<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804</id><updated>2012-02-16T04:41:02.466-05:00</updated><category term='dark'/><category term='Rememberance'/><category term='child'/><category term='generosity'/><category term='firefighters'/><category term='attraction'/><category term='mountain'/><category term='twin towers'/><category term='birds'/><category term='nature'/><category term='brownstone'/><category term='expectations'/><category term='Holloween'/><category term='truth'/><category term='neigbors'/><category term='railroad'/><category term='fiirefighting'/><category term='youth'/><category term='searching'/><category term='longing'/><category term='morning'/><category term='work'/><category term='veterans'/><category term='weather'/><category term='halloween'/><category term='October'/><category term='cats'/><category term='farmers'/><category term='faith'/><category term='joy'/><category term='heart'/><category term='miraculously'/><category term='sonets'/><category term='pansies'/><category term='rain'/><category term='adventure'/><category term='belief'/><category term='holidays'/><category term='sacrifice'/><category term='pain'/><category term='flowering'/><category term='stormy'/><category term='love'/><category term='sky'/><category term='technorati'/><category term='animals'/><category term='pink'/><category term='red'/><category term='support'/><category term='best'/><category term='retirement'/><category term='need'/><category term='dusk'/><category term='act'/><category term='scarecrow'/><category term='hope'/><category term='angels'/><category term='stand by me'/><category term='gifts'/><category term='brotherhood'/><category term='pumpkins'/><category term='soul'/><category term='rainbows'/><category term='wind'/><category term='poems'/><category term='9/11'/><category term='prayers'/><category term='music'/><category term='outsider'/><category term='WWII'/><category term='helping'/><category term='spirits'/><category term='fight'/><category term='fighting'/><category term='elusive'/><category term='waterfalls'/><category term='friendship'/><category term='quiet'/><category term='writers block'/><category term='fear'/><category term='writing'/><category term='questions'/><category term='honor'/><category term='pictures'/><category term='cancer'/><category term='hurting'/><category term='adversity'/><category term='good'/><category term='light'/><category term='loss'/><category term='caring'/><category term='relationships'/><category term='daisies'/><category term='how'/><category term='freedom'/><category term='lives'/><category term='warmth'/><category term='home'/><category term='Military'/><category term='tragedy'/><category term='spring'/><category term='family'/><category term='april fools day'/><category term='pancreatic'/><category term='ghosts'/><category term='rail trail'/><category term='complementary'/><category term='timing'/><category term='roses'/><category term='waiting'/><category term='walking'/><category term='reflections'/><category term='blue'/><category term='bad'/><category term='civil'/><category term='chill'/><category term='hopes'/><category term='bravery'/><category term='wishes'/><category term='suspense'/><category term='autumn'/><category term='strength'/><category term='Edward Kennedy'/><category term='playground'/><category term='fun'/><category term='flowers'/><category term='stories'/><category term='why'/><category term='facing'/><category term='Fort Independence'/><category term='firefighers'/><category term='mind'/><category term='cheer'/><category term='attention'/><category term='trust'/><category term='stillness'/><category term='Castle Island'/><category term='believe'/><category term='memorial'/><category term='night'/><category term='change'/><category term='D-Day'/><category term='Stand up'/><category term='crows. neighbors'/><category term='winter'/><category term='pondering'/><category term='aging'/><category term='help'/><category term='preaching'/><category term='console'/><category term='Courage'/><category term='refreshed'/><category term='memories'/><category term='dancing'/><category term='desire'/><category term='trees'/><category term='Resolution'/><category term='nephews'/><category term='New Years'/><category term='happiness'/><category term='beauty'/><category term='heartache'/><category term='superman'/><category term='friends'/><category term='sharing'/><category term='children'/><category term='element'/><category term='birthday'/><category term='research'/><category term='nieces'/><category term='scared'/><category term='lake'/><category term='farming'/><category term='simple'/><category term='happy'/><category term='desperado'/><category term='journey'/><category term='sorrow'/><category term='won'/><category term='time'/><category term='life'/><category term='season'/><category term='day'/><category term='tests'/><category term='dreams'/><category term='comforting'/><category term='jobs'/><category term='wisdom'/><category term='kindness'/><category term='clock'/><category term='feelings'/><category term='religion'/><category term='crows'/><category term='joke'/><category term='loneliness'/><category term='hulk'/><category term='strangers'/><category term='fiction'/><category term='snow'/><category term='cards'/><category term='tomorrow'/><category term='hero&apos;s'/><title type='text'>Sean's poems and stories</title><subtitle type='html'>my poems and stories hopefully they are liked</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>157</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-8913524661214313470</id><published>2011-10-06T09:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-06T09:47:05.865-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scared'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='October'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='autumn'/><title type='text'>On a stormy night in early October</title><content type='html'>On a stormy night in early October, a shadow crept up through the window of the bedroom. As the wind picked up it sounded like someone was going rat a tat-tat on the window where the shadow grew long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With the wind picked up it sounded like it someone was knocking like crazy with the rat a tat-tat with a lot of force. After a little while the wind started to howl with the ferocity that it whipping around that almost sounded like someone just outside the window that was struggling to be heard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The person in the room, slowly trying to gather the courage to see what was out at the window, hid under the covers shivering with fear, wishing that someone would come in and whisper that everything would be alright. Slowly she got the courage to slide off of the bed onto the floor and slowly crawled over to the window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As she crawled over to the window, she noticed that the shadow was not as big as she had thought but the howling wind was worse then ever and the rat a tat-tat on the window was almost non stop. When she got to the window she slowly got up first easing herself up onto her shadow box that she regularly used as a bench to perch herself on as she looked out the window, trembling in fear from not knowing what was out there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As she unlatched her windows they flung open letting in the wind and a whole mess load of leaves that had come loose from the trees. As the wind gusted even harder she, seen something blow towards her forcing her to duck and as she ducked she let out a loud gasp and scream of fright. When she turned back towards the window she, seen that something and it looked like it was trying to come in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She then did her best to crawl back to her bed so she could turn on the lamp on her night stand and as she turned on the light she heard a loud cracking sound. As she was listening to the cracking she, seen that something coming thru the window even further and she quickly turned on the light to see what that something was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she turned on the light she let out a loud gasp that was a mix of fright and surprise for that something that had been going rat a tat-tat was just a that large branch that she had seen earlier that day that had started to lean as if it were going to break off from the tree nearest to her house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After she calmed down she realized that it must have started to come off the tree as the wind picked up and had gotten close enough to her window to start tapping on the window with the wind and was relieved to know that the cracking she heard was actually the branch starting to come free from the tree.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-8913524661214313470?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/8913524661214313470/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=8913524661214313470' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/8913524661214313470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/8913524661214313470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2011/10/on-stormy-night-in-early-october.html' title='On a stormy night in early October'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-5220452182637197725</id><published>2011-09-11T18:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-11T18:37:45.469-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='twin towers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memorial'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='9/11'/><title type='text'>In Memorium</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zevNIh1Sw04/Tm03frIpx2I/AAAAAAAAAGc/KTjYp6mL5Gc/s1600/IMG_0082.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" nba="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zevNIh1Sw04/Tm03frIpx2I/AAAAAAAAAGc/KTjYp6mL5Gc/s320/IMG_0082.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XX-h1z3dh8s/Tm03kK2PKvI/AAAAAAAAAGg/fAdK0paFsHg/s1600/IMG_0083.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" nba="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XX-h1z3dh8s/Tm03kK2PKvI/AAAAAAAAAGg/fAdK0paFsHg/s320/IMG_0083.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RPDn56_dAmY/Tm03oNzR0dI/AAAAAAAAAGk/6WItKbJzlBM/s1600/IMG_0084.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" nba="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RPDn56_dAmY/Tm03oNzR0dI/AAAAAAAAAGk/6WItKbJzlBM/s320/IMG_0084.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-i3aWvwcPp3c/Tm03uvw3wII/AAAAAAAAAGo/HKm748tXWAY/s1600/IMG_0085.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" nba="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-i3aWvwcPp3c/Tm03uvw3wII/AAAAAAAAAGo/HKm748tXWAY/s320/IMG_0085.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mxo2rTw7CVg/Tm032uODC-I/AAAAAAAAAGs/2HU5gE3yoaM/s1600/IMG_0087.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" nba="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mxo2rTw7CVg/Tm032uODC-I/AAAAAAAAAGs/2HU5gE3yoaM/s320/IMG_0087.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xJCL9Nu0E8o/Tm036DSs_ZI/AAAAAAAAAGw/gaxcUDGpyH4/s1600/IMG_0089.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" nba="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xJCL9Nu0E8o/Tm036DSs_ZI/AAAAAAAAAGw/gaxcUDGpyH4/s320/IMG_0089.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-5220452182637197725?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/5220452182637197725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=5220452182637197725' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/5220452182637197725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/5220452182637197725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2011/09/in-memorium.html' title='In Memorium'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zevNIh1Sw04/Tm03frIpx2I/AAAAAAAAAGc/KTjYp6mL5Gc/s72-c/IMG_0082.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-4738306847614653417</id><published>2011-09-11T16:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-11T16:37:23.865-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='twin towers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='reflections'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='9/11'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tragedy'/><title type='text'>Remembrance</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;Remembrance&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We cannot let ourselves forget the lives that were lost on that fateful day. Our way of life was changed that day when almost three thousand people died. We need to memorialize those that were lost on that day to help ease the pain of the great loss of innocent life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We also need to honor those who we regard as heroes that died who if were able to talk would say that they were simply doing their job like they have done like any other day. They need to be honored in ways that reflect our desire not to let them have died in vane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those that were lost, their names forever will be whispered on the winds and will not have died in vane as long as we do fear those who would want to scare us into cowering by attacking us from the shadows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those who ran in to save people and paid the ultimate price need to be revered by making sure that everyone knows that a great many more people could have and would have died if it wasn't for the first responders. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where there were hundreds of people from all over the world in the towers when they came down that day, it is not just an American tragedy, it is a world tragedy where many died thousands of miles away from their families and the places they called home with their families not being able to do anything to find their loved ones or to help those people that their loved ones called friends and today may still not have closure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last tragedy that the U.S. has had to deal with anywhere close to this magnitude is Pearl Harbor which brought WWII home for us and both events will forever live in infamy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like when John F. Kennedy was shot the one question that will be asked of those who were alive when the towers fell will be where were you when it happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With all the questions that have been asked the one that stays with me is the one my niece who turned seven that day which was "Why did those bad people kill all those people on my birthday?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-4738306847614653417?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/4738306847614653417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=4738306847614653417' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/4738306847614653417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/4738306847614653417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2011/09/remembrance.html' title='Remembrance'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-5409297661211411770</id><published>2011-06-13T06:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-13T06:20:53.370-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hurting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='loss'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friendship'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='expectations'/><title type='text'>How do you deal with the hurt</title><content type='html'>How do we know who's telling the truth, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;about themselves when everyone is acting&lt;br /&gt;like they are chicken little with their personal&lt;br /&gt;lives while expecting others around them&lt;br /&gt;to be truthful with their personal lives.&lt;br /&gt;When do we know that the actions taken&lt;br /&gt;are not a reflection of what is being said&lt;br /&gt;When the two contradict each other to the&lt;br /&gt;Point out that the individual can not be&lt;br /&gt;trusted to show the real person.&lt;br /&gt;How does one deal with having someone&lt;br /&gt;who has said that they are your friend &lt;br /&gt;come out and say that they never did what&lt;br /&gt;you know for a fact that they did in a way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That indicates that they are unwilling to &lt;br /&gt;admit that they said and did things that&lt;br /&gt;made them appear in a way that he doesn't&lt;br /&gt;want to be seen in?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When do you know when a person's contradicts&lt;br /&gt;are designed to hide something from specific &lt;br /&gt;people or trying to keep from dealing with what&lt;br /&gt;he or she is hiding? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How does one deal with the contradictions when&lt;br /&gt;there is evidence that backs up what has been&lt;br /&gt;done and the individual would rather ruin a &lt;br /&gt;friendship than admit to having done what the&lt;br /&gt;evidence shows?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-5409297661211411770?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/5409297661211411770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=5409297661211411770' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/5409297661211411770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/5409297661211411770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2011/06/how-do-you-deal-with-hurt.html' title='How do you deal with the hurt'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-7786730095852341699</id><published>2011-06-06T16:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T16:14:21.990-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='WWII'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='honor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sacrifice'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='D-Day'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rememberance'/><title type='text'>In Rememberance of D-Day</title><content type='html'>Today we remember those who during World War II fought in the battles on D-Day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On June 6, 1944 both sides showed their dogged determination in the multiple landing beaches that the allies landed on by not backing down when all seed lost until the battles were one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sacrifices made needs to be remembered so that no nation or groups of nations can make the same mistakes that caused such a war that produced such carnage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have teach people what happened and about the horrors of war, especially to those who don't want to believe that carnage like that can and does happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We cannot ourselves forget what has happened, and we cannot let our veterans who fought in the war in particular the battles on D-Day down. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best history lessons come from those who have experienced the ordeal and it would be wise to have their stories preserved as part of historical records both as written accounts and as audio and video to show the human side of what they are experiencing as they tell their stories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without the people who stood up and fought when the world needed them the most, our world would be a scarier place than what it is now. For this they need to be honored and revered for what they did, we cannot forget the sacrifices of those who returned home draped in our flags letting others know of the sacrifice made for us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the last of the veterans who fought in World War II we will no longer have anyone alive for a living memory to teach us, so we must let them teach us what they have learned and explain what they have experienced for there is no higher way of honoring them other than taking care of them in a manner that let's them know we have not forgotten them or what they have done for us.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-7786730095852341699?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/7786730095852341699/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=7786730095852341699' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/7786730095852341699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/7786730095852341699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2011/06/in-rememberance-of-d-day.html' title='In Rememberance of D-Day'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-6483777376239610305</id><published>2011-05-30T18:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-30T18:45:58.038-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memorial'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='honor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='veterans'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Military'/><title type='text'>Memorial Day</title><content type='html'>Today is a day that we honor those who have honored our country or any country when the country has had need of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They served without regard to their own lives and during time of war they have served with distinction to keep what we hold dear in place for all to see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those who served in the Military regardless of whether it was in the Army, Navy, Air Force or Marines, deserve our recognition regardless of whether or not they feel they deserve such reverence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those who have earned our respect and we should show them that respect by being there for them when they need someone there even when they don't feel comfortable asking.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We need to honor them by standing beside them and when needed stand there with their families when their families need comfort if the need should arise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have to show them that we still care by being there for them and showing them that what they have sacrificed for us actually means something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We need to show our active duty military and our veterans that their sacrifices have helped us become who we are and that their actions can never be forgotten since they have helped to reinforce the foundations of our beliefs in our nation as a whole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our military and our veterans deserve to be saluted for their efforts and for the respect that they have shown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end of the day as they try and relax we need to whisper in their ears good night the day is done we are here to watch over you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-6483777376239610305?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/6483777376239610305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=6483777376239610305' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/6483777376239610305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/6483777376239610305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2011/05/memorial-day.html' title='Memorial Day'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-5302029829195878717</id><published>2011-04-22T07:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-22T07:01:26.604-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='heartache'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friendship'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stand by me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fear'/><title type='text'>I wish you could have stood by me</title><content type='html'>I wish that you been there for I would have shown you that you need not be afraid of you cannot yet see&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would have been there beside you, to guide you if you would have stood by me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I feel like the night has come and that I am stumbling there in the dark by the moonlight which now makes me feel afraid and have shed tears knowing that you are not there to stand by me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If only&amp;nbsp;you could have let me show you that you need not be afraid of what looks to be your world crumbling down and that you have no reason to be afraid&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish you could have been there to stand by me where I stood by you when you let me and would have would have stood by you any time you needed me if you had let me stay instead of saying goodnight to our friendship due to being too afraid of the crumbling of your world around you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would have been there anytime you were in trouble instead you were too afraid of how it would look in the only light you can see and for that I have shed a good many tear knowing that you no longer want me to stand by you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now all I have is memories of our friendship, and heartache over the fact that you didn't want to take the chance and stay friends regardless of how your other friends and your family perceived our friendship and until you said good bye you appeared to be a stand up guy who went after what he wanted regardless who said what&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-5302029829195878717?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/5302029829195878717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=5302029829195878717' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/5302029829195878717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/5302029829195878717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-wish-you-could-have-stood-by-me.html' title='I wish you could have stood by me'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-6986649537674451888</id><published>2011-04-01T09:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-01T09:00:24.541-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='joke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='april fools day'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='snow'/><title type='text'>april fools snow</title><content type='html'>snow snow go away for I can't help but think that it is all just an April fools days joke played on us by mother nature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;snow snow go away, I keep waiting to hear on the wind April fools and it be all gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;snow snow go away, the april fools joke is definately on me since I have to walk in it and get my feet soaked as I do my errands.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-6986649537674451888?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/6986649537674451888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=6986649537674451888' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/6986649537674451888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/6986649537674451888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2011/04/april-fools-snow.html' title='april fools snow'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-8184221601956531191</id><published>2011-01-12T17:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-12T17:37:49.590-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='halloween'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scarecrow'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pumpkins'/><title type='text'>More of the story I am working on after some reworking</title><content type='html'>After Carol seen it she was more than a little freaked mostly due to the fact that somehow the carving in the pumpkin seemed to know about it but John would not let her dwell on it for long even with having the picture of the pumpkin with the carving. As October turned into November, just as the realtor said the pumpkins were gone. While the season changed and got colder John made the house feel like a home with all of the cooking he was doing and as he cooked he ended up creating some new recipes for all of the pumpkins he had to work with. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With out realizing it before long he had himself a cookbook a couple hundred pages long full of recipes that one of the placed he had been donating the food to was pushing him to see if a publisher would pick up. With a little luck in no time he had a publisher for his cookbook and even though small it was another source of income for him and the lady who put it all into the house. They did this since the good luck seemed to happen after they moved in and so that the house would be ready when their baby arrived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As autumn turned to winter the house went from the wreck that they walked into back in early autumn to a beautiful home and it was the first time in a great many years that the neighbors were happy to see the house there. Even though there was almost no one in the neighborhood that ever recalled there being someone living there let a lone having owners who actually took care of it, all those years of seeing it in shambles became a blur to them and slowly faded from their memories. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In early January, it was unseasonably warm for about a wee, so they went out and started clearing the land with the neighbors help everyone helping worked into the early evening each day to help clear the land. After a few acres were cleared, they realized that there were a number of good acres to work with in terms of growing their own food and figured they would let the neighbors who helped clear the land use a few acres of their land for a neighborhood farm as payment for their help if they wished to try their luck with growing a garden. While planning how much land to let their neighbors use and where on the land the community garden would be, they were approached by one of their neighbors about the scarecrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The neighbors had noticed that the scarecrow had somehow moved from the place that it had been in, on the day they started clearing the land and by the time they were done a few days later, it had moved a good distance towards the house unnoticed. They also noticed that it had a cloth banner that appeared to be very badly weathered and stretched from outstretched hand to outstretched hand. They wanted to know if they knew who did this where it happened while they were busy in the fields clearing the land, even though everyone was too busy to move the scarecrow or to hang the banner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John and Carol were just as perplexed as their neighbors regarding this since they themselves had put the scarecrow up the day they moved into the house and made sure that the bracing for him would not be going anywhere. They figured that someone played a joke on the neighbors as they worked and moved the scarecrow with everyone being too busy to notice that someone was messing with the scarecrow but didn’t know how they would have gotten the banner would have gotten there without someone noticing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a few days everyone put the whole thing with the scarecrow behind them especially since it wasn’t worth making a big deal of it where no one would own up to moving him. What John and Carol did notice as they laid out the boundaries for the community garden was that the cloth banner did start looking less and less weathered as the days went by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A week before their baby was due they noticed that a faint phrase started to appear on the banner that the scarecrow was holding. About a week before the baby was due, the words became legible enough to make out “we welcome the new baby” which freaked out both of them and they even went to their neighbors who helped clear the land to see if they new anything about it. Each neighbor in turn swore up and down that it wasn’t them and that they didn’t know who was doing the stuff with the scarecrow, the guy and lady knew that their neighbors were telling the truth but yet they wanted to believe otherwise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple days before Carol went into labor her and John started hearing voices on the wind whispering a name almost like someone was calling the person but not wanting to be too obvious about it. A week to the day that the letters on the banner that the scarecrow was holding Carol went into labor, to the surprise of both the everyone the baby came quicker than what they had expected given the stories that they had heard about how bad labor can be for first time mothers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it came to naming their new baby, they were tossing names back and forth then out of the blue John said the name that he had heard blowing in the wind a couple days earlier saying that he hasn’t been able to get the name out of his head since he heard it the other day. Carol stopped trying to think of names and thought about the name. After a few minutes, Carol unexpectedly said, “why don’t we give him that name?” for which John agreed and with that they gave their new son the name which was Timothy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a few days in the hospital, they were able to bring their new son home. When they got there they found a few of their neighbors outside waiting for them and found the scarecrow out in the front yard with the banner that he had been holding now saying welcome home Tim. At first they didn’t notice the scarecrow until they were done with all of the welcomes and well wishes from their neighbors. When they did notice the scarecrow they went to ask who moved it out here only to be stopped by a neighbor who said that it was already here when we came here to wait for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John asked if a couple of the neighbors could put the scarecrow back to where he belonged and said that everyone was welcome to come in for a short time. With that everyone entered the house. While Carol brought Tim to their bedroom which was just off of the kitchen and put him in his crib, John went into the kitchen and started putting together a few appetizers for their neighbors. The neighbors all wanted to help with making things to eat so they more or less kicked John out of his kitchen so he can relax a little.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inevitably while talking, the subject of the scarecrow moving seemingly on his own and how getting the banner got there came up. No one new how it kept on moving, who gave it the banner or even how the banner was able to write the lettering on it by itself. Carol while settling Tim in his crib ended up mentioning what had, happened with the pumpkins, more specifically the little pumpkin that ended up with the face of a baby with in a couple days of them moving in even with no one in the neighborhood even knowing them or that she was pregnant. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As everyone was talking, little bits and pieces of the property came out with not one person knowing a lot but what everyone did know came from stories and rumors from older people in the town and few older couples that had been in the neighborhood for many years that had only moved away or died months before the couple bought the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All anyone knew for sure was that there were strange things that happened in the past in the house and on the property that the old timers would never speak of in any detail. Every time anyone would try to get what had happened on the property, the old timers would just say that it’s best left in the past and would not say anymore. Each time the property came up with old timers around they would get this look about them as if they were horrified, and if they could they would go out of their way to change the subject.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Carol after coming out of the bedroom asked, how come the house had been on the market for so long. She was told that it was do to the old timers scaring potential buyers away with stories that no one could back up, which is how the rumors and stories were spread. Carol did go into detail about the strange happenings that occurred over time in the house, but it was more like the house almost coming out of a deep sleep and shaking off all sleep. She mentioned the fact that as time went on even on the first day there that the house almost seemed to fix itself enough to be livable when no one was looking, but nothing else inside the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John then asked if anyone knew the realtor that had sold the house to them, for which no one could say that they did. They said that she didn’t start coming around until the last of the old timers was gone from the neighborhood and even still she would not stay long she just looked like she was there to check out the place and that was it. They went on to say that this you guys were the first people in more than a generation to look at the house due to the old timers. With that they all just agreed that the rumors and stories concerning the property was just a little to weird to keep talking about, let alone thinking about it and changing the subject to something more entertaining.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-8184221601956531191?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/8184221601956531191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=8184221601956531191' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/8184221601956531191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/8184221601956531191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2011/01/more-of-story-i-am-working-on-after.html' title='More of the story I am working on after some reworking'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-3909130486439695300</id><published>2010-11-13T19:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-13T19:35:21.808-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='halloween'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scarecrow'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pumpkins'/><title type='text'>Reworking of a couple pages of a story I am working on</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;The pumkins and the scarecrow﻿&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the wind blows across the front yard on an unseasonably cold October, John and Carol pull up in front of the home that they had just bought after looking at pictures. At first they thought that it was a different house, because the pictures showed a house with a lived in look. They had been expecting to see the house as it was in the pictures even though they were rather old and beat up looking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead of the house looking as it did in the pictures, it looked run down and looking as if it hadn’t been lived in, for many years. At first glance they thought that someone had played a trick on them by giving the wrong address due to the house the way it was which reminded them almost of a Halloween haunted house. As they made their way up to the front steps they noticed Three pumpkins each of a different size but in general the same shape, which was, more tall than round and arranged by height.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they got to the top step the door opened and the realtor appeared that sold them the house. The realtor welcomed them and insisted that they go look around their new home and said that it would be nice to have someone living here again after all the years that it went without residents. With that John asked the realtor how come she never let them know the real condition of the house when they checked into it where they lived so far away. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The realtor responded by telling that there were a couple reasons as to why they were not told the truth about the condition of the house. She said that the first reason was that the last owners left it to the town when they passed on and the second reason is the land that it comes with along with the land that the town has decided to throw in as a consolation. The realtor went on to say that the town will not charge you any property tax for the first few years you live here so you can put the money toward fixing the house and provided a notarized document for them to keep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While walking through the house that they had just bought, they were uneasy with every turn thinking the worst as they went, when it came to the looks of the house. By the time they got back to the living room where the realtor was waiting, the house didn’t seem to be as bad off as they first thought. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The realtor then told them about the land that came with the house, explaining that the original plot of land includes the house and about five or so acres behind it that is somewhat hidden by the neighborhood and a small thicket on either side the house and along the back side of the neighbors properties which for a number of years served as a small farm for the community. Then she went on to explain that the town had decided to throw in the extra land which was another five acres on top of it for your trouble which had reverted to the town due to having tone gone unused for a few generations. They then headed out the front door following the realtor as she was trying to explain where the property lines were for their new home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they were walking down the steps to the sidewalk Carol asked what’s with the pumpkins on the porch making sure that they were still there as she asked. When she looked at them she noticed that they looked a little different than she remembered from when she first looked at them but didn’t know why. The realtor said that they are there, come the first of October every year and are gone come the first of November, with no one in town knowing who put them there but that they are from the pumpkin patch that grows wild down by the well on the back side of your land.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John and Carol then looked at each other a little perplexed with her response to the question and asked if they could be shown where it was so that they new where it was and the easiest way of getting there. The realtor not seeming to hear them at first continued with what seemed to be a very well rehearsed tour of the property, with it sounding like she had given it many times before. They then asked again about the pumpkin patch and the realtor looked at them rather annoyed but agreed to show them the area of the property that the pumpkin patch was on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The realtor said follow me and headed down what looked to be a dirt path that started by their new home that if you were not looking could have passed as a small clearing between a few trees. As they walked behind her, they noticed that after a few yards it seemed to open up enough for a small car or a small wagon but that it was like a wall of trees on either side of the path. