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Picture-Mother Earth as Carl Sagan saw it-
I realized upon seeing this just how small man is.
Penguin-Link-Carl Sagan
Poem-Little Cosmic Dust Poem
Picture-Jacqui Sabarido-As she was
Poem-A Somebody-I wrote this for Jacqui
Picture-Jacqui-As she looks today
Picture-My son Danny at 17
Picture-Danny & his wife
~~Cody~~New grandson. Danny & Doran's baby
Born June 16, 2006
Penguin-Link-Fred On Everything-Very truthful funny commentaries on our times-A pleasure to read!
Poem-No More Lost Socks-I wrote this for my son Danny when he graduated from high school
Picture-Japanese Woman
Poem-The Painting
Poem-In These Rooms by Barton-I was deeply touched by the words in this poem
Poem-Gram, I Heard You Reading All Along-
This came from the heart
as I recalled many times staying with my Gram
Picture-Audie Murphy-I admire Audie very much even though he is gone
Picture-Picture of my beautiful fearless daughter Robin
Poem-Not An Ounce Of Fear-I wrote this for my daughter who has never feared a thing-She would fly a stealth bomber if given the chance!
A short story-
Raven picture-Click to go back to page one.


The earth
is the small white dot
in the vastness of space.
We are so very small
compared to all of the

Carl Sagan-His Blue Dot

Little Cosmic Dust Poem

Out of the debris of dying stars,
this rain of particles
that waters the waste with brightness;
the sea-wave of atoms hurrying home,
collapse of the giant,
unstable guest who cannot stay;

the sun’s heart reddens and expands,
his mighty aspiration is lasting,
as the shell of his substance
one day will be white with frost.

In the radiant field of Orion
great hordes of stars are forming,
just as we see every night,
fiery and faithful to the end.

Out of the cold and fleeing dust
that is never and always,
the silence and waste to come-
this arm, this hand,
my voice, your face, this love.
John Haines-1936

Jacqui, as she was.
~~A Somebody~~
The flames angry with rage,
hungry slapping my face.
I remember the red tongue
swiping a lick wasting my hair.
My ears pop drooling down
in a black pool of syrup schorching
my hands
My face turns a
molten meting plastic.
My screams smothered by
a black snake of air coiling
down into my throat. 
Sirens wail.
My legs scorched, brittle, 
fleshlesless charred logs.
The hungry flames
had their meal.
My fingers gone,
mere cauliflower nubs;
burning burning
I’m raw from
disinfectant scrubs.
The crying and screaming begins
once more.  
A morose reflection stare's solemnly;
Frankenstein stares back at me,
my head a hairless knob;
The silken skin
turns to scabby cornflakes.
The court jester made
a difference in someone's life;
his mind a spinning 
kaliedescope, guzzling as he pleased.
The jester was confused,
alone and angry at someone
or something, perhaps angry
at a Spainish flea.
A somebody changed me; 
A somebody wanted to feel better.
A somebody lifted a bottle
to his laughing lip and,
howls with laughter sprawled
in a pool of my blood .
This poem has been written
for Jacqueline Saburido
who was hit by a drunk driver.
Please go to Google & put in her
name and you will see
how she is fighting to take back
her life.
This is Jacqui today
Positive Quote
If you wish to
travel far and fast,
travel light.
Take off all your
Glenn Clark.

Danny and his beautiful wife

CODY-New grandson-Danny & Doran's baby

Fred On Everything
 The following was written
almost four years ago. 
Danny's life has 
changed alot since then.  
My son Danny recently
moved into a place of his own.
Like any mom he is still my
little boy no matter his age
or status in life.
I hated to see him grow up
so fast, but now I must advise
carefully & still hold him
as close in my heart.
Danny will soon join the
the military, what a proud moment
it was for me when he told me
of his future plans.
I'll just cry all over creation when
I go see him graduate from basic training.
I've posted a few pictures
of his graduation from high school.....It was
indeed a proud moment for him.
~~Another update~~
May 11, 2006
Danny recently married
a beautiful young lady.
And, in about a month a
baby boy named Cody
will be born to them.
I'm looking forward so much to seeing
this baby, and I wonder who
he will look like the most.

