Dear Candice,
If you can't sleep:
*
Make your bedroom more comfortable, keep it cool and quiet.
*
Get up and do something else. Then, go back to bed.
*
Drink warm milk or hot water before you go to bed.
*
Take a warm bath, read a little or listen to some quiet music in the evening.
*
Get fresh air and exercise during the day, but remember: exercise before bed can keep you awake.
*
Go to bed and get up at the same time every day.
*
Don't take naps during the day.
*
Avoid coffee, tea or soft drinks after 5 p.m.
*
Don't smoke or drink alcohol in the evening—it can keep you awake.
*
Don't eat spicy food in the evening.
If you often wake up during the night to go to the bathroom and can't get back to sleep, try not to drink very much before you go to bed.
But remember: if you need to take medication at bedtime, it is best to take pills with a full glass of water.
If you feel lonely:
You can spend time with other people by:
* Becoming a volunteer at your local school, hospital, church or community centre.
* Joining a seniors' club at your local church or community centre.
* Taking a course at your local school or community centre and learning a new activity.
You can also call and talk to a different friend or family member every day. You may want to write a short letter to a friend or family member who lives far away. Sometimes, just writing to someone can help you feel that this person is with you.
If you feel anxious, tense or worried:
* Try to relax by breathing slowly and deeply.
* Take a walk.
* Choose an activity you really enjoy doing, like listening to your favourite music, and do it.
* Tell a friend, family member or your doctor how you feel.
* Join a support group so that you can talk more about your anxious feelings.
* Take a relaxation or exercise class, like yoga, at your local school or community centre.
* Take a course and learn how to do an activity, like needlework or woodworking, at your local community or seniors' centre.
For more information, please contact:
ariel escalona, the sleep expert...(ha ha ha)
your friend,
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
One of my beliefs is that there are certain institutions within a community which stand for the spirit and heart of that community, there's the church, the local football team, the local pub and the theatre.
quote by David Soul
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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School-Community
School is a community which surrounds you most
A place where teachers seem somewhat like ghosts
Believing that it’s a chance for new friends
But the community also introduces new ends
You believe that you yourself can never be true
To reside into acting into someone that isn't you
The school community soon becoming fake
Inside, many people's hearts begin to ache
We believe in not showing our true selves
The community telling to dig deep in ourselves
Slowly we start believing that freedom is forbidden
But does school truly want ourselves to remain hidden?
Friendships can lead to you being cut down
We sometimes wish this community wasn't around
But then we realise not to defy the real world
And that the real truth is being unfurled
This community teaches us to stand on our own feet
And without this test we shall still remain incomplete
The teachings is something that no one seems to share
In the real world these are teachings we'll need out there
School is a place where there are things we must learn
Otherwise the community outside will cause us to return
The community outside is the place we are yearning
But this community is the place we are still learning…
poem by Silly Artist
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Just An Ordinary Fellow
His life revolves around work his mates and football
But his wife and children he seldom does talk of at all
Each evening after work he calls to the pub
Or else to the bar-room of the Football Club.
In his early to mid thirties he is well liked in the town
To have kicked five goals in the local Grand Final is his one claim to renown
And though his team did not win the flag he earned his local fame
With a best on ground display on a beaten side he made for himself a name.
His wife takes care of the children a boy of four and a girl of three
She is not well known in the town few as down to earth as she
So different from her husband she's never seen at the pub
And she is not a member of any local club.
He is a well liked character and in the town well known
And the local people say of him he is one of our own
Not a bad husband and father though better than him not hard to find
Just an ordinary fellow in his own way he is kind.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Local Outsider
To the local community he is not one of their own
And apart from them in every way he has grown
He does not share their interests of work, sports, small talk, drinking and football
In fact with them in common he has nothing at all.
He works in the big town some twenty miles away
But he returns to his home in the small town every day
Single in his mid twenties in the peak of his prime
And he does feel happy at least most of the time.
A spiritual person and an artist at heart
In community meetings and projects he never takes part
He draws and sketches at night and his art readily sell
And as a hobby artist he is doing well.
He was born in the small town but it does seem sad to say
That as a local outsider he is destined to stay
Even with those he grew up with little in common he share
He is an endangered species and his type are rare.
