A Celtic Prayer

Many a time I wish I were other than I am.

I weary of the solemn tide;

Of the little fields;

Of this brooding isle.

I long to be rid of the weight of duty

And to have my part in ampler life.

O Thou, Who art wisdom and pity both,

Set me free from the lordship of desire.

Help me find my happiness

In my acceptance of what is my purpose:

In friendly eyes;

In work well done;

In quietness born of trust, and, most of all,

In the awareness of your Presence in my spirit. 

Balance

To be able to be fully in life, without being tossed this way and that by every passing mood and whim; to know a place of silence in oneself that subsists even when all around is chaos and confusion; to maintain equanimity in the face of doubt and despair: this perhaps, is the retreat of one's own mind, the aspiration of spiritual practitioners of every tradition and every way.

Roger Housden.

"An Old English Prayer"

"Give us Lord, a bit o´sun,

A bit o´work and a bit of fun,

Give us in all the struggle and splutter,

Our daily bread and a bit o´butter,

Give us health, our keep to make

And a bit to spare for other´s sake.

Give us, too, a bit of song,

And a tale and a book to help us along,

Give us Lord, a chance to be

Our goodly best, brave, wise and free,

Our goodly best, for ourselves and others

Till all men learn to live as brothers."

For mum...King John's Christmas.

KING JOHN'S CHRISTMAS.

King John was not a good man -

He had his little ways.

And sometimes no one spoke to him 

For days and days and days.

And men who came across him,

When walking in the town,

Gave him a supercilious stare,

Or passed with noses in the air - 

And bad king John stood dumbly there,

Blushing beneath his crown.

King john was not a good man,

And no good friends had he.

He stayed in every afternoon....

But no one came to tea,

And, round about December,

The cards upon his shelf

Which wished him lots of christmas cheer,

And fortune in the coming year,

Were never from his near and dear,

But only from himself.

King John was not a good man,

Yet he had his hopes and fears.

They'd given him no present now

For years and years and years.

But every year at christmas,

While minstrels stood about,

Collecting tribute from the young

For all the songs they might have sung,

He stole away upstairs and hung

A hopeful stocking out.

King John was not a good man,

He lived his life aloof;

Alone he thought a message out

While climbing up the roof.

He wrote it down and propped it

Against the chimney stack:

"TO ALL AND SUNDRY-NEAR AND FAR-

F. CHRISTMAS IN PARTICULAR."

And signed it not "Johannes R."

But humbly, "Jack."

"I want some crackers,

And I want some candy;

I think a box of chocolates

Would come in handy;

I don't mind oranges,

I do like nuts!

And I SHOULD like a pocket-knife

That really cuts.

And, oh! Father Christmas, if you love me at all,

Bring me a big, red india-rubber ball!"

King John was not a good man - 

He wrote this message out,

And gat him to his room again,

Descending by the spout.

And all the night he lay there,

A prey to hopes and fears.

"I think that's him a-coming now,"

(Anxiety bedewed his brow.)

"He'll bring one present, anyhow - 

The first I've had for years."

"Forget about the crackers,

And forget about the candy;

I'm sure a box of chocolates 

Would never come in handy;

I don't like oranges,

I don't want nuts,

And I have a pocket-knife

That almost cuts.

But, oh! Father Christmas, if you love me at all,

Bring me a big, red india-rubber ball!"

King John was not a good man-

Next morning when the sun

Rose up to tell a waiting world

That Christmas had begun,

And people seized their stockings,

And opened them with glee,

And crackers, toys and games appeared,

And lips with sticky sweets were smeared,

King John said grimly: "As I feared,

Nothing again for me!"

"I did want crackers,

And I did want candy;

I know a box of chocolates 

Would come in handy;

I do love oranges,

I did want nuts.

I haven't got a pocket knife - 

Not one that cuts

And, oh! if Father Christmas had loved me at all,

He would have brought a big, red india-rubber ball!"

King John stood by the window,

And frowned to see below

The happy bands of boys and girls

All playing in the snow.

A while he stood there watching,

And envying them all...

When through the window big and red

There hurtled by his royal head,

And bounced and fell upon the bed,

An india-rubber ball!

AND OH, FATHER CHRISTMAS

MY BLESSINGS ON YOU FALL

FOR BRINGING HIM 

A BIG, RED,

INDIA-RUBBER

BALL!

A. A. Milne.

* My mother, like myself, loved poetry. She introduced me to all the greatest children's classics, one of the many things that I will always be thankful for. She had many favourites, this was one of them...It's always good to relive the great classics....I hope you enjoy this poem as much as we did as a family....