Mama's Legacy
MAMA'S LEGACY
When I was just a little girl
I lay in Mama's bed
To listen to the fairy tales
From the little books she read.
Of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
Cinderella and her Prince
Of Rumplestiltskin-Puss 'N Boots
And Aladdin and his tents.
I couldn't get enough of them
I'd ask her every night
But sleep would always conquer me
No matter how I'd fight.
I'd recite the words along with her
I knew them all by heart
She'd read to me from anything
Some knowledge to impart.
She taught me about the world around
From books she read aloud
She made my life worth living
And made me live it proud.
When I had children of my own
I read from those same books
To teach my children that in this life
You need brains, not just good looks.
Author: Carolyn Ford Witt
Ms. Caroline
© 2006 Ms. Caroline (All rights reserved)
poem by Carolyn Ford Witt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Mama's Legacy
-- * MAMA'S LEGACY * --
When I was just a little girl
I lay in Mama's bed
To listen to the fairy tales
From the little books she read.
Of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
Cinderella and her Prince
Of Rumplestiltskin-Puss 'N Boots
And Aladdin and his tents.
I couldn't get enough of them
I'd ask her every night
But sleep would always conquer me
No matter how I'd fight.
I'd recite the words along with her
I knew them all by heart
She'd read to me from anything
Some knowledge to impart.
She taught me about the world around
From books she read aloud
She made my life worth living
And made me live it proud.
When I had children of my own
I read from those same books
To teach my children that in this life
You need brains, not just good looks.
Author: Carolyn Ford Witt
Ms. Caroline
10-27-05
dedicated to my mother
Wilma Ford
4-16-1912-4-19-2009
poem by Carolyn Ford Witt
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The Little Red Schoolhouse
The little red schoolhouse
was just down the road.
The dress she was wearin'
her mama sewed.
She'd watched her mama make it
with needle and thread.
Her mama was smilin'
from the words she had read.
Mama loved to hear her
read all the words she knew.
'Cause mama couldn't read them,
except for a few.
She said there was no schoolhouse
when she was young.
And most of the words she learned
were from songs that had been sung.
The little red schoolhouse
had only one room.
But every time she'd been in it
she was like a flower in bloom.
She knew she'd make her mama
very proud some day
for that little red schoolhouse
would show her the way.
She remembers that school bell
ringin' in the morn
and mama sayin' 'Rise up girl,
a new day has been born.'
She smiled now thinkin' back
and some tears it now brought,
not for the little red schoolhouse
but for what her mama had taught.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Lonely Willow Tree
THAT LONELY WILLOW TREE
God made this Earth,
The Sun... The Air.
He placed it all
Into Man's care.
On it He placed
Flowers and trees
In beautiful colors,
Man's eyes to please.
But when He thought
His work was done,
He added this....
A tree.....Just one.
He planted here
A Willow Tree,
Where Man could pray
On bended knee.
But now when Man
Neglects to come,
He named this tree
The weeping one.
Near a stream
Where no one will be
There stands a lonely
Weeping Willow Tree.
And when you see
It's branches weep,
You know that from
God's eyes....
....................Tears do Seep.
Author: Carolyn Ford Witt
6-22-1979
By Ms. Caroline
© 2006 Ms. Caroline (All rights reserved)
poem by Carolyn Ford Witt
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God Reaches Out
GOD REACHES OUT
I know you're feeling very down
And I wish you weren't sad.
There are so many things around
That make us feel so bad.
But when you awake in the morning
To the chirping of a bird,
Just remember that may be God,
Whose singing you have heard.
And when you walk into a store
And a beggar there you see,
Just remember, that sad face,
The face of God, may be.
And when a child smiles up at you
With innocence in their eye,
Just remember that each day
God gives innocence to you and I.
So when you're feeling down and sad
And your heart seems to break,
Just remember that God reaches out
And says, 'My Hand, you now must take.'
Love you my friend.
Author: Carolyn Ford Witt
Ms. Caroline
© 2006 Ms. Caroline (All rights reserved)
poem by Carolyn Ford Witt
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My Stairway
MY STAIRWAY
There is a stairway
In my mind
Spiraling upward-
Ever Upward.
Upon my journey-
I sometimes tire
And must
Stop to rest.
At times,
I fall back a step
Or two,
But always,
I look upward
As I travel
On my journey.