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the John and Carol walked trying to catch up to the realtor while walking down the dirt path, it seemed to go on forever. The further down the dirt path they walked, the rockier it got to the point that there were boulders mixed with the trees along both sides of the path. After a while, Carol came out and asked, with how long of a walk it is how come we didn’t take one of the vehicles, the path looks wide enough to have a small car drive down it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The realtor then stopped, turned to the lady and said in somewhat of an angry voice that there are a few spots that could and would break an axle if you’re not careful. The realtor then turned back around, while mumbling something under her breath and started rubbing what looked to be some sort of key ring as she picked up her pace. John and Carol then just looked at each other for a few seconds then started walking again as fast as they could to catch up to the realtor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they were approaching the end of the dirt path it seemed to get darker as they walked, with John and Carol taking notice of the fact that there appeared to be more trees and closer together. When they finally caught sight of the end of the dirt path, it appeared like a really bright backdrop to the surroundings. When they got to the clearing that was at the far end of their property, they seen a short distance away the well and the pumpkin patch. The realtor as they were walking told them that as soon as they got to the well and the pumpkin patch, she could not stay and rest due to having to go to another property she has for sale.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they got to there, they went right to the well to sit on the edge of it to rest. They turned to where the realtor should be so they could ask her to take the time to rest, but instead she wasn’t there. They however did hear her say, if you want me you know how to reach me but failed to see where her voice was coming from, even thought she had been beside them all the way there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While they were there they noticed on the wall of the well itself there were what appeared to be blank grave markers on the top where the bucket would sit. After noticing the grave markers, they looked down to see if they could see any disturbed ground but the growth on the ground from the pumpkins was too think to see with any certainty whether or not there was any graves there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking at the sun as it looked like it was getting ready to set, the Carol said to John that she felt it was time for them to head back. They then decided not to walk back along the dirt path that they had walked down to get there and instead decided to walk out in the open in the fields where there was more sunlight. As they started on their way, the guy ended up saying that where they had so many pumpkins, he would be given the chance to perfect his pumpkin recipes and create some new ones with having some pumpkins left over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While walking they surveyed their new property as they went, after a while of walking they noticed something lying on the ground a little ways away. Not realizing what it was they hurried to see what it was and when they got close enough to see the shape of it they thought that it was a person laying face down in the dirt. After hurrying to get to what they thought was someone lying in the dirt, they get there only to realize that it really wasn’t a person but rather just a scarecrow that had been taken off of its wood supports and left there on the ground.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For a couple minutes they just looked at it while it laid there, they were amazed at how life like it was and from what they could see it had been there a long time going by the indentation in the ground. When they had their fill of seeing the scarecrow in the position he was in, they turned him over and found that it had an almost life like face which they had not expected and it ended up startling them. What startled them the most was, how, good the scarecrow looked given the depth he was in the dirt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They noticed a couple minutes later that the wooden support for the scarecrow wasn’t too far away, even though it looked a lot more weathered then he did, John told Carol we should put him back up where he belongs. Once they had him back up on his support, they then continued back towards their new home dreading it to some degree. They dreaded it due to what little they seen being so run down that they were almost afraid to return to it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they walked back the after putting the scarecrow back up where he belonged they kept feeling as if they were being watched not knowing why they had that feeling. Not knowing that they were really being watched, the whole way back after putting up the scarecrow, the subject stayed on the scarecrow and how life like it was. They could help but think that who ever put it together had to have done a great job at putting it together since it was so life like even after all those years face down in the dirt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they finally got back to their new home they walked up the stairs of the back porch only to find the door locked and the lock feeling as if it had been rusted in place. So they decided to sit on the love seat sized decorative wooden bench and relax that was right by the door. After about a half an hour they went back out front by this time it was almost dusk and as they walked up the steps of the front porch they noticed that the outside of the house in particular the porch area didn’t seem to look so old and beat up. When they got up the stairs they seen the pumpkins that they had seen earlier and noticed that they looked different in some way but they could not place why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After looking at the pumpkins for a few seconds trying to figure out what was different, they went inside and got a big surprise. They walked in to their new living room which they expected to be in shambles and instead of it being in shambles it looked as if it just needed cleaned and some relatively minor fixes to the fire place and mantle piece in it. As they walked through their new home room by room they were more and more surprised as they went, for as they went they it almost looked like their new home was very slowly fixing itself ever so slowly almost unnoticed as if it were waking from a long slumber to welcome them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a few hours, they settled down in the kitchen for a little while before calling it a day on their first day in their new home, afterwards they made their way upstairs to look at the condition of their bedroom to find that there was an old beat up bed there that was in need of replacing but figured for the time being it would be good enough as they called it a day and tucked themselves in. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the next few days as they started to take stock of what was needed in terms of fixing their home and what they wanted in the way of decorating for their home, John got to cooking and with the multitude of pumpkins they had over on the far side of the property in back. As he cooked he found that they were the best pumpkins that he had ever worked with, he made so many pumpkin-based foods that he started donating the food to the places that were willing to take them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As their first month started to come to a close, they noticed that the smallest of the pumpkins had changed the most out of the three. The larger two pumpkins just ended up primarily in the shape of the faces of the guy and the lady that bought the house but the smallest of them looked like someone had carved it and instead of a face meant to be funny or scary, it was a carving of a baby. A baby that looked only days old in a bassinet, so the lady got out her camera and took a picture of the pumpkins to show people what she was talking about. The pumpkins somehow knew that she was expecting their first child even though no one in the neighborhood could have known which both of them found odd.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-3909130486439695300?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/3909130486439695300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=3909130486439695300' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/3909130486439695300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/3909130486439695300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2010/11/reworking-of-couple-pages-of-story-i-am.html' title='Reworking of a couple pages of a story I am working on'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-8367833643447455188</id><published>2010-10-25T19:36:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-25T19:36:05.193-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='comforting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friendship'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hopes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='faith'/><title type='text'>How do you...</title><content type='html'>How do you find the words to comfort others&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you find the words to show that someone means a lot to you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you find ways of showing that you will be alright&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you find a way to say good bye to a group of good people&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you show others that you are humbled by what others think of you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you show that the faith you placed in others has been reciprocated many times over&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you show that you admire the people around you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you show that you are thankful for the trust that others have given&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you let people know that you call them good friends&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you let people know that what they think of you is comforting&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-8367833643447455188?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/8367833643447455188/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=8367833643447455188' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/8367833643447455188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/8367833643447455188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2010/10/how-do-you.html' title='How do you...'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-4944270091938771629</id><published>2010-09-26T16:05:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-26T16:06:27.403-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='writers block'/><title type='text'>writers block the last few months</title><content type='html'>I have had writers block the last few months and hopefully will be posting again soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-4944270091938771629?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/4944270091938771629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=4944270091938771629' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/4944270091938771629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/4944270091938771629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2010/09/writers-block-last-few-months.html' title='writers block the last few months'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-1099862457639969419</id><published>2010-05-15T19:54:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-15T19:55:35.783-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='halloween'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scarecrow'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pumpkins'/><title type='text'>page 3 of a story I am working on</title><content type='html'>As they walked back the after putting the scarecrow back up where he belonged they kept feeling as if they were being watched not knowing why they had that feeling.  Not knowing that they were really being watched, the whole way back after putting up the scarecrow, the subject stayed on the scarecrow and how life like it was. They could help but think that who ever put it together had to have done a great job at putting it together since it was so life like even after all those years face down in the dirt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the couple finally got back to their new home they walked up the stairs of the back porch only to find the door locked and the lock feeling as if it had been rusted in place.  So they decided to sit on the love seat sized decorative wooden bench and relax that was right by the door.  After about a half an hour they went back out front by this time it was almost dusk and as they walked up the steps of the front porch they noticed that the outside of the house in particular the porch area didn’t seem to look so old and beat up.  When they got up the stairs they seen the pumpkins that they had seen earlier and noticed that they looked different in some way but they could not place why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After looking at the pumpkins for a few seconds trying to figure out what was different, they went inside and got a big surprise.  They walked in to their new living room which they expected to be in shambles and instead of it being in shambles it looked as if it just needed cleaned and some relatively minor fixes to the fire place and mantle piece in it.  As they walked through their new home room by room they were more and more surprised as they went, for as they went they it almost looked like their new home was very slowly fixing itself ever so slowly almost unnoticed as if it were waking from a long slumber to welcome them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a few hours, they settled down in the kitchen for a little while before calling it a day on their first day in their new home, afterwards they made their way upstairs to look at the condition of their bedroom to find that there was an old beat up bed there that was in need of replacing but figured for the time being it would be good enough as they called it a day and tucked themselves in. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they started to take stock of what was needed in terms of fixing their home and what they wanted in the way of decorating for their home, the guy got to cooking and with the multitude of pumpkins they had over on the far side of the property in back.  As he cooked he found that they were the best pumpkins that he had ever worked with, he made so many pumpkin-based foods that he started donating the food to the places that were willing to take them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As their first month started to come to a close, they noticed that the smallest of the pumpkins had changed the most out of the three.  The larger two pumpkins just ended up primarily in the shape of the faces of the guy and the lady that bought the house but the smallest of them looked like someone had carved it and instead of a face meant to be funny or scary, it was a carving of a baby.  A baby that looked only days old in a bassinet, so the lady got out her camera and took a picture of the pumpkins.  The pumpkins somehow new before she did that she was expecting their first child and it wasn’t until a few days later that she found out that she was expecting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After she found out she was more than a little freaked mostly due to the fact that somehow the carving in the pumpkin seemed to predict it but the guy would not let her dwell on it for long even with having the picture of the pumpkin with the carving.  As October turned into November, just as the realtor said the pumpkins were gone. While the season changed and got colder the guy made the house feel like a home with all of the cooking he was doing and as he cooked he ended up creating some new recipes for all of the pumpkins he had to work with. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With out realizing it before long he had himself a cookbook a couple hundred pages long full of recipes that one of the placed he had been donating the food to pushed him to see if a publisher would pick up.  With a little luck in no time he had a publisher for his cookbook and even though small it was another source of income for him and the lady who put it all into the house.  They did this since the good luck seemed to happen after they moved in and so that the house would be ready when their baby arrived.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-1099862457639969419?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/1099862457639969419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=1099862457639969419' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/1099862457639969419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/1099862457639969419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2010/05/page-3-of-story-i-am-working-on.html' title='page 3 of a story I am working on'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-1729913142760835622</id><published>2010-02-15T16:07:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-15T16:08:10.951-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='halloween'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scarecrow'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pumpkins'/><title type='text'>page 2 of a story I am working on</title><content type='html'>As the couple walked trying to catch up to the realtor while walking down the dirt path, it seemed to go on forever. The further down the dirt path they walked, the rockier it got to the point that there were boulders mixed with the trees along both sides of the path. After a while, the lady came out and asked, with how long of a walk it is how come we didn’t take one of the vehicles, the path looks wide enough to have a small car drive down it?&lt;br /&gt;The realtor then stopped, turned to the lady and said in somewhat of an angry voice that there are a few spots that could and would break an axle if your not careful. The realtor then turned back around, while mumbling something under her breath and started rubbing what looked to be some sort of key ring as she picked up her pace. The couple then just looked at each other for a few seconds then started walking again as fast as they could to catch up to the realtor.&lt;br /&gt;As they were approaching the end of the dirt path it seemed to get darker as they walked, with the couple taking notice of the fact that there appeared to be more trees and closer together. When they finally caught sight of the end of the dirt path, it appeared like a really bright backdrop to the surroundings. When they got to the clearing that was at the far end of their property, they seen a short distance away the well and the pumpkin patch. The realtor as they were walking told the couple that as soon as they got to the well and the pumpkin patch, she could not stay and rest due to having to go to another property she has for sale.&lt;br /&gt;As they got to the well, they went right to the well to sit on the edge of the well. They turned to where the realtor should be so they could ask her to take the time to rest, but instead she wasn’t there. The however did hear her say, if you want me you know how to reach me but failed to see where her voice was coming from, even thought she had been beside them all the way there.&lt;br /&gt;While they were there they noticed on the wall of the well itself there were what appeared to be grave markers on the top where the bucket would sit. After noticing the grave markers, they looked down to see if they could see any disturbed ground but the growth on the ground from the pumpkins was too think to see with any certainty whether or not there was any graves there.&lt;br /&gt;Looking at the sun as it looked like it was getting ready to set, the lady said to her husband that she felt it was time for them to head back. They then decided not to walk back along the dirt path that they had walked down to get there and instead decided to walk out in the open in the fields where there was more sunlight. As they started on their way, the guy ended up saying that where they had so many pumpkins, he would be given the chance to perfect his pumpkin recipes and create some new ones with having some pumpkins left over.&lt;br /&gt;While walking they surveyed their new property as they went, after a while of walking they noticed something lying on the ground a little ways away. Not realizing what it was they hurried to see what it was and when they got close enough to see the shape of it they thought that it was a person laying face down in the dirt. After hurrying to get to what they thought was someone lying in the dirt, they get there and realize that it really wasn’t a person but rather just a scarecrow that had been taken off of its wood supports and left there on the ground.&lt;br /&gt;For a couple minutes they just looked at it while it laid there, they were amazed at how life like it was and from what they could see it had been there a long time going by the indentation in the ground. When they had their fill of seeing the scarecrow in the position he was in, they turned him over and found that it had an almost life like face which they had not expected and it ended up startling them. What startled them the most was how good the scarecrow looked given how deep he was in the dirt.&lt;br /&gt;They noticed a couple minutes later that the wooden support for the scarecrow wasn’t too far away, even though it looked a lot more weathered then he did, so the guy told his wife we should put him back up where he belongs. Once they had him back up on his support, they then continued back towards their new home dreading it to some degree. They dreaded it due to what little they seen being so run down that they were almost afraid to return to it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-1729913142760835622?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/1729913142760835622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=1729913142760835622' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/1729913142760835622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/1729913142760835622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2010/02/page-2-of-story-i-am-working-on.html' title='page 2 of a story I am working on'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-7895399373099056536</id><published>2010-01-10T18:26:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T18:28:58.844-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='halloween'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scarecrow'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pumpkins'/><title type='text'>first page of a story I am writing</title><content type='html'>As the wind blows across the front yard on an unseasonably cold October, this couple pulls up in front of the home that they had just bought after looking at pictures. At first they thought that it was a different house, because the pictures showed a house with a lived in look. They had been expecting to see the house as it was in the pictures even though they were rather old and beat up looking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead of the house looking as it did in the pictures, it looked run down and looking as if it hadn’t been lived in, for many years. At first glance they thought that someone had played a trick on them by giving the wrong address due to the house the way it was which reminded them almost of a Halloween haunted house. As they made their way up to the front steps they noticed Three pumpkins each of a different size but in general the same shape, which was, more tall than round and arranged by height.&lt;br /&gt;　&lt;br /&gt;When they got to the top step the door opened and the realtor appeared that sold them the house. The realtor welcomed them and insisted that they go look around their new home and said that it would be nice to have someone living here again after all the years that it went without residents. With that the guy asked the realtor how come she never let them know the real condition of the house when they checked into it where they lived so far away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The realtor responded by telling that there were a couple reasons as to why they were not told the truth about the condition of the house. She said that the first reason was that the last owners left it to the town when they passed on and the second reason is the land that it comes with along with the land that the town has decided to throw in as a consolation. The realtor went on to say that the town will not charge you any property tax for the first few years you live here so you can put the money toward fixing the house and provided a notarized document for them to keep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While walking through the house that they had just bought, they were uneasy with every turn thinking the worst as they went, when it came to the looks of the house. By the time they got back to the living room where the realtor was waiting, the house didn’t seem to be as bad off as they first thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The realtor then told them about the land that came with the house, explaining that the original plot of land includes the house and about thirty or so acres that for a number of years served as a small farm for the community. Then she went on to explain that the town had decided to throw in the extra land which was another twenty-five acres on top of it for your trouble. They then headed out the front door following the realtor as she was trying to explain where the property lines were for their new home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they were walking down the steps to the sidewalk the lady asked what’s with the pumpkins on the porch making sure that they were still there as she asked. When she looked at them she noticed that two of them looked a little different than she remembered from when she first looked at them but didn’t know why. The realtor said that they are there, come the first of October every year and are gone come November, with no one in town knowing who put them there but that they are from the pumpkin patch that grows wild down by the well on the back side of your land.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The couple then looked at each other a little perplexed when her response to the question and asked if they could be shown where it was so that they new where it was and the easiest way of getting there. The realtor not seeming to hear them at first continued with what seemed to be a very well rehearsed tour of the property, with it sounding like she had given it many times before. They then asked again about the pumpkin patch and the realtor looked at them rather annoyed but agreed to show them the area of the property that the pumpkin patch was on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The realtor said follow me and headed down what looked to be a dirt path that started by their new home that if you were not looking could have passed as a small clearing between a few trees. As they walked behind her, the couple noticed that after a few yards it seemed to open up enough for a small car or a small wagon but that it was like a wall of trees on either side of the path.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-7895399373099056536?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/7895399373099056536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=7895399373099056536' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/7895399373099056536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/7895399373099056536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2010/01/first-page-of-story-i-am-writing.html' title='first page of a story I am writing'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-3148524316642745618</id><published>2009-12-27T19:48:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-27T19:50:31.018-05:00</updated><title type='text'>test test test</title><content type='html'>went to post a new poem and found I was having trouble with the blog&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-3148524316642745618?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/3148524316642745618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=3148524316642745618' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/3148524316642745618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/3148524316642745618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2009/12/test-test-test.html' title='test test test'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-7443354691443349434</id><published>2009-10-12T18:35:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-12T19:43:45.758-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='halloween'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rail trail'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='railroad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ghosts'/><title type='text'>The Rail Trail</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Rail Trail&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/StOxQy6chKI/AAAAAAAAAF8/54W0Rvft4Lc/s1600-h/027_24.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391848080995550370" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/StOxQy6chKI/AAAAAAAAAF8/54W0Rvft4Lc/s320/027_24.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391847725422103778" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/StOw8GTITOI/AAAAAAAAAF0/ybDPtYbAPB0/s320/027_24.JPG" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/StOwtDRUY1I/AAAAAAAAAFs/KqzAk_-bWxg/s1600-h/025_22.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391847466911163218" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/StOwtDRUY1I/AAAAAAAAAFs/KqzAk_-bWxg/s320/025_22.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a warm autumn day not unlike today, a few boys are meandering along an almost forgotten and little used rail trail. As they walk down the trail they can’t help but check out the over growth that had overtaken the path in various areas and in the process try to scare each other using the shadows and the plants.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After what seemed like hours to them, they realize that it is time that they made their way back towards the area of town that they live in by going back the way they had come. As they made their way back they were heading towards the brilliant reds and blacks of the start of an early autumn dusk that is in the not too distant sky.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they walked playfully back a light wind stirred and with in minutes it was a steady breeze and with each gust it stirred up the fallen leaves and blows them round in circles. With each gust the boys could swear that the wind was carrying someone’s voice calling them, each hearing just their own name on the wind and looking around to see if they could see if they could find someone calling them as the daylight faded.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they walked, slightly startled they could not help but be a little spooked a the growing shadows that looked like they were stretching out like arms even more so with the bare tree limbs that are bare enough to look like they are bony arms with long bony hands and fingers. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;While walking they tried to avoid the piles of leaves to the point a couple times a one of the boys ended up being hit by branches that were being swayed in the wind as they got close to the trees lining the trail, and in the process his shirt got caught in the branch causing the boy to freeze in fear. This was made worse by the whispers of their names on the wind that had been increasingly grown louder, which now sounded like it was telling the boy "you’re next".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;After a few moments of paralyzed fear that had gripped the boys after seeing that their friend was caught in the tree branch, the one that was caught up in the branch started trying frantically to free himself from the branch causing a commotion while whimpering in fear that was made worse with each passing gust of wind causing the fallen leaves to swirl around them like a small tornado and whispering. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His friends then tried to help him as he cam loose as his shirt ripped loudly leaving a swatch of fabric caught on the branch. When he came loose he didn’t hesitate to start running being tripped up by a root a few steps by a root inside of the shadow which were exaggerated enough to hide the root. As he fell he fell into the overgrowth which hid a slope that he slid down.&lt;br /&gt;As the other boys realized what had happened, they started looking and calling him, at first getting nothing as he got up and shook off his fall and the dirt off of his clothes, then he yelled up saying that he was fine and just needed some help to get out of where he had fallen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Frantically the other boys tried to find something; anything that they would be able to toss down to him so that they could pull him up. After a few minutes they realized that they could not do it by themselves and told him that they were going to have to go for help. When they left they said that they would be back as soon as they could not leaving anyone behind on the rail trail due to being too afraid to be there alone given the wind howling and sounding like it was whispering to them. They were so afraid that they ran as fast as they could to both get off of the rail trail and to get the help.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a few minutes he realized that he had seen the slope before from looking at the view in the distance away from the slop but had just never seen the slope up close or where the slope led too for which he now knew. He also realized that it would not be easy for anyone to send anything down to him for him to grab onto since it would be almost impossible, for anyone to find where he had fallen through. With the next gust of wind he heard on the wind grab hold as a makeshift rope came flying at him that looked like it was made of the overgrowth.&lt;br /&gt;　&lt;br /&gt;　&lt;br /&gt;The person that the wind sounded like was a kid that may have been just a few years younger than he was and he yelled back asking why he was out so late without his parents especially in a place like the rail trail. While waiting for the answer he grabbed the rope and started to climb up as the kid yelled down saying it’s not late but if you don’t hurry it will be too late.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he climbed the wind seemed to die down almost completely as the boy’s voice got clearer with every passing minute saying please hurry, you’re almost there. When he was just about there, there seemed to be a hand that came out of no where as the kid said grab my hand so I can help you over these roots. As he got back up to the rail trail he looked around and it looked nothing like it had been before he fell down the slope. It looked like it was late afternoon like it been earlier that day just before it had started getting dark, it also had railroad tracks on it which hadn’t been there since before he was born.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he took it all in he could not help but notice that the tracks looked well used and the area looked like it was well maintained so the tracks could be kept clear. As he looked up to see and to thank the kid that had helped him he was momentarily stunned by how young the kid was that he was looking at. He only came to his senses when the kid said that was a close one, thought I lost you there for a moment, then the kid introduced himself to the boy and he thought it was kind of odd because he had heard the name before but didn’t know anyone who new about the person.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kid then started playing on the tracks and said that mom will kill us if we don’t make it home in time for dinner, especially where the sheriff had to drop us off the last time we got home after well after dinner. The boy even though knowing something wasn’t right with the situation could not help but be drawn into the whole thing almost like he was watching from the outside while the whole thing played out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As they went along the boy failed to realize that they were going in the wrong direction and heading back towards where him and his friends had turned around to head back home. He ended up asking the kid almost pleading with him to get off of the tracks because he kept thinking that he was hearing a train in the distance blowing its horn, not knowing that it was really the search party that the other boys had gone to get. As they were walking, he did not know that they were busy trying to find where he had fallen trying to cut all of the overgrowth as they went to see down the slope.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The search part ended up completely clearing the surrounding area where they had found the torn piece of shirt and didn’t stop until someone noticed the makeshift rope made out of the overgrowth going down most of the visible slope. With the sight of the rope going down the slope they knew that it was futile to keep searching in that general area and knew that they had to split up in an attempt to find the boy. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Half of the search party went back the way they came to see if he had made his way back to town not knowing if he would be safe at home or not when they got to his home. They ended up looking through the underbrush as they walked back to ensure that he didn’t fall into the overgrowth a second time due to being disoriented or being unable to see from the darkness and the shadows. The other half of the search party continued on the rail trail in the direction that the boys had been heading in before they had turned around to go home.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they went along searching they were all in turn calling out the boy’s name but the boy didn’t hear them calling him, instead he heard what he though was the whistle towards him and the kid. The boy when he looked back seen what appeared to be the billowing white smoke from an old steam engine slowly making its way towards him rather than the lights from the flashlights that would be pointing towards the sky temporarily as the people walked along the rail trail during the search.&lt;br /&gt;　&lt;br /&gt;　&lt;br /&gt;　&lt;br /&gt;The kid even though he wanted to play on the tracks, kept telling the boy that they had to hurry up and get home before everyone else finished their supper. The longer they walked along the tracks, the more the boy pleaded with the kid to get off of the tracks because of the on coming train slowly making its way towards them. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The kid told the boy on the last time to quit nagging him about getting off of the tracks because the train was no where near them and that by the time the train got to where they were, they would no longer be anywhere near the tracks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the search party got closer to the boy they thought that they could almost hear him on the wind speaking loudly as if he was carrying on a conversation with someone else that they could not hear but rather heard the wind as if the wind itself was talking to the boy as is stirred around them. What they didn’t know was that he could not hear them calling his name and could not see them even with their flashlights going in multiple directions as they walked, as well due to the fact that he thought that it was a train in the distance making its way towards them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Even though they thought that they could hear him, they could it for granted and continued to cut away at the overgrowth as they walked, even though they knew enough to listen for him to respond to them calling for him. As they walked they kept noticing that there were periodic places that looked like it was disturbed with the footprints a single child, but in the way kids would horse around with each other. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;After a number of times seeing this, one of the members of the search party noticed that there seemed to be a pattern to the placement of the child sized footprints. It had taken a while for the person to realize that the disturbances in the dirt were going in somewhat a zigzag pattern in a straight line almost like the boy way stepping over something while playing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While the boy and the kid walked and played along the tracks the boy decided to ask how he knew that the train would not blow right past them before they had moved the tracks. The kid responded without even thinking saying that he didn’t know why he was asking since he knew as well as anyone what the train schedules are for the area especially since they lived by the tracks and you could set your watch by the trains. He then said, besides you should know that we are going just beyond the next ridge, which isn’t far at all. With that the boy decided to let the subject go so they would not end up in an argument.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kid decided that they had more time to kill so he wandered over to some wetlands that they were coming up to, picking up some rocks as he went to start throwing them into the water. The boy followed behind filling his pockets as he went with rocks. He started throwing his rocks by lobbing them as high and as far as he possibly could trying to get the kid to compete in trying to see who could throw the furthest, saving the flattest of the rocks to skip across the waters surface, for which the kid would not compete.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy was glad in a way that the kid strayed from the rail road tracks to throw rocks in the water but also dreaded it as well given that he knew that the kid would inevitably go back to the tracks and of the fact that by wasting time there the train gets closer and closer allowing it the time to catch up to them even if the kid was telling the truth about where they were going not being too much further from them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sound of the train’s whistle was getting slowly stronger with each passing moment as it chugged along and the boy could have sworn that he could hear the faint clacking of the wheels of the train rolling over where each section of rail meets another and over the imperfections in the smoothness of the rails even though you could not see them. What the boy didn’t know was those sounds were actually the sounds of the people walking at a good pace trying to find him.