Tuesday, January 29, 2008

A Circle of thought

A rumble in the night, I hear a faint cry.
I wake and rub the sleep from my eyes.

I turn to my blessing my gifts of all gifts
and pick him up and sing for a bit.

He slowly relaxes because he knows it is only I,
The mother that will see clearly into his eyes.

Oblivious by what others may say,
My son is a blessing, I can see him in no other way.

Others talk about pity, sorrow, loss and grief,
For he may not grow to be what they envision as their belief.

I have so much to teach him, so much to say,
Because he is a true reflection of the love I feel everyday.

A hug, a glance and tender nudge of his cheek,
Is his way of telling me, he believes in me.

Nothing is taken for granted, but seen for what it is worth,
Each moment, a blessing, a gift, a snow flake that can not be duplicated on earth.

For my son is my hero, although he may not know the words I say,
His communications are like rainbows upon cloudy days.

BY Reva

Night to Day

As my eyes drift from night to day
haunting thoughts creep in my way

If I should not blink again
what would I wish in the very end?

Simply said
inside my head

Let my blessings be as strong as a trees.
Rooted deep in the ground
But always free to believe.

Let them know strength and wisdom
let them be the place others build their nests and kingdoms

Yet let them learn to bend
and sway in the wind that will never end.

Somehow let the universe know if it is my time to go
to take care of my angels and bless them so.

By Reva Carpenter

The Photograph

There is a moment, when time stands still.
It is the moment when you and your kindred spirit stand tranquil,
Gently supporting each other.
When you see the creation of your souls combined,
Twinkling toes and actions sublime
and oh what thoughts and words flow from their beautiful minds.

All is faded back
Except for those in the photograph.
This image can not be torn nor fade,
For it is in the safest place for which it may stay
In your heart and mind to keep.

But then another image comes and cuts deep,
It is the image of a Mother and a Father,
Which time has aged as no other.

For you see a future and feel what has passed
and know that the images taken by the mind are what makes magic last.


BY
Reva Carpenter

Generations Before

Each generation precedes the one before
Growing hastily, rapidly each knowing more.

Our parents generation proclaimed dominance for thy self
What simply followed was materialism and desire for great wealth.

Each puzzle piece became more important than the puzzle itself.
The edges became worn unable to fit,
What happened , the self would say, that is it.
No puzzle could be grand enough to hold a piece.
Not even family, for which they claimed to believe.

What could be more important than ME.
Take heed and think could it be,
For the next generation there is desire to correct what aches

The part of this puzzle that has been contorted and left out,
Was that the blessing we are given are part of thy self.

To leave a generation to have a grand epiphany,
We must all be accounted, be cared for and taught to sacrifice,
Or are we simply scavengers no better than mice.

By Reva Carpenter

Baby Bunny!

On a beautiful Fall day a rabbit family was working hard together, tending their garden and helping one another. Mr. Rabbit was very ill and every member of the family had to help and give up something they wanted dearly to help their Daddy . All the rabbit's had other plans with rabbit friends and games to play. Each of the bunnies wanted to be doing something else but the Mama rabbit reminded them of the importance of helping each other out. As the rabbit mother softly asked each to think hard about their sick Daddy rabbit, the tiniest of the bunnies became entranced by chasing the butterflies and looking towards the sky.

After hours of frolicking and playing in the woods, night began to fall. Then the little bunny started to pay attention to think about more than just himself and his immediate pleasures. He realized in his hours of personal escape and joy he had become lost and scared. He thought to himself of how pretty everything was and what adventures he had taken but how little comfort they gave him at this time. He found himself alone and wondering how his Daddy rabbit was doing.

As the night grew louder and colder the adventurous bunny shuddered behind a bush becoming terrified and timid. Froze by the big shadows and scary sounds of the night. His tummy ached and all he wanted was to nestled next to his mothers whiskers. To here her stories and feel the security of his Daddy, brothers and sister nestled around him.

Every night his Mama would tell him a story. A beautiful story, about a boy and a beautiful Christmas bell. How the bell would only ring once a true gift was brought to the church. How all the most expensive gifts could not make the bell ring, even the riches of the king. Once again the bells would chime, by a boy desperate to see the Christmas eve service who stayed with an injured women on the roadside. It was not the value of the boys coin placed on the church plate by his brother that soared the musical bells through the church . It was that the boy had given up his dearest wish of seeing the service to help someone.

The rabbit glanced up through the brush into the dark night sky and thought about what his family had done today. His brother would help get water and blankets for Daddy rabbit instead of playing hide and seek. His older sister would help Mama cook some vegetable broth instead of playing dress up. His older brother bunny would help find sticks for a fire to keep their Daddy warm on a cool evening. He had done all he planned to do that day, but he felt alone and sad. That scary evening the bunny realized something very important.

As the stars twinkled above, almost talking back at him as his thoughts drifted into the clouds, there was a crack. Suddenly he heard a rustling of the bush and loud noises behind. Then he heard calls," Baby bunny where are you?" His whole family was looking for him. He leaped from the bush to be standing at the feet of his Father. His Father still looking weak and tired but his face had a sort of glow, knowing he found his baby bunny. The mother swept the bunny up in her arms with a tear than ran like a winding river down her cheek , glistening in the moon light. Soon the bunny melted into his mothers arms into a sound tired sleep.

That night his brothers and sister helped the Daddy back to his bed and tucked in the little bunny that learned a great lesson. The next night Mama bunny nestled the baby bunny in her whiskers and told him the story of the beautiful Christmas bell once more.

BY
Reva Carpenter