Ode to a garden landscaper

 

Ode to the Garden Landscaper

With vision and skill, you transform the earth,

A canvas of green, where beauty takes birth.

From barren plots to gardens of delight,

Your artistry brings joy to day and night.

With calloused hands and weathered brow,

You plant and prune, you mow and plow.

Your love of nature guides your every move,

Creating spaces where all creatures thrive.

From verdant lawns to blooming beds,

Your gardens are a feast for the senses.

You weave together colors and textures with care,

Creating landscapes that are both rare and fair.

Oh, garden landscaper, we salute your craft,

For bringing beauty to our world, so vast.

Your gardens are a gift to all who see,

A testament to your passion and artistry.

So thank you, dear landscaper, for all you do,

For making our gardens a place to dream true.

May your work continue to inspire and delight,

Filling our hearts with wonder and pure light.

The early years

 A Life's Journey

Born in the fifties, a sensitive soul,

Through life's ups and downs, I've taken my toll.

Married twice, but neither one right,

Now with my female soulmate, I find my light.

I've been let down, I've been used,

But I've never given up, I've never refused.

To speak my mind, to be true to me,

Even though some may not agree.

Now seventy-one, I'm still going strong,

With a heart full of love, and a passion to belong.

I'll do so much, but watch out if too much,

For I'm a firecracker, I'm a shooting star, I'm clutch.

So here's to life, and all its twists and turns,

To the lessons learned, and the bridges burned.

May we all find our soulmate, and live our truth,

And speak our minds, with courage and ruth.

All reactions:

1Angie Babbidge

Joanne

 A little story about my Joanne

Joanne was a curious girl with a wild imagination. She loved to explore the woods behind her house, where she would build forts, climb trees, and pretend to be an adventurer.

One day, while exploring the woods, Joanne came across a strange old tree. It was gnarled and twisted, with branches that reached out like claws. Joanne had never seen a tree like it before.

She cautiously approached the tree and placed her hand on its bark. As soon as her fingers touched the wood, she felt a surge of energy flow through her body. She stepped back, startled.

"Hello," a voice said.

Joanne looked around, but she couldn't see anyone.

"Who's there?" she asked.

"I am the spirit of this tree," the voice said. "I have been waiting for you, Joanne."

Joanne didn't know what to say. She had never met a talking tree before.

"Why have you been waiting for me?" she asked.

"Because you are special," the tree said. "You have a gift for seeing the world in a different way. You have the power to make magic."

Joanne didn't believe her at first, but the tree insisted.

"Close your eyes and concentrate," the tree said. "Imagine that you can fly."

Joanne closed her eyes and imagined herself flying through the air. She felt the wind in her hair and the sun on her face. She felt like she could fly forever.

"Now open your eyes," the tree said.

Joanne opened her eyes and looked down. She was standing on a branch, high above the ground. She was flying!

Joanne laughed with joy. She had never felt so free. She flew through the woods, soaring through the trees and over the river. She felt like she could do anything.

When she finally landed, she thanked the tree for its gift.

"You're welcome," the tree said. "But remember, magic is a responsibility. Use it wisely."

Joanne nodded. She knew that she would never forget the day she met the talking tree and learned to fly.

Joanne continued to use her magic to help others. She used it to heal the sick, to make the poor wealthy, and to bring peace to the world. She became known as the Magic Maker, and her legend spread far and wide.

Joanne lived a long and happy life, and she used her magic to make the world a better place. She never forgot the lesson that the talking tree taught her: magic is a responsibility, and it should be used wisely.

All reactions:

1Amy Jane Christopher

Amy

 

A little story about my daughter AMY

Amy was a little girl who loved the color pink and bows. She had pink everything: pink dresses, pink shoes, pink hair bows, and even pink socks. She wore her hair in pigtails, and she always had a big pink bow in each one.

One day, Amy's mother took her to the park. Amy was so excited to play on the swings and the slide. She ran to the swings and sat down.

"Push me, Mommy!" she said.

Amy's mother pushed her on the swing. Amy went higher and higher. She laughed with joy.

Suddenly, Amy's pink bow came loose and flew away. Amy was heartbroken. She started to cry.

"Don't cry, Amy," her mother said. "I'll help you find your bow."

Amy's mother and her looked all over the park for Amy's bow, but they couldn't find it anywhere. Amy was very sad.

"I'll make you a new bow," her mother said.

But Amy didn't want a new bow. She wanted her old bow. She sat down on a bench and started to cry again.

Just then, a little bird flew down and landed on Amy's shoulder. The bird had Amy's pink bow in its beak.

"Here you go," the bird said.

Amy took the bow from the bird and thanked it. She was so happy to have her bow back.

Amy put her bow back in her hair and smiled. She was ready to play again.

"Thank you, birdy!" she said.

The bird chirped and flew away.