He is not a student of sports or football
And who won last year's Grand Final he does not recall
And though his praises none of the other locals do sing
He is his own man and he does his own thing.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In the Courts
She had been caught stealing bottles of perfume
and was a regular customer in her local Boots
the magistrate called her a professional thief
but she swore and said she didn't give two hoots.
He was known in the paper as the crazy Arsonist
as for some reason he liked to set fire to a school
when the Judge said he was a menace to the community
he just laughed at him and called him an old fool.
The paper had called her'a lady of the night'
as she liked to ply her trade on the street
it said she was a single mother of six kids
and she only did it to make ends meet.
Three armed robbers were sentenced in the Court
and they had all received Ten years apiece
but they'd lived the high life whilst on the run
and had property in Majorca, Ibiza, and Nice.
His charge was one of drink driving
but he claimed that he'd only had one or two
the Policeman said he was unsteady and slurring
but the defendant replied that was because he had Flu.
It said he'd been a member of the church for years
but the vicar had caught him in bed with his wife
the reverend said he was sorry he'd lost self control
but was accused of chasing the naked man with a knife.
In The Courts is in the local paper every day
and you can see why it's such a popular page
like when the Judge asked him why did he do it?
he replied because he thought looting was all the rage!
poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Your Hero Is A Well Known Local
The one who is hailed by the masses will never be a hero to you
Your hero is a quiet achiever to his dedications he's true
An honest and a hard working person and one of high integrity
You have placed him on a pedestal to you there's none greater than he.
Your hero is a well known local and in his work he takes great pride
He is admired and respected by many but he'll never be known far and wide
He's one who leads by good example one to help you out if he could
And for the local community he is one who has done so much good.
He is such a down to earth person and none more hard working than he
One who derives much satisfaction in each sporting local victory
A generous and a likeable fellow and a familiar face of the Town
He's happy to be a well known local and he does not yearn for World-wide renown.
I do like your sort of a hero a person that you do know well
Of any huge business adventures he does not have stories to tell
When you say you'll follow in his footsteps you are walking on solid ground
Why look up to a World renowned hero when there's a local hero to be found.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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For our welfare reform efforts to be successful, we must empower local charitable organizations with the resources to address their local community needs.
quote by Mel Carnahan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Not In My Backyard
The local residents are all up in arms,
Worried that their town may lose its charm.
With hundreds of new houses, they are faced,
But plans to oppose them, are firmly in place.
Developers have been granted planning permission,
But now, residents are all busy signing a petition.
Faced with losing their precious fields of green,
The local residents are obviously not at all keen.
Worried about the thriving woods and animals,
To oppose the plans, there's been many a call.
By the new plans, will be very greatly affected,
The Great Crested Newt, which is protected.
The proposed plans have been on display
At the local community centre, for many a day.
The new development will obscure the view,
But the developers have argued this isn't true.
Meetings have been held, and the discussions
Have focused upon the possible repercussions.
The council argue that there's a need for progression,
But this has been met by the angry locals' aggression.
The area has remained untouched for many years;
That the new estate will spoil it, there are now fears.
The residents just want to be left to live in peace,
And for all this sudden madness just to cease.
The residents want the developers to see the light,
And hope that they will end up winning the fight.
The locals wish the developers would go away,
But the chances are, that they are here to stay.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I went to the local schools, the local state primary school, and then to the local grammar school. A secondary school, which technically was an independent school, it was not part of the state educational system.
The capacity of the commonwealth government created under the local constitution to exercise governmental powers in local affairs is like that of local government in the states of the union in regard to non-federal affairs at the local level.
quote by Dick Thornburgh
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Antidotes to Apathy
Perhaps I need some therapy
Though it's never done much good to me,
Talking cures and E.C.T.,
Pills and potions endlessly!
Let's go down to the local pub,
Drink some beer and have some grub.
It'll cost money - aye, there's the rub,
You've got no money? Join the club!
Then do an evening class instead!
Remember what the teacher said,
Don't be lazy! Feed your head,
Feel satisfied when you go to bed!
Stone the crows, but life's a bore!
Housework is an endless chore,
Life's a bitch, and I want more -
I guess that's just my fatal flaw!
