A friend of mine has just published a huge book of quotes, jokes, puns, and interesting facts that will prove a terrific resource for public speakers of all genres. Called simply SPEAKER’S GOLDMINE, the 436-page book has a lot to offer — so much so, in fact, that rather than trying to type out an ad for it myself, I’m posting the book trailer so you can get a close-up look at what it’s all about. I hope it can serve as a help to some of you podcasters, educators, ministers, and motivational and inspirational speakers.
I share more personal stories about drinking coffee, from half a cup, thick with milk and sugar, allowed in childhood, to large cups, hot and black, once old enough to make my own choices. This episode includes the story of my father’s tornado experience and his insistence on building a storm cellar as a result. And, naturally, after a night in a storm cellar, nothing but coffee can get things back to normal. I round out the episode with one of my coffee poems.
April is National Poetry Writing Month, and although several years I’ve celebrated it by trying to write a poem every day — and almost succeeding some of those years — I knew I couldn’t work at that pace this time around. In fact, I accidentally let April slip in without one rhyme. But today I decided I need to at least make the effort to contribute to the world’s collection of poetry by writing a few new poems during April. So I’m making a start right now.
WHERE IS SPRING?
Spring is trying hard to get a start this year. March did come in with lion winds on cue. But other elements just cannot get in gear, The weather’s gray and cold, and that won’t do.
Daffodils did bloom and lift their yellow heads, Only to be beaten down by storms and rain. They lay forlorn and helpless, flat upon their beds, And now its wet and gray and cold again.
I just don’t know what’s happened to our happy spring. When scents of flowers and grasses fill the air. When golden sun and bluest skies cause birds to sing. And folks can catch ‘spring fever’ everywhere.
Maybe it will change and warm up in no time. I surely hope that’s true, ’cause here’s the thing: To end this poem I need to have a word that rhymes, And I can’t think of anything but Spring!
Come over and join me on “God Bless My Coffee” channel to hear the delightful history of Maxwell House Coffee. And to get my unique checklist for finding the “perfect husband.”
WAIT A MINUTE. Roses come in scores of colors. And violets are … well … violet — not blue. In fact, both flowers come in a variety of colors. So what’s my point?
I’m not really complaining about the color of any one flower. I just got to thinking about that particularly well-known bit of verse, and about how we as poets really do feel we have our own kind of literary license. What is it about poets that makes them think they can write just anything they want to write as long as it rhymes and keeps the meter smooth and uninterrupted? Well, I’ll tell you what it is about us:
We love words — the sounds of words — the rhythm of words — the music of words. And we love playing around with lots of different numbers of syllables. We love to hear consonants repeated, vowels repeated, digraphs repeated. And if we need to turn a sentence around backwards to get the right rhythm — or leave out a couple letters replaced by an apostrophe — or go beyond the norm with hyperbole — well, it’s all part of what we see as our job —— and to be honest —— it’s part of the FUN of writing poetry.
True poets follow rules of meter and rhyme and correct use of figurative language. But we also follow rules of emotion, yearning, and imagination. So, yes, we do believe that it’s okay if we altar reality a bit here and there or say things backwards. If it helps make the poem touch a heart, grab the imagination, take the reader to another realm, or tickle his funny-bone, we figure we’ve done our job well.
And, personally, I think that’s why a poem can speak to readers in such unique ways. People don’t always realize it when they are reading a poem, but it’s those quirky kinds of things — those little excursions away from what is generally the “accepted” pattern — that has caused many a poem to grab a place in the reader’s mind and heart and stay there.
So okay. I decided to have a little fun with this subject and can now offer you a choice of poems that get to the real truth. I’ll post both of there here, and you can take your pick:
UNTRUSTWORTHY POETS
Roses are red? Violets are blue? I beg to differ; It just isn’t true:
Roses are found in any color we choose. I’ve seen them in yellows and oranges and blues. Why, I’ve even seen them in ugly chartreuse! And violets, I’ve learned, also vary in hue: Yellow and pink, even white; it’s quite true. So never trust a poet to tell you the truth. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
PURPOSE IN POEMS
Roses are red; Violets are blue; We don’t always stick With only what’s true. We’re looking for words With meter and rhyme, And if we can’t find them, We might tend to whine. So cut us some slack; We’re doing our best. If a poem gives you pleasure, It passes the test.