&lt;br /&gt;After what seemed forever, the kid decided that was enough and started back towards the railroad tracks, at first not paying any attention that the boy was, still there not knowing that he had left. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;After going about half way up he yelled down to him asking if he was coming or not. With that the boy said "you could have let me know sooner that you were heading back" and started racing to catch up and not fall while doing so where it was kind of slippery in places.&lt;br /&gt;The while racing to catch up turned it into a race to see who could make it back to the tracks first, during their little race a small trinket fell out of the kids pocket and neither one of them realized it at the time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When both of them were back up on the tracks, the kid started looking through his pockets and becoming frantic over something not being in one of his pockets. The boy after hesitating for a few moments he asked what are you looking for and the kid at first didn’t answer the boy and when he did he said that he had won something that he was going to give to our brother when we got home since he was too sick to come with us today. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that the boy wanting to help look for what ever it was asked what it looked like but the kid could not answer coherently because he was to frantic over having lost it. The boy then started looking anything that he thought didn’t belong to the surroundings as the kid tried to explain what it was which all he could muster was a few grunts and some hand gestures as he looked himself. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a few minutes he found a few things that he thought that it could be and one by one the kid had said that each piece wasn’t it so the boy went and tossed them down towards the swampy area that they had come up from a few minutes earlier. While tossing the items the boy noticed something that he could have sworn wasn’t there before when he was looking over the area and ended up going down to where it was to grab it. As it turned out it was the very piece that the kid had lost and the kid thanked the boy and then gave him a great big hug of appreciation for finding it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The boy and the kid ended up heading back up to the rail road tracks after they were done and when they got back to the tracks they could see off in the distance the train that they had kept hearing off in the distance. They were able to see the headlight and the billowing smoke from the smokestack of the engine, not realizing that it wasn’t a train but rather the search party that had been looking for the boy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While the boy and the kid had been looking for the trinket, the search party could hear the boy, distantly as he asked a couple times if what he had found was the item the kid had lost and again after the boy and the kid had gotten back to the rail trail as if he was horsing around with someone. They didn’t know that there was someone else there with him that they could not see or hear. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With each passing moment the search party got closer to the boy due to the frenzied pace that they were at and knowing that they had to keep up that pace from the lead had on them. They also knew that with each passing moment they needed to try to go faster and faster where he appeared to be horsing around with someone unknown which meant that he would be running at times which would increase the distance between them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though they could not see him from where they were they were relieved at the fact that they could hear him, sounding more like he was having fun and not distressed in any way. Even still they did need to get to him as fast as possible to ensure that he was really as ok as he sounded.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After what seemed like hours, thanks to a small clearing on one side of the rail trail enough moonlight was shining through to show the figure of the boy for a few minutes. They also were able to see something that they never expected to see which was another figure along with the boy, a figure of another boy who looked a couple years younger than the boy. Both of them were still overshadowed by the darkness of the night, which made only their silhouettes visible in the moonlight, but there was something odd about the kid’s figure. His silhouette was oddly bright against the darkness that surrounded the boy and the kid.&lt;br /&gt;　&lt;br /&gt;　&lt;br /&gt;　&lt;br /&gt;　&lt;br /&gt;　&lt;br /&gt;The boys silhouette looked as it should given how dark it was that night but the kid’s silhouette oddly looked like it was almost glowing in the dark and what made it even worse is that as they got closer to the clearing, they could see that looked to be railroad tracks just as bright against the darkness. They knew that there was no way that any railroad tracks could have been left on the trail given that, that specific rail road line was long gone. As far as anyone knew all of the tracks that went though the area were taken up long ago when the boy’s parents were just kids themselves around the boys age.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At that point everyone in the search party knew that what they were seeing was not normal by any means and started calling for the boy as much as they could as they started running for him. Even though they were yelling for him he didn’t hear them yelling for him. Instead every time someone called out his name he heard a train whistle. The first one or two times he heard the whistle he turned around and seen the train that he kept hearing and he could have sworn that he could hear the trains wheels in the distance as they rolled over the tracks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy beginning to get a little nervous as to how much longer further it would be began nagging the kid again about getting off of the tracks, until the kid told him that if he kept trying to hurry him up he would run into the woods and that he could explain to mom why you came home alone and why she needs to get dad away from his radio. The boy ended up telling the kid that he wouldn’t mention it again but that he just wanted them to hurry up where they could see the headlight on the train. When the boy said that the kid turned around and gave a good long look at the on coming train and said why hurry we still have a long time before it catches up to us.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While the train got closer and closer, the boy noticed that at around them was now a few fruit trees that looked like someone had been trying to take care of and he mentioned it to the kid. After he told the kid about the fruit trees, he said you don’t want to touch those, if the guy who takes care of them sees you trying to pick from them he will chase you. Then he said besides you want the grapes by where we will be turning off since he can’t see you stealing them. Even still the boy reached up and grabbed a couple peaches and a couple apples. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After he took the apples out of nowhere this older guy came out and started yelling at him for taking them and started chasing a little bit forcing the boy and the kid off of the tracks down the slope a bit just enough to be hidden by the shadows of the trees. They continued on for a few minutes on the slope to stay out of sight of the guy who was still yelling at the place that they had gone down the slope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As they got closer to the boy they were now able to see the silhouettes of both the boy and the mystery figure easier through the limited moonlight shining through the trees and the kids silhouette seemed to be getting brighter as they got closer and looking more and more like a kid as well. What was unexpected at that point was that all of a sudden a few of the people were suddenly while walking tripped up by rail road ties that looked like they were in fairly good shape. They only stopped long enough to take in the fact that a few of them were now on the ground amongst something that should not be there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;After everyone was back on their feet and had shaken off the fall, they started running making sure that they were watching where they were stepping to some degree and calling the boy's name. As they ran to catch the boy and what they now knew to be a mystery kid they were now close enough to tell that it was the boy that they were looking for which made them try to run even faster to see if he was alright and to see who that mystery kid was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The closer they got the louder the train whistle the boy and the kid heard got louder and louder to the point that it almost sounded like it was right on top of them given how loud the whistle was. The boy was more than a little nervous about how close the train had gotten and if it wasn’t for the fact that kid appeared to be unfazed by the on coming train. The boy took to trying to distract the kid enough to get off of the tracks because at that point the kid was actually walking on the rail closest to him trying to show how good he could balance on the rail as he walked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;After a few attempts of trying to get the kid to get off of the tracks so that the train could pass safely by the boy noticed that out of nowhere the trinket that the kid had lost earlier made its way out of the kids pocket onto the tracks. Knowing how much the kid had freaked out earlier the boy went ahead and said hold on you dropped the toy you won. Not realizing how close the train really was, the boy and the kid stopped long enough for the boy to pick up the trinket and for the kid to start walking towards the boy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the kid got to the boy to grab the trinket, they heard the train, which at that point was almost on top of them and the boy told the kid to run or to jump out of the way as he himself started to run. The kid just stood there looking at the train, while still in the train’s path and after a few large strides the boy turned to see that the kid was still standing there watching the train as the train was continually blowing its whistle. The boy not wanting to see the kid get hurt, ran back to the kid and by the time he got back to the kid the train was so close that the boy had to grab the kid and he tossed the kid off to one side. As he tossed the kid the train instead of hitting the boy went through the boy where he stood.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the train passed the boy looked around for the kid and even though there was relatively little to hide the kid he could not find him and started to cry when he got back to the tracks and seen a single sneaker along the tracks and a few pieces of what looked to be the kids shirt. While he cried he got down to his knees and picked up the sneaker, not seeing the people around him trying to get his attention, it wasn’t until his father got there that he snapped out of it and even still at first when he looked at his father he seen his father at his age instead of as a grown up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The boy started talking to his father asking how come you’re out of bed your really sick and if he didn’t get back to bed he would end up in the hospital like the doctor said. At first the boy’s father was at a loss of what to think or say, then he came out and said to the boy and said I haven’t been that ill since I was your age. Then he came out and asked how could you have known I never told you or your bother and sisters about that time, without thinking and as he was coming out of what ever got him to see the kid and the train, he said can’t you see the kids sneaker and torn shirt on the tracks?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boys father ended up asking the boy who the kid and was really surprised that the boy who had never been told of his bad illness that had kept him in bed was now talking about someone that he could never have met. The boys father got his answer when the boy stretched out his arm towards his father, opened his hand and said as he came out of what ever he was in that he was just trying to get home to give you this since you were too sick to go with him to where he won this.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the boy saying that to his father, the people that were part of the search party with him for the most part looked puzzled with only a couple people realizing who the kid was that the boy was playing with and what had happened. A few of the people started questioning what had just happened and wanted to know what they had seen with the boy. The boys father at first could not bring himself to say anything until after all of the memories of what happened as a child had come back.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He ended up looking down at the trinket and started talking by questioning how can this be, he died not far from our childhood home. This must be the spot where he died, with that he looked up at everyone and explained that what they had been seeing was the ghost of my younger brother who died as a young kid. A train had hit him on his way home after going to the town fair. Him and my older brother had decided to walk along the tracks and he had not been worried about an on coming train because he was use to the train schedules for all of the trains going behind our home.&lt;br /&gt;　&lt;br /&gt;　&lt;br /&gt;　&lt;br /&gt;That day he was going by the schedule like we all had a habit of doing and neither one of them knew that a train had been running late due switching problems a couple counties over that caused the train to be late enough to make them think the next train was a little early and figured that they had the time to make it home. One of the people in the search party ended up asking how far from home were they when it happened? With that the father of the boy said come with me and walked only about a hundred feet pointed down and said that is where we lived at the time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boys father said there was no way the boy could have known that this was where it happened or any of the information around my brothers death because the memories were buried and he had never been talked about by anyone him or how he died because of how much it hurt my parents. After the tragedy my mother wasn’t the same, every day she kept waiting by the living room door waiting for him to walk in and to give him a great big hug.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy ended up asking his father, why was he so determined to bring you back that trinket that I just gave you. The boy’s father said that he knew that this completed a set of toys that I was trying to win from the town fair and wanted to bring it to me so I could finally fill that empty space on the shelf I have always kept up on the wall in the living room. Then he said that the set is now complete even though it took many years to complete, with that they headed for home.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they started walking, the boys father said come on the least we can do is pick a few of those peaches and apples for the people that helped me look for you, even though the trees are no longer cared for, and I bet they taste just as good as I remember too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As they made their way, the boy ended up asking his father that if it didn’t hurt too much if he could tell him about his brother, for which the boy’s father did.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the end the boy’s father was happy that his boy had gone on that little journey on the rail trail with the ghost of the kid who would have been his uncle.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they had gotten a little ways away the ghost of the kid came back and waved as if to say good bye and then started walking only to disappear.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-7443354691443349434?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/7443354691443349434/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=7443354691443349434' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/7443354691443349434'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/7443354691443349434'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2009/10/rail-trail.html' title='The Rail Trail'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/StOxQy6chKI/AAAAAAAAAF8/54W0Rvft4Lc/s72-c/027_24.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-417903647218683653</id><published>2009-09-27T19:49:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T20:07:00.312-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='neigbors'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cats'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Holloween'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crows'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ghosts'/><title type='text'>The Cat and The Crow</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;I originally posted this around this time last year and thought it would be a good one to repost&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a warm autumn morning Sara is going through the motions of her normal routine that she does every weekend morning. She has already rolled out of bed and absentmindedly done those things like start the coffee and use the bathroom. Sara decided to go and see if the paperboy had actually delivered the Saturday paper on time for a change and when she stepped outside into her front yard she noticed a crow looking for his morning meal of worms or anything he can scavenge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Sara got closer to the crow, she noticed that he was already eating something due to the pulling he was doing with his beak. When she got close enough to see what the crow was eating she saw an animal that was so mangled and eaten that she almost could not identify that it was what was left of what she thought was a stray cat that had decided to cut through her property. At first she didn’t notice the markings on the tail until she was on her way back towards her house after grabbing the morning paper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sara had looked over to the crow as he was eating and realized that the markings on the tail looked dreadfully familiar to her, she ran over shooing the crow away but the crow at first would not budge as she ran towards him and when he did fly off he flew right at her clawing at her face for a few seconds before flying off, leaving her with a few bleeding scratches as she knelt down in front of the cat with tears in her eyes as she picked up the collar letting her know that it was really her cat there in front of her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As she knelt there crying, the crow came back and started crowing like crazy just out of range of Sara being able to throw anything at him. After a couple minutes of the crow squawking like crazy other crows started coming to see what was going on. Sara looking around at all of the crows coming and decided to get up slowly and walk back towards her house, when she started walking the crow making all of the fuss decided to fly right at her diving right at her head multiple times forcing her to run back to her house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sara hurried inside in hysterics trying to call a neighbor to come over and get rid of the crows in her yard, her neighbor realizing she was frightened, came over as quickly as he could with a baseball bat in his hand only to find a completely empty yard. As he walked up to the house he didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary and proceeded to knock on Sara’s front door, when she opened up the door she did so very slowly and looking towards the ground to make sure it wasn’t the crow coming back again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slowly, she opened the door to see a pair of sneakers and let out a gasp of relief letting her neighbor in. She explained what had happened even showing the scratches to her face, she then brought him to where the crow had been eating her cat but there was nothing there, leaving her neighbor with a perplexed look on his face and Sara trying to explain that she really did see the crow eating her cat. With that her neighbor insisted that they go back into her house so he could make a cup of peppermint tea for her to relax her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After they got back to the house Sara’s neighbor had her sit down at her kitchen table as he fumbled through her cabinets for her peppermint tea and a couple cups, afterwards he put on the kettle of water and said that he would look in the yard to see if she may have brought him to the wrong spot. He went out into the yard and searched the yard for a few minutes with out finding anything, coming back in he let her know that he couldn’t find anything as he was grabbing the kettle from the stove to pour the water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He walked over and gave her the tea and then looked around for some biscuits or something else they could have with the tea. As he looked around Sara’s cat came out of no where jumping into his arms with the only thing missing was his collar for which Sara still had clutched in her hand. He then asked if she really saw what she did as he walked back into the kitchen with the cat in his arms. When Sara seen the cat in his arms she got even more upset to the point that she wanted nothing to do with the cat with the cat seeming to want nothing to do with her either.&lt;br /&gt;Sara’s neighbor seeing how upset she was and seeing the cat not wanting anything to do with her offered to take the cat home for which she just said take him he’s yours now. So he said he would be right back and grabbed the cat carrier, the food and water bowls along with the cat food. He left so he could bring home the cat and set up the food and water bowls. After he got to his house he set the cat carrier down on his dining room table with the cat still in it so he could get the food and water set up, afterwards he went to let the cat out of his carrier but he wasn’t there in the carrier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sara’s neighbor was perplexed because there was no way for the cat to get out of the carrier due to it still being locked shut. He promptly looked though out his house for the cat and could not find him so he called Sara and asked if she remembered him putting her cat in the cat carrier with her saying that she watched him do it so that there was no way he could have gotten out unless he was let out. He then told her that I know he could not have gotten out but still he wasn’t there in the carrier even though he hadn’t been let out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sara’s neighbor proceeded to walk out side so he could go back of Sara’s house and stopped short out of sheer fright from what he could see on the sidewalk in front of his house. There was the cat just sitting there weighting for him but it was different, the cat had went from the healthy cat he held just a few minutes ago in Sara’s house to a cat that looked like it had been dead for days and picked at by some passing animals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he started walking again the cat took off back towards Sara’s house and Sara’s neighbor instantly started running toward her house and by the time he got to her front gate the cat was in the front yard and there it was again looking healthy, but this time he was there with a crow and they were playing as if they were old friends. When Sara’s neighbor entered the yard the cat and the crow stopped playing, with the crow flying off and the cat running up into a tree so it could enter the house through an open window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he seen the cat enter through the window after climbing the tree he rushed to the front door trying to open the door but not being able too and then started banging on the door with no luck, he then went out back to see if there was an open window out back so he would not have to climb the tree in the front yard. When he got to the back yard he noticed something he had never seen before which was a pair of headstones on a full sized headstone and the other a small one but both so faded that he didn’t bother to try to read.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he stood there in shock the crow that had been outside with the cat flew up and landed on the larger headstone and started pecking on it. After a few minutes he ran back into the front yard to climb the tree to get into the house, he saw the door wide open so he entered Sara’s house calling her name at first getting no response then hearing some crying coming from the kitchen and Sara calling for him. As she came into view he noticed that she had her head on the table and her hair now looked like it hadn’t been washed for days and un-brushed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He then asked how are you holding up, and as she lifted her head she asked how do you think? As he stood there unable to move, she looked at him asking what with him hesitating then saying that he had to leave. He then tried to leave and Sara tried to keep him there by saying stay a while I am just about to take some biscuits out of the oven to have with our peppermint tea. Again she asked what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time he said there is something wrong, you need to look in the mirror, so she went and went into the bathroom to look at herself and asked are you sure there is something wrong, he then walked into the bathroom only to look at her and then at the mirror and seeing something he knew to be impossible and that was her look like she had been dead for years in front of him but in the mirror looking alive and well, with the roles in reverse for him.&lt;br /&gt;He then walked slowly out of the bathroom backwards so he could watch her, and then ran out of the house only to see the cat and the crow again in the front yard. He then decided to go around back to leave through the back yard seeing the headstones again, he figured take a look to see if he could see any names on the headstones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he walked over he realized that they were not as worn as he had originally thought and seen the names on them, the larger one was that of his neighbor Sara with it saying that she died of a broken heart after finding her cat being eaten by a crow and the headstone beside it said here lies what was left of Sara’s beloved cat with both headstones being dated many years before he moved into the neighborhood. With that he ran home to find the cat and the crow on his back porch looking over towards the far end of his porch.&lt;br /&gt;As he walked over to see what they were looking at he found a&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nother headstone this time it had his name on it with almost the same date as there was on the headstones at Sara’s house and his headstone said that he died of shock from finding his neighbor dead at her table days after she died with biscuits and peppermint tea for two still on the table. He could not believe his eyes and slowly walked into his house to find Sara there waiting for him this time looking alive and well and upon seeing him she said welcome home it feels like many years since you left to visit the new neighbor.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-417903647218683653?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/417903647218683653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=417903647218683653' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/417903647218683653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/417903647218683653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2009/09/cat-and-crow.html' title='The Cat and The Crow'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-49575989940163502</id><published>2009-08-26T20:28:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-27T19:49:10.569-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Edward Kennedy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='generosity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='loss'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Courage'/><title type='text'>A True Profile in Courage</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;A man who could have had and done anything his heart desired&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;has shown the world that regardless of where you come from you must&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;do what your heart feels and to stand up for what you believe in no matter &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;the personal cost&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A man who has had to come some true adversities in his life with the untimely&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;deaths of the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;brothers for&lt;/span&gt; whom he had followed in the footsteps of has shown us&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;that there is more to life than just your own little bubble by showing us that &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;our little bubble affect everyone &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Else's&lt;/span&gt; little bubble for good or for bad&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;a man who has made it his &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;life's&lt;/span&gt; work to help those who do not have the means &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;to help themselves has shown that that effort not only is it paid back, it is also paid&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;forward by those who were shown that someone does care&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;a man who has been through a lot, shows that you can never surrender and &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;in the eyes of some becomes invincible or becomes almost mythical&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A man who has done all this still has the ability to stumble through his personal&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;life like anyone else around him, letting everyone know that he is still a person like&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;everyone else in this world&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A man who fits all of this is a man who is a True Profile in Courage, who also leaves&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;a legacy for which there is no easy way to live up to for whom ever the torch gets&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;passed too and has the name of Senator Edward Kennedy&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A man who has lived up to the name of his older brothers book Titled&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;"Profiles in Courage"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-49575989940163502?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/49575989940163502/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=49575989940163502' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/49575989940163502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/49575989940163502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2009/08/true-profile-in-courage.html' title='A True Profile in Courage'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-6730647439267754975</id><published>2009-08-02T21:15:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-02T21:39:23.654-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='loneliness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friendship'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='longing'/><title type='text'>playing the part</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I am here with my confession, I don't know how it happened but I found that &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I was trying to play the part of a friend without realizing that it wasn't&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;the part I was hoping to play&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;It was only after you had left that I had realized that you had captured&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;my heart without having realized that I put it out on the table &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;for you to take&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Now I am wishing tht I hadn't played the fool by trying to play the game,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;that part for which I played for which I could not be and keeping you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;in the dark when it came to how I really feel&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;all I can do know is to ask your fogiveness by showing you the shape of my &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;heart while hoping that you are willing to save me from the man I&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;will become if you should walk out of that door and out of my life&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-6730647439267754975?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/6730647439267754975/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=6730647439267754975' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/6730647439267754975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/6730647439267754975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-am-here-with-my-confession-i-dont.html' title='playing the part'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-5854055716503063864</id><published>2009-07-01T21:33:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-01T21:46:07.781-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hurting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='loss'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>losing a friend</title><content type='html'>losing a friend is never something you ever want, can never anticipate and the loss of a friend can and will affect you with each loss in different ways&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the feelings you have when you lose a friend are always a good way of showing you what that friend meant too you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the loss of a friend can feel like no one has left or you could end up feeling like all you want to do is cry your heart out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the worst part of losing a friend is when you find out that the friend you lost meant more to you than you thought with you finding out by a feeling of dread and loneliness from them not being there that causes you to feel like you are lost and alone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-5854055716503063864?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/5854055716503063864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=5854055716503063864' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/5854055716503063864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/5854055716503063864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2009/07/losing-friend.html' title='losing a friend'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-1040969990274104396</id><published>2009-05-14T22:02:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-14T22:10:21.918-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='beauty'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sky'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pink'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blue'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='red'/><title type='text'>The Beautiful Sky</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;As you venture out you see the morning dew as it collects from the morning fogthat is near by but yet looks so far away as it tapers off into the distance&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;With every step you take you cannot help but marvel at the beauty of the sunrise&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;from behind the mountain tops wich casts shadows on to the few clouds in the sky while&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;giving them a pink background&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The further you walk, you find that the pink slowly becomesa deep red which turns into&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;an almost lavender purple which then fades to a most beautiful shade of blue &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;for a moment looking a baby blue before settling with the richness of the blue that&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;that is a powdered royal blue &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-1040969990274104396?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/1040969990274104396/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=1040969990274104396' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/1040969990274104396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/1040969990274104396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2009/05/beautiful-sky.html' title='The Beautiful Sky'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-3954120190626921299</id><published>2009-03-29T17:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-29T17:43:34.945-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friendship'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='relationships'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Friendships</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Friendships&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friendships no two are ever the same&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friendships can last what seems like only a few minutes or&lt;br /&gt;Can last what seems like an eternity&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friendships are sometimes stronger than the family ties of&lt;br /&gt;Any of the friends&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friendships are sometimes the weirdest of personal relationships&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friendships aren’t always expected or wanted but are almost always&lt;br /&gt;A welcome interaction and distraction at the right time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friendships are some of the best relationships that anyone can&lt;br /&gt;And will ever have in their lives&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friendships in the end are some of the most important relationships&lt;br /&gt;That we will ever have where they are the relationships we rely on the&lt;br /&gt;Most besides those of ones family&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-3954120190626921299?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/3954120190626921299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=3954120190626921299' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/3954120190626921299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/3954120190626921299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2009/03/friendships.html' title='Friendships'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-5858652234797351379</id><published>2009-02-26T18:29:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-26T18:31:59.510-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='longing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='waiting'/><title type='text'>wanting to be something more</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Wanting to be something more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can I let you know that you are the one I want to be with, when it looks&lt;br /&gt;Like you don’t have the same feelings for me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can we be friends when I feel I cannot let my guard down when it comes to&lt;br /&gt;Expressing my feelings for you out of fear of destroying our friendship&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will there ever be a time where I can openly express my feelings for you with out&lt;br /&gt;It looked on badly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I had the chance would I be capable of finding out if you want to be something more&lt;br /&gt;With me as well&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-5858652234797351379?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/5858652234797351379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=5858652234797351379' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/5858652234797351379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/5858652234797351379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2009/02/wanting-to-be-something-more.html' title='wanting to be something more'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-3396335057104024475</id><published>2009-02-22T21:26:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T21:28:41.575-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='longing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='believe'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='outsider'/><title type='text'>How can I</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;How can I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can I show happy I am when I feel so empty inside&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can I express myself happily when I am full of sadness&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can I be happy for someone who looks like they have friends at every turn&lt;br /&gt;When I feel all alone inside&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can I express how good it feels to be included in things when I feel like&lt;br /&gt;An outsider looking in&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can I show that I belong when I feel like I don’t belong&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do I show someone how much they mean to me when all I feel is a sense&lt;br /&gt;Of longing for someone that isn’t even there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can I feel so empty inside when there is so much to be happy for&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can I be full of sadness when there is reason for me to express myself happily&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can I feel so alone inside when there are people there wanting to be my friends&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can I feel as if I don’t belong when I have been shown that I belong&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can I feel like an outsider looking in when people are including me in on things&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can I feel a sense of longing when there is someone out there waiting for me to find them&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-3396335057104024475?