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The other part of our proposal that gets the 'dittoheads' upset is our suggestion that the commercial radio station owners either play by the rules or pay. In other words, if they don't want to be subject to local criticism of how they are meeting their license obligations, they should pay to support public broadcasters who will operate on behalf of the local community.
quote by Mark Lloyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our community is like many around the country that have, as the gentleman from New York referenced, sophisticated planning and zoning regulations. These are elements that are developed as a result of local community pressure to balance interests.
quote by Earl Blumenauer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He Feels The Time Is Ripe
Where many do live for local renown
The ageing fringe dweller in the old country town
Has never played football with the local club
And always drinks on his own when he is in the pub.
Since he does not talk about the local club's latest loss or win
He remains an outsider and does not fit in
Though he has lived here for ten years as an outsider he remain
The status of a local he has yet to attain.
He feels a decade of his life enough to have spent here
He will move to the bigger town early next year
This not a town for one such as he an artist and a talented man
More suited to a footballer or a football fan.
In the old country town he does not have a friend
And his stay in the place is coming to an end
In his early to mid fifties his best days long gone
And he feels the time is ripe for him to move on.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Have A Friend
I have a friend who cannot walk
I have a friend all he does is talk
I have a friend, Philippe is his name
I have a friend and we are just the same
I have a friend he’s seventeen years old
I have a friend who has a heart of gold
I have a friend who would catch me if I fall
It is only that he has no legs at all
I have a friend and when my friend was seven
A car ran over him and he almost went to heaven
I have a friend with a smile that I adore
I have a friend who lives in a house of four
I have a friend his family is his home
I have a friend who dreams of visiting Rome
I have a friend who is still finishing school
Yet some people tell him that for that he is a fool
I have a friend they say he is disabled
He has no legs and for that he is labeled
I have a friend who has a friend
They were made for each other; their love will never end
I have a friend who likes to name the stars
I have a friend and what he hates is cars
I have a friend who’s happier than you and me
I have a friend who’s shown me how happy I can be
I have a friend who’s had his bad times too
I have a friend who’s better than me and you
I have a friend so dear to me and kind
That another one like him I shall never find!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I'm Not Losing Sleep
Yes, I've read the morning papers
Telling me that you've made money
Do you think I'm gonna crawl, then think again
Though I'm dressed in rags, I'm richer
Though I eat from tins, I'm healthier
Though I live in slums, I'm purer than you, my friend
Too bad, I'm not losing sleep
[Too bad] I'm just counting sheep
[Too bad] I'm not losing sleep, my friend
Look around and see the friends
The ones you left, our friends deserted
See the guys that used to talk and drink with you
Don't look down your nose at me
'Cause I won't ask your sympathy
I won't be your yes-sir man for anything
Too bad, I'm not losing sleep
[Too bad] I'm just counting sheep
[Too bad] I'm not losing sleep, my friend
I would walk with you
Talk with you, drink with you
If you drop that halo that you're wearing on the ground
Too bad, I'm not losing sleep
[Too bad] I'm just counting sheep
[Too bad] I'm not losing sleep, my friend
I can't get my satisfaction
Knowing you won't get reaction
What makes me the big attraction anyway
It's too bad, I'm not losing sleep
[Too bad] I'm just counting sheep
[Too bad] I'm not losing sleep, my friend
Too bad, I'm not losing sleep
[Too bad] I'm just counting sheep
[Too bad] I'm not losing sleep, my friend
Oh, it's too bad, I'm not losing sleep
[Too bad] I'm just counting sheep
[Too bad] I'm not losing sleep, my friend
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When I Was Small
When we were both small,
We'd go on trips out with our Dad.
I look back now and remember
The happy times that we had.
We'd drive to Harewood Forest,
To try and spot some fallow deer,
Or stroll to a nearby village,
Where my first cuckoo I did hear.
We'd often go to the local park,
For a cricket or a football game.
We'd also play in the playground,
On the swings and climbing frame.
We often went for bicycle rides:
Dad in the lead and us two behind.
We went blackberrying at Cowdown Lane,
And picked all the berries we could find.
We'd go for strolls along Ladies' Walk,
Collecting conkers in their shiny coats,
Or go to the local leisure centre,
And go for a ride there on a boat.
As a family, we'd also go further afield,
To various resorts along the South coast.
