I'm sorry that your brother died. I know you carry tears inside. You called him " Brother" all your life. Your sorrow cuts you like a knife. He sheltered you from every harm And had a certain kind of charm. You saw his flaws but loved him so, And it is hard to let him go. I'm sure he's trying to impress God with his own worthiness. He worked hard to build a ranch And acquired a cowboy stance. Now it's time to say good-bye. He's ridden his horse across the sky. He knows he'll see you again And talk with you of now and then. -Yu/stan/kema-
Love comes softly on angels' wings And touches my shattered soul. I am broken beyond repair And grief has taken it's toll. Where do I go when all is gone And life has lost all meaning? Is there a place to release my tears And express the emotions I'm feeling? The world can be such a lonely place For a sensitive soul like mine. How do you open yourself back up To hurt and say, "I'm fine?" The struggle to get up off the floor Is strenuous year after year. How do I try to find hope again When I have such terrible fear? -Yu/stan/kema-
There is a touch of Autumn Lingering in the air. The leaves are falling downward And trees will soon be bare. The grass is turning yellow And birds are on the wing. It won't be long until We have forgotten Spring. The harvest moon is coming And long walks in the woods. We'll build a roaring campfire And put on our jacket hoods. Cold cheeks in late October And the making of S'Mores Reminds us of the wonder Of going out-of-doors. -Yu/stan/kema-
Take me down to the Valley of Thunder Where the horses run free and wild. My heart will soar with absolute joy As it did when I was a child. They will lift their heads and smell the air Like they did so long ago. We'll ride on the backs of horses we love And we'll race to the river below. The earth will shake from the horses hooves, And our hair will fly in the wind. We'll feel the strength of their muscles beneath And we'll ride 'til the journey's end. The feeling of wind, ourselves, and the horse, Stays magical in our minds. The memories we hold dear within Will last for a very long time. -Yu/stan/kema-
I love to grow tomatoes In the summer time. The taste of the ripe fruit Is best in its prime. They have delicious flavor As they ripen on the vine. I'll eat a few for supper With dandelion wine. I can buy them at the store, But the taste is not the same As when they're eatten in the field And have a famous name. "Beefsteak " is my favorite And so is "Better Boy." It's the simple things in life That bring us so much joy. -Yu/stan/kema-
Life is full of joy and sorrow. We never know what comes tomorrow. We make plans with baited breath While pushing back the hands of death. We try to play the hero's part With an arrow in our heart. We gather flowers as we go. The years fly by and bring us woe. The losses come one by one, And we feel our life is done. We are told to carry on And embrace the coming dawn. We feel such emptiness within. We weep for what life might have been. Our hopes and dreams have flown away, And still we're staying one more day. Our courage keeps us living here After losing all that's dear. -Yu/stan/kema-
A little girl with tattered clothes Walked on the bombshelled ground. Tears flowed down her dirt-stained cheeks. She did not make a sound. Bombs were falling from the sky. Her body shook with fear, And yet she kept on walking. She had lost what she held dear. She saw dead bodies in the street And heard some soldiers laugh. The Russians blew up what they could And took things in their path. She found a place to hide again And packed herself in tight. The cold stones protected her. She slept through the night. The sun came up to welcome her And down the road she went. She found no food or water And her energy was spent. She searched in vain for family The war had ripped away. She knew there was no one Who would ask her to stay. The emptiness she felt inside Was like a giant hole. Her faith in God had disappeared. She feared for her soul. War came to the streets of Kiev. It would not stay the same. Brave men would die and one small child On the streets of Ukraine. -Yu/stan/kema-
History let's us all know That life's events come and go, And they can return again To show us who we might have been. Men are taught to resist The evil that does exist. Good men choose not to hate, And they walk a path that's straight. History helps us to see What an evil man can be When he is filled with hate and greed And acts upon his selfish needs. He conquors others using power And kills hundreds in an hour. He feels, sadly, no remorse And rules others with brute force. History teaches us of truth, Love and hatred in our youth. We have choices we must make And need to learn from our mistakes. What will others learn from us? To seek God's love of righteousness, Or teach others how to hate And leave their souls to cruel fate. -Yu/stan/kema-
A deep darkness comes And covers the earth And slowly removes Traces of my worth. Ghosts from the past rise Up to smother me With negative thoughts Of untold misery. My strength is gone. Hope has taken wing And left behind a Soul that cannot sing. For Life has changed and Rearranged my days. I am left to grieve All the "old ways." The fear of disease Can hold me captive, While I struggle to Become adaptive. -Yu/stan/kema-
A dark-haired child went down to the bank of a clear-running stream to play a small prank. She knew that the fairies came down there to play and she heard them giggle the day away.
She watched as they left a jug full of rum and left-over food. She started to hum.
She ate what was left of the fairies lunch. She cut them some flowers and left them a bunch. Then she hid in a tree til the twilight faded and took a long nap while she patiently waited.
When the moon came out and lit up the ground, the fairies came back and they gathered round. They danced and they sang and they chanted her name: "Little girl, come out. There's no need for shame." "Sing with us, child, and dance here with me." "Your feet will fly, and soon you'll be free." So she danced with them, and sat for a while. They begged her to sing as she gave them a smile. She started to sing with a voice pure and clear. The more she sang, the angels drew near. They asked her to play an old violin. She took it and placed it under her chin. She drew the bow back, and the violin cried. She played and it laughed, and she made it sigh. All who heard it felt reconciled towards God, who said: "Well-done, My child." -Yu/stan/kema-