Now fades the last long streak of snow,
Now burgeons every maze of quick
About the flowering sqares, and thick
By ashen roots the violets blow.
~ Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Remember me when I am gone away
Remember me when I am gone away.
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand.
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you planned:
Only remember me: you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had.
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than you should remember and be sad.
~ Christina Rossetti
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand.
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you planned:
Only remember me: you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had.
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than you should remember and be sad.
~ Christina Rossetti
Star Gazer
One cold and solemn winter night,
I paused to view a wondrous star;
A brilliant, luminescent light,
That spoke of heaven from afar.
It hung against the ebon sky,
And as I turned to solitude;
It drew me nigh, with twinkle high,
Then chose to lift my attitude.
For as I stilled to view God's art,
The star at once began to play;
Then merrily, I saw it arc,
To race across the Milky Way.
Encircled by the atmosphere,
The star then paused to give a wink,
And vowed in time to reappear,
But then was gone within a blink.
I sighed, amazed by heaven's boon,
And caught a vision through the haze,
There peeking from behind the moon,
A twinkling light, my star's sweet gaze.
Sherry Pedersen-Thrasher
In one of the stars, I shall be living.
In one of them, I shall be laughing.
And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing when you look at the sky at night.
~ The Little Prince, Antoine de Saint-Exupery
I paused to view a wondrous star;
A brilliant, luminescent light,
That spoke of heaven from afar.
It hung against the ebon sky,
And as I turned to solitude;
It drew me nigh, with twinkle high,
Then chose to lift my attitude.
For as I stilled to view God's art,
The star at once began to play;
Then merrily, I saw it arc,
To race across the Milky Way.
Encircled by the atmosphere,
The star then paused to give a wink,
And vowed in time to reappear,
But then was gone within a blink.
I sighed, amazed by heaven's boon,
And caught a vision through the haze,
There peeking from behind the moon,
A twinkling light, my star's sweet gaze.
Sherry Pedersen-Thrasher
In one of the stars, I shall be living.
In one of them, I shall be laughing.
And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing when you look at the sky at night.
~ The Little Prince, Antoine de Saint-Exupery
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Ah, Sunflower!
Ah! sunflower, weary of time,
Who countest the steps of the sun,
Seeking after that sweet golden clime
Where the traveller’s journey is done;
Where the youth pined away with desire,
And the pale virgin shrouded in snow,
Arise from their graves and aspire;
Where my sunflower wishes to go.
William Blake (1757-1827)
Who countest the steps of the sun,
Seeking after that sweet golden clime
Where the traveller’s journey is done;
Where the youth pined away with desire,
And the pale virgin shrouded in snow,
Arise from their graves and aspire;
Where my sunflower wishes to go.
William Blake (1757-1827)
With Rue My Heart is Laden
With rue my heart is laden
For golden friends I had,
For many a rose-lipt maiden
And many a lightfoot lad.
By brooks too broad for leaping
The lightfoot boys are laid;
The rose-lipt girls are sleeping
In fields where roses fade.
A.E. Housman (1859-1936)
For golden friends I had,
For many a rose-lipt maiden
And many a lightfoot lad.
By brooks too broad for leaping
The lightfoot boys are laid;
The rose-lipt girls are sleeping
In fields where roses fade.
A.E. Housman (1859-1936)
Monday, June 4, 2007
Jimmy
It snowed last year too: I made a snowman and my brother knocked it down and I knocked my brother down and then we had tea.~Dylan Thomas
"I am sworn brother, sweet,
To grim necessity, and he and I
Will keep a league till death."
~William Shakespeare
"God has blessed me with many things in you, my only brother. "
Sherry Pedersen-Thrasher
How do I love thee?
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
--Elizabeth Barrett Browning
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
--Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Sherry, Kimberly & Leigh Ann
Roebuck 1974
Sherry age eleven in 5th grade and smiling. Leigh Ann would have been in fourth grade, Kim in second and Jimmy just starting school during this time.
Kiss Buttterfly Wings
Kiss butterfly wings as you pass
Into the sphere beyond
My wildest dreams and
Beyond all imagination.