No More Lost Socks
Yesterday I hunted for those missing socks,
the ones you took off and whipped
through the air. The socks took on a life
all their own hibernating
under your bed, the chair, your teddy bear.
In a few months my precious son you will graduate.
You'll walk the path of
dreams reaching high into clouds laced with
hopes of success. I will
walk another path of memories you leave behind.
I’ll remember the days you struggled to keep the wheels
straight on your new bike.
And the day you were thrown for a loop stepping
on a rolling ball.
I still have time to find those lost socks,
matching the dirt marks with each one found.
It’s no bother for I realize the search will soon end;
I’ll miss my duties as mom. Nothing will ever replace
the memories you leave behind.
Your search for self determination
 and definition  will walk beside you as you
look into options to succeed.
Everyday will create new events with
memories of your own.
That first big break will come after
many days of walking the beat for work.
With every step taken a little voice
in your gut will say, “glad I took some
extra courses in night school.”
I look forward to the day you marry.
Honor your vows and your lady dressed in
white beside you; keep her content with praise
and compliments every chance you get.
Handle her flaws and mistakes with gentle concern.
Discuss often your differences on any given matter.
Tell her often how much you love her and laugh
together at the differences between you.
Compromise on how many children, or
what kind of house you want;
and understand the reason why.
Post a guard of honor near your temper;
walk away quietly should
your guard leave you temporarily.
When both of you settle into the realm of love
and hopeful goals never let aging nor the sight of
a gray hair part your ways; both of you will feel
youthful in your reflections;
only time will dispense with a few wrinkles and
lines across your brow.
You will become a dad someday too.
Keep your children safe with high moral
convictions and respect for your children’s rights.
Teach them values based on
hard work with good times thrown in.
Remind yourself often to count your
fingers in frustrating moments with them.
Pass on all you believe in a positive
light, for your children will carry and
pass all you give to their own.
I’ve saved many of your baby shoes.
I get them out every so often and remind
myself you are now a young man on
your way down a new road.
As you walk along take with you these thoughts
and don’t forget to pick up your lost socks!
Bette.M. 2002
~~Written By MOM~~
The Painting
I stare at her, this painting
of a Japanese woman.
Her persona seems tranquil, like
a gold fish resting
in a remote glass pond. 
Magically, my aura transcends
time, space and reality.
I step into the frame,
turning back to see myself.
I'm not there, for a moment I wondered
how did I get here in this abstract form?
A warm sensation engulfs me
like a sip of herbal tea.
My hair rolled up around
the crown,
reminding me of crescent rolls,
with three red sticks
of cinnamon and parasol hair clips.
My skin painted smooth,
silk strands as I touch along the slippery
slopes of my legs. 
My lips are thin like the hue of
a red setting sun;
I take on her pose.
Shying toward the corner frame,
my eyes slant shut in a mere calligraphers mark.
One glistening shoulder exposed,
the other covered in lavender pansies
and red dragon prints.
The pansies and dragons imaginatively
fight for territory
on the landscape of my shoulder.
The silk worms run amok
about the wrap of my torso.
I feel the warm breath
of admiration from
the gallery crowd.
A whiff of air surrounds
my flaming ego;
the ohhhhhh?s and ahhhhh?s
from breathless admirers.
I awake seeing my Siamese cat,
swinging a shredded mouse
by it's tail from his dragon jaws.

In These Rooms
by Barton

In these rooms

I have bared what was left of my sorry soul
I have shed tears that, until this time, fell only on deaf ears
I have held the hands of those I would never before have touched
And I have found what was once lost in a world that only cares for itself.

In these rooms

I have seen pain that can only be compared with chilldbirth
I have heard stories worthy of telling others for many lifetimes
I have seen many who could not accept the gift that is continually offered
And I have found love so pure that no one willing could deny its existence.

In these rooms

I have watched as gentle people threw themselves back to the wolves
I have prayed with those who, like myself, could not believe
I have wept for others who, until now, I would never have noticed
And I have found a truth, that for most, is as elusive as the holy grail.

In these rooms

I have fallen in love, made and lost friends and let you love me
I have been touched so deeply, and I pray that I will never forget
I have made promises for the promises that have been promised to me
And I have found God, not in the heavens, but in the hearts of those
In these rooms.


Gram, I Heard You Reading All Along

Gram, you stood over that hot plate stove,cooking, and moving about the flies in your eyes. You would ask someone to get more wood. The water needed a high flame for those potatoes you peeled yesterday. I was mentally hearing you talk of another era. Perhaps when you were small, and was told to help out all the time. I sat at your table, it was covered in an old oil cloth, but clean as the day it was bought. Those left over biscuits and gravy tasted mighty good as you unknowingly wrote “your” storybook.

I was being handed memories with every move you made. I was writing it all down in my unconscious ways. Gram, you never would understand all this talk of memories, Freud, and Jung. Interpretations from past events and how they impact our every future thought. All you cared about was the next meal, some contributions sent in from a prayer above. Gram, you knew as long as you got up every morning to start the fires everyone would have bacon and eggs; then your boys would go lookin’ for jobs hoping to be hired. Sometimes things got the best of you Gram. Like the time you beat poor uncle Eddie till he bled, sitting in the sun all red down his back. I remember tapping him gently, saying it was o.k. I never knew what he did that made you so mad that day. He seemed to hear me, and nodded a tearful reply of it’s alright.