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/3396335057104024475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=3396335057104024475' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/3396335057104024475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/3396335057104024475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2009/02/how-can-i.html' title='How can I'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-8111110969853598174</id><published>2009-02-19T19:50:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T19:56:49.807-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friendship'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='caring'/><title type='text'>friendship</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Friendship&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Friendship isn't always what you expect it to be and can be a wonderous adventure that can go almost anywhere&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Friendship is almost never dull since friends are usually comfortable enough to make fools of themselves and each other&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;friendship may only last a few days or it can last a lifetime&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;friendship when the friends care show their support in ways that are not always easy to express&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;friendship provides a level of trust between two or more people that cannot come from any other source&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;friendship in the end allows people to be friends to the end&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-8111110969853598174?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/8111110969853598174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=8111110969853598174' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/8111110969853598174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/8111110969853598174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2009/02/friendship.html' title='friendship'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-8045675368473502510</id><published>2009-02-01T11:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-01T11:57:35.361-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dreams'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friendship'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='truth'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='waiting'/><title type='text'>Waiting on a Cue</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Waiting on a cue&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you stand there waiting on a cue never knowing the truth, your only regret&lt;br /&gt;Is never knowing if the one dream that came true is the one thing that&lt;br /&gt;You had to leave behind so you can move on even though a part of that dream&lt;br /&gt;Stays with you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the time goes by ever so slowly you realize that the person who made that one&lt;br /&gt;Dream come true gave you a piece of them to you willingly due to needing&lt;br /&gt;You there for them as much as you needed them and that is what keeps you going&lt;br /&gt;As you are there pondering what you should do&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as you are standing on the edge of the precipice which overlooks what&lt;br /&gt;Lays before you, you realize that even though you have a regret that you could&lt;br /&gt;Not include that one person who made your dream come true, you still have&lt;br /&gt;The memories of that friendship at the beginning of the next step in your life&lt;br /&gt;To guide you and to give you comfort as you move along without the&lt;br /&gt;Person that had given of himself which now allows you to be whom youMeant to be&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-8045675368473502510?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/8045675368473502510/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=8045675368473502510' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/8045675368473502510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/8045675368473502510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2009/02/waiting-on-cue.html' title='Waiting on a Cue'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-1799448633503020125</id><published>2009-01-20T20:54:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-20T20:58:56.377-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hopes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='caring'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='believe'/><title type='text'>I will be there</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;I Will Be There&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you feel like there is no light to guide you and you feel lost and alone&lt;br /&gt;All you have to do is call my name and I will be there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While looking ahead all you see are hopes and dreams that have seen better days&lt;br /&gt;And wishing that you had someone to walk beside you I will be there to take&lt;br /&gt;You from the ruins and out of the wreckage&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As time goes by and you feel like you weigh less than a shadow on the wall that&lt;br /&gt;Cannot release the anger you have deep down inside, I will be there to lift you up to&lt;br /&gt;Show that you are more than a whisper of a voice unheard&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you start to feel the pain inside of you, you feel as if you have locked yourself up&lt;br /&gt;In the chains that have conquered others even though it isn’t fair for you to feel&lt;br /&gt;That way inside and as the chains start to tighten their grip I will be there to help you&lt;br /&gt;Break those chains and to show you that you don’t have to hold yourself down&lt;br /&gt;And show you that all you have to do is hold on for things to go your way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With the days going by the only regret would be that you would not have been there&lt;br /&gt;For me to call a real friend when I needed a friend and someone to believe in just as much as you needed&lt;br /&gt;the same from me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-1799448633503020125?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/1799448633503020125/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=1799448633503020125' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/1799448633503020125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/1799448633503020125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-will-be-there.html' title='I will be there'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-2463626715650441916</id><published>2008-12-28T18:30:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T18:34:07.072-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='generosity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happiness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friendship'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gifts'/><title type='text'>A Gift</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A gift&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A gift may not seem significant to the bearer of the gift but it may mean&lt;br /&gt;The world to the one who receives it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A gift is not always the most expensive item in the store even though that is what&lt;br /&gt;You feel you need to give as a gift&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A gift is something that can be really simple in the way of it being bought or being made&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A gift can be one of a million things or a whole bunch of one thing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A gift means something special to the one giving it and means far more to the&lt;br /&gt;One who is receiving it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A gift that comes from the heart is a heart felt gesture of friendship that can brighten&lt;br /&gt;The day of the one who receives it&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-2463626715650441916?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/2463626715650441916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=2463626715650441916' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/2463626715650441916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/2463626715650441916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/12/gift.html' title='A Gift'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-2911108864983555436</id><published>2008-12-28T18:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T18:30:07.209-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feelings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='expectations'/><title type='text'>How Do I</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;How Do I&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do I show who I am when the world appears to have a plan for me&lt;br /&gt;That does not let me reflect who I am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can I truly be myself when the reflection in the mirror isn’t who I had&lt;br /&gt;Expected or hoped to be&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do I tell people who I am inside or be who I am expected to be yet not&lt;br /&gt;Feel so exposed and alone inside&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do I show who I am inside and not feel like I am letting everyone who means&lt;br /&gt;Something to me down&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can I be myself and still live up to everyone’s expectations of who&lt;br /&gt;I should be&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do I become the man I am meant to be when I feel like who I really am&lt;br /&gt;Is lost in the fray making me feel like I am all alone in a sea of people&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-2911108864983555436?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/2911108864983555436/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=2911108864983555436' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/2911108864983555436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/2911108864983555436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/12/how-do-i.html' title='How Do I'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-9055862363811683002</id><published>2008-12-28T18:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T18:28:40.117-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='loneliness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='winter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='warmth'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='spring'/><title type='text'>With the Change of Season</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;With the Change of Season&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As each day passes you feel the highs and the lows that the day brings&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With each passing day towards the dead of winter, you feel a loneliness that feels like&lt;br /&gt;It will only grow more and more with time as you look back wondering why you feel so alone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When winter has set in and the days are cold and grey adding to the feelings of being alone,&lt;br /&gt;Your one solace is that you have in your life people who care for you in ways that don’t always&lt;br /&gt;Show until days like this one&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With each passing day towards spring you feel that loneliness ebbing away slowly at first&lt;br /&gt;With the warmth that comes with the approaching season and as you feel renewed you show&lt;br /&gt;Those who were there for you and that mean so much to you that you didn’t forget&lt;br /&gt;What they had done for you by being there in their time of need&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-9055862363811683002?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/9055862363811683002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=9055862363811683002' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/9055862363811683002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/9055862363811683002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/12/with-change-of-season.html' title='With the Change of Season'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-4678256429377805690</id><published>2008-12-25T17:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-25T17:45:42.043-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dreams'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hopes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><title type='text'>when we see a child</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;When we see a child&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we see a child we see their potential&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we see a child we see our hopes and dreams in them&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we see a child we see the hopes and dreams we have for them&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we see a child we hope that they succeed where everyone has failed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we see a child we dare to get them to do more than dream about the possibilities&lt;br /&gt;That lay before them so they take flight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we watch a child you will find they are smarter than they get credit for&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we watch a child we see that they can have an unbridled curiosity that can be&lt;br /&gt;Mistaken for the mark of independence&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we watch a child you find that they have an inner strength that knows no limitations&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the end when we watch a child you will find that no matter their potential, no matter how smart they are or how strong they appear to be, they still need you there to guide them&lt;br /&gt;To support their wings as their dreams take flight&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-4678256429377805690?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/4678256429377805690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=4678256429377805690' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/4678256429377805690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/4678256429377805690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/12/when-we-see-child.html' title='when we see a child'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-1750223198394927103</id><published>2008-12-25T17:42:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-25T17:48:00.200-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='youth'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dreams'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='aging'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hope'/><title type='text'>When We Age</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;When we age&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we are young we think that we know everything&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we are young we think that we are invincible&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we are young we feel like we have the world in the palm of our hand&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we get we find that we still have lots to learn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we get older we find that we are not as invincible as we thought even when&lt;br /&gt;We don’t want to show it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we get older we find that having the world in the palm of our hand was all just&lt;br /&gt;An illusion created by our youth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we get older we tend to realize that we never really had the world by the hand and&lt;br /&gt;Regret the missed opportunities and the mistakes in our youth &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-1750223198394927103?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/1750223198394927103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=1750223198394927103' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/1750223198394927103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/1750223198394927103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/12/when-we-age.html' title='When We Age'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-7313098776948774154</id><published>2008-12-06T19:58:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-07T18:37:20.294-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='helping'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fun'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friendship'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><title type='text'>A Friend</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;A friend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend is someone who we can associate with&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend is someone who is someone who can keep us company&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend is someone who we can turn to when we need someone to understand&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend is someone who will push us to do better when we haven’t the energy to keep going&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend is someone who always seems to find just the right way to get under our skin but yet&lt;br /&gt;Keep us coming back for more&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend is someone who always seems to know when they are needed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend is someone who we can talk to when there is no one else to talk too&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend is someone who is missed when they are not there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend is someone who will stand by you when you need someone there even when&lt;br /&gt;They are behind the scene helping you stay on sure footing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend is someone who looks up to you without knowing that you are looking up to&lt;br /&gt;Them as well&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend is someone who without knowing is seeking to do things to ask for acceptance&lt;br /&gt;From those he considers his friends&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend in the end is someone who is working hard for approval from those he feels he needs&lt;br /&gt;Approval from without knowing that he already has done more than enough to earn the approval of those&lt;br /&gt;Who call him friend&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-7313098776948774154?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/7313098776948774154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=7313098776948774154' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/7313098776948774154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/7313098776948774154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/12/friend.html' title='A Friend'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-6556752699555363217</id><published>2008-11-27T18:41:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-27T18:44:29.959-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='generosity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='help'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='caring'/><title type='text'>In This Time...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;In This Time…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this time of giving how can we turn a blind eye to those in need&lt;br /&gt;As we give gifts to those we love as if we don’t see those in need&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this time for which we are suppose to show the world that we&lt;br /&gt;Are better people than others may think&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this time how could we not help those of us that are in need&lt;br /&gt;Where one day the tables could be turned on us&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this time how can we care for just of those for which we love&lt;br /&gt;When we are taught to care for all as if they are our own&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this time we need to remember to thank those who have given&lt;br /&gt;Everything that they are to help those who need the most help&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this time we need to live up to our beliefs and our principles&lt;br /&gt;In ways that show others that we really do care for others&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this time we should honor those who have given of themselves&lt;br /&gt;Without regard to their own needs and with out question&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this time we need to show those who are down that there is more&lt;br /&gt;To life than what they have been shown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this time of need we should stop to think of the fact that we could have&lt;br /&gt;Been in the position of needing to ask for help despite ones desire to do&lt;br /&gt;For oneself&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this time, at the end of the day as you start to ponder what the day&lt;br /&gt;Has brought you, you find that you are asking yourself can I really&lt;br /&gt;Live with myself if I am not there to help someone when the night comes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this time, would you be willing to be there to help someone to pick up&lt;br /&gt;The pieces of their shattered dream when they appear to be a lost soul&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this time, you ponder whether or not someone would be there for you after&lt;br /&gt;Acting as if they were not there when the shoe was on the other foot&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this time of need and sacrifice we need to remember those who have sacrificed&lt;br /&gt;The most and that have sacrifices it all to make this a better place for all of us&lt;br /&gt;For with out their sacrifice we could not have become who we are today &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this time we need to remember that any donation however small helps&lt;br /&gt;Whether it be a few cents, some gently used clothing or spending time&lt;br /&gt;Just being there with someone who hasn’t the people to be with&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-6556752699555363217?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/6556752699555363217/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=6556752699555363217' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/6556752699555363217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/6556752699555363217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/11/in-this-time.html' title='In This Time...'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-603820582895266919</id><published>2008-11-15T18:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-15T18:13:15.823-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feelings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='faith'/><title type='text'>a love restrained and a love refrained</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;A love restrained and A love refrained&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can I show you how I really feel when you show me&lt;br /&gt;A love that is restrained even though I don’t why it is that way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that restrained love you make me feel as if I am on my own&lt;br /&gt;And all alone though I don’t want to feel this way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is it that you refrain from showing your love, could it be that&lt;br /&gt;You have some fears that you want to subside from past loves&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can I show you that there is nothing left to fear when it comes&lt;br /&gt;To being with me, since you are not the only one that has felt&lt;br /&gt;Like that after a past relationship&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So take my hand and let me into your world so you don’t have to restrain&lt;br /&gt;The love that you have inside&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-603820582895266919?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/603820582895266919/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=603820582895266919' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/603820582895266919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/603820582895266919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/11/love-restrained-and-love-refrained.html' title='a love restrained and a love refrained'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-8490922791510190245</id><published>2008-10-26T19:46:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-26T19:47:50.508-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cats'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='spirits'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crows. neighbors'/><title type='text'>The Cat and the Crow</title><content type='html'>On a warm autumn morning Sara is going through the motions of her normal routine that she does every weekend morning.  She has already rolled out of bed and absentmindedly done those things like start the coffee and use the bathroom.  Sara decided to go and see if the paperboy had actually delivered the Saturday paper on time for a change and when she stepped outside into her front yard she noticed a crow looking for his morning meal of worms or anything he can scavenge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Sara got closer to the crow, she noticed that he was already eating something due to the pulling he was doing with his beak.  When she got close enough to see what the crow was eating she saw an animal that was so mangled and eaten that she almost could not identify that it was what was left of what she thought was a stray cat that had decided to cut through her property.  At first she didn’t notice the markings on the tail until she was on her way back towards her house after grabbing the morning paper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sara had looked over to the crow as he was eating and realized that the markings on the tail looked dreadfully familiar to her, she ran over shooing the crow away but the crow at first would not budge as she ran towards him and when he did fly off he flew right at her clawing at her face for a few seconds before flying off, leaving her with a few bleeding scratches as she knelt down in front of the cat with tears in her eyes as she picked up the collar letting her know that it was really her cat there in front of her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As she knelt there crying, the crow came back and started crowing like crazy just out of range of Sara being able to throw anything at him.  After a couple minutes of the crow squawking like crazy other crows started coming to see what was going on.  Sara looking around at all of the crows coming and decided to get up slowly and walk back towards her house, when she started walking the crow making all of the fuss decided to fly right at her diving right at her head multiple times forcing her to run back to her house. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sara hurried inside in hysterics trying to call a neighbor to come over and get rid of the crows in her yard, her neighbor realizing she was frightened, came over as quickly as he could with a baseball bat in his hand only to find a completely empty yard.  As he walked up to the house he didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary and proceeded to knock on Sara’s front door, when she opened up the door she did so very slowly and looking towards the ground to make sure it wasn’t the crow coming back again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slowly, she opened the door to see a pair of sneakers and let out a gasp of relief letting her neighbor in.  She explained what had happened even showing the scratches to her face, she then brought him to where the crow had been eating her cat but there was nothing there, leaving her neighbor with a perplexed look on his face and Sara trying to explain that she really did see the crow eating her cat.  With that her neighbor insisted that they go back into her house so he could make a cup of peppermint tea for her to relax her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After they got back to the house Sara’s neighbor had her sit down at her kitchen table as he fumbled through her cabinets for her peppermint tea and a couple cups, afterwards he put on the kettle of water and said that he would look in the yard to see if she may have brought him to the wrong spot.  He went out into the yard and searched the yard for a few minutes with out finding anything, coming back in he let her know that he couldn’t find anything as he was grabbing the kettle from the stove to pour the water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He walked over and gave her the tea and then looked around for some biscuits or something else they could have with the tea.   As he looked around Sara’s cat came out of no where jumping into his arms with the only thing missing was his collar for which Sara still had clutched in her hand.  He then asked if she really saw what she did as he walked back into the kitchen with the cat in his arms.  When Sara seen the cat in his arms she got even more upset to the point that she wanted nothing to do with the cat with the cat seeming to want nothing to do with her either. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sara’s neighbor seeing how upset she was and seeing the cat not wanting anything to do with her offered to take the cat home for which she just said take him he’s yours now.  So he said he would be right back and grabbed the cat carrier, the food and water bowls along with the cat food.  He left so he could bring home the cat and set up the food and water bowls.  After he got to his house he set the cat carrier down on his dining room table with the cat still in it so he could get the food and water set up, afterwards he went to let the cat out of his carrier but he wasn’t there in the carrier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sara’s neighbor was perplexed because there was no way for the cat to get out of the carrier due to it still being locked shut.  He promptly looked though out his house for the cat and could not find him so he called Sara and asked if she remembered him putting her cat in the cat carrier with her saying that she watched him do it so that there was no way he could have gotten out unless he was let out.  He then told her that I know he could not have gotten out but still he wasn’t there in the carrier even though he hadn’t been let out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sara’s neighbor proceeded to walk out side so he could go back of Sara’s house and stopped short out of sheer fright from what he could see on the sidewalk in front of his house.  There was the cat just sitting there weighting for him but it was different, the cat had went from the healthy cat he held just a few minutes ago in Sara’s house to a cat that looked like it had been dead for days and picked at by some passing animals. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he started walking again the cat took off back towards Sara’s house and Sara’s neighbor instantly started running toward her house and by the time he got to her front gate the cat was in the front yard and there it was again looking healthy, but this time he was there with a crow and they were playing as if they were old friends.  When Sara’s neighbor entered the yard the cat and the crow stopped playing, with the crow flying off and the cat running up into a tree so it could enter the house through an open window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he seen the cat enter through the window after climbing the tree he rushed to the front door trying to open the door but not being able too and then started banging on the door with no luck, he then went out back to see if there was an open window out back so he would not have to climb the tree in the front yard.  When he got to the back yard he noticed something he had never seen before which was a pair of headstones on a full sized headstone and the other a small one but both so faded that he didn’t bother to try to read.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he stood there in shock the crow that had been outside with the cat flew up and landed on the larger headstone and started pecking on it.  After a few minutes he ran back into the front yard to climb the tree to get into the house, he saw the door wide open so he entered Sara’s house calling her name at first getting no response then hearing some crying coming from the kitchen and Sara calling for him.  As she came into view he noticed that she had her head on the table and her hair now looked like it hadn’t been washed for days and un-brushed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He then asked how are you holding up, and as she lifted her head she asked how do you think? As he stood there unable to move, she looked at him asking what with him hesitating then saying that he had to leave.  He then tried to leave and Sara tried to keep him there by saying stay a while I am just about to take some biscuits out of the oven to have with our peppermint tea.  Again she asked what? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time he said there is something wrong, you need to look in the mirror, so she went and went into the bathroom to look at herself and asked are you sure there is something wrong, he then walked into the bathroom only to look at her and then at the mirror and seeing something he knew to be impossible and that was her look like she had been dead for years in front of him but in the mirror looking alive and well, with the roles in reverse for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He then walked slowly out of the bathroom backwards so he could watch her, and then ran out of the house only to see the cat and the crow again in the front yard.  He then decided to go around back to leave through the back yard seeing the headstones again, he figured take a look to see if he could see any names on the headstones. &lt;br /&gt;When he walked over he realized that they were not as worn as he had originally thought and seen the names on them, the larger one was that of his neighbor Sara with it saying that she died of a broken heart after finding her cat being eaten by a crow and the headstone beside it said here lies what was left of Sara’s beloved cat with both headstones being dated many years before he moved into the neighborhood.  With that he ran home to find the cat and the crow on his back porch looking over towards the far end of his porch. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he walked over to see what they were looking at he found another headstone this time it had his name on it with almost the same date as there was on the headstones at Sara’s house and his headstone said that he died of shock from finding his neighbor dead at her table days after she died with biscuits and peppermint tea for two still on the table.  He could not believe his eyes and slowly walked into his house to find Sara there waiting for him this time looking alive and well and upon seeing him she said welcome home it feels like many years since you left to visit the new neighbor.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-8490922791510190245?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/8490922791510190245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=8490922791510190245' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/8490922791510190245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/8490922791510190245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/10/cat-and-crow.html' title='The Cat and the Crow'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-3080553031429157075</id><published>2008-10-18T19:28:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-18T19:30:14.874-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='attraction'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friendship'/><title type='text'>Which do I</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Which do I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is it that I can’t help feel as if we are meant for each other&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can’t help but stare into your eyes, for they appear to be intoxicating&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel as if I have been waiting for you all of my life and don’t know what I would&lt;br /&gt;Do if you were no longer there in my life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want so much to show you how I feel about you but I would be playing the&lt;br /&gt;Part of a fool if I rushed in if I were to go with what I would like to do&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As much as I want to be with you I know that I would be better off building&lt;br /&gt;A lasting friendship with you so you can be there in my life even if I have to&lt;br /&gt;Contain how I really feel for you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-3080553031429157075?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/3080553031429157075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=3080553031429157075' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/3080553031429157075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/3080553031429157075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/10/which-do-i.html' title='Which do I'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-2964181503930582786</id><published>2008-10-04T09:40:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-05T08:52:30.964-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sorrow'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happiness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='faith'/><title type='text'>For Grampy 1928-2008</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;As We Remember&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we say good bye we can’t help but look back and see that we were given&lt;br /&gt;An angel in disguise who cared more than we can ever know&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he gets called home to watch over us, we feel an endless emptiness which&lt;br /&gt;Causes us great sadness that subsides as a wave of happy memories rush over&lt;br /&gt;Us letting us know that he is still here with us and trying to ease the pain&lt;br /&gt;We feel inside&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we look back through the years we find that through it all he was there&lt;br /&gt;Giving us love and protection, the direction that made us who we are today while&lt;br /&gt;We realize that our world is a better place because of him&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we try to remember everything we can’t help but know that you were the strength&lt;br /&gt;That kept us going through the good and the bad&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we remember, in the swirling of memories we remember that&lt;br /&gt;He kept us safe and warm and those memories now dance in our minds&lt;br /&gt;Even though they are from far away and long ago&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we go through our memories we find that we could not be who we&lt;br /&gt;Were meant to be with out him and for that he was the one who taught&lt;br /&gt;Us how to soar above the clouds&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the days turn into years you will forever be in our hearts, always guiding&lt;br /&gt;Us without us even knowing that you are doing it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the end we look back on the memories and find that we are blessed to&lt;br /&gt;Have had you in our lives, a hero for whom we call dad, grampy, and granddad&lt;br /&gt;That we will miss but will be waiting for us when we are called home to&lt;br /&gt;Welcome us home &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-2964181503930582786?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/2964181503930582786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=2964181503930582786' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/2964181503930582786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/2964181503930582786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/10/for-grampy-1928-2008.html' title='For Grampy 1928-2008'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-2465497418625406208</id><published>2008-10-02T20:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-02T20:22:38.863-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feelings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='desire'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>Just once</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Just Once&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just once I wish I could tell you how I really feel for you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If only I could read through all of the different signals that you have&lt;br /&gt;Been sending my way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just once I wish that you cold show me how you really feel whether it be&lt;br /&gt;Just friend or more&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If only I could get past the feeling that you are unsure of yourself&lt;br /&gt;Around me given your action&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just once I wish I could understand why your body language suggests one&lt;br /&gt;Thing when explaining something’s but yet state the exact opposite&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If only  I could be who I want to be with you &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-2465497418625406208?