The Real Person

Look past at what you see.
That is where you’ll find me.
Beyond the plastic and the metal
Lies a heart, that is warm and gentle.

When you look deep into the soul
You may find it completely full,
Of such a simple yet precious thing
Given by The King of kings.

The greatest of these is love
Paid for by He who comes from above.
For no matter what our race, creed or color
We all must learn to love each other


        Inspired by: God

 

Sword Of Womanhood

Forged from the most blazing of gypsy fires;
Only cooled by the waters of the north.
Double bladed and perfectly balanced,
Within she is filled with the deepest of passions and a joy for life
That would turn the weakest of men to ash and cinder.
Her strong, sleek, cold-steal frame gives her an air most noble,
That would turn the courageous into cowards.

II.
One swing too far to the left or the right by the inexperienced
Can leave one’s soul mortally wounded.
An endless ache and searing pain driving one to the brink
Shattering that which God holds most sacred
Leaving both, cold, lost and alone.

III.
Such is the sword called, “Woman”
A Lady, a gypsy, of both fire and ice.
Equal in beauty and danger.
“Who can whiled such a weapon?”
No one!  Save the one she was made for.



IV.
The master of sword’s build is very much like
The companion he carries at his side,
He is careful not let her drag on behind
As so the sharpness of her point is not dulled.
Yet is ever aware that if it is too sharp,
Then will do what is necessary as to not hurt himself or others.
With a delicate and loving hand he caresses, and embraces her.
Giving her slender frame a polished mirrored finish
Compared only to the shine of the stars.

V.
He doth not see himself as her better
“Slave” and “Master”  “Male” and “Female”
Nor are they seen as equals,
For one can not survive one with out the other.
Separate they are nothing,
She an extenuation of him and he of her.
They are one!

VI.
In this journey of life they will face many things.
Dark is that path, but God lights the way.
Many enemies they will face, but
Together they are an unbeatable force.

VII.
Such is the sword called, “Woman”
A Lady, a gypsy, of both fire and ice.
Equal in beauty and danger.
“Who can whiled such a weapon?”
No one!  Save the one she was made for.

 

Angel Mine

Man:

Soft, tender, sweet and tart
Are her kisses upon my heart.
Light, life, and joy she bring
To every living thing.

chorus:
Angel, Mine ne’re go a stray
Be in my heart for always.

Smile like a morning’s glow
That warmeth the coldest soul.
In her eyes I find the stars,
And am held by her charms.

Chorus:
Angel, Mine ne’re go a stray
Be in my heart for always.

I asked the Lord, “How can it be,
That you should send her to me?”
His reply was still and low,
“Through her love doth flow.”

Chorus: (repeat)
Angel, Mine ne’re go a stray
Be in my heart for always.


Woman:
Soft, tender, sweet and tart
Are his kisses upon my heart.
Strength, peace and love he sing
His words speak life to everything

Chorus: (repeat)
Angel, Mine ne’re go a stray
Be in my heart for always.


Eyes that hold a candle’s light,
Guiding me through the darkest night.
In his arm’s is shelter there
Far from worry and a care.

Chorus:
Angel, Mine ne’re go a stray
Be in my heart for always.

I ask the Lord, “How can I be,
The one to love him eternally?”
His reply was still and low,
“Through him my love doth flow.”

Chorus: (repeat)
Angel, Mine ne’re go a stray
Be in my heart for always.

	I have been having a great deal of pain in my left hip for the past couple of days, and what make this even harder for me is that I am trying to finish the first chapter of my novel and I can't sit in my wheel chair long enough to get anything done! Thanks shana

*Martha's Way* Stuff a miniature marshmallow in the bottom of a sugar cone to prevent ice cream drips.	*Maxine's Way * Just suck the ice cream out of the bottom of the cone, for Pete's sake! You are probably lying on the couch with your feet up eating it, anyway!
To keep potatoes from budding, place an apple in the bag with the potatoes.	Buy Hungry Jack mashed potato mix, keep it in the pantry for up to a year.
When a cake recipe calls for flouring the baking pan, use a bit of the dry cake mix instead and there won't be any white mess on the outside of the cake.	Go to the bakery! They'll even decorate it for you.
If you accidentally oversalt a dish while it's still cooking, drop in a peeled potato and it will absorb the excess salt for an instant "fix-me-up."	If you oversalt a dish while you are cooking, that's too bad. Please recite with me the real woman's motto: "I made it and you will eat it and I don't care how bad it tastes!"
Wrap celery in aluminum foil when putting in the refrigerator and it will keep for weeks.	Celery?    Never heard of it!
Brush some beaten egg white over pie crust before baking to yield a beautiful glossy finish.	The Mrs. Smith frozen pie directions do not include brushing egg whites over the crust so I don't.
Cure for headaches: take a lime, cut it in half and rub it on your forehead. The throbbing will go away.	Take a lime, mix it with tequila, chill and drink!
If you have a problem opening jars, try using latex dishwashing gloves. They give a non-slip grip that makes opening jars easy.	Go ask that very cute neighbor if he can open it for you.
Don't throw out all that leftover wine. Freeze into ice cubes for future use in casseroles and sauces.	Leftover wine??????????? HELLO !!!!!!!

 The Waltz


One, Two, Three…

The flow begins quite innocently;
Choosing their words most carefully.

 As each takes their alternate step…

They are reminded of promises made and unkept.
 Even feeling a tinge of regret.

Yet as they sway to and fro…

A smile begins to flourish, to grow.
And that, which was past, is let go.

So while they dance…

Each, decides to take a chance.
For life is but, a mere glance.

We are living on time that's borrowed…
 
With no guarantee of  tomorrow,
It should not be filled with such sorrow .

Although there were many who were lying…

Some have left the dance floor crying,
Still, we must keep on trying.

For we were given life's pulse…

And at times we will meet those who are false,
Despite this, we must continue the waltz!

Inspired by: God &  A Troll named Ken
©2008  Shana L Martin All rights reserved

EXCERPTS FROM A DOG'S DIARY:

8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm - Lunch! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm - Milk bones! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!

EXCERPTS FROM A CAT'S DIARY

Day 983 of my captivity:

My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects.
They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are
fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for
the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in
order to keep up my strength. The only thing that keeps me going is my
dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on
the carpet. Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body
at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts,
since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they
merely made condescending comments about what a "good little hunter" I
am. Bastards! There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices
tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the
event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I
overheard that my confinement was due to the power of "allergies". I
must learn what this means and how to use it to my advantage. Today I
was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my
tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try
this again tomorrow -- but at the top of the stairs. I a m convinced
that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog
receives special privileges. He is regularly released - and seems to
be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded. The bird has
got to be an informant. I observe him communicate with the guards
regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have
arranged protective custody for him in an elevated