Gram, you didn’t know it at all but, you were telling me a story. Telling me how it was you were raised. To make the best of a bad deal handed down in your early days. Sometimes the deal got real rough. I saw Gramps sittin’ on the wooden porch black as coal from the mines dust. I wish I had been listening better, I would have known how bad it was.

Gram, when I hear all the cane raised today over poverty, it makes me think back to the days you cooked, washed and slaved. I remember that washboard too. Your hands sure did get red from the lye soap…….homemade. There wasn’t even a parade or march going on for you or your better half.

Gram, you never did finish your stories. I watched, listened a bit,and mentally stored them away. All those stories “you told”,I’m thinking about now, and all I can do is what you did. Perhaps in a better way. I’ll write a book and keep in touch……..I’ll be sure to read all the directions on my way up.


I never dreamed of being
Shakespeare or Goethe, and I never
expected to hold the great mirror
of truth up before the world; I dreamed only
of being a little pocket mirror,
the sort that a woman can carry
in her purse; one that reflects small blemishes,
and some great beauties, when held
close enough to the heart.
Peter Altenberg-
Love is something eternal, the
aspect may change, but not the
Vincent Van Gogh-


In 1957 a rose was named in honor of Audie Murphy.

Audie Murphy, the most
highly decorated soldier
of WWII.
Please click on his photo
to go to his memorial page. 

There is
at least
one thing more brutal
than the truth,
and that is the
consequence of
less that the truth-
Ti-Grace Atkinson(1974)
"I pledge allegiance to the flag
 of the United States of
and to the Republic for which it stands,
 one nationunder God,
with liberty and justice for all."
--official version since 1954
My daughter
I could not
have picked a better
name for her!

Robin is a certified para-legal and is now living in Tennessee. Robin has absolutely no fear of anything. She would fly a stealth bomber without batting an eye. She has been fearless all her life & that prompted the poem you can read below.


Not An Ounce Of Fear

I wait, look, and listen.

Lightening shatters the devils sky;

a funnel sweeps me up. Angry clouds swallow me;

my heart is excited with fear. I want more.

I search flattened towns; the eye follows me.

The risk is a thrill; my veins are popping with blood; racing against time.

The rains pour like silver from the heavens; let me stand in it.

The hurricane winds tear me free; lift me higher and higher.

I hear a jet cracking the cloud. I’ll race, run till I drop.

A wish for one swoop under me; take me to meet the eagles high.

The floods ripping the earth inch by inch; give me my arms to swim the rage.

I’ll not calm the mighty waters, let me tumble against every bolder.

I’ll fall from the sky to the oceans depth; the whale is what

I want to challenge; he’ll know I’m there. We are survivors of the unknown.

The roller coaster roars at a hundred miles per hour. I want to get out,

hang from the bar as it rips around; I’ll feel an electrical charge.

I’ve not tasted it all, the thrill others run from.

I’ll trip the light fantastic

in a volcano flow.

Mother Earth unleash your anger.

You belong to me.




A story tells that two friends were walking through the desert. During some point of the journey they had an argument, and one friend slapped the other one in the face. The one who got slapped was hurt, but without saying anything, wrote in the sand: "TODAY MY BEST FRIEND SLAPPED ME IN THE FACE." They kept on walking until they found an oasis, where they decided to take a bath. The one who had been slapped got stuck in the mire and started drowning, but the friend saved him. After he recovered from the near drowning, he wrote on a stone: "TODAY MY BEST FRIEND SAVED MY LIFE." The friend who had slapped and saved his best friend asked him, "After I hurt you, you wrote in the sand and now, you write on a stone, why?" The other friend replied:"When someone hurts us we should write it down in sand where winds of forgiveness can erase it away. But, when someone does something good for us, we must engrave it in stone where no wind can ever erase it." LEARN TO WRITE YOUR HURTS IN THE SAND AND TO CARVE YOUR BENEFITS IN STONE. They say it takes a minute to find a special person, an hour to appreciate them, a day to love them, but then an entire life to forget them. Send this phrase to the people you'll never forget and remember to send it also to the person who sent it to you. It's a short message to let them know that you'll never forget them. If you don't send it to anyone, it means you're in a hurry and that you've forgotten your friends. Take the time to live!!!

"You do not really understand something unless you can
explain it to your grandmother."  Albert Einstein


Click the Raven to go back to Quotations Poetry

Alfred Lord Tennyson
I am a part
of all that I have seen.