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/2465497418625406208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=2465497418625406208' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/2465497418625406208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/2465497418625406208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/10/just-once.html' title='Just once'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-6024923781987776335</id><published>2008-09-21T18:34:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T18:35:13.679-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wishes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rainbows'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='waiting'/><title type='text'>Wishing for someone out there</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Wishing for someone out there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we are alone and wishing that somewhere out there we had someone&lt;br /&gt;Special out there looking for you, you end up wishing upon a star under the pale&lt;br /&gt;Moonlight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You slowly start feeling that someone is praying that you will find them so&lt;br /&gt;They don’t have to keep singing that lonely lullaby that they have gotten use to&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At times you feel like you are miles apart from each other even though you are&lt;br /&gt;Sleeping under the same starry sky wishing for that someone to come and&lt;br /&gt;Find you out there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you wish upon that falling star, you find that it in time becomes that&lt;br /&gt;Rainbow that see for which leads you to that someone that has been&lt;br /&gt;Just as lost and alone as both of you realize that, that person that you&lt;br /&gt;You have been looking for has been right in front of you all along&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-6024923781987776335?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/6024923781987776335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=6024923781987776335' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/6024923781987776335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/6024923781987776335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/09/wishing-for-someone-out-there.html' title='Wishing for someone out there'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-3379803843218094431</id><published>2008-09-06T20:39:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T20:41:14.803-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='loss'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>For my Uncle Jimmy 1966-2008</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;As We Say Goodbye&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we say goodbye as we must, it is still hard to say goodbye to what&lt;br /&gt;We know, to what we knew we had&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though we look to tomorrow for brighter days, there is still this deep sense of&lt;br /&gt;Loss, of a pain that feels like it just doesn’t want to end&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In time only the good times that made us laugh will be there to remind us&lt;br /&gt;Of how we were before you left&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All though it is hard to let you go we will have the memories to bring us out of&lt;br /&gt;The fog that fills our hearts and our minds&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even still you will remain in our hearts always and forever and though destiny&lt;br /&gt;Called you home first it teaches us we have to be strong all though we will&lt;br /&gt;Forever feel you over our shoulder watching over us&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the end we still find that you going home gives, us something to believe in by&lt;br /&gt;Knowing that you will be there to bring us home when the time comes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until that day comes we will in our darkest hours find that our memories of you&lt;br /&gt;Act like an angel that keeps us safe and warm inside pulling us from the darkness&lt;br /&gt;That could have engulfed us&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our pain is eased by knowing that you have been welcomed home by an angel who we&lt;br /&gt;All know and love who had been called home to help guide us home when needed&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-3379803843218094431?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/3379803843218094431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=3379803843218094431' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/3379803843218094431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/3379803843218094431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/09/for-my-uncle-jimmy-1966-2008.html' title='For my Uncle Jimmy 1966-2008'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-288652464611722104</id><published>2008-08-31T21:02:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-31T21:13:58.851-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nieces'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happiness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nephews'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>nieces and nephews</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;nieces and nephews&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;a niece likes to tune out the world and be in a world of her own&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;nephews are endlessly distracted by what others seem to consider mondain&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;a niece loves secretly talking to her friends especially when she knows she should not be doing it just then&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;nephews always seem ready to play sports just for the sake of running around like mad men&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;a niece would rather her parents come to her level rather than trying to grow to their level&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;nephews love playing video games while having you play the games for them as they watch &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;nieces and nephews tend not to let you think they care but when something goes wrong they are among the first to wonder what happened and why you are hurt&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;in the end they are among the kindest people anyone could ever want to know and don't know how you would live without them in your world&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-288652464611722104?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/288652464611722104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=288652464611722104' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/288652464611722104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/288652464611722104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/08/nieces-and-nephews.html' title='nieces and nephews'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-737462151443412886</id><published>2008-08-18T21:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-18T21:05:17.265-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='child'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='adventure'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='element'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='elusive'/><title type='text'>This One Thing</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;This One Thing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If there were one thing that I knew of, I may not understand why,&lt;br /&gt;It may not even be something that I know to be on my mind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That one thing may keep me enthusiastic and just sort of happens when I least&lt;br /&gt;Expect it, it could be the one simple thing that has been eluding to something but&lt;br /&gt;Yet has always been eluding me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It may make me restless and giddy like a child in his element by being&lt;br /&gt;Who he wants to be&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This one thing could give you the hunger; the drive to make you capable of&lt;br /&gt;Doing what you have always wanted to do&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But in the end that one thin is unique to the individual for that individual is the&lt;br /&gt;Only one who can figure out what that one thing is for himself&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-737462151443412886?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/737462151443412886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=737462151443412886' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/737462151443412886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/737462151443412886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/08/this-one-thing.html' title='This One Thing'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-4209207263063823660</id><published>2008-08-11T21:25:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-11T21:33:03.062-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jobs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='journey'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='change'/><title type='text'>the first day of a new job</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;the first day of a new job can be very tiresome&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;the first day of a new job can be very hectic&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;the first day of a new job can seem like it will never end&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;the first day of a new job can be exhilarating&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;the first day of a new job is a welcome event when it is wanted&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;the first day of a new job is always a life changing event&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-4209207263063823660?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/4209207263063823660/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=4209207263063823660' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/4209207263063823660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/4209207263063823660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/08/first-day-of-new-job.html' title='the first day of a new job'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-505186257072103241</id><published>2008-08-03T08:12:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-03T08:13:37.142-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='brotherhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='strength'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pain'/><title type='text'>Bit by BIt</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Bit by Bit&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With each passing step we feel as if all we are just pawns in a chess match&lt;br /&gt;That we are tempted and enticed into playing the game even as we&lt;br /&gt;Watch each other get torn apart bit by bit from not being able to see&lt;br /&gt;That we are feeding an unseen addiction that has taken hold of our&lt;br /&gt;Societies&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the emptiness we feel sets in, and is, the only thing that remains you wish&lt;br /&gt;There were people there to help you play the game but all you can do&lt;br /&gt;To release the pain is to yell out “will you come out and play with me”&lt;br /&gt; For anyone and everyone to hear the sound of your voice as you wonder&lt;br /&gt;If there is anyone out there to hear you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While the pain in your heart feels like it is mounting up you can’t help but not&lt;br /&gt;Want to get up in the morning with it causing your head to spin out of control you&lt;br /&gt;Get up just to know that you are still alive and to let them know that the&lt;br /&gt;Battle is till going on even though it looks like they have torn you apart bit&lt;br /&gt;By bit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Step by step you show them that even though you have been tossed around like a&lt;br /&gt;Toy soldier, battle wages on past the emptiness that they have given you so&lt;br /&gt;That everyone around you sees that even with being torn apart bit by bit they&lt;br /&gt;Still have something to fight for and they are the ties that bind, like brotherhood&lt;br /&gt;Family, and love which is a goal that is always in sight from the start but&lt;br /&gt;Attained through the battle that wages on&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-505186257072103241?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/505186257072103241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=505186257072103241' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/505186257072103241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/505186257072103241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/08/bit-by-bit.html' title='Bit by BIt'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-1054974817336219980</id><published>2008-08-02T22:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-02T22:02:54.813-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='aging'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='flowering'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='belief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hope'/><title type='text'>As time goes by</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;As time goes by&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the time goes by and you are feeling like you are old and gray&lt;br /&gt;You can’t tell if there is anyone who still cares even as everyone shows&lt;br /&gt;That they do still care&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With each new day they show you that what you taught them is like the&lt;br /&gt;Mighty tree that you planted and watched over as it grew into what&lt;br /&gt;They are today due to you making sure they were well rooted in&lt;br /&gt;Their lives&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They can’t help but tell you that even though they didn’t show it when growing&lt;br /&gt;Up they are proud of what you sacrificed for them by showing you the&lt;br /&gt;Seeds that they have planted with it being their turn to watch things take&lt;br /&gt;Root and it looks like a small but hardy flowering bush that will&lt;br /&gt;Grow into a towering rose bush that has the most beautiful roses which&lt;br /&gt;Bloom so beautifully in the spring and summer of what we call life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the end when you have realized that everyone still cares it is like seeing&lt;br /&gt;That illusive double rainbow that has the brilliantly vivid colors that&lt;br /&gt;Seem to just wash over your very existence in every way and&lt;br /&gt;Radiating an energy that allows you to feel the happiest that you have ever&lt;br /&gt;Been while momentarily giving you a feeling of youthful vigor &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-1054974817336219980?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/1054974817336219980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=1054974817336219980' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/1054974817336219980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/1054974817336219980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/08/as-time-goes-by.html' title='As time goes by'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-8442989849219894397</id><published>2008-07-27T20:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-27T20:07:18.709-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sharing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='caring'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='home'/><title type='text'>The tie that binds</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;The tie that binds&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you are the tie that binds you find that you can’t&lt;br /&gt;Just walk the line; you are the one that has to tow the line&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You find that to just walk the line will not let you get by with&lt;br /&gt;All of those who need you to be there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you tow the line everyone thinks that you are just a pain&lt;br /&gt;When they would like to do what they want&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you learn to tow the line you find that there is no greater&lt;br /&gt;Job out there and not everyone be the tie that binds&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When time goes by you find that being the tie that binds it is easy&lt;br /&gt;To make people think you are just walking the line even when you&lt;br /&gt;Are really towing the line&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-8442989849219894397?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/8442989849219894397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=8442989849219894397' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/8442989849219894397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/8442989849219894397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/07/tie-that-binds.html' title='The tie that binds'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-4556198949965959386</id><published>2008-07-18T17:06:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-18T17:09:18.156-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feelings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='belief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='faith'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='believe'/><title type='text'>something to believe in</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Something to Believe in&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it feels like there is nothing there to believe in, it can feel like you&lt;br /&gt;Are lost and all alone in this great big world&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When people who care see someone that looks like they have lost it all and&lt;br /&gt;That have nothing left to believe in, they have a knack for finding the one thing&lt;br /&gt;That, that someone can believe in&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you are walking down that cold dark street you can’t help but feel like you are a lost&lt;br /&gt;Soul who is out of place with the feeling that there is nothing left to believe in that is worth&lt;br /&gt;Believing in given all the things you see and hear around you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you take the time to look back you find that for all of those feelings of being&lt;br /&gt;Lost and alone you have allowed someone to be there to guide you allowing&lt;br /&gt;That someone to have something to believe in&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When all is said and done that one person that you unknowingly gave something to&lt;br /&gt;Believe in, you found that they are the one thing that you can truly believe in&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-4556198949965959386?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/4556198949965959386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=4556198949965959386' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/4556198949965959386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/4556198949965959386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/07/something-to-believe-in.html' title='something to believe in'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-6701868113722198415</id><published>2008-07-07T19:01:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-07T19:03:26.274-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dreams'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='playground'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fun'/><title type='text'>Fun</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Fun&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fun is that one place that everyone would rather be&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fun isn’t always about a child playing or an adult relaxing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fun is a place, that place that invigorates you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fun is that energy that makes you giddy and happy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fun is seeing your wishes come true over the horizon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fun can be shared with others or can be there just for you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fun in the end is what you want and what you make of it&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-6701868113722198415?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/6701868113722198415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=6701868113722198415' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/6701868113722198415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/6701868113722198415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/07/fun.html' title='Fun'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-6922294166337215381</id><published>2008-07-07T18:58:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-07T19:00:33.749-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='help'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feelings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='reflections'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='change'/><title type='text'>Will you make the Change</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Will you make the change&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we look out at the world we see things that we wish we didn’t have to see&lt;br /&gt;And they bother us enough to either help make changes or just look away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Could it be that we make the choice in response to who we are inside&lt;br /&gt;Rather than whom we would like to be&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The question has to be when making that choice is can we live with the person&lt;br /&gt;We see in the mirror everyday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you make the choice to make that change both inside and to&lt;br /&gt;Change those things that you don’t want to see&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you willing to make things right for those who you would just turn&lt;br /&gt;Your back on&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we go about our business we must make it our business to be that person&lt;br /&gt;Who can help rather than turning blind eye and saying someone needs&lt;br /&gt;To help that person&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the end the type of world you wish to live in will influence the&lt;br /&gt;Decision you make on whether to make the changes or just to look away&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-6922294166337215381?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/6922294166337215381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=6922294166337215381' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/6922294166337215381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/6922294166337215381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/07/will-you-make-change.html' title='Will you make the Change'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-3371435706803973342</id><published>2008-07-07T18:52:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-07T18:55:09.236-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pondering'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='faith'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='questions'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pain'/><title type='text'>How, Why and Where</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;How, Why and Where&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is that we hardly ever practice what we preach&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is it that we question the best of intentions&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How is we choose not to respect each other as we ask for that same respect&lt;br /&gt;That we are rejecting&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How is it that that all we want is to be greedy and only wanting to make money&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is it that we turn a blind eye to the pain that we cause&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How is it that we force people to feel the weight of the world on their shoulders&lt;br /&gt;Rather than sharing the responsibility&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is there so much negativity and selfishness in this world&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why can’t we effectively teach fairness and equality&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What ever happened to our principles&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where did our best intentions go wrong with our world&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-3371435706803973342?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/3371435706803973342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=3371435706803973342' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/3371435706803973342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/3371435706803973342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/07/how-why-and-where.html' title='How, Why and Where'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-7171146716270374833</id><published>2008-07-02T20:29:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-02T20:31:49.680-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='loss'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>until our paths cross again</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Until our paths cross again&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though this short period of time flew by so quickly it seems like&lt;br /&gt;An eternity has passed since you left&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the days go by the pain lessens with time but it never really subsides&lt;br /&gt;Even as the memories we hold so dear seem to fade into memories that appear&lt;br /&gt;Long ago and far away that we try so hard to recall&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While we learn to go on with out you in our lives we can never really forget&lt;br /&gt;Your treasured friendship, your valued insight and your unwavering&lt;br /&gt;Love that was always unending&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though you are gone we all look forward to the day that God has set aside for you&lt;br /&gt;To be there to welcome us home and until that day we wish you the best of journeys&lt;br /&gt;That will bring you back to us that day that our paths with cross again&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-7171146716270374833?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/7171146716270374833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=7171146716270374833' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/7171146716270374833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/7171146716270374833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/07/until-our-paths-cross-again.html' title='until our paths cross again'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-3297891821972811142</id><published>2008-07-02T20:24:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-02T20:26:16.568-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happiness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='reflections'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='searching'/><title type='text'>The reflection of my true colors</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;The reflection of my true colors&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you look at me who do you see, do you see someone who’s reflection&lt;br /&gt;Is of who they really are given your memories of them&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can I pass for that person in the reflection when that person in the&lt;br /&gt;Reflection isn’t really who I am inside&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can I truly be who I am when everyone around me has expectations of what&lt;br /&gt;I should be like stemming from their ideas of who I should be&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When can I show my true colors so I can be who I am inside so I can&lt;br /&gt;Be happy with who I am inside&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do I know when everyone is ready to see the reflections of my&lt;br /&gt;True colors&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can it be that I am not meant to play the part that everyone would have me&lt;br /&gt;Play&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Could it be that if I were to be myself that I would break the hearts of those&lt;br /&gt;Who care about me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel that I cannot hide who I really am even though I know that&lt;br /&gt;Even if I tried they could see right through me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When will the reflection show my true colors inside&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-3297891821972811142?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/3297891821972811142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=3297891821972811142' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/3297891821972811142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/3297891821972811142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/07/reflection-of-my-true-colors.html' title='The reflection of my true colors'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-2603196292676930673</id><published>2008-06-27T19:15:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-27T19:17:16.234-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>The Symphony of Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;The symphony of life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though the years of life you find that with each passing year&lt;br /&gt;You discover new ways and find new faces that add to their own&lt;br /&gt;Unique ways of showing you the good and the bad&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As each new thing you do and each new friend you make you find that&lt;br /&gt;It becomes more of a melody and even though it may not always be&lt;br /&gt;Harmonious you find that you would not trade them in for something&lt;br /&gt;Else due to the way they pull on your heart strings&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as you find the one who will make those heart strings feel more&lt;br /&gt;Alive you find over time that you have now grown in ways you could never&lt;br /&gt;Have imagined and as your family grows you teach your family those same&lt;br /&gt;Melodies that have made you who you are today, while they instinctively try&lt;br /&gt;To do things to the beat of their own drum that hasn’t been fine tuned&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While it is trying for everyone they eventually learn those melodies that&lt;br /&gt;Will eventually guide them they learn to play those melodies in their own&lt;br /&gt;Unique ways showing you that what you have tried to teach them for so long&lt;br /&gt;Really did take hold even though they didn’t let you see it happen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With the years passing and the children that you have raised show that they&lt;br /&gt;Now have a family and come home to show you that they are teaching those same&lt;br /&gt;Melodies to their children that you taught to them many years ago letting you&lt;br /&gt;Know that for them you are the maestro in a symphony, a symphony that this&lt;br /&gt;The symphony of life that they are more than happy to be a part of and would not&lt;br /&gt;Have it any other way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And through the years as the family gets bigger the more melodious it becomes as&lt;br /&gt;Each new member enters on cue strumming on the heart strings as they learn&lt;br /&gt;Where their part is and how to play those heart strings in unison that allows it to&lt;br /&gt;Become harmonious with everyone else &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-2603196292676930673?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/2603196292676930673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=2603196292676930673' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/2603196292676930673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/2603196292676930673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/06/symphony-of-life.html' title='The Symphony of Life'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-3054880385936297534</id><published>2008-06-22T15:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-22T15:27:43.438-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='need'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='strength'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stand up'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='caring'/><title type='text'>being strong</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Being Strong&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you stop your crying and see that everything is all right you see that&lt;br /&gt;There is someone there to hold you warm in their strong arms and find&lt;br /&gt;That they had to hide their crying to be strong for you and with you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though you seem so small you appear to have the strength to keep me&lt;br /&gt;Here with you wanting to be strong for you until you have it in you to&lt;br /&gt;Be strong for those who need the strength in those times they need someone&lt;br /&gt;There to hold them tight and safe when the world seems like it’s against them&lt;br /&gt;Until you’ve  shown that there is someone there for them to be strong for&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-3054880385936297534?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/3054880385936297534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=3054880385936297534' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/3054880385936297534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/3054880385936297534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/06/being-strong.html' title='being strong'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-30136121259604201</id><published>2008-06-15T20:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-15T20:52:24.232-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tomorrow'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='waiting'/><title type='text'>Right here waiting for tomorrow</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Right here waiting for tomorrow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When, it seems as if we are oceans apart day after day and as the world gets in&lt;br /&gt;The way, making me go insane from not seeing you or hear your voice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It makes me wonder how we have survived all this time with us always on the go&lt;br /&gt;Never being able to hold each other for long but I know that I will be right&lt;br /&gt;Here for you when you come home&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And thinking of the tomorrows when we can be there with each other, keeps me&lt;br /&gt;Going until we can be there at home with each other in the arms of one another&lt;br /&gt;Remembering all those times where we had that were so special with the&lt;br /&gt;Little time we had&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-30136121259604201?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/30136121259604201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=30136121259604201' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/30136121259604201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/30136121259604201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/06/right-here-waiting-for-tomorrow.html' title='Right here waiting for tomorrow'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-4592398264522826575</id><published>2008-06-13T15:54:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-13T16:02:43.491-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hurting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='loss'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feelings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='reflections'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='searching'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>A Walk through the valley of the Shadow</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;A &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Walk through the valley of the Shadow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we learn who we have become&lt;br /&gt;As we relive those times that never really seemed important to us we find that&lt;br /&gt;We have some regrets when it comes to dealing with those we have loved but lost through&lt;br /&gt;Not knowing what we had till it was too late to stop the hurt&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We over time as the shadow grows learn that we cannot keep seeking those things that&lt;br /&gt;Create situations that prevent us from being there for those who would need our help to&lt;br /&gt;Get past the hurting inside caused by others who could not be bothered to care enough about&lt;br /&gt;How the people they hurt really feel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the tries to grow long to reach you, you find that you are not so blind to those who you&lt;br /&gt;Could have hurt from striving for that something that you could not get even with stepping&lt;br /&gt;On those who you thought were in your way but only wanted to show that there were&lt;br /&gt;People there willing to care enough to want to help you reach for that thing you wanted so much&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the shadow of death comes to show you the mistakes you have made through not caring&lt;br /&gt;You find that you are no longer afraid of him due to the voices and the visions from the past that&lt;br /&gt;Have preceded him getting you to change how you feel about the people in your life that&lt;br /&gt;You wish could make amends too that can only be done through paying their love forward&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-4592398264522826575?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/4592398264522826575/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=4592398264522826575' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/4592398264522826575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/4592398264522826575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/06/walk-through-valley-of-shadow.html' title='A Walk through the valley of the Shadow'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-1269127754625311836</id><published>2008-06-07T19:22:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-07T19:24:31.699-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='journey'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hope'/><title type='text'>Dancing with Memories</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Dancing with Memories&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dancing there remembering those times that happened so long ago&lt;br /&gt;You can almost remember those that have held you close in their arms&lt;br /&gt;From long ago and how safe and warm it felt then&lt;br /&gt;As you dance there you show your dance partner how strong those memories are&lt;br /&gt;By happily giving the same embrace that has kept your memories alive and well even&lt;br /&gt;Though those feelings stretch from long ago and far away which allows your&lt;br /&gt;Dance partner to add to those memories and making them stronger&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-1269127754625311836?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/1269127754625311836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=1269127754625311836' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/1269127754625311836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/1269127754625311836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/06/dancing-with-memories.html' title='Dancing with Memories'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-6948999248773849999</id><published>2008-06-06T11:26:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-06T11:28:31.763-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='loss'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fear'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pain'/><title type='text'>the yesterdays, today's and tomorrows</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The Yesterdays, Today’s and Tomorrows&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the yesterdays, we were shown that we could be lifted up out of the fear&lt;br /&gt;That we have allowed ourselves to get use to from never knowing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We learn in the todays that we can use those voices from the past that we had&lt;br /&gt;Let go unheard due to not wanting to hear the truths that we didn’t want to know&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fighting for the tomorrows, we find that the things we wanted left untold has given us&lt;br /&gt;A fire beneath our skin that can only be dealt with using a gentle hand that allows that fire&lt;br /&gt;To ignite a passion that in turn teaches others that there is more than the fear and the&lt;br /&gt;Anger that they hold inside which keeps them from experiencing unconditional love&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-6948999248773849999?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/6948999248773849999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=6948999248773849999' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/6948999248773849999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/6948999248773849999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/06/yesterdays-todays-and-tomorrows.html' title='the yesterdays, today&apos;s and tomorrows'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-7646764379424188320</id><published>2008-05-26T08:07:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-26T08:28:10.959-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='heart'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memorial'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='reflections'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='soul'/><title type='text'>For those who have paid the ultimate price</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;For those who have paid the ultimate price&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those who’s had to learn to live off of the land and to fight hand to hand&lt;br /&gt;They have trained long and hard for what they believe in and that is to be the&lt;br /&gt;Best in what they consider a job in that is honorable and in the line of fire&lt;br /&gt;They have proven that they are deserving of our unwavering&lt;br /&gt;Support by standing by them no matter what others would have them do&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those of them who found that they could step up to the plate in adversity and&lt;br /&gt;Thru the hardships that they have to endure have found their place in this world and&lt;br /&gt;Can only show the people who rely on them their true colors when&lt;br /&gt;They are called to duty to defend our sanctity and our honor as needed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we remember those of them who have paid the ultimate price in defending our&lt;br /&gt;Way of life we must keep their sacrifice in our hearts and minds so that we&lt;br /&gt;Forget what they gave so that we will not make the mistakes that others have&lt;br /&gt;Made which caused us to ask them to make the ultimate sacrifice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With the memorials going up to honor them we must eulogize the loss with their&lt;br /&gt;Families for the moment so that we can learn to remember the people who have served&lt;br /&gt;In a positive light as we keep their memories alive in our hearts and minds through&lt;br /&gt;Remembering what made them who they were and standing up for what was important&lt;br /&gt;Enough to them to get them to make it better for everyone&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-7646764379424188320?