Upward, I travel,
On that spiraling
Staircase-
Toward a reward.
The reward
Our Heavenly Father
Has promised
So long ago.
Just the twinkling
Of an eye.
A whole lifetime
for you and me.....
Only an instant
In Eternity............
author: Carolyn Ford Witt
3-25-1980
By Ms. Caroline
© 2006 Ms. Caroline (All rights reserved)
poem by Carolyn Ford Witt
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Joy Of Music
THE JOY OF MUSIC
The violin sang so softly
In the hands of this old man
As he sat there on the wooden stool
Bow held gently in his hand.
His wife played grand piano
Sweet music they did make
As from the hard work of the fields
This respite, they would take.
Gentle music of God's praises
They played for all to hear.
The sweetest music in the land
Was falling on God's ear.
They passed along this joyous sound
To children they did bare
The most relaxing trait of all
The gift of music rare.
Now throughout the generations
Which do continue to abound
We hear the perfect notes and songs,
The joy of music...does resound.
Author: Carolyn Ford Witt
2-11-07
By Ms. Caroline
© 2007 Ms. Caroline (All rights reserved)
poem by Carolyn Ford Witt
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I knew I would read all kinds of books and try to get at what it is that makes good writers good. But I made no promises that I would write books a lot of people would like to read.
quote by Carl Sandburg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On Books
Books are my first love, I’m so proud to read;
They give me knowledge and help life to lead;
Hours, days just pass by, by reading life-time;
Life would not be worth, if not for my rhyme.
Great are those people who write books all life;
Burning just candles, with Goose-quills in strife;
Tired of writing though day-long or night,
They keep on writing in such a bad light.
Books serve a great cause; their value can’t cease;
It takes years to write but reading is ease;
Book-makers struggle to print a few books;
And keep spending time to, improve their looks.
Some find their way to libraries in town;
Some remain untouched and nev’r taken down;
Silver-fish, Moths eat the books that are old;
Some are gone obsolete, some sold like gold.
Some are in tatters and must be rebound;
Books are Man’s best friends where solace is found;
Reading for long hours, does help you to learn;
Books give much knowledge and wisdom to men.
Read books with great care whose weight is in gold;
Serve generations though they may be old;
Source of much Info, deserving respect;
Books are life-partners whom you ne’er reject!
poem by John Celes
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This Guest--a Hero
THIS GUEST....A HERO
I've stood beside a hero
For nigh almost a year
His Faith is ever growing
And to me, he shows No Fear.
He's sure that life is ending
But He's living it his best.
He laughs and jokes to cheer others
For by the Father, He is blessed.
His poetry is inspiring
For in the Father he believes,
Spreading there the Father's word
Great blessings he receives.
Each day he shares a message
Each day he shares a joke.
He'll not complain, he's dying,
He'll just act like other folk.
To me He is so special
For through his eyes I can see
That special place in Heaven
That awaits the likes of me.
And now he pulls away from us
To spare that grief that we do share
But, I know, When I get to Heaven
I will, most surely, see him there.
Blessings my friend.
May God do for you
What you have done for others!
Love You!
Author: Carol Witt
Ms. Caroline
© 2006 Ms. Caroline (All rights reserved)
poem by Carolyn Ford Witt
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graduation Day
-GRADUATION DAY--
The mist hung slight
Above the ground.
Students all were
Scurrying 'round.
With testing done
The college plight,
Such merriment
It t'was a sight.
As mortar boards
Flung into the air
Their joy and sadness
Each to share.
Forward as their
Lives would go,
And where they lead
No one does know.
Author: Carolyn Ford Witt
Ms. Caroline
5-28-2006
poem by Carolyn Ford Witt
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First Encounters
THE FIRST ENCOUNTER
That first encounter
Warmth wrapped around my virgin body
Dampness enveloping me
Surrounding me as I come up for air
Sensually seeping inside me as I sink
Once more into this moist
oblivion
Undressing me with gentle caresses
Which empower me to once again push
Up to the surface
And with long strides pull
Myself to the side of the
winterpool
Lifting my moist body into
The cold winter air
Wrapping myself in a terry robe of warmth
And scurrying across the cold concrete
To the crackling warmth of the
Fireplace.......
Inside.....