Almost all of my friends and family are sane people who wear their shoes inside their houses as well as outside. Unless, of course, their feet hurt; then that’s a different story. But there are those humans out there who have this absurd notion that people should remove their shoes as soon as they enter a building and go barefoot — or possibly sock-footed — while inside. A few switch to special shoes that are reserved only for “in-house” wear, and several even offer said shoes to visitors. (Although it’s beyond me why they think visitors would want to wear shoes worn by any number of other people they don’t even know.)
I really don’t know if these weird people are worried about getting their floors dirty or if they have some religious scruples — like being afraid of offending the god of flooring or something. But doesn’t it ever bother them when they use the bathroom (especially in homes with boys or men who often are not careful where they aim)? I mean, when they feel something wet on their socks or bare feet, do they not even wonder what that is???
Well, either way, suffice it to say that those people never have to worry about a visit from me. I just happened to be sitting quietly and thinking about this subject recently and decided to express myself poetically.
VISITING FEET
Remove my shoes? I don’t think so. I go no place unshod. When entering homes, I wipe my soles Of dirt through which I’ve trod.
But if my host requires that I Remove my own footwear, I must reply, being stern but kind, I won’t be visiting there.
Some will supply soft slippers worn For walking through their home, But why would I desire shoes worn By others, some unknown?
So overall, it’s best to say, When invitations come, If I’m required to bare my toes, I’ll choose to stay at home.
Oh, my goodness, it’s been so long since I have had time to participate in Trent’s Weekly Smile — or very much of anything else here on WordPress. I was just thinking about it today and wondering if he is still doing these posts. I was so glad to go into my Reader and find him there right close to the top.
So I took that as a sign that I need to jump in and participate this week. And I really do have something to smile about. It’s my smile. No pun intended.
No kidding. I had a terrible amount of pain in my left jaw last week — sinuses, teeth, and gums — both top and bottom. Sometimes the pain felt like it was coming from my sinuses, but then it seemed to center around a tooth that had been crowned years ago.
I called my dentist and asked if he could get me in for an emergency appointment. That was Friday, but he couldn’t work me in until Monday. The pain was so bad, I really prayed for relief — and even called my pastor to pray as well. And the pain did finally leave after just a few hours. Then I dithered about whether I should keep the emergency appointment. I finally decided that, since I was already scheduled to see him, I might as well go ahead.
When my dentist looked things over, he found a cavity at the edge of the crown — on the little bit of tooth that the crown was attached to. Wow. That’s a bummer. But he was able to drill off that whole crown, fill my tooth, and put on a temporary crown until he could make a new permanent one.
But today — hallelujah! — I got my permanent crown. It looks and feels so good. I can eat normally, and I am smiling wide. I had been really concerned, because the tooth is the one right beside my eye tooth, so if I had lost it, there would have been a very unsightly empty spot there, and that would have spoiled my smiles completely.
I realize I’m lagging in moving forward with this new coffee series. I’ve had tons of stuff going on over the past couple months, and just never could find enough time, energy, and creativity all at the same time to get back to blogging with any regularity. But I’m on it again today. Hopefully, I can stick with it a little better over the next couple weeks at least. Anyway, let’s focus on some coffee now.
I thought today I’d talk to you about dunking. It probably isn’t considered good manners in any culture to take a piece of food in your hand and stick it into your cup of coffee until it gets soggy — and then slurp it into your mouth — possibly even dripping some coffee down your chin at the same time. 🙂 But I’ve done it since I was a kid, and I love it. (Well, not the part about the coffee dripping down my chin.)