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/7646764379424188320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=7646764379424188320' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/7646764379424188320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/7646764379424188320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/05/for-those-who-have-paid-ultimate-price.html' title='For those who have paid the ultimate price'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-8630925297393617807</id><published>2008-05-15T15:27:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-15T15:29:30.420-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feelings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='walking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='time'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='searching'/><title type='text'>Till We Meet Again</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Till We Meet Again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without you I could not have been the one who I was expected to be when&lt;br /&gt;All you had to do is show me that I was the love in your life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I try to learn to live without your friendship that I have grown accustomed too&lt;br /&gt;I feel a great emptiness inside that is swelling more and more each day from this void&lt;br /&gt;I have inside that use to be where your love use to fill&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While the time passes, every second seems like an hour and every hour seems like a day&lt;br /&gt;As I walk aimlessly through the places we always felt happiest when we just needed to&lt;br /&gt;Be there for each other at the end of everyday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that you are gone I wish I was there with you to guide you and be beside you&lt;br /&gt;Until you get to where you were are going now even though you have to do it alone&lt;br /&gt;And my only conciliation is that we will be together again somewhere someday&lt;br /&gt;With you there to guide me to where we can be together again&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-8630925297393617807?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/8630925297393617807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=8630925297393617807' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/8630925297393617807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/8630925297393617807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/05/till-we-meet-again.html' title='Till We Meet Again'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-8543387923424669373</id><published>2008-05-04T18:40:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-04T18:42:35.062-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='trust'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='loss'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>A Matter of Trust and Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;A Matter of trust and Love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When those around you see that you are trying to do right by others&lt;br /&gt;Through showing the kindness needed to help those who are brought to&lt;br /&gt;You that are in need of your caring touch&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You find that those who need your caring touch are willing to show you a&lt;br /&gt;Great deal of trust even when they barely have the strength to show it and as&lt;br /&gt;You place them where they can get the most help those who you have proven&lt;br /&gt;Yourself with let you know that they will not let you down&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In those times where someone breaches that trust by showing heartlessness that&lt;br /&gt;Makes you feel like all of your efforts are for not and that it isn’t worth keeping it up&lt;br /&gt;Those who trust you the most show you that you should not be down on yourself&lt;br /&gt;For the heartlessness of those who hurt those that you love the most&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as you are still reeling from the heartlessness and the pain it caused&lt;br /&gt;Those who have placed their trust in you show you that they care enough about&lt;br /&gt;You to try their best to show you that you are a far better person than those&lt;br /&gt;Heartless people could ever be by showing that the love you have given to them&lt;br /&gt;Is reciprocated back to you many more times than you could ever imagined &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-8543387923424669373?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/8543387923424669373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=8543387923424669373' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/8543387923424669373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/8543387923424669373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/05/matter-of-trust-and-love.html' title='A Matter of Trust and Love'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-4374240267934058187</id><published>2008-05-02T21:37:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-02T21:42:03.028-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fighting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hope'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='facing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='faith'/><title type='text'>When the world shows that you're not invincible</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;When the world shows that you’re not invincible&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you find that you life has shown you that are not as invincible as&lt;br /&gt;You would like people to think, you try to keep a good face on it&lt;br /&gt;By showing that it will not let it beat you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the initial shock subsides and you gather yourself back so you can go on&lt;br /&gt;With what you know will keep your mind off of it you realize that at&lt;br /&gt;Some point you will have to think about it again so all you can do&lt;br /&gt;Is privately dwell on it until someone comes along to take your mind off of it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you finally get use to knowing that you are not invincible you gradually&lt;br /&gt;Start to go through the process of accepting what you have found out&lt;br /&gt;And either let it consume you or stand up and fight it&lt;br /&gt;with everything you’ve got inside of you letting yourself and others know&lt;br /&gt;who you really are inside&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if you stand up and fight it you show that you are that much stronger and&lt;br /&gt;makes others feel as if you are invincible if you come through unscathed in your&lt;br /&gt;attempt to fight the good fight especially if you are not fighting it for yourself&lt;br /&gt;which lets others know that you are fighting because you care for those who&lt;br /&gt;mean the most to you or for those that show that you are their everything,&lt;br /&gt;their world, their reason for being&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-4374240267934058187?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/4374240267934058187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=4374240267934058187' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/4374240267934058187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/4374240267934058187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/05/when-world-shows-that-youre-not.html' title='When the world shows that you&apos;re not invincible'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-3525113308031169935</id><published>2008-04-18T18:50:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-18T18:53:38.240-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='angels'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hope'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fear'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='faith'/><title type='text'>An Angel in You</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;An Angel in You&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When people think that you are their angel you always seem to find that one&lt;br /&gt;Reason not to believe that you are good enough, good enough to be that someone to&lt;br /&gt;Allow yourself to find out that you are that one person that they want there to be there for&lt;br /&gt;Them in their one true time of need&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You try to show that all you are is a distraction to that someone when you think that&lt;br /&gt;Someone else would Be the real angel even when you know that you have what it takes to be the One who can do what it takes when they need someone the most no matter what anyone&lt;br /&gt;Thinks when it comes to what can be done&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the endlessness starts to show from the lack of comfort from you not wanting to show&lt;br /&gt;That you can provide a second chance, they show that you are just trying to hide away&lt;br /&gt;From all that you know due to all of the times you have had to prove that you&lt;br /&gt;Do not want to fail during those times of hardship where all you see is vultures at your back&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During that dark time they are willing to pull you from that wreckage to show others that&lt;br /&gt;You have made it okay and to show that fear is natural even in the strongest of people&lt;br /&gt;You pull from the wreckage the one thing that you can consider a source of strength even&lt;br /&gt;If it means abandoning what you think is a good life so others can have faith&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when they have been shown to be in the arms of an angel proving to everyone but&lt;br /&gt;Yourself that, that someone can have some comfort they prove you wrong about you not being&lt;br /&gt;That angel that they so desperately need, showing you that you have lifted them up higher&lt;br /&gt;Than they have ever been raising them to new heights through your faith in them and realizing&lt;br /&gt;That they are your angel for believing in you so faithfully&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-3525113308031169935?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/3525113308031169935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=3525113308031169935' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/3525113308031169935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/3525113308031169935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/04/angel-in-you.html' title='An Angel in You'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-7141770861766574641</id><published>2008-04-11T13:28:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-11T13:29:35.305-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='playground'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>a playground in your memories</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;A playground in your memories&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As time goes by and you find that you are yearning for something that cannot&lt;br /&gt;Be explained you find that the best thing to do is remember the good times that&lt;br /&gt;You always seemed to have when you were a child and had no worries other&lt;br /&gt;Than whether your friends could come out and be there with you to keep you company&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you go home and pass by all those places that held some special meaning&lt;br /&gt;To you in your childhood you cannot help but stop and relive in you memory all of&lt;br /&gt;The good times you had there while saying to yourself I remember calling you friend&lt;br /&gt;To that one spot as you wish to yourself that you could return to your playground&lt;br /&gt;The way that it was, when you were young&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though it use to be the one place you could go, you quietly realize that&lt;br /&gt;You cannot return to your playground, the one place where you know your innocence&lt;br /&gt;Still lives and the one place where no matter your pain you were able to hold your&lt;br /&gt;Head up high from the comfort it gave through those friendships you forged&lt;br /&gt;And those hardships pushed aside even for those short periods of fun and laughter&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And even though you know you can’t go back you realize that your childhood wishes,&lt;br /&gt;Your childhood dreams all came true, making you the person you are today,&lt;br /&gt;A person who now sees that same happiness in their children and wishing that they&lt;br /&gt;To create some of those same memories with their friends&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-7141770861766574641?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/7141770861766574641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=7141770861766574641' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/7141770861766574641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/7141770861766574641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/04/playground-in-your-memories.html' title='a playground in your memories'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-2240827608874514147</id><published>2008-04-11T13:24:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-11T13:26:46.178-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dreams'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='loss'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>For Their Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;For Their Love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you feel like you have been dragged through Hell and back again&lt;br /&gt;You feel that you cannot do anything to prove that you will do&lt;br /&gt;Anything and everything for the one you love even though you know that&lt;br /&gt;They know different&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You wish that you could show that you have what it takes to be the one to&lt;br /&gt;Be there for them even if it means making a vow to show that you&lt;br /&gt;Are willing to do what it takes to prove your love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you pray to God to end the pain from the loneliness you feel you know that&lt;br /&gt;The pain you feel is real because you care so much for them and it lets you know&lt;br /&gt;That you must move on past the pain to show them that you are what they were&lt;br /&gt;Dreaming of and that you have been there all along&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You begin to show them that you will never stop dreaming of how it could be if&lt;br /&gt;Only they listen to their heart instead of their head&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they start to come around you show them that you are more than willing&lt;br /&gt;To lift them up out of the Hellish existence that has had them down for so long&lt;br /&gt;And willing to show that it will never be a time that you will move on for&lt;br /&gt;You are there to keep them safe and that you will do anything for their love&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-2240827608874514147?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/2240827608874514147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=2240827608874514147' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/2240827608874514147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/2240827608874514147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/04/for-their-love.html' title='For Their Love'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-360113114236193856</id><published>2008-04-08T21:16:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-15T19:42:05.662-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stormy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dark'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hope'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='soul'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='light'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poems'/><title type='text'>a dark and stormy night</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;A Dark and Stormy Night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the night becomes dark and stormy, you feel that you are lost from  there being no light To guide you, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;you pray that you find someone to walk beside you to hide you, to guide&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;you thru the night&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the despair sets in you can only hope that someone hears your soul calling&lt;br /&gt;For that beacon of hope, that beacon of light for that someone who can reach out&lt;br /&gt;And say there is no need to worry, I’ve got you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the darkest hour approaches you find that there is a glimmer of hope riding atop a pure&lt;br /&gt;White horse in full stride heading towards you looking like a shooting star in all of its&lt;br /&gt;Splendor parting those dark and stormy clouds that have you so full of dread which now&lt;br /&gt;Looks like a bright horizon with a double rain with you as the end of the rainbow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he gets closer and closer it almost seems like he has the sun in tow in all of its brilliance to&lt;br /&gt;Warm you up as if he knew that your dark and stormy night had given you a chill right&lt;br /&gt;Down to the bone that you just could not get rid of&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he finally gets there you realize that he has come for you to be beside you in&lt;br /&gt;Your time of need and when he finally reaches down to hold you, he says&lt;br /&gt;I heard your soul calling and could not help but come to you to guide you home&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-360113114236193856?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/360113114236193856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=360113114236193856' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/360113114236193856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/360113114236193856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/04/dark-and-stormy-night.html' title='a dark and stormy night'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-8945801074829484201</id><published>2008-04-05T17:55:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-05T17:56:41.052-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dreams'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='strangers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='journey'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='adventure'/><title type='text'>The Journey</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The journey&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you look around you think that all the people around you&lt;br /&gt;Are strangers in a foreign land&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the beginning of your journey you find that you are at the cusps of&lt;br /&gt;A great adventure that you have only seen in your dreams&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Starting out you find that those people whom you though were strangers&lt;br /&gt;Are there with you beside you on that same adventure trying to find their own&lt;br /&gt;Path on the road winding them allow a twisting path that allows them&lt;br /&gt;To be friends with you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you look out on the road you can’t help but keep going while you find that&lt;br /&gt;You have started out on a journey that will end up leading to someone that you&lt;br /&gt;Never expected who started on the same journey at the beginning with you&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-8945801074829484201?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/8945801074829484201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=8945801074829484201' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/8945801074829484201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/8945801074829484201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/04/journey.html' title='The Journey'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-232847702255084604</id><published>2008-04-05T17:52:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-05T17:54:10.880-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dancing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happiness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memories'/><title type='text'>Memories through the window</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Memories though the window&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you sit there safe and warm looking through the window that looks like a vale&lt;br /&gt;You look out into the darkness remembering the fond memories that happened long&lt;br /&gt;Ago and far away hoping that those days can come again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the memories come into focus they seem to pirouette as if dancing just out of reach&lt;br /&gt;And as you allow yourself to remember you find that they are able to give you a&lt;br /&gt;Sense of happiness that you have long since forgotten&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the memories go by one by one you feel as if someone is there holding you&lt;br /&gt;Comforting you hoping that they are ready to sweep you away to allow you to relive&lt;br /&gt;Those memories and as the moment passes you almost feel a kiss that is like a loved one&lt;br /&gt;Saying good bye yet saying I will always be with you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-232847702255084604?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/232847702255084604/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=232847702255084604' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/232847702255084604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/232847702255084604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/04/memories-through-window.html' title='Memories through the window'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-7210293834792204359</id><published>2008-04-05T17:49:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-05T17:51:56.705-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hope'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fear'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='facing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='strength'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>Always and Forever</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Always and forever&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you feel that you can not stop that crying from the fear you find&lt;br /&gt;That even though you feel so small, there is someone who understands how You feel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they reach out to have you take there hand, you stop your crying just wanting&lt;br /&gt;To hold it tight but you just can’t help but want to show them that you are strong even&lt;br /&gt;As they take hold and hug you making you safe and warm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the moment passes you realize that you have been in their heart not realizing that&lt;br /&gt;They had been trying to show you that they felt that they had to be strong&lt;br /&gt;Hoping that they could be there for you, with you always and for ever&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-7210293834792204359?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/7210293834792204359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=7210293834792204359' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/7210293834792204359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/7210293834792204359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/04/always-and-forever.html' title='Always and Forever'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-7974904243029699927</id><published>2008-03-29T16:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-29T16:45:56.670-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='good'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='loss'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='reflections'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jobs'/><title type='text'>Job loss</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Job Loss&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Job loss is always stressful even in the best of times&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Job loss can make even the strongest of people have a defeatist attitude&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Job loss can be a time of reflection on what you have accomplished&lt;br /&gt;When it comes to what you have done with your life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Job loss will always be a time to gather you thoughts on what you would&lt;br /&gt;Hope to accomplish in the future&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Job loss can be a good way of coming out of a rut and finding real direction&lt;br /&gt;As to what you would like to do with your life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Job loss even when expected is never what you expect and rarely looks like a good&lt;br /&gt;Thing when it happens but, a good thing years later when in reflection of what&lt;br /&gt;You have done with your life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Job loss always has the potential of being a good thing or a bad thing&lt;br /&gt;Depending on how you choose to deal with it and what you make of it&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-7974904243029699927?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/7974904243029699927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=7974904243029699927' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/7974904243029699927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/7974904243029699927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/03/job-loss.html' title='Job loss'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-7366958501479623764</id><published>2008-03-23T19:29:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-23T19:31:08.322-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='joy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happiness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feelings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>Feelings for Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Feelings for Love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you feel that you will loose them if you don’t use them just&lt;br /&gt;So you can have someone at your side&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You think it doesn’t really matter since you feel you have no right to&lt;br /&gt;Use them just to have someone there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you feel that you may have to take the fall for wanting to use them you&lt;br /&gt;Find that the truth of the matter is that those feelings are not justified since&lt;br /&gt;They show you that they want to be there with you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you start coming around you find that they had the same feelings as you&lt;br /&gt;And that they realized that they should express themselves because they thought&lt;br /&gt;That love may not be enough to keep each other going&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it finally sets in that you will never loose them you realize that the&lt;br /&gt;Feelings you had over using them to have them by your side start to fade out&lt;br /&gt;Of existence while being replaced with feelings of utter joy at their desire&lt;br /&gt;To be there with you as well&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-7366958501479623764?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/7366958501479623764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=7366958501479623764' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/7366958501479623764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/7366958501479623764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/03/feelings-for-love.html' title='Feelings for Love'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-8354955360171915482</id><published>2008-03-16T17:48:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-16T17:49:53.676-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='support'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='journey'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poems'/><title type='text'>No matter what gets in the way</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;No matter what gets in the way&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes when it seems harder it is we can take a night that&lt;br /&gt;We were hoping to be a perfect night and make it a night that we&lt;br /&gt;Wish never happened&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At times we wonder if we are meant to be there for each other with all&lt;br /&gt;Of the things that get in the way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are times when you cannot help but just be there waiting and watching,&lt;br /&gt;Hoping that something gives until your defenses are melted by an action&lt;br /&gt;That shows that no matter how bad it gets they will be there for you, to support you, To love you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the years go by, you find that no matter what has gotten in the way or may&lt;br /&gt;Get in the way nothing will make the love you share subside but rather it has only&lt;br /&gt;Made your love for each other grow more and more&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With the problems we have faced and the problems will face, no matter what gets in&lt;br /&gt;The way we will be there for each other when we are in times of trouble and there for&lt;br /&gt;Each other when we are at our happiest&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-8354955360171915482?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/8354955360171915482/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=8354955360171915482' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/8354955360171915482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/8354955360171915482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/03/no-matter-what-gets-in-way.html' title='No matter what gets in the way'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-6385039870086504636</id><published>2008-03-09T19:43:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-09T19:45:38.122-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='heart'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='journey'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poems'/><title type='text'>at the beginning</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;At the Beginning&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the beginning love is a journey that you hope will&lt;br /&gt;Be ever lasting and ever growing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the beginning you think that the love cannot last&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the beginning you feel that love is and endless river&lt;br /&gt;That cascades over you and allowing the feelings flow out&lt;br /&gt;Of you as strongly as a river flows&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the beginning with the love of you life as you look at what you&lt;br /&gt;Hope the love will become and you see a long and winding road that&lt;br /&gt;You hope will never end&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the beginning you ask yourself what did I do to deserve the&lt;br /&gt;Unconditional love that is being given to you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the beginning the love you find gives you a renewed hope that&lt;br /&gt;Gives you a new lease on life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the beginning you find that you are standing next to someone that&lt;br /&gt;You never expected to be with&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the beginning you realize that in the end you are on a remarkable&lt;br /&gt;Journey that is as wondrous as you will ever have that will be the happiest&lt;br /&gt;Time of your life&lt;br /&gt;At the beginning when you were a stranger no one expected your heart&lt;br /&gt;To be captured on the journey and find that the adventure called love is&lt;br /&gt;Well worth the search&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the beginning as you realize that this is the one you find that this is the&lt;br /&gt;One you want to grow old with and be with when the world ends&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-6385039870086504636?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/6385039870086504636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=6385039870086504636' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/6385039870086504636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/6385039870086504636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/03/at-beginning.html' title='at the beginning'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-8135168122321722659</id><published>2008-03-02T10:22:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-02T10:24:04.264-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='support'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hope'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kindness'/><title type='text'>In the End</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;In the End&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When your lost and all alone you feel that you&lt;br /&gt;Will have to face the world standing on your own&lt;br /&gt;With no one there to support you when you have your&lt;br /&gt;Tail between your legs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the days go by you find that you keep running into people&lt;br /&gt;Who when they see you down and out attempting to help you out&lt;br /&gt;Of that slump that has had you so down in the dumps&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With out knowing it you try telling them that in the end you don’t know&lt;br /&gt;How anyone can change your reality where there has been no one there for&lt;br /&gt;So long that has been willing to be there for you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you are showing how far down in the dumps you are the people who&lt;br /&gt;Have chosen to help you show that those feelings of dread have no basis&lt;br /&gt;Due to showing you that in the end your reality can be changed by their love&lt;br /&gt;And in the end it does their love dose effect your reality enough to lift youUp out of that world that has you lost and feeling like you are all alone&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-8135168122321722659?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/8135168122321722659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=8135168122321722659' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/8135168122321722659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/8135168122321722659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/03/in-end.html' title='In the End'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-8463370584056969564</id><published>2008-02-23T08:51:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-23T19:27:30.756-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='research'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='reflections'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pancreatic'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='prayers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cancer'/><title type='text'>In memorium to my cousin Dianne</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;God's Position&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;God when he feels that he has a position to fill, he looks at who he thinks would be the right one for the position. When he has chosen who he thinks is right he whispers to them let me give you a test, a test to see how much you are needed here with me and with those for which you care for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God’s test at times can be more grueling than anything you can put yourself through or as easy as doing something that brightens the day of someone who is on the fences. When he is through with his test he whispers to you a job well done and in some cases he calls you home to be at his side to be a guardian angel looking after those who could use your strength and your tenderness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As God welcomes her home he eases the pain by whispering to those who care, she will be here at my side watching over you and guiding you until she comes to bring you home so you can be together again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-8463370584056969564?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/8463370584056969564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=8463370584056969564' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/8463370584056969564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/8463370584056969564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/02/in-memorium-to-my-cousin-diane.html' title='In memorium to my cousin Dianne'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-2834419675418455496</id><published>2008-02-16T13:30:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-16T13:33:19.905-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pondering'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='reflections'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='desperado'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='freedom'/><title type='text'>The desperado</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;The Desperado&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you look down the long road we call life, you feel like the desperado&lt;br /&gt;Who only knows the highway run which makes it feel like&lt;br /&gt;A lonely road, the lonely road that is mythical to the old time cowboys&lt;br /&gt;Who where desperado’s&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You wonder how to get past the loneliness you feel, that feels like it is driving&lt;br /&gt;You home to a home that you barely even know, as you go along it seems like you&lt;br /&gt;Are a prisoner just along for the ride given the occasional freedom during those&lt;br /&gt;Short respites until you learn to listen to your heart which allows you to break&lt;br /&gt;Free from the chains that you held so close for so long&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you walk away from those fallen chains to face the once lonely road, you realize&lt;br /&gt;That all you had to do is let someone in through that desperado shell to find&lt;br /&gt;Out what you have been missing &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-2834419675418455496?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/2834419675418455496/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=2834419675418455496' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/2834419675418455496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/2834419675418455496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/02/desperado.html' title='The desperado'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-840392068448910855</id><published>2008-02-10T11:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-10T11:50:20.961-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='facing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='strength'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stand up'/><title type='text'>Stand up to face your...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Stand up to face your…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When your principals will not permit you to be an innocent,&lt;br /&gt;You find out how much power you give to your convictions&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With the weight of your convictions on your shoulders you feel&lt;br /&gt;That you must stand up and face your enemy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you stand up to face your enemy, you feel that you have to act as if&lt;br /&gt;You are invincible so that there is no sacrifice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you know that you there is no sacrifice you find that your&lt;br /&gt;Strength in your convictions shows through more which allows you&lt;br /&gt;To stand up and face your fears when you need to do what is right&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you stand up you find that the strength of your convictions ensures&lt;br /&gt;That you stand up for those who would be an innocent so that they&lt;br /&gt;Are not sacrificed while facing your enemy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After you have won the day while trying to look like you are invincible&lt;br /&gt;You show those who would be an innocent that you are far from&lt;br /&gt;Invincible by showing, a strength that is faltering from giving it all&lt;br /&gt;That you can in the time of need&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-840392068448910855?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/840392068448910855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=840392068448910855' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/840392068448910855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/840392068448910855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/02/stand-up-to-face-your.html' title='Stand up to face your...'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-8093257360940936519</id><published>2008-02-02T12:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-02T12:44:44.422-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='reflections'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pictures'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lives'/><title type='text'>a picture</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;A Picture&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A picture can be something to remind us of the happy&lt;br /&gt;Memories from our youth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A picture can be can be something of a sorry reminder&lt;br /&gt;From somewhere in our past&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A picture can be of our favorite places, the places we have visited&lt;br /&gt;Or of the loved ones that we so cherish&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A picture can show us a great many things depending on&lt;br /&gt;When we see them&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A picture lets us relive the fun times in our lives which allows&lt;br /&gt;Us to remember the smallest detail of our most treasured&lt;br /&gt;Of memories&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A picture is a piece of the canvas for which we call our lives&lt;br /&gt;That are pieced together as we grow older&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-8093257360940936519?