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Little Boxes
Every time we move,
we pack our little things in boxes,
and some inside our mind.
These are the special things;
we do no want to leave behind.
The special things we have,
that spell out love there.
The precious things we own,
that hold so many memories there,
whether they be large or small.
The little boxes we pack,
we make them all secure,
and mark them handle with care.
For nothing can replace,
the precious things we have there.
(20 June 2007)
poem by David Harris
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All Are Precious
Every child’s, a precious one!
Every spouse, a precious one;
Every sibling, a precious one;
For, most have small, a family norm!
Every parent’s, a precious one!
Every student’s, a precious one!
Every teacher, a precious one;
For, most have small, a family norm!
Every worker’s, a precious one!
Every inmate, a precious one;
Every colleague, a precious one;
For, most have small, a family norm!
Every person’s, a precious one!
Every life, a precious one;
Every soul, a precious one;
For, most have small, a family norm!
So, take all care of every life,
And don’t take undue risks at all;
Life’s most precious thing on earth;
For, most have small, a family norm!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 24-10-2010
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Anacreontics, The Epicure
UNDERNEATH this myrtle shade,
On flowerly beds supinely laid,
With odorous oils my head o'erflowing,
And around it roses growing,
What should I do but drink away
The heat and troubles of the day?
In this more than kingly state
Love himself on me shall wait.
Fill to me, Love! nay, fill it up!
And mingled cast into the cup
Wit and mirth and noble fires,
Vigorous health and gay desires.
The wheel of life no less will stay
In a smooth than rugged way:
Since it equally doth flee,
Let the motion pleasant be.
Why do we precious ointments shower?--
Nobler wines why do we pour?--
Beauteous flowers why do we spread
Upon the monuments of the dead?
Nothing they but dust can show,
Or bones that hasten to be so.
Crown me with roses while I live,
Now your wines and ointments give:
After death I nothing crave,
Let me alive my pleasures have:
All are Stoics in the grave.
poem by Abraham Cowley
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Heirlooms
Up in the attic,
Down on my knees.
Lifetimes of boxes,
Timeless to me.
Letters and photographs,
Yellowed with years,
Some bringing laughter,
Some bringing tears.
Time never changes,
The memories, the faces
Of loved ones, who bring to me,
All that I come from,
And all that I live for,
And all that Im going to be.
My precious family
Is more than an heirloom to me.
Wisemen and shepherds,
Down on their knees,
Bringing their treasures
To lay at his feet.
Who was this wonder,
Baby yet king?
Living and dying;
He gave life to me.
Time never changes,
The memory, the moment
His love first pierced through me,
Telling all that I came from,
And all that I live for,
And all that Im going to be.
My precious savior
Is more than an heirloom to me.
My precious jesus
Is more than an heirloom to me.
song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Boxes
On our first date he told me of
the box,
‘Pandora's Box',
would I have him open it or not?
Would I let him go that far?
Should we wait a while?
Would I let him lift the lid?
This kind of made me smile.
Boxes were his weapons
for such a life he'd led,
and to frighten little souls like mine
he'd wrapped a box to send.
What would I find within it,
what would its inners be?
Would I find some demons
or would I find a key?
So I thought on this a moment
and then I answered thus,
'If I asked you that question
would you hesitate or trust? '
With this he shrugged his shoulders,
he grinned and winked his eye.
'I'm not frightened of mere boxes
I dare you, do or die! '
So I told him 'Open it,
let its dust spill out.
for whatever lay beneath its lid
would edify, no doubt."
So he spilled out all its secrets
of pranks and devilry,
of worldliness and foolishness
like an artist's gallery.
I listened with wide eyes
to this colourful display
until the torrent ceased
and he put the box away.
Most people have their boxes
some large some very small
but the saddest people in the world
don't have a box at all.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Only Within Their Reach
Many living inside their boxes,
Peek.
Not realizing dust collects,
Under their feet.
Or there is fresh air outside,
To breathe.
Although they believe,
The sky above them...
Is only within their reach.
And they from within their boxes...
Have the right to dictate,
How high others should fly...
At what height and pace.
And which dreams those they choose,
Are approved to seek.
As well as the ones they can also deny.
Although they secretly wish,
Their insecurities would free them...
To experience such ambitions.
But fearing many living inside their boxes,
Peek.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Post Box
Dear friends,
The post box holds our dreams,
our hopes, our ambitions, our worries,
It take messages to far off places,
pays bills, consoles loved ones
in foreign parts.
Once inside, that little envelope
cannot be withdrawn or cancelled,
it will fly off in the arms of the
Royal Mail to its destination,
quickly, efficiently.
Thousands like it,
little white envelopes,
little brown envelopes,
small and large and buff
envelopes
and a few small boxes
squeezed into that red pillar box
where dreams slumber
and worries fester
and gifts glitter.
Dear George,
My most precious friend, I'm so sorry for you loss
Dear Sir,
I'm happy to accept the position
Dear Ann,
I'm so sorry I won't be able to come
Dear Mum,
I'll be home for Christmas
Dear Tom,
Please accept my condolences
Dear Jane,
I feel it's time for me to retire
Dear Santa,
So many messages, so many lives……..
poem by Ruth Walters
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Precious
(orbison)
You are not just another sweet human
Youre precious, precious to me
You are not just my love for the moment
Youre precious, precious to me
Are you some kind of angel
Who lost your way to a star?
