you receive a blessing, give thanks with your mouth.
It matters not where you are from…north, east, west, or south.
Blessings are not always recognized as such in the beginning.
Smile, and never look a gift horse in the mouth.
Sometimes, we do the right things for the wrong reason.
Sometimes, we do the wrong things for the wrong reason.
Try to do the right things for the right reason.
The end result will be so much more satisfying and pleasing.
Mistakes are the building blocks of experience it seems.
When we try to achieve a thing, sometimes we make mistakes.
Learning from our errors enables us to overcome,
Allowing us to move forward, fulfilling our hopes and dreams.
When done right, we live to age and grow old.
Aging is not for the faint of heart, at least so I’m told.
A heavy conscience of wrong choices builds memories to prick the soul.
Good memories and experiences are more precious than finest gold.
Slow Progress – Trying
wfosterwelborn 