Some of my favorite memories from childhood involve times when my grandmother, my mom, my sister and I went to another town very early on several Saturday mornings to visit my mom’s sister and her four kids. Grandma always bought a big box of doughnuts, and my aunt brewed a pot of coffee. We all sat around the table with cups of coffee, ready for dunking. Now, of course, we kids all had cups half full of a brew that was made up of about one half coffee and one half milk and sugar.
But those were such special times. And every once in a while, when I’m missing my family, I think back to those Saturday mornings. And sometimes I go out and buy myself some doughnuts just to sit and dunk them in my coffee while I sit and remember how happy we all were to be together enjoying that treat.
Of course, my coffee today is a little different from what it was back then. I stopped using sugar in my coffee about the time I got out of college, but I still used milk until one day when I was teaching high school and got really nauseous. I knew I had to get something to settle my stomach quickly, so during the 3 minute break between classes, I rushed down to the cafeteria to see what might be available. The lady in charge had just brewed a fresh pot of coffee, and it smelled so good. Suddenly I felt that if I sipped a little hot coffee with nothing else in it, that would help my stomach. And to my surprise, it did the trick. Just a few sips of the black coffee totally settled my stomach, and I have never added milk or anything else to my coffee since then.
Once in a great while, I will try some specialty coffee that has a lot of flavored cream or syrup — just to have a different experience — but those times are rare, and I usually end up disappointed in how it tastes after all.
But now back to dunking: I have never outgrown the desire to dunk things in my coffee. Cookies, of course, top the list of dunkables, along with doughnuts. But I also like to dunk my toast in my coffee as well. Occasionally, I dunk crackers, and I remember a time or two when I dunked my chocolate fudge in my coffee. Mmmmmmm!!!. When my mom was alive and we could be together on Christmas Eve, she and I made it a habit to have some of her homemade fudge and coffee for breakfast every Christmas Eve. What fun.
And, of course, it’s so many of those special family memories that make coffee a comfort food for me. I’m sure that’s a good part of the reason I love coffee so much and want to drink it every day. And I’m grateful that I can drink it without any negative effects. I can even drink it right before going to bed. In fact, some nights when I wake up in the middle of the night and can’t get back to sleep, I can drink a cup of coffee and get all relaxed and settled enough to get to sleep again. And, of course, if I’m really wide awake, grabbing a couple chocolate chip cookies and dunking them rounds off those midnight snacks perfectly.
I hope everyone reading this article has had the joy of dunking goodies in their coffee. But if you have not, be sure you try it before the day’s over. You won’t be sorry. But be sure and keep a napkin handy for your chin. 🙂
For Day 2 of my new coffee series, I had intended to post something in prose, but I found myself reading through another coffee poem that I wrote several years ago. As I read it, I was tempted to add some more thoughts to it, so I did. And since it is now a new poem — sort of — I decided to go with verse again today.
NO NEED FOR FALDEROL
I joined the queue outside the door, Just after 6:00 a.m. The morning sun had chased the fog, But warmth was pretty thin.
My breath formed steam each time I spoke, And pockets warmed my hands. I yearned for coffee, hot and strong, A large cup was my plan.
We inched along with moderate speed, And soon I stood inside. The fresh aroma brought a smile; It’s tantalizing tide Mingled with the cozy sounds Of orders glorified:
I got to thinking this week that it has been a very long time since I published a post about coffee. Now, for a dyed-in-the-wool coffee lover like me, that should be considered a sin. So I have decided it’s time to do a new little coffee series. I think I’ll call it “DON’T FORGET THE COFFEE.” And I decided to begin this new series with a brand new poem by the same title.
DON’T FORGET THE COFFEE!
Whether rushing off to church on Sunday morning, Or heading out to work from day to day, I have one specific task that’s mandatory, I must make a pot of coffee, come what may.
Now, it’s not that I can’t function without java, I have jumped from bed and tackled urgent tasks Without the soothing and uplifting beverage, But why should I? That’s the thing to ask.
I require so very little to appease me, And I gladly do my work and extra too. I don’t ask for extra pay or laud and honor. All I ask is to enjoy my daily brew.
It’s about the only thing that I indulge in — Well, there’s chocolate — I admit I love that too. But if I forgot to make my pot of coffee, Why, I just don’t think I’d know quite what to do.