Wonder why, why me?
Dont you even see how wonderful you are?
You are not just someone I can talk with
Youre precious, precious to me
You are not just someone I can talk with
Youre precious, precious to me
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Elegy to Imagination
It seems it was just yesterday
When a tree
Was not a tree
Trees were in fact
Giants
Was it really that long ago
When my daddy
Was not only a daddy
But a superhero
A knight in shining armor
And a horse, all in one day
And boxes
Oh how wonderful they were
They were cars
And houses and trains
And beds and so much more
But now,
A tree is a tree
My dad is a dad
And a box
Sadly
Is a box
Where hath this imagination gone?
When did it disappear?
I'm not completely sure
Somewhere between childhood
And the present
But I have a passport
Back to the imagination
Of my childhood
When it gets dark
And the walls close in
At least my jacket
Is not a jacket
For a split second
It is a monster
But after a split second
I run out of time
And I am back
To the reality
That jackets are jackets
And boxes are boxes
Oh, how i miss
When boxes were train
poem by Mollie Myers
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People have to talk about something just to keep their voice boxes in working order so they'll have good voice boxes in case there's ever anything really meaningful to say.
quote by Kurt Vonnegut
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Study In Aesthetics
The very small children in patched clothing,
Being smitten with an unusual wisdom,
Stopped in their play as she passed them
And cried up from their cobbles:
Guarda! Ahi, guarda! Ch’ è be’ a!
But three years after this
I heard the young Dante, whose last name I do not
know--
For there are, in Sirmione, twenty-eight young Dantes
and thirty-four Catulli;
And there had been a great catch of sardines,
And his elders
Were packing them in the great wooden boxes
For the market in Brescia, and he
Leapt about, snatching at the bright fish
And getting in both of their ways;
And in vain they commanded him to stafermo!
And when they would not let him arrange
The fish in the boxes
He stroked those which were already arranged,
Murmuring for his own satisfaction
This identical phrase:
Ch’ è be’ a
And at this I was mildly abashed.
poem by Ezra Pound
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Dreams I Despair
Dreams I despair
Loss of hopelessness
Doubt my hopeless dreams
Trapped in this small mess
Here lies in this yard
All my precious dreams
Not so precious anymore
Feel like I want to scream
One, two, three down, gone
There go all my schemes
Not so precious anymore
There goes the dream within a dream
Gone, gone, all gone
Those beautiful words
“When I grow up…”
“Goodbye” as they fly like birds
Dreams I despair
Loss of hopelessness
Doubt my hopeless dreams
Trapped in this small mess
poem by Nathalie Payamps
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What You Mean to Me
The Value of You
Never did I realize my need
To have you around
Never did I show appreciation of you
Never did I realize the value
Of your in-put
As spiritual guide or other
Never did I see your worth
Words were not enough
I knew you were hurting
I felt your pain
Never could I express myself
With all the negativity around
All issues were placed in boxes
And so were you
Never did I know where to place you
Now with all the other boxes were gone
I know where you belong
poem by Persian Khushi
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The Value of You
Never did I realize my need
To have you around
Never did I show appreciation of you
Never did I realize the value
Of your in-put
As spiritual guide or other
Never did I see your worth
Words were not enough
I knew you were hurting
I felt your pain
Never could I express myself
With all the negativity around
All issues were placed in boxes
And so were you
Never did I know where to place you
Now with all the other boxes gone
I know where you belong
poem by Persian Khushi
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Life is like a box of crayons. Most people are the 8-color boxes, but what you're really looking for are the 64-color boxes with the sharpeners on the back. I fancy myself to be a 64-color box, though I've got a few missing.
quote by John Mayer
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Click here to listen to Precious Moments
Precious Moments My child's first steps
As he falters along
Are forever recorded
In my precious song
My child's laughter
Is music to my ear
And never forgotten
No matter what the year
My child's tiny hand
Slipped into mine
So small and soft
As we both entwine
My child's sparkling eyes
So blue and bright
Reveal when he's happy
And things are just right
My child's warm hug,
And his gentle kiss too
Add to the precious moment,
When he says, "I love you!"
poem by Evelyn Hilpp Heslin
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My Precious One
My precious one
look how the stars shine bright
in the evening sky
look how the clouds whitely painted
in the huge blue sky
look how the fishes joyfully swim
in the deep blue sea.
My precious one
if I camnot make you see
the beauty of the universe
how would I dare to tell everyone
about it.
My precious one
look how my heart wishes to see you happy
if I cannot see you happy
how would I be glad to see anyone else happy.
My precious one
you're my precious one
and will always be...
My precious one
I beg you please
be the happiest one
in this universe.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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Mary Loves Precious
Mary loves her Precious so dear—
she misses Precious who passed last year.
Precious was Mary's companion and pet
she still has her Brownie who is her very good friend.
Mary gave Precious a happy life-
she was there for Precious in her time of strife.
Mary gave both dogs the love they needed—
Mary has happily and joyfully succeeded—
To experience the lasting unconditional love
of Precious who is with the angels up above.
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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