We'd have fish and chips and play on the beach,
And these were the days that I loved the most.
I really loved going for family picnics,
To the park in Salisbury or to Beacon Hill.
With sandwiches, sausage rolls, pork pies,
And cup cakes, our tummies we would fill.
It's nice to cast your mind back,
To those childhood days gone past.
They will never be forgotten.
The memories will always last.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Im Not Loosing Sleep
Yes, Ive read the morning papers
Telling me that youve made money
Do you think Im gonna crawl, then think again
Though Im dressed in rags, Im richer
Though I eat from tins, Im healthier
Though I live in slums, Im purer than you, my friend
Too bad, Im not losing sleep
[too bad] Im just counting sheep
[too bad] Im not losing sleep, my friend
Look around and see the friends
The ones you left, our friends deserted
See the guys that used to talk and drink with you
Dont look down your nose at me
cause I wont ask your sympathy
I wont be your yes-sir man for anything
Too bad, Im not losing sleep
[too bad] Im just counting sheep
[too bad] Im not losing sleep, my friend
I would walk with you
Talk with you, drink with you
If you drop that halo that youre wearing on the ground
Too bad, Im not losing sleep
[too bad] Im just counting sheep
[too bad] Im not losing sleep, my friend
I cant get my satisfaction
Knowing you wont get reaction
What makes me the big attraction anyway
Its too bad, Im not losing sleep
[too bad] Im just counting sheep
[too bad] Im not losing sleep, my friend
Too bad, Im not losing sleep
[too bad] Im just counting sheep
[too bad] Im not losing sleep, my friend
Oh, its too bad, Im not losing sleep
[too bad] Im just counting sheep
[too bad] Im not losing sleep, my friend
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Many of the Jews who owned the homes, the apartments in the black community, we considered them bloodsuckers because they took from our community and built their community but didn't offer anything back to our community.
quote by Louis Farrakhan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ethel And The Streaker (Fun Poem 82)
Based on characters created by Ray Stevens in his song The Streak.
Now Ethel was doing her shopping
with here friend Maizey-Be,
the local gossip of the community.
As they pushed their trolleys to the car
when someone shouted,
“Don’t look ladies! ”
It was too late;
Ethel looked and was moved on the spot.
Her mouth dropped open with absolute shock.
There darting across the car park
in all his naked glory with a saggy physic
was a streaker.
Maizey-Be saw him too
and fainted to the ground.
As fast as he came
the streaker was now gone.
Ethel was in the library
with her friend Maizey-Be,
the local gossip of the community.
They just picked a book from the shelf
when someone shouted,
“Don’t look Ladies.”
It was too late, Ethel already had an eye full
and was moved on the spot and dropped her book
the streaker came running
through the isle between the bookcases
in all his saggy glory.
Maizey-Be saw him too
and fainted on the floor
as the streaker rushed by
and disappeared out the door.
Ethel was at a baseball game
with her friend Maizey-Be,
the local gossip of the community.
As they watched, the batter hit a ball into out field
someone shouted,
“Ladies don’t look! ”
Too late, Ethel looked with her binoculars
and was moved on the spot.
The streaker was her beloved
husband Fred Trotalot.
He was showing everyone
more than she had seen in years
as he streaked around the diamond
to the home base.
Now Ethel and Maizey-Be
were not going to be out done.
They peeled off their cloths
and after Fred did run.
To their sagging body parts,
it was a breath of fresh air.
Fred looked back
and muttered to himself at the site.
“Oh my goodness, what have I done! ”
The ladies all wrinkly and crinkly
showed off their finery
to all those in the press box
who at the shock closed their eyes.
Fred kept on running, wanting to get there.
He couldn’t stop, as he had nothing to wear.
The police came running on to the field,
blankets in their hands to cover up the states
that was running round the field.
As each one they caught,
they marched them of the field,
until it was only Ethel
that was still running around.
Maizey-Be had fainted by this time
and rolled on her stomach to hide her modesty.
The crowd gave an ecstatic applause
as Ethel ran with her arms in the air.
It was as if she had scored a home run.
The police finally caught her
and all three were charged
with giving everyone the best laugh of the afternoon.
The baseball game continued
after this short interlude.
4 July 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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