Err not to glance back
Realizing what you have forsaken,
Lest you doubt
Your journey through the stars.
Joyous hordes will welcome you.
Oblivion, like anesthesia,
Your home on earth will erase. But,
Come again to us,
Early in the morning as dreams awaken
Something in the air that
Melts into the dawn.
Only do forget
The pain that is ours.
Heavens claim you as their own,
Even as you deny time and love and earth that confined you.
Remember, we do not forget
Something as pure and golden as you.
Days will pass for us,
And some say the time that confined you,
Will ease the sorrow that we feel.
Still, the choice was ours.
Only love extends our hearts,
Not knowing quite the risk we always take.
Joyce Green Sells
March 14, 2006
Acrostic poem written by our mother in memory of Kim.
Into the sphere beyond
My wildest dreams and
Beyond all imagination.
Err not to glance back
Realizing what you have forsaken,
Lest you doubt
Your journey through the stars.
Joyous hordes will welcome you.
Oblivion, like anesthesia,
Your home on earth will erase. But,
Come again to us,
Early in the morning as dreams awaken
Something in the air that
Melts into the dawn.
Only do forget
The pain that is ours.
Heavens claim you as their own,
Even as you deny time and love and earth that confined you.
Remember, we do not forget
Something as pure and golden as you.
Days will pass for us,
And some say the time that confined you,
Will ease the sorrow that we feel.
Still, the choice was ours.
Only love extends our hearts,
Not knowing quite the risk we always take.
Joyce Green Sells
March 14, 2006
Acrostic poem written by our mother in memory of Kim.
Sunday, June 3, 2007
Nellie's Garden
If I could plant a flower dear,
for every thought that draws you near,
inside my garden you would find
endearments fertile in my mind.
I'd gather up the summer phlox
and whisper soft forget-me-nots,
all sweetheart roses sown true blue
along my garden path for two.
Tulips would smile each sunny day
and gently lift our cares away
to offer sprigs of sweetest thyme
when penned in notes of floral rhyme.
The coralbells would cast their spell
upon our thoughts and pray, "be well."
I'd clip away each bleeding-heart
and toss it in my garden cart.
Sherry Pedersen-Thrasher
for every thought that draws you near,
inside my garden you would find
endearments fertile in my mind.
I'd gather up the summer phlox
and whisper soft forget-me-nots,
all sweetheart roses sown true blue
along my garden path for two.
Tulips would smile each sunny day
and gently lift our cares away
to offer sprigs of sweetest thyme
when penned in notes of floral rhyme.
The coralbells would cast their spell
upon our thoughts and pray, "be well."
I'd clip away each bleeding-heart
and toss it in my garden cart.
Sherry Pedersen-Thrasher
Saturday, June 2, 2007
Third Pastoral
Take off your shoes where the light
thins out into flocks chasing pollen
mist a ways past the edge of the lake.
It will be full of dandelion billows
this time of year, or so I was told.
I heard there were picket-fences here
once; crows still keep watch, perched
like a shadow almost there,
hardly making a sound. You see train tracks
trail off every mile or so, turn around
to ask if there were ever houses here
where bleached branches are buried
in sod and the earth suddenly turns
tar-black on itself. With thistles stuck
to your dress, you walk a ways apart
and I tell you I saw a lake of flowers
here: the wind came and it was gone.
Aleksy Tarasenko-Struc
thins out into flocks chasing pollen
mist a ways past the edge of the lake.
It will be full of dandelion billows
this time of year, or so I was told.
I heard there were picket-fences here
once; crows still keep watch, perched
like a shadow almost there,
hardly making a sound. You see train tracks
trail off every mile or so, turn around
to ask if there were ever houses here
where bleached branches are buried
in sod and the earth suddenly turns
tar-black on itself. With thistles stuck
to your dress, you walk a ways apart
and I tell you I saw a lake of flowers
here: the wind came and it was gone.
Aleksy Tarasenko-Struc
Friday, June 1, 2007
Graduation Day
Sherry leaving home to attend her highschool graduation in Raleigh, North Carolina on June 2, 1981.
"What is past is prologue." -- William Shakespeare
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