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Array
(
[sid] => 28143
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => MY FAVORITE POEM
[time] => 2003-11-28 11:57:45
[hometext] => A poem my mother recited while counseling me, has sutained me all my life. I literally lived it.
[bodytext] => When I was two we moved into a very plain, small home. It was in this house, I learned my favorite poem. My mother repeated poems to me as far back as my mind's memory. I sat at her feet, mostly in the kitchen, warm, delightful smells For every question I asked, a poem was her answer, seeping into my heart like an empty well. She repeated them all from her days in school. When plays, dramas, and readings then ruled. I can remember the moment.... I was sitting on the floor, To my ears her poem was very poignant. She was telling me I was a child of defiance. A mind of my own, in need of much guidance. The poem she next recited, literally collided like electricity might shock one's heart! It has never left me, guards over me, a silent conscience entreats me ably. "Out of the night that covers me, Black as the pit from pole to pole. I thank whatever gods may be. For my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance. I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeoning of chance. My head is bloody but unbowed. Beyond this place of wrath and tears. Loom but the Horror of the shade. And yet the menace of the years. Finds, and shall find, me unafraid. It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll. I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul." Written by William Ernest Henely (1849-1903) I thought of this poem as I was composing "Teardrops of Integrity" My mother shook her finger and recited Henley's poem, with probity! Somewhere in the many folds of my brain, I liked what his word did for me, sustain. My head has been bloody, my painful heart burst in my chest. Homeless, losing my house and everything I owned. My own brother disinheriting me while my gut groaned. No one can master their fate, for time and unforeseen occurances, berate. But we can all be captains of our soul. Never allowing another to rob us, of our control. Stealing our precious beliefs, truths, our integrity's listed scroll. Pilfering from you, the very essence of your way of life, freedom's rife. Hold precious your scruples, for without them, we are all walking dead. Keep your integrity to your death bed. Your soul in fact, that which is you, remains intact! Created by Cheri Cam LeBren November 2003 [comments] => 6 [counter] => 425 [topic] => 19 [informant] => lovingcritters [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => InspirationalPoems )
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