Hi Dorothy! So glad I found you! Lost your address in this hoo hah of “cleaning out” years of hoarding. Hope you’re still doing Facebook. I am somewhat sporadically and also blogging at nanmykel.com
It’s hard to write a funny verse,
‘specially when you’re glum and terse.
I think that I shall never see
a poem that’s sadder than my knee.
Oh I know it could be much worse–
I might have Trumpkin as my nurse,
pointing at me and saying he
would never make a pass at me.
While going through the hoarded family tid-bits in my home “office,” I discovered the following which appeared in a 1798 issue of the Lynchburg paper, and subsequently got tossed after posting it here:
To the person or persons who will teach me the convenient art of reconciling the spirit and practice of slavery, with that of the Gospel of Christ, I would then give land for slaves, and with the profits of their labor, pay my doctors, tutors, merchants, etc. They would stay at home and work for me while I would go in splendor to the house of worship and shout and praise God roundly. And should my successful preceptor be a minister of the Gospel I will give him a hundred dollars.
There were widespread differences of opinion on slavery. In 1830 the combined clergy of Richmond passed resolutions depreciating the unwarrantable and highly improper interference of the people of another state with the domestic relations of master and slave. They quoted the example of Christ and his apostles in not interfering with the question of slavery as one which should be followed by all ministers of he gospel. Sorry, it was separated from its sorce.
I found it at a flea market about 40 years ago. You are seeing why I have so much in my slush pile that I have to discard before i kick the bucket?
One of my favorite pasttimes as a child was reading a sad story to my little sister and bawling together at the top of our lungs. The most effective vehicle for this cathartic endeavor was entitled The Dog of Pompeii, in which a boy is forced to leave his dog behind on the shores under erupting Vesuvius. Our imagination constructed with horrified relish the scenario in which the dog arrives on the scene, finds his master has left him, and is engulfed in flames with great sorrow. One can only speculate as to the needs for grief expression that were met by us in this tragico-comical manner.
Engrossing! Thought I’d share. A re-blog.
LOVE AFTER LOVE
The time will come
when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back you heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
Heart-warming. Delicious. Thanks. Am re-blogging.
[Sketch title: Lumpkin in the Tall Grass. Artwork by PMu. Image used with the gracious permission of the artist. Please visit her site at https://pmuink.wordpress.com/ and click on “doodles” to see her absolutely fantastic sketches!]
Lumpkin scratches whines and begs
while sitting by the door
there’s flowers, trees and bugs outside
oh so much to explore!
and when he fin’ly gets his wish
he races to and fro
with so much world for him to see
where should that poor pup go?
he chases dragonflies and then
digs for a bit in mud
and then he romps and wrestles
with another puppy bud
too soon the sun bids day adieu
the pup heads back indoor
there’s still so much to see and do
tomorrow there’ll be more!
and soon he’ll need to go to bed
another time of joy
for though he may not get to run
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A lovely and important message.