Amy and her mother played in the park for the rest of the day. Amy had a wonderful time. She was so grateful to the little bird for bringing her bow back.

From that day on, Amy always took care of her bows. She never wanted to lose them again.

All reactions:

7Amy Jane Christopher, Emma Jane and 5 others

Beware of False People

 

Beware the nasty female poison dwarf,

She's short and stout, and full of wrath.

Her eyes are beady, her nose is sharp,

Her tongue is venomed, like a carp.

She dwells in caves, and dark retreats,

Where poisonous plants grow at her feet.

She brews her potions, foul and foul,

To curse the brave, and make them howl.

If you should cross her wicked path,

She'll unleash her wrath, in all its wrath.

Her poisoned darts will fly with speed,

To leave you weak, and full of need.

So beware the nasty female poison dwarf,

She's short and stout, and full of wrath.

If you should meet her, run away,

Lest you become her next prey.

Soulmate

 Been working on this for a while, and here it is

Joanne, My Soulmate and Best Friend

Joanne, my soulmate, my best friend,

For thirty-three years, our bond has no end.

Through thick and thin, you've been by my side,

A shoulder to cry on, a source of pride.

You're the one who knows me better than me,

You're the one who sets my spirit free.

You're the one who makes me laugh until I cry,

And the one who wipes my tears when I sigh.

You're the one who makes me feel complete,

You're the one who makes my heart beat.

You're the one who makes me whole,

You're the one who completes my soul.

Joanne, my soulmate, my best friend,

I'm so grateful for your love without end.

I cherish our friendship, I treasure our bond,

And I'm so lucky to have you in my life beyond.

Thank you for being you, Joanne,

You're the best soulmate and best friend a person could ask for.

All reactions:

4Amy Jane Christopher, David Smith and 2 others

Ode to the Pin number

 Just a little light humour

Ode to a Bank PIN Number

Oh, bank PIN number, you're my secret key,

To all my treasures, big and small.

You keep my hard-earned cash safe and sound,

And help me access it at my call.

You're a four-digit code, so secure,

That only I know your combination.

You're my guardian angel at the ATM,

And my trusty companion for online transactions.

I know I can always count on you,

To be there for me when I need you most.

You're the gatekeeper to my financial world,

And I'm so grateful for your protection.

So thank you, bank PIN number,

For being the best financial friend a person could ask for.

I promise to keep you safe and secret,

For as long as we both shall live.

All reactions:

1Amy Jane Christopher

80s night

 

80s Night in Chatham

Neon lights and big hair,

The 80s are in the air.

Let's head to Chatham, for a night of fun,

Where the music's pumping and the drinks are on tap.

We'll dance to the classics, like "Billie Jean" and "Sweet Caroline,"

And sing along to every word, until our voices are sore.

We'll dress up in our best 80s gear,

And pretend we're back in time, with nothing to fear.

So put on your leg warmers and your shoulder pads,

And let's go back to the decade that had,

The biggest hair, the brightest clothes,

And the best music, that everyone knows.

80s night in Chatham, it's the place to be,

Where we can all let loose and have some fun, carefree.

So come on down and join the party,

And dance the night away, merrily!

Regrets, sometimes

 Regrets

In the depths of my heart, regrets reside,

Like shadows that follow me, side by side.

Chances I didn't take, roads not taken,

Words unspoken, hearts unshaken.

I regret the times I played it safe,

When my dreams were calling, bold and brave.

I regret the times I held back my tears,

When my soul was yearning for release, my fears.

I regret the times I let others decide,

When my own voice should have been my guide.

I regret the times I played the fool,

When my wisdom was waiting to be used as a tool.

But most of all, I regret the things I didn't get,

The love that slipped away, the chances I let.

I wonder what my life could have been,

If I had chosen differently, taken a leap, and seen.

But life is a journey, with twists and turns,

And lessons learned, sometimes they burn.

So I'll carry my regrets with me,

As reminders of the choices I've made, freely.

And I'll learn from my past, and move on,

To create a future where happiness is won.

I'll cherish the moments, big and small,

And live my life to the fullest, tall.

Fireworks

 Fireworks

Fireworks, oh fireworks,

How I despise your noise.

Your bangs and booms and pops,

Bring me no joy, no poise.

You startle my pets,

And wake my sleeping child.

You make my head hurt,

And leave me feeling riled.

I know you're meant to be fun,

A spectacle to behold.

But for me, you're just a nuisance,

A story untold.

So please, dear fireworks,

Have some mercy on me.

Tone down your racket,

And set my spirit free.

I'll be happy to watch you from afar,

And admire your colorful display.

But please, for the love of all that's good,

Don't make my ears go gray.

Thank you for your understanding,

From a firework-hating soul.

May we all find peace and quiet,

And make this world a less noisy hole.