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/8093257360940936519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=8093257360940936519' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/8093257360940936519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/8093257360940936519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/02/picture.html' title='a picture'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-8437646455179808910</id><published>2008-01-24T09:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-24T09:55:26.589-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='aging'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pondering'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='time'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memories'/><title type='text'>the times of our lives</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;The time of our lives&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As little kids time always seems to go on forever and ever&lt;br /&gt;Even as our parents try to teach us that there is a time for everything&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As kids time just keeps going and going yet we always rush to get as much fun&lt;br /&gt;Into the days in between the things we must do&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As teens, time is something we never have enough of when it comes to&lt;br /&gt;Doing the things that we want to do&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As young adults we are always trying to find the time to do all of the things&lt;br /&gt;That we never seem to have the time to do even when it comes to things we love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we settle into adulthood time seems to blur the line between the days so that they&lt;br /&gt;Seem to blend together when we don’t want them too yet drag on when we&lt;br /&gt;Don’t expect them too&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After we are old and grey we reflect on the times of our lives that still remain with us after&lt;br /&gt;All this time only to wonder where did all of the time go&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-8437646455179808910?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/8437646455179808910/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=8437646455179808910' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/8437646455179808910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/8437646455179808910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/01/times-of-our-lives.html' title='the times of our lives'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-7125620940279227812</id><published>2008-01-17T21:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-17T21:13:46.898-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='beauty'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='angels'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rainbows'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='waterfalls'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>Angel of Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Angel of Love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you’re lying in your bed with the day’s events running through your head,&lt;br /&gt;You wonder how you were so blessed to have a person beside you who&lt;br /&gt;You consider an angel from heaven, who constantly blesses you with love,&lt;br /&gt;A love that you consider a god send, which is the brightest part of your life even&lt;br /&gt;When you feel that you don’t deserve to be there with them loving you so faithfully&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As time goes by you learn that you will be blessed with an out pouring of love that&lt;br /&gt;You feel like all you can do is give thanks that your angel found you and&lt;br /&gt;That your angel reminds you of a beautiful water fountain or of a majestic&lt;br /&gt;Waterfall that has a double rainbow in its spray as it cascades down to a waiting&lt;br /&gt;Pool that settles becoming so pristine that it’s like a mirror reflecting the&lt;br /&gt;Beauty right back&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-7125620940279227812?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/7125620940279227812/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=7125620940279227812' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/7125620940279227812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/7125620940279227812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/01/angel-of-love.html' title='Angel of Love'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-1343037389520647286</id><published>2008-01-10T19:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-10T19:54:02.170-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='beauty'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wind'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='winter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='weather'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='snow'/><title type='text'>old man winters fun</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;As old man winter sets up ans shows you the worst he can give, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;he makes you  wish it would just end tomorrow even&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;though he has done his best to make all of his fury enchantingly&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;beautiful with the splendor of each snowflake floating&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;down looking like it is but a single solitary feather falling on&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;a beautifully calm windless day&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;as the enchanting beauty fades with the last snowflake falling&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;you go to do your daily errands and you find that old&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;man winter is now laughing at you for admiring his attempt at &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;creating a false sense of calm at the height of winter by &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;now letting loose the west winds that are the coldest of the &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;winds that he has to play with&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;He does it so well that long after you have gone home &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;to sit by the warmest of fires you still have a chill&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;a chill that goes right to the bone giving you a chill right&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;up your back making you shiver as if you were cold&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;As January roles around old man winter shows you how&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;much he likes to play games by making you think that&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;he has decided to lighten up by giving you a couple&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;days of warm weather that allows you to come out of that&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;little funk that you had been in only to hit you &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;even worse than he had before that by giving you &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;a little storm that he likes to call a blizzard&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-1343037389520647286?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/1343037389520647286/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=1343037389520647286' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/1343037389520647286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/1343037389520647286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/01/old-man-winters-fun.html' title='old man winters fun'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-7818421004640098651</id><published>2008-01-03T20:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-03T20:34:27.876-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='help'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='adversity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tests'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kindness'/><title type='text'>Tribulations and Questions</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Tribulations and Questions&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As life’s tribulations weigh on you mind and the questions show in your eyes&lt;br /&gt;You can’t help but feel lost or alone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the people who know you, see you with your heavy burden, they start wondering&lt;br /&gt;If you’ll be ok and show you that they will be beside you all the way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they come to your side you can’t help but cry those happy tears showing everyone&lt;br /&gt;That you care that they are there to be beside you and to guide you all the way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as time turns the page you feel the weight being lifted off of your shoulders&lt;br /&gt;And the questions fading only to become a distant memory which is all but forgotten&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as life’s tribulations and the questions in your eyes are but fleeting memories&lt;br /&gt;You find that you have one question left which is how to show your gratitude&lt;br /&gt;Even when your friends are telling you only a simple thank you is needed&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-7818421004640098651?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/7818421004640098651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=7818421004640098651' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/7818421004640098651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/7818421004640098651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2008/01/tribulations-and-questions.html' title='Tribulations and Questions'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-5920599011655571341</id><published>2007-12-29T18:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-29T19:05:54.277-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wishes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='reflections'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='New Years'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Resolution'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poems'/><title type='text'>New Years Resolution</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;As the year winds down and you get ready to &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;make the rounds with your friends celebrating the&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;new year you make the normal resolutions that your &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;friends wish you to make.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;In reality you have already made your new years&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;resolutions and are hoping that this time it&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;comes true knowing that you did your best to&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;make sure you can live up to your resolution this time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Your new years resolution is a wish, a wish that you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;need to see through to fruition for you know that&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;it will not come to pass without you making an honest&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;attempt at seeing it happen.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;As the hours wind down you look back with some &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;happiness for the good times that you shared and some&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;regret over the times you could not do anything to&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;help wishing only to be there for those who mean the &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;most to you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Happy New Year to one and to all,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;may the New Year be a joyous one for you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;and for those who mean the most to you. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-5920599011655571341?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/5920599011655571341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=5920599011655571341' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/5920599011655571341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/5920599011655571341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2007/12/new-years-resolution.html' title='New Years Resolution'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-2827424288298056474</id><published>2007-12-22T10:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-22T11:03:30.627-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='retirement'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><title type='text'>For a friend, text of a card I made for her retirement</title><content type='html'>With the hard earned retirement approaching,&lt;br /&gt;everyone is happy that you are finally getting the&lt;br /&gt;well deserved retirement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the same time we are saddened by the fact we will&lt;br /&gt;no longer have you here everyday to brighten our day and&lt;br /&gt;will miss you dearly, leaving only the memories that everyone&lt;br /&gt;will cherish.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-2827424288298056474?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/2827424288298056474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=2827424288298056474' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/2827424288298056474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/2827424288298056474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2007/12/for-friend-text-of-card-i-made-for-her.html' title='For a friend, text of a card I made for her retirement'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-6842784947409398348</id><published>2007-12-15T15:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-15T15:33:05.681-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='support'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feelings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='strength'/><title type='text'>When we try</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;When we try&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we try our best and it feels like we’ve tried so hard but gotten only so far&lt;br /&gt;We can’t help but feel like we need someone to lean on&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we try and feel like we need someone to lean on, we try to hide away&lt;br /&gt;Hoping that the people we can lean on will not see us in our despair&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we try we try so hard to do our best even when we feel like our best&lt;br /&gt;Is not enough to given the outcome&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we try and feel like we have gotten only so far we find that we have friends that&lt;br /&gt;Are willing to show us that we have gotten further than we thought&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we try, we show that we can be the ones to lean on when others&lt;br /&gt;Think that their attempts are in vain when they have tried so hard&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we try we show that when we try so hard we cannot loose it all even&lt;br /&gt;When we start to feel small from it not going our way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we try, we are never alone in anything we do and we are shown by others that&lt;br /&gt;Even when we think only went so far that we went much further than we thought&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And in the end as we’ve tried and leaned on others we learn that those we depended on&lt;br /&gt;Were leaning on us as well drawing from our strength in turn giving us strength&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-6842784947409398348?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/6842784947409398348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=6842784947409398348' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/6842784947409398348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/6842784947409398348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2007/12/when-we-try.html' title='When we try'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-4347521405378252784</id><published>2007-12-09T15:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-09T15:14:36.363-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='helping'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='searching'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='strength'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='soul'/><title type='text'>where you are going and what are you looking for</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Where you are going and what are are you looking for&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you don’t know where you’re going or what you’re looking for, you feel&lt;br /&gt;Like you are a lost soul that cannot find its way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you go along trying to find where you are going and finding what you are looking for,&lt;br /&gt;You realize that you have grown up so much that you barely recognize yourself&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Through your searching for where you are going you learn to find your way down your&lt;br /&gt;Own path that can only be charted by you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you start to figure out what you are looking for you realize that you have always known&lt;br /&gt; What you are looking for without even knowing that you knew what it was&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In all of your searching you find that you are not such a lost soul after all for through your&lt;br /&gt;Travels you find that things seemed to fall into place when you needed them to it the most&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as time goes on you find where you were looking for and it was right where&lt;br /&gt;You needed to be for others who were lost just like you helping them to bring find&lt;br /&gt;Where they were going as you learn that helping them was what you were looking for&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the end you end up going somewhere that you never expected to go and finding&lt;br /&gt;Something that you never expected to find&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-4347521405378252784?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/4347521405378252784/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=4347521405378252784' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/4347521405378252784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/4347521405378252784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2007/12/where-you-are-going-and-what-are-you.html' title='where you are going and what are you looking for'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-7573682027359666603</id><published>2007-12-02T18:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-02T18:38:25.676-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='winter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='snow'/><title type='text'>winters first snow</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;winters first snow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Winters first snow always seems better than&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;the rest of the snowfall of the season&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;winters first snow always appears to come &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;down with warmth even in the coldest of nights&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;winters first snow almost always seems lighter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;than the rest&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;winters first snow always seems to dance around&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;joyfully and playfully&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;winters first snow may not amount to much but&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;in years gone by it almost always seems like much more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;winters first snow always seems magical even in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;the worst of times that can be&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-7573682027359666603?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/7573682027359666603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=7573682027359666603' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/7573682027359666603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/7573682027359666603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2007/12/winters-first-snow.html' title='winters first snow'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-2567575858316752258</id><published>2007-11-29T20:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-01T14:21:26.992-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='religion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='holidays'/><title type='text'>in this time of religious...</title><content type='html'>in this time of religious holiday sentiment it is easy to forget about the people outside of our own little world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in this time of religious holiday revelry, it is easy to forget about the things in our lives that matter outside of the festivities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in this time of religious holiday happenings it is easy to forget that there are others out there maybe less fortunate than ourselves in one of many ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in this religious holiday season, whether you celebrate Christmas, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Hanukkah, or Quanza you can never forget what those days represent.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-2567575858316752258?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/2567575858316752258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=2567575858316752258' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/2567575858316752258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/2567575858316752258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2007/11/in-this-time-of-religious.html' title='in this time of religious...'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-2178178566283688635</id><published>2007-11-21T21:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-21T21:27:03.775-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='trees'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='spirits'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='animals'/><title type='text'>How we are with our spirits</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;How we are with our spirits&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How we are with our spirits we soar way up high, as high as the eagles glide&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How we are with our spirits we can run with the wolves&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How we are with our spirits we can out fox, the fox&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How we are with our spirits we can show the raven the same intuitive stare that it has that shows that we are figuring things out as well&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How we are with our spirits we can take on the boldest of the bullying blue jays&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How we are with our spirits we can make the grizzly bear our brother&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How we are with our spirits we can be as strong as the mighty oak and the hearty maple or&lt;br /&gt;As wondrously beautiful as the paper birch and the weeping willow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How we are with our spirits we can be as focused as the salmon swimming up against the river&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How we are with our spirits our touch can be as soft and gentle as the late spring breeze or as fiercely powerful as the mighty river during the early spring thaw&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How we are with our spirits we can get the ever careful deer to lay down beside us in friendship&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How we are with our spirits we can get the chipmunk to trust us enough to sit in our hand or to get the squirrel to be friendly enough to eat out of the same hand&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How we are with our spirits we can hear the voices of experience talking to us in the wind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How we are with our spirits we can hear the trees talking to us as if we are brothers&lt;br /&gt;Holding a grand conversation together&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How we are with our spirits we find that the ground leads us to where we&lt;br /&gt;Need to be just when we are needed there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How we are with our spirits we will find ourselves, find out who we are and find&lt;br /&gt;Our destiny when we are ready or when we need to know&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-2178178566283688635?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/2178178566283688635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=2178178566283688635' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/2178178566283688635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/2178178566283688635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2007/11/how-we-are-with-our-spirits.html' title='How we are with our spirits'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-5794851918503565200</id><published>2007-11-15T13:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-15T13:49:27.237-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='strength'/><title type='text'>Memories</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;a single moment can create a that can be so good that&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;you cannot help but reminisce years later or wish that, that&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;moment never happened&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;a memory can be a great source of comfort in a time of need&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;or it can be a great source of pain when things are at their worst&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;a memory can give you solice in knowing that you helped&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;someone out in a time of need &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;a memory can be something that can drive you to be your&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;best when no one expects you to be there&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;a memory can push people away or draw them in when&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;you share it with them&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;a memory when shared can be a source of strength &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;to others that need a moral boost&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;in the end our memories are the stories of our lives that&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;make us who we are and enrich our lives&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-5794851918503565200?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/5794851918503565200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=5794851918503565200' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/5794851918503565200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/5794851918503565200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2007/11/memories.html' title='Memories'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-1659574873217387632</id><published>2007-11-15T12:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-15T12:22:21.675-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='heart'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mind'/><title type='text'>Hearts and minds</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Hearts and minds&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we go about our daily lives, why is it the we close our minds and never open our hearts when&lt;br /&gt;We see families on the street&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we go about our daily routine why is it that we turn a blind eye to the people on the street&lt;br /&gt;Selling drugs, selling them to our children&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How is it that we allowed money to be our incentive for everything we do now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How will I know that someone will be there for me when no one is willing to open up, will you be there for me, can you be there for me when I open my mind and my heart to the families on&lt;br /&gt;The street&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will you be there to stand by me when no one else will be there in my time of need&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When will we open up our minds to new and better things and how do we open our hearts&lt;br /&gt;Without getting hurt&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When will we learn that money isn’t the answer for everything we do&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-1659574873217387632?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/1659574873217387632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=1659574873217387632' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/1659574873217387632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/1659574873217387632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2007/11/hearts-and-minds.html' title='Hearts and minds'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-6382209158554158137</id><published>2007-11-14T09:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-14T09:39:50.602-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='heart'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='support'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fight'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='caring'/><title type='text'>Taking a Stand</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Taking a Stand&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As each day goes by, you see and hear stuff that makes you feel like&lt;br /&gt;All you can do is sit by watching it all happen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the plight of others gets worse you start wondering to yourself is this what&lt;br /&gt;My life is for and asking why the world has to be the way it is&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the turmoil appears to be at its worst, you wonder if your life was meant to be&lt;br /&gt;Wasted in a world full of pain and sorrow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the outlook looks bleak and no one appears to be doing anything at all you start&lt;br /&gt;Feeling as if you can no longer just sit around anymore forcing you to stand up and fight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see others who feel the same way then you notice that for many of those you see, your&lt;br /&gt;Actions are a rallying call in coming out and saying we’re not going to take it anymore&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As each person stand up to fight it says in a unifying voice that we cannot go quietly into the night&lt;br /&gt;Forcing the shake up of the status quo while showing others that there is something better, something far better then what they have been shown that life should be or needs to be&lt;br /&gt;Which gives you the diligence to do more and do your best&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-6382209158554158137?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/6382209158554158137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=6382209158554158137' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/6382209158554158137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/6382209158554158137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2007/11/taking-stand.html' title='Taking a Stand'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-3251939656836868742</id><published>2007-11-10T15:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-10T15:42:00.535-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Castle Island'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fort Independence'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><title type='text'>Daphne's trip to Castle Island (pages 9 - 11 final 3 pages) childrens story</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/RzYXWd0ghQI/AAAAAAAAAC4/mWFO4HQ7tDQ/s1600-h/DSC00915.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131314500164683010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/RzYXWd0ghQI/AAAAAAAAAC4/mWFO4HQ7tDQ/s320/DSC00915.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/RzYXWt0ghRI/AAAAAAAAADA/o02PXuaIAMs/s1600-h/DSC00955.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131314504459650322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/RzYXWt0ghRI/AAAAAAAAADA/o02PXuaIAMs/s320/DSC00955.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/RzYW_N0ghOI/AAAAAAAAACo/bYj4JHwi3dA/s1600-h/DSC00895.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131314100732724450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/RzYW_N0ghOI/AAAAAAAAACo/bYj4JHwi3dA/s320/DSC00895.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/RzYW_d0ghPI/AAAAAAAAACw/wgICEUZjk0I/s1600-h/DSC00908.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131314105027691762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/RzYW_d0ghPI/AAAAAAAAACw/wgICEUZjk0I/s320/DSC00908.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While trying to chew her stuffed mouth she could see her best friend an her mom trying to look for Daphne and her mom tried to get their attention by waving and jumping up and down hoping that they would see her but she ended having to swallow what she had in her mouth which made her mouth throat hurt but she then ran up to her best friend almost tackling her.  She then led them to where they were sitting talking up a storm to the point that they could not make any sense of what Daphne was saying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; When they got to where Daphne’s mom was sitting, both Daphne’s mom and her best friends mom started to catch up on a few things while the girls ate while they trying to play with each other.  After they were done eating the girls went down the ramp to the small section of beach to play on the sand and in the water.  Since there was only one way on and off of the beach and it a small section of beach with a retaining wall on two of the tree sides both of their moms didn’t have to worry too much as they watched them play.  After a little while, their moms called them back up off of the beach and Daphne’s mom asked “her if she wanted to go around the castle one last time to spend a little time with her friend”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daphne replied by asking “just one more time” in way that suggested that it was a stupid question and then ran up the ramp with her best friend.  With that they went towards the playground so that the girls could play in it for a little while and as they walked towards the playground Daphne and her best friend was playing with each other on the bottom of the grassy hill that the castle sat on top of and running circles around the trees taking turns trying to catch each other.  When they came around the bend in the sidewalk which went around the hill the playground came into view and the girls made a break for it grabbing the only two swings that were available.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The whole time they were on the swings they were giggling and trying to twist the swings to hit each other while swinging until one of them fell off, and then they cracked up laughing and ran off to play on the jungle gym part of the playground.  As the got to the ladder to climb up to the top of the jungle gym like the other kids there they were in a hurry to get up on the ladder and after they got up there they started running back and forth on the various pieces linking the pieces of the jungle gym.  As other kids walked away from different activities on the jungle gym they went and played imaginary games with each thing with their favorite being the tic-tac-toe activity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they got bored with those activities, they noticed that instead of the normal poles between the bars to go back and forth there were handles that dangled and also a handle that let you slide across between the two segments of the jungle gym and tried to climb across on the dangling handles and played with the sliding handle trying to see who could send it back to the other one fastest even if they had to push someone that wanted to go across.  After about an hour they had their fill of the jungle gym and went to rest for a few minutes on the little wall that made up the boundary for the playground.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a few minutes they started playing on and around the wall which got old real quick which both of their moms noticed and got them moving again and while they were moving along they seen people walking their dogs, stopping to pat the ones the were friendly and getting lots of kisses from the overly friendly ones which were the really hyper ones.  They ended up running back and forth between their moms and the furthest tree for which their moms could still see them. They ended up seeing a barbeque pit and started running after each other around it and as the got close to catching each other they would turn away from the barbeque pit instead of going around it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a few minutes their moms moved them along and they started walking and playing with each other as little girls did when they were walking with each other when there was nothing they could do but walk.  As they were following their moms the came upon a bust of a firefighter for which they both asked “why is this here” for which they were told “it’s a statue to remember some firefighters that dies while fighting a fire” for which all either one of them could say was “wow” and then they started walking again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they moved along they made their way up to the leading edge of the retaining wall which also had a decorative fence that was pretty much two decorative poles between two decorative posts along the top of the retaining wall.  They ended standing there for a few minutes commenting on the different boats and ships that passed by, they even seen some sailboats with some of them being rather large.  As they commented on the boats especially the larger sailboats the mother of Daphne’s best friend pointed to a specific sailboat and said that, “that boat is called a tall ship and goes around the world training people how to sail and to be paraded in the waterways”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They all stood there watching the tall ship pass by and after it so far passed them Daphne’s mom said “ok, lets go” so they started up again.  The girls started walking but lagged behind because they wanted to continue watching the boats and were hurried along by their moms.  They then started running to catch up and ended up tripping themselves up causing their moms to stop and wait for them.   After they got up and brushed themselves off they were a little subdued from being embarrassed from falling and just walked holding their moms hands for a couple minutes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shortly after that they came upon another statue and Daphne asked “why does that one look like a soldier?” for which her mom said “it is a soldier, it is a statue remembering people who came from this area that died in the Korean War.”  They stopped in front of the statue just long enough for her mom to say that and then kept walking and after a minute or two the girls got a second wind and started sticking their tongues out at each other and acting as if they didn’t see each other doing it and then took off running again.  This time they ran up the hill and decided to race each other by rolling down the hill a couple times as their moms watched as they continued walking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they came around the bend Daphne’s best friends older brother came out of the back of Sullivan’s and just caught sight of his and Daphne’s mom and waited there for them, while looking for the girls which he did.  He was watching to see if they had noticed him and after he realized that he hadn’t been noticed by the girls he went and hid behind the dumpster by the back door making sure that he could still see them so he would know when to jump out.  After they got a little past him he came out and motioned to their moms to keep quiet which let them know that he was going to scare them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He then snuck up behind them and scared them by getting down to their level, walking up behind them quietly and said “boo”, they jumped and screamed causing him to fall to the ground with laughter, their moms even had a good laugh at how much they jumped and screamed.  The girls ended getting a little mad at him and going over to him and kicking him saying “that wasn’t nice” as he was laughing he tried to say “but it was worth it” but could not get the words out because he was laughing too hard.  After he was done laughing, he got up and said hold on let me get my backpack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After he got his backpack, they started walking along the parking lot in front while the girls told him about what they had been doing.  