Author: Carolyn Ford Witt
2-11-07
By Ms. Caroline
© 2007 Ms. Caroline (All rights reserved)
poem by Carolyn Ford Witt
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I Dreamed About Mama Last Night
I've just been to heaven with someone so true I dreamed about mama last night
She read me the Bible like she used to do I dreamed about mama last night
She never close her eyes to sleep till we were all in bed
And on party nights when we come home she often sat and read
We little thought about it then for we were young and gay
Just how much mama worried when we children were away
We only knew she never slept when we were out at night
That she waited just to know that we'd all come home alright
Why sometimes when we'd stay away till one or two or three
It seemed to us that mama heard the turnin' of the key
For always when we'd step aside she'd call and we'd reply
But we were all too young back then to understand the reason why
Until the last one had returned she'd always keep a light
For mama couldn't sleep until she kissed us all goodnight
She had to know that we were safe before she went to rest
She seemed to fear that the world might harm the ones that she loved the best
And once she told me when you're grown to women and to men
Perhaps I'll sleep the whole night through I may be different then
And so it seemed that night and day we knew a mother's care
That always when we got back home we'd find her waitin' there
Then came the night that we were called together round her bed
The children're all with you now the kindly doctor said
And in her eyes the gleam again that old time tender light
That told that she's just been waitin' to know that we were alright
She smiled that old familiar smile and prayed to God to keep
Her children safe from harm throughout the years tand then she went to sleep
My dream is a treasure that I'll always keep I dreamed about mama last night
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Children will not pretend to be enjoying books, and they will not read books because they have been told that these books are good. They are looking for delight.
quote by Helen Dunmore
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Hell
You live by the book of wonders,
The book has hell on it when opened.
The inferno carries pits too grilling,
The grills are offered by devils,
Contagious diseases are handed over
To the body and bones, full of hatred.
A hell of books is opened by the librarian,
You choose a simple verb to read,
Then this verb is read, the verb that signals death.
Your death must never come by reading books,
Long scrolls so wonderful,
Of books the world is made
And the reason for books is reading,
Not living in Hell.
poem by Naveed Akram
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depression
-DEPRESSION-
I Am, crawling in the basement
Of a house so-called depression,
Cannot lift myself from under
This Rock of non-expression.
Just lingering in the darkness,
Not a candle in the way
And now I lie here motionless
Into another day.
No feelings in my body,
No thoughts to fill my mind;
For if I cannot awake from this
My fate is now resigned.
There lurking in the darkness
Is one who summons me.
The man who holds the sickle
Does now call out in glee.
Author: Carolyn Ford Witt
Ms. Caroline
2006
poem by Carolyn Ford Witt
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Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested that is, some books are to be read only in parts, others to be read, but not curiously, and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence and attention.
quote by Francis Bacon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested: that is, some books are to be read only in parts, others to be read, but not curiously, and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence and attention.
quote by Francis Bacon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Books I Read
I was once asked
what sort of books I read.
To be honest
I never gave it much thought.
I read all sorts of books
from crime fiction to poetry,
by many assorted authors.
I read literary classics
and some not so classic at all.
If they asked me
who my favourite author is,
again I’d be in confusion there too.
However a few of the names
that spring to mind are,
F Scott Fitzgerald, John Steinbeck,
Ernest Hemmingway, James Herriot,
Agatha Christie, Edgar Wallace
and surprisingly enough Mickey Spillane.
I have no favourite author
of any particular genre
as I only read
how I feel at the time.
27 February 2008
poem by David Harris
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Good Friend's
Books for your
Friend...
Take your friend
Good and bad
Too read...
Read the matter
Applay the life...
Moor read make
Your self make you...
Friends is the
One of the books...
Make a good friend's
The book's
To your life...! ! !
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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eight Sisters
--EIGHT SISTERS--
When I was very little
And Mama's sisters gathered round
All the serious talk would go
As joyous laughter would resound.
With every woman talking
Loud laughter would erupt....
All the men would run for quiet
When their ears had had enough.
I'm not sure where it came from
For their parents, I didn't know,
But I was very happy
With their joyous laughter show.
And now those laughs are quiet
As all eight sisters now have passed,
But I bet God was really smiling
As He waited upon the last.
Because their joyous laughter
Brings smiles to all who hear,
And I know, up there in Heaven....
They are thought of very dear.......
Author: Carolyn Ford Witt
Ms. Caroline
6-1-06
poem by Carolyn Ford Witt
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