For no matter what the new day has in store, I am quite convinced that all will turn out fine As long as I do not forget my coffee — Nature’s tonic with a touch of the Divine.
If I were to write my autobiography, my opening sentence would have to be the following:
“I have always been a rebel at heart.”
Now, I know that sounds as though I have been a trouble-maker all my life. I haven’t been — honestly. And basically, I tend to follow rules of orderly and peaceful living. But I have always had a serious problem following any rules that don’t make sense — or that are unfair. I realize that judging whether something makes sense or is fair can be a very subjective act. And personal opinion can play a part. But when I come face-to-face with any rules that cause me to back up or bristle a little, I stop and carefully consider them. I honestly try to see them from various angles and points of view. But if, after that consideration, the rules still seem to be senseless — or even stupid — or they seem to take advantage of certain people or put them in an awkward or extremely difficult position — I balk at obeying those rules.
I have been known to fight huge companies — sometimes for months — over rules and regulations that are unjust or that cause customers or clients to have to go our to their way and do extra work in order to use those companies’ services. Phone companies, grocery store chains, and department store chains are a few of the types of organizations I have taken on. I do the same with civic organizations that take unfair advantage of local citizens or mistreat them in some way.
Unfortunately, as I get older, I desire less and less confrontation. There was a time when I gladly made my stand against all rules and regulations that I felt were wrong, but over the past decade, I find that I tend to wait a bit and think things over before I jump into the fray. I guess I’m learning to choose my battles a little more than I did in my younger years. Sometimes now I just sigh and comply — but only sometimes. I do still stand up and fight for things that are really crucial or that can affect a very large number of people. And, even when I don’t take up the fight, I am still rebelling in my heart. So — yes — I think one of the most accurate ways I could begin my autobiography would be acknowledging that I have always been a rebel.
But that’s all the details I’m going to cover. I think I’ll save all the rest of them for that autobiography — you know — the one that prompted this article — the one I will most likely never sit down and write. 🙂 🙂 🙂
I could probably list 30 things and then make sub-categories under each one. But I’ll try to stay within the limits of the assignment. Okay, here goes:
Knowing Jesus Christ
Teaching God’s Word
Praying with and for others and helping them receive from the Lord
Writing – fiction, non-fiction, & poetry
Creating Book Covers
Drinking Coffee
Visiting with friends — especially when we drink coffee at the same time. 🙂
Eating chocolate
Eating bacon
Eating mashed potatoes
Christmas — decorating, gift buying, family get-to-gethers — everything
Sunrises
Sunsets
Spending time at the ocean
Spending time in the Smoky Mountains
Painting & Sketching — watercolor, acrylics, ink
Painting birds in particular — my imaginative versions of birds
The stars when they seem bright & close
Playing music – mainly keyboard
Teaching writing
Teaching people how to use and be comfortable with computers & the Internet
Reading Miss Read books
Reading A Redbird Christmas — over and over
Reading The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency Series
Reading a Good Cozy Mystery
Playing with dogs
Singing — mostly privately as worship
Dancing
Autumn — especially the whole month of October
Remembering all the blessed times I’ve had with loved ones
This exercise has been fun. It really refreshes the soul to sit and think about things that make us happy. I probably need to do this at least once a week.
July is World Watercolor Month, and I’ve been splashing around quite a bit during the last few weeks — mostly with the birds. 🙂 So I thought I’d share a few of the paintings I’ve done to celebrate watercolor this month.
I bought a new sweeper — light-weight. It sucks dirt up fine, and that’s great. When dirt canister’s full, From the unit I pull, Empty dirt and return in clean state.
Now, I managed to pull the part free; Emptied dirt and cleaned filter with glee. But when all was replaced, Sweeper did about-face, And spewed out dirty air right at me.
Now, it no longer sucks dirt or lint. And the owner’s book gives me no hint Where the parts all belong, So I can’t fix what’s wrong. And I’ve wasted the money I spent!
The Happy Wordcrafter 