In the morning I will be leaving to visit with family and to deal with the reading of my father's will.

I willl bring this poem to recite, as a reminder that though my relationship with my father was not easy, I am who I am today as a result of who he was. It was his love of politics, broadcasting, music and sports that have shaped who I am. It was his lessons and his work ethic who have influenced my sense of responsibility and the fact that I have always been gainfully employed. Thanks Dad, for molding me into who I am.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Those we hold most dear
Never truly leave usÂ…
They live on in the kindness they showed,
The comfort they shared and the love
they brought into our lives.
~ by Isabel Norton

Posted by: Michele at 12:43 AM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
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I woke up this morning from a deep sleep/dream, in which I was reciting the following Dylan Thomas poem. It has been with me all day, so I share it with you now hoping it will finally leave me.

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Posted by: Michele at 05:39 PM | Comments (8) | Add Comment
Post contains 215 words, total size 1 kb.

1 I'll take it.

Posted by: Stephen Macklin at April 26, 2007 08:57 PM (Z3kjO)

2 Hmmm, my step father died three times. He told of angels escorting souls away from their bodies the first two times. (He had a pacemaker installed). He hasn't returned from his third and I doubt that he will. I think that the process of dying (as long as it is relatively painless) is something I'll "enjoy" experiencing. Why? Because I'll only _really_ get to do it once. I'm not looking forward to it. But then, I'm not a grave man, near death, who sees that blinding sight. Macabre, I know, but I wouldn't be me without this odd perspective, no?

Posted by: _Jon at April 26, 2007 09:38 PM (cPJtC)

3 Good morning!

Posted by: Tuning Spork at April 27, 2007 04:55 AM (SfePD)

4 Wonderful! Reading that made me reflect.

Posted by: Dazd at April 27, 2007 08:38 AM (JRVQu)

5 One of my favorite pieces..... Thank you for the refresher. It has been too long.....

Posted by: Tammi at April 27, 2007 02:09 PM (Bitcf)

6 I have a MAJOR soft spot in my heart for Dylan Thomas. I may not always "get" him, but I love anything he has ever written because it is evocative of the best years of my life. If you are ever in the mood (because your comments do not seem to accept hyperlinks), type in "Dylan Thomas" in the search box up on top of my blog, and it'll go into more detail why.

Posted by: Erica at April 29, 2007 09:33 AM (n1ABe)

7 I like that poem. Keeps me motivated.

Posted by: Viking Medic at May 01, 2007 12:47 AM (DXMhX)

8 I like it so much!

Posted by: Vik at May 01, 2007 08:24 PM (iS0Or)

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An amusing poem by the Canadian Poet Laureate Raymound Souster:

The Response

The treeÂ’s branches
knocked against our window:
It wanted to be friends
and come in.

My answer was to open my window
reach out and hack off
its two longest arms.

Posted by: Michele at 03:38 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
Post contains 55 words, total size 1 kb.