Pagina's

zondag, maart 24, 2013

donderdag, maart 21, 2013

Treasure


a wonderful ful day
a class with Susan Dahlberg.
at Afkes



If I could save time in a bottle,
The first thing that I'd like to do
Is to save everyday till eternity passes away




Just to spend them with you.
If I could make days last forever,
If words could make wishes come true,




I'd save everyday like a treasure and then,
Again, I would spend them with you.



zondag, maart 17, 2013

Longing For Spring




Once a day and sometimes more
I look out my day dream door
To see if spring is out there yet
I'm really anxious, but mustn't fret.

I see the snow a melting down
and lots of mud and slush around
I know the grass will surely sprout
and birds and flowers will come about.

But why oh why does it take so long?
I'm sure the calendar can't be wrong.
Sunshine fills my heart with cheer
I wish that spring were really here.

Soon mother nature will sound the alarm
Wake up! get dressed, turn on your charm
Winter's gloom has gone its way
It's Spring! It's Spring! Oh Happy Day!
 
Edna T. Helberg :

woensdag, maart 13, 2013

dinsdag, maart 05, 2013

lace making


Spinning a web of sweet delight
The spider works all day and night
If you touch her web and really listen
She will spin for you and start to glisten


zondag, maart 03, 2013

vrijdag, maart 01, 2013

Dear March


       Dear March, come in!
How glad I am!
I looked for you before.
Put down your hat–
You must have walked–
How out of breath you are!
Dear March, how are you?
And the rest?
Did you leave Nature well?
Oh, March, come right upstairs with me,
I have so much to tell!


I got your letter, and the birds’;
The maples never knew
That you were coming,–I declare,
How red their faces grew!
But, March, forgive me–
And all those hills
You left for me to hue;
There was no purple suitable,
You took it all with you.


Who knocks? That April!
Lock the door!
I will not be pursued!
He stayed away a year, to call
When I am occupied.
But trifles look so trivial
As soon as you have come,
That blame is just as dear as praise
And praise as mere as blame.

          Emily Dickinson