They followed the parking lot away from the castle making their way towards the car that Daphne’s best friend and her mom came in which was down the street about halfway between the parking lot they were at and the one the Daphne and her mom parked in.  when they came up on the car which was across the street, Daphne asked “how are you going to cross here with all that traffic” for which her best friends older brother said “don’t worry about it” as their moms said their good byes and then the girls did that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that Daphne and he mom continued walking and Daphne said “this is a big beach” for which her mom said “this isn’t big, I have seen much, much bigger.”  While they were walking Daphne started showing that she was tired and with in a couple minutes started lagging behind the way little girls do causing her mom to pick her up.  By the time they got to their car Daphne was fast asleep causing her mom to gently put her in the back seat of the vehicle.  After putting Daphne in the back seat her mom just sat there in the front seat for a few minutes to relax while listening to the radio before driving home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little under halfway home Daphne woke up and was surprised to see that they were in the car driving home and asking in a voice that showed that she was still half asleep along with a little whiney “where are we going?” with that her mom said “well, look who woke up” and then let her know that they were on their way home, then proceeded to ask “are you thirsty, we can stop somewhere if you are?” for which Daphne replied “I am hungry”  for which her mom said “ok, we will stop at the when get to the next rest stop” after a few minutes they came to a rest stop that had a fast food place and went stopped there to get something quick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead of going through the drive thru Daphne’s mom decided to go right into the place to allow them to stretch their legs.  As they waited in line Daphne’s mom was trying to get her to decide what she wanted for which she was taking her time because she just wanted to look around the restaurant.  By the time they got the cashier, Daphne’s mom had taken it upon herself to order for her and decided to order a kids meal for her which would also give her a little toy to play with.  After they got their food, Daphne’s mom asked “do you want to eat here or in the car?” for which Daphne said “in the car” then immediately started picking at her French Fries as they walked back to the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After settling back into their seats the were off again while Daphne ate her food so fast that you would have thought she hadn’t eaten all day, while her mom was picking at hers while driving and trying to tell Daphne not to eat so fast or to put so much into her mouth.  After Daphne finished her food she realized that she had forgotten to check to see what her toy was which ended up being a little figurine from the newest animated movie out and had wanted to see.  Daphne’s mom was happy that she was playing with the figurine since she was lost in her own little world using her imagination to have it interact with imaginary characters and with other toys which lasted for the rest of the trip home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they got home, Daphne could see that her best friend was already home because she could see he best friend playing outside in her yard as her best friends brother was getting the last of the stuff that her best friend and her mom had brought to Castle Island to entertain themselves while waiting for her best friends brother.  Daphne started getting excited to the point that she was squirming in her seat and realizing this, her mom said after you get changed you can go play if you want.  As they pulled into their driveway Daphne’s best friend seen them and rushed over to meet them and to ask if Daphne could come out and play since they were next door neighbors for which Daphne’s mom said she just has to get changed before going over there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that Daphne hurried her mom up to the front door to unlock it and after her mom opened the door she ran upstairs to change, changing in a hurry so she could go play with her best friend and let her know about her day before they ran into each other at Castle Island.  As Daphne’s mom was bringing in the last of the stuff that she had brought but never used, she was almost knocked over by Daphne as she ran out of the house over to her best friend and immediately started talking about her day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daphne’s mom finishing up with bringing the stuff into the house sat down in her favorite chair looking out the window watching Daphne and her best friend thinking to herself thankfully the day is over and hoping that Daphne will be to bed early from having a full day of activities at Castle Island.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-3251939656836868742?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/3251939656836868742/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=3251939656836868742' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/3251939656836868742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/3251939656836868742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2007/11/daphnes-trip-to-castle-island-pages-9.html' title='Daphne&apos;s trip to Castle Island (pages 9 - 11 final 3 pages) childrens story'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/RzYXWd0ghQI/AAAAAAAAAC4/mWFO4HQ7tDQ/s72-c/DSC00915.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-1186507897246736667</id><published>2007-11-10T15:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-10T15:27:01.451-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Castle Island'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fort Independence'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><title type='text'>Daphne's trip to Castle Island (pages 7 &amp; 8 ) children's story</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/RzYTmt0ghMI/AAAAAAAAACY/1phq24fTwOQ/s1600-h/DSC00821.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131310381291046082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/RzYTmt0ghMI/AAAAAAAAACY/1phq24fTwOQ/s320/DSC00821.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/RzYTnN0ghNI/AAAAAAAAACg/bQGxXOIqbnM/s1600-h/DSC00826.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131310389880980690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/RzYTnN0ghNI/AAAAAAAAACg/bQGxXOIqbnM/s320/DSC00826.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As the group of people walked back to the entrance through the courtyard, Daphne and a few others looked around in awe and taking it all in before the went back through the two sets of double doors that were two to three stories high that made up the front entrance.  As they walked out Daphne’s mom said “let’s go this way” and directed her to the left and started walking around the fort and down the hill towards the harbor side of the beach which also had a fishing pier on it.  As they get close to the fishing pier she can see that people were actually fishing and starts running the rest of the way to the fishing pier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While Daphne ran her mom said “don’t run to far” then she stopped over my the monument right across from the fishing pier and started looking at the depictions on the monument while fidgeting about while waiting for her mom.  When she got there she called out to Daphne for which she responded “it’s about time you caught up” for which Daphne’s mom just stuck out her tongue, then they walked out onto the fishing pier and Daphne was amazed at how close the boats and ships were to the pier and how big they were.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They walk out onto the fishing pier which was named for a firefighter who had died in the line of duty.   When they got to the first person who was fishing Daphne asked “have you caught anything yet?” for which the guy replied “just a few crabs that ate my bait”.  Then she went up to the next guy asked the same question but this time the guy said “open up my cooler and you can see but just don’t touch” Daphne then opened up the cooler and seen a couple small fish and asked “are those real fish” for which the guy said “yep they are, one of them is what I am using for bait and the other is a fish I caught using a sea worm and if you want to look at some open that little box inside my cooler”. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daphne opened up the box and seen the worms and said “ewe those can’t be worms they are too ugly” for which her mom said “they really are worms” and then asked the guy if she could pick one up to show her.  Daphne’s mom then picked one up and showed her the worm and said “they even have small teeth that are really sharp” then she forced the worm to open up its mouth.  Daphne then said “gross I don’t like those worms” and then shuttered from getting the chills then she ran down to the end of the fishing pier because she seen someone fighting with their fishing rod and wanted to see the fish as it came up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a few minutes of just staring down at the water waiting for the fish to come up she seen the silhouette of the fish and it was fighting to free itself from the fishing hook and the guy.  As the fish got closer to the surface she could see it was a big fish.  After the guy had gotten it up to the fishing pier Daphne asked “what type of fish is it” and he said “this is a blue fish and don’t really know why they call it a blue fish”.  Then she watched the fish flop around the fishing pier as the guy took the hook out of the fish’s mouth and asked “what’s going to happen to it?” for which the guy just looked at her and then at her mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daphne’s mom getting the hint asked “are you ready for lunch?” for which Daphne replied “mommy no because I don’t want to leave the beach” then her mom replied back “we don’t have to there is a place just out of sight called Sullivan’s but everyone just calls it Sully’s and they have cheeseburgers, hot dogs, French fries and even your favorite ice scream” for which she replied “ok” and then started walking almost skipping along as she went.  As they walked along towards Sullivan’s Daphne asked “how come you didn’t bring me here before” for which her mom said “I waited until I knew that you would like coming here.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they turned the bend, Sullivan’s came into view and Daphne’s mom pointed it out saying “there it is” for which Daphne said “cool”.  As they got to the front of Sullivan’s Daphne said “wow, that’s an awfully big line” for which her mom said “during the summer there is always a long line like this as long as it ain’t raining”.  As they made their way through the sea of people trying to find the end of the line Daphne was amazed by all of the people there trying to get into the small take out restaurant and every she seen another kid around her age she would try to run up to them and play but her mom would not allow it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they finally found the end of the line Daphne asked in a whiny tone “I’m hungry, how long will we have to wait here?” for which her mom replied “should only be a few minutes” with in a few minutes Daphne was fidgeting as they slowly made their way towards the front door of Sullivan’s with the line getting longer and longer behind them.  With Daphne’s fidgeting causing her to bounce around and look all over the place she would occasionally look from one end of the line to the other in amazement especially with the endless stream of people coming out of the restaurant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they inched their way closer Daphne got more and more fidgety and by the time they got close to the doors of Sullivan’s, Daphne started playing on the large granite rectangular planters that were just high enough and deep enough for someone to sit on.  She kept doing figure eights between one of the planters and one of the concrete supports, sometimes walking, sometimes skipping and sometimes running stopping just long enough to let someone by and to smell the flowers.  After a few minutes Daphne’s mom told her “here we go come on” and Daphne ran up to her mom and started holding her moms hand still somewhat fidgeting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they entered Sullivan’s she looked around taking it all in as they slowly moved further into the restaurant.  She started looking at the glass cabinets and the stuff inside of them while trying to ask her mom what each thing was for which some things she knew and some things she didn’t.  as the made their way up to the front of the line to wait on the next register Daphne’s mom had to call her back into line one last time and said “you will know who is at our register” as the walked up to the cashier.  When the walked up to the cashier Daphne having to stand on her tippy toes looked up over the counter and was surprised to see her best friends older brother there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With a surprised look she jumped back and asked “what are doing here?” for which he replied “it’s my summer job and I get to come to the beach every day” with that said Daphne’s eyes widened up and she said “wow”.  After that her best friends older brother chuckled and asked “do you want a hot dog or cheeseburger?” and she looked up at her mom and before she could ask her mom said” she’ll take both and make it two of each” and then he looked down and asked “do you want your strawberry ice cream in a cup or cone?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Already knowing what she was going to say and then he said without her saying anything “a cup it is” and then asked “what size Pepsi do you want” for which Daphne’s mom said “a large for me and a medium for her”.  Daphne’s mom then handed her the money and said you can give him the money, she then struggled to hand him the money so he reached over the counter so she could hand him the money, by this time a few of the customers with children and the other cashiers were chuckling a little bit.  As Daphne and her mom walked over to the order pick up area they could hear the other cashiers teasing him a little bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After only about two or three minutes their order was up and Daphne and her mom grabbed their order and started walking out of Sullivan’s and ran into her best friend and her best friends mom who was just entering Sullivan’s.  When Daphne realized who it was she was happily surprised to see her friend and almost dropped her lunch.  As Daphne ran over to her friend she almost lost tripped out of giddiness and barely held onto her lunch, when she got to her friend she asked “when did you get here” for which her friend said we just got here and wanted to let my brother know we were here so he can come find us when he gets off work”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they started talking, Daphne’s mom said to her “let’s wait outside for them” and then told her friends mom we will be over by the ramp leading to the small section of beach by the parking lot” and then motioned Daphne outside and her friends mom nodded ok.  As they walked out Daphne not wanting to leave started at first walking backwards towards the doors while watching her friend and her friends mom and bumping into a guy who then just looked down at her and said “hi little one” and then continued walking as Daphne turned and ran to catch up with her mom almost running into people crossing her path.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they got to the ramp, Daphne’s mom said “put the food on here so you can eat” talking about the wooden guardrail that was on one side of the ramp.  Daphne then put it down and showed that she was real giddy due to her best friend showing up there by pacing back and forth and getting really fidgety while waiting for her best friend while saying out loud to no one “what’s taking them so long?” and trying to look for her friend to come out of Sullivan’s while nibbling on her food.  Her mom ended up telling her “hurry up and eat, your ice scream is melting” for which she replied by stuffing her mouth with the cheeseburger she had been nibbling on and having trouble chewing because of it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-1186507897246736667?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/1186507897246736667/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=1186507897246736667' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/1186507897246736667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/1186507897246736667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2007/11/daphnes-trip-to-castle-island-pages-7-8.html' title='Daphne&apos;s trip to Castle Island (pages 7 &amp; 8 ) children&apos;s story'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/RzYTmt0ghMI/AAAAAAAAACY/1phq24fTwOQ/s72-c/DSC00821.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-8526890461754820660</id><published>2007-11-10T15:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-10T15:17:19.512-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Castle Island'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fort Independence'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><title type='text'>Daphne's trip to Castle Island (pages 5&amp; 6) chlidrens story</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/RzYRZN0ghEI/AAAAAAAAABY/kyc6ca3APUQ/s1600-h/DSC00809.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131307950339556418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/RzYRZN0ghEI/AAAAAAAAABY/kyc6ca3APUQ/s320/DSC00809.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/RzYRZt0ghFI/AAAAAAAAABg/RYQuHEETB68/s1600-h/DSC00812.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131307958929491026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/RzYRZt0ghFI/AAAAAAAAABg/RYQuHEETB68/s320/DSC00812.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;of the guy.  He had seen Daphne jump and said “I didn’t mean to make you jump” then he walked over bent down and asked “would you like to see a magic trick?” and Daphne asked “your not going to do the quarter behind the ear trick are you” “I see you know your magic tricks so I can’t fool you with that one” he said then he said “nothing in my hands, and as you can see nothing up my sleeves where I have no sleeves on” then he reaches behind her with one hand and makes a couple motions with his other hand in front of her face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then after a few seconds he said “I believe this belongs to you” and pull from behind her back a large lollipop.  Upon seeing the lollipop, her eyes bugged out and she asked “how did you do that?” “A good magician never reveals his secrets” he said.  He then said “I bet I can guess your name” for which she said “how could you know my name” “Well I do, and it is Daphne, right?” he said and she looked stumped as to how he could know this and her mom said to her quietly “he use to work with me and he seen the pictures I have of you at work” with that Daphne’s mom asked “Mike how’s your new job going?” “well Sandy, you know how new jobs go” he said.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that he motioned the small group of people to a small room from which the tour would start from.  After they were all seated, he went through the normal start of tour guidelines which were more of a quick talk about safety on the tour since sections of the building were unsuitable for more than a person or two at a time and that the sections are fences off for the public’s safety.  While he was talking out that Daphne was looking around the room and slowly raised her hand to ask “are any of the things in here real?” and Mike said “some of the things are and please don’t touch anything some of it is really old and fragile”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that she followed her mom back out into the courtyard as the group started walking up a ramp that brings you up to the top of the fort.  As the group follows the tour guide he pointed out the flags on the railing of the ramp noting the significance of specific flags while holding them out since there was no wind to speak of.  He mentioned an American Flag in particular that can only be raised in a few places which happened to be only a handful of national historical sites and explained its history due to the amount of stars and how they were placed on the blue field.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they walked up the ramp Daphne commented on how long and how high the ramp was which her mom said to her in return “that’s because we are going on top of the fort to see a few cannons” and Daphne replied back with “real cannons?” for which her mom said “possibly, you will have to see if he says they are”.  As they got up to the top the tour guide pointed out a small cannon saying that “this type of cannon was used just to lob a cannonball to a nearby ship during a battle and that it was one of a couple cannons that were at the fort” he then pointed out the cannonball beside the cannon and dared the kids in the group to pick it up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daphne like any other little girl could not resist trying to picking up the cannonball.  As the kids took turns trying to pick it up they did their best and even a few at a time tried to pick it up at the same time with no luck.  After they had their fill of trying to pick it up the tour guide said “that it was a real cannonball and is the same type that were used in this cannon but the cannon itself was a replica”.  As they started walking the tour guide mentioned “that the flags that you see here along the rooftop hanging on the railing are the flags of the state flags of each individual state, while as you can see the U.S. flag is on a pole.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they started to walk a little further Daphne walked up to the outer wall to get a better view of the area.  When she got to the wall she had to stand on her tip toes to look and still had to have her mom pick her up.  After Daphne’s mom picked her up she was amazed at the view from the top of the fort and all she could muster was a “wow that’s a long drop” with that Daphne’s mom put her down and hurried her up so they could catch up to the group.  As they caught up they were directed by the tour guide to go down the steps and go through the small hallway and up the stairs at the other end of the hallway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they got to the other side of the hallway they were looking at a large cannon for which the tour guide said “that’s another replica of a cannon and as you can see it points out at the harbor and it is for ships that are a little further out” for which a member of the tour group asked “how far out are you talking” for which the tour guide said that “it can shoot a cannon right around the distance of that bridge way out there”.  As the tour guide was explaining that Daphne was trying to look down the barrel of the cannon but could not jump high enough to see inside. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daphne’s mom picked her up let her look and then said, “I think you would like the view over here better” then she turned to face the water and Daphne’s eyes lit up as she seen all of the different boats and ships in the harbor.  Daphne then wiggled till her mom was forced to put her down then she ran to the outer wall was able to see a little bit of the harbor and all of the boats.  As she looked around she paid no attention to the tour guides attempts to have them follow him and asked her mom “can we go down there after we get done here” for which her mom responded “sure we can, that was next on my list to take you anyway.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Daphne’s mom led her away from the view to catch up to the group, Daphne kept trying to look back and look.  When they caught up the tour guide was in the middle of telling the group about their next stop on the tour which was a power magazine that stored the black powder for the cannons.  One of the members of the tour asked “why is it that there is dirt all over the top roof?” for which the tour guide responded “it’s for hiding and protecting the powder magazines”.  With that the tour guide directed them to the steps that led into the powder magazine and told the group to go all the way in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The tour guide let them take it all in and said that “the reason that the are so many ninety degree turns was to eliminate the possibility of an accidental explosion from a stray spark when firing the guns and the cannons.”  After a couple moments he said “when you’re done taking it in come out so we can get back to the tour” as the tour slowly filed out of the cramped hallway of a powder magazine, the tour guide directed them towards a set of stairs that led back down to the courtyard and told everyone “be careful due to the steepness of the steps” and then led them down to keep everyone from running down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After they were all down he brought them into a doorway that opened up into a room larger than the average floor plan for a home.  From there he moved on to the next room while explaining the different activities that were done in each room.  While he was explaining all this there were a few people who had said that “they loved the open floor plan” and others that said that it was “a little on the cool side”.  There was one person who actually asked “why is it the there are no hallways between rooms” and the tour guide said that “this is due to the need to be able to move quickly and easily between rooms when there is a battle going on”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the came into one of the other rooms and before the tour guide could mention it, one of the people on the tour asked “why does it look like there is a blocked up doorway there” as the tour guide started talking about what had supposedly transpired to cause that doorway along with Edgar Allen Poe writing a famous story about it, Daphne started getting antsy and stopped paying attention that she almost wondered off into the next room.  Just as Daphne decided to go into the next room the tour guide quietly came up behind her and said “boo” which caused her to jump and scream. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daphne then said “don’t do that, you scared me” like little girls would say then the tour guide turned and motioned for the group to follow while Daphne walked into the room a little mad at the tour guide and pouting.  When the group was all in the room someone yelled out “look pizza ovens” for which the tour guide said “nope this was the kitchen and these were to cook the food and a staple food was bread for them”. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the tour guide finished explaining what normally went on in the kitchen they moved on to one last room that had a few things in it with one of them being a mannequin dressed as a soldier with a musket from of the periods that the fort was active and in front of it was a model of Castle Island that included the break water that made up Pleasure Bay.  After explaining a couple things the tour guide motioned to the doorway that led back into the courtyard and said “thank you for coming today and if come this way we can all head back to the entrance of the fort.”&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-8526890461754820660?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/8526890461754820660/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=8526890461754820660' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/8526890461754820660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/8526890461754820660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2007/11/daphnes-trip-to-castle-island-pages-5-6.html' title='Daphne&apos;s trip to Castle Island (pages 5&amp; 6) chlidrens story'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/RzYRZN0ghEI/AAAAAAAAABY/kyc6ca3APUQ/s72-c/DSC00809.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-915921280958642864</id><published>2007-11-10T15:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-10T15:12:02.477-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Castle Island'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fort Independence'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><title type='text'>Daphne's trip to Castle Island (pages 3 &amp; 4) children's story</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/RzYQFN0ghCI/AAAAAAAAABI/zxZg2xTljr4/s1600-h/DSC00804.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131306507230544930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/RzYQFN0ghCI/AAAAAAAAABI/zxZg2xTljr4/s320/DSC00804.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/RzYQGN0ghDI/AAAAAAAAABQ/2afiCAuySLs/s1600-h/DSC00808.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131306524410414130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/RzYQGN0ghDI/AAAAAAAAABQ/2afiCAuySLs/s320/DSC00808.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;While they were walking, Daphne could not help but notice that there were lots of other people there some of them walking, some of them rollerblading and some on skateboards going up and down the asphalt.  After a couple minutes of taking in all of the people Daphne realized that there were boats attached to moorings on one side of the breakwater and asked “why are there boats on one side and not the other side” for which her mom replied “because they don’t allow motor boats on in the bay that this breakwater makes and the name of the bay is Pleasure Bay” for which she asked “why do they call it Pleasure Bay?” for which her mom said “who knows” as she points out someone on a wind board in Pleasure Bay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the time they were done looking at the person wind-boarding they were at The Sugar Bowl and Daphne’s mom said “look, you can see the people fishing now” and Daphne looked over and seen what to her was a multitude of people fishing even though it was only a few people some with multiple rods of different sizes.  She then started running between the people asking questions and seeing if they had any fish. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were a couple that did have some fish and they humored her and allowed her to see the fish for which all she could say was “wow” and ask “what type of fishy is that” for which one said “this is a blue fish” and “this is only a small one” when the person said that her eyes bulged out in surprise, then she moved on to another and they said “this is a flounder and this is a sun fish”.  After a little while of running between people her mom said its time to go to the building in the distance and as they left she seen someone with a drop line, pulling up their line and the person mumbling about something on the line for which she found to be a crab that was eating the persons bait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Daphne seen the crab clamped on the hook while trying to eat the person’s bait, she asked “ewe what is that?” for which the person said “it’s a crab and I he and his other crab friends keep eating my bait” Daphne was confused by him saying that he was using bait and asked “how come your not using those shiny pieces that the people back home use” for which the guy asked in return “I take it you live by a lake” and she replied “yes” and he said “those shiny things are for fish in a lake not for a fish in the ocean”  and then Daphne goes running up to her mom asking “mommy I thought we were going to a beach not an ocean?” and her mom replied “honey, we are going to a beach and it is on the ocean besides we’re not that far from the beach you can see it from here.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daphne’s mom pointed to where they started and said “the beach goes from where we parked the car all the way over to that building” and Daphne said “wow that’s a beach, cool” after allowing Daphne to stare at the size of the beach which wasn’t the largest of beaches but bigger than Daphne had ever seen and looking at the skyscrapers in the background for a few minutes Daphne’s mom said as she started walking down the second half of the breakwater “time to go so you can have some fun over there at the beach, besides I think you will like what is over here”. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Daphne’s mom starts walking Daphne hesitates while still looking over at the beach, then runs up to her mom and asked “what is it that I will like” and before Daphne’s mom could answer Daphne realized what her mom had meant and hears the running water out of the pleasure bay through the locks in the breakwater and runs up to them and said “wow, mommy come here and look, its amazing” with that Daphne’s mom gives a good laugh as she walks up to Daphne and went to speak but before she could say anything Daphne said “I’ve never seen a waterfall before mommy”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daphne’s mom said “that isn’t a real waterfall, that’s a manmade one that is caused by the out going tide going through these locks”.  For a good few minutes, Daphne was draped over the railing staring at the waterfall caused by the locks in the breakwater and without warning see something out of the corner of her eye plop into the water which turned out to be a person throwing a drop line from the waterline at the bottom of the breakwater right by the locks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After running back and forth between both sides of the locks watching people with drop lines along the waterline she looked up and realized that they were close to where they were going and said “wow, is that where we are going?”  Her mom say “yep, and we can actually go in it too.”  As they started walking Daphne asked “what is this beach called?” for which her mom replied “Castle Island” and Daphne asked “why do they call it an island for” for which her mom said “that’s because it use to be a real island until they decided to build the area around it” and then Daphne asked “how did they do that?” and her mom said “with landfill, which was from a hill that they decided to flatten or to shrink”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While walking Daphne’s mom could not help but laugh a little given the giddiness that Daphne had like girls her age have when they can’t wait to get there.  When Daphne looked up and seen her mom laughing a little she asked “why are you laughing” for which her mom said “nothing” then Daphne ran in front of her mom turned to her and grabbed on of her moms hands with both of hers and said “hurry up” in a little bit of a whiney tone as if they could not get there fast enough.  With that Daphne’s mom stopped and playfully said “no” and then pulled Daphne to the nearest bench and sat on it while Daphne still tried pulling while repeatedly saying “come on”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Daphne tried to get her mom to get back up and go right up to the building that was pointed out to her when they were still at the Sugar Bowl, her mom got up and started letting Daphne pull her along but also guiding Daphne towards something that was just out of Daphne’s sight due to facing her mom.  When they got there the other kids playing caught her eye and she forgot all about the building that she was trying to get too.  She let her moms hand go and looked around saying “wow, I didn’t know this place had a playground” and then asked “can I” before her mom could respond Daphne was already running for the swings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As she got up to the swings she noticed that there were swings with different types of seats, some with the hard plastic seats and some with a rubber like seat and even some for little kids and babies.  After swinging on each type of swing that she could go on she went onto the jungle gym part of the playground and had fun playing with the other kids while climbing latter walking across small bridges and going down the slides until her heart was content and worn out from all of the running around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After collapsing onto the ground to rest for a little while, Daphne asked her mom “what is that building” for which her mom said “that is Fort Independence, which is really old and why they call this place Castle Island”  with that Daphne sat up crossed her legs and said “wow, how old is it? Is it older than you and daddy?” and her mom said “it’s even older than Nana’s mommy” for which Daphne was too mesmerized, to respond with any questions.  After a few minutes of Daphne just sitting there cross legged staring up at the building she asked “how come they call it a castle if it is someone’s fort?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daphne’s mom said “well that because when they had it built the only buildings that were this big at the time were castles so even though it is just a fort it was called a castle” with that Daphne said “wow” then got up and tried lifting her mom up by grabbing her hands and pulling her from her sitting position.  With that her mom got up and said “ok we can go up there and go in it, but you have to beat me up the hill or we just walk around it” with that Daphne started running with her mom walking up letting her win and when she met up with Daphne she said “ok, you win let’s go”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daphne’s mom took her by the hand and walked through the first of two sets of two to three story doors.  As they walked through them Daphne notices small slits in the walls and asked “what are they for” for which her mom replied “those were for people to put rifles through when people tried to attack the fort” and as they walked through the second set of doors it opened up to a large court yard with a couple people sitting at a collapsible banquet table just past the doors to the right and a small roped off waiting area to the left of the doors.  Daphne’s mom walked up to the people and they asked her to sign the register, told her it was a free tour and that they could wait for the next tour which was in a couple minutes.&lt;br /&gt; While they waited Daphne looked up in wonder and taking in the size of Fort Independence when the tour guide came to the small group that had gathered and said “hello, my name is Mike and I will be your tour guide today” with that Daphne jumped from being startled by the sudden voice &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-915921280958642864?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/915921280958642864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=915921280958642864' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/915921280958642864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/915921280958642864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2007/11/daphnes-trip-to-castle-island-pages-3-4.html' title='Daphne&apos;s trip to Castle Island (pages 3 &amp; 4) children&apos;s story'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/RzYQFN0ghCI/AAAAAAAAABI/zxZg2xTljr4/s72-c/DSC00804.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-1501123261574848725</id><published>2007-11-10T15:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-10T15:08:02.945-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Castle Island'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fort Independence'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><title type='text'>Daphne's trip to Castle Island (pages 1 &amp; 2) childrens story</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/RzYO1N0ghAI/AAAAAAAAAA4/v5hhpLieSrc/s1600-h/DSC00794.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131305132841010178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/RzYO1N0ghAI/AAAAAAAAAA4/v5hhpLieSrc/s320/DSC00794.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/RzYO1t0ghBI/AAAAAAAAABA/sB4MPhOHQcI/s1600-h/DSC00793.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131305141430944786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/RzYO1t0ghBI/AAAAAAAAABA/sB4MPhOHQcI/s320/DSC00793.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As Daphne plays with her dolls instead of finishing up getting dressed for a day at the beach, her mom yells up to her “Daphne, are you dressed yet?” after a few moments she hears some toys drop and some stomping of little feet letting her know that Daphne wasn’t anywhere near ready.  Daphne’s mom hesitates for a few moments and starts walking up the stairs and hears little feet running for the stairs.  Then a few seconds later Daphne almost runs her mom over running down the stairs because she couldn’t see her mom from around the bend in the stairs.  When Daphne see’s her mom standing there on the stairs she stops short with a thud a few steps away from her and almost falling into her mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daphne then looks up at her mom and says “all dressed” with a grin from ear to ear because she knows she is going to the beach.  What Daphne didn’t know was that she wasn’t going to the beach she was use too, but rather a beach that her mom grew up going to.  Daphne thinking that she was going to her normal beach, promptly stated, “I can’t wait to play with Becky and Andy and find all those cool things lying around the beach.”  With that Daphne’s mom had to stop her before she said any more and had to disappoint her by telling her “honey, we are not going to our normal beach today.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daphne replied by pouting and said “I don’t want to go then”, and stomped over to the sofa and sat with a very big plop while crossing her arms and staring at her mom angrily which made her mom laugh making Daphne even madder.  While trying to stop laughing, her mom tried to say “honey, when you are done pouting and ready to go, let me know” but could not say it with out laughing given Daphne’s expression.  After a few minutes, she came back to see if Daphne was in a better mood, for which she was and as soon as she seen her mom she tried acting as if she was still mad at her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her mom stopping in front of where she had her keychain and said “I guess I am going to have to go all by myself” for which Daphne just said “humph” and turned away, then her mom said “well, I guess your going to miss out seeing all of those sail boats and the playground” for which Daphne replied “so what” then her mom turned to the table and grabbed her keys saying “that’s too bad, I guess that you don’t want to see the really large motor boats and all of the people fishing either.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daphne then trying to act like she was still mad but curious, asked “they got people fishing there” for which her mom replied “yep, and the fish can be this big” stretching her arms out as she replied.  Then Daphne asked “how big are the boats” and her mom replied “well since you don’t want to go, I guess I won’t tell you anymore”.  Daphne suddenly had a change of heart and got up, ran to her mom grabbing her hand and said “lets go” and her mom asked “does that mean you want to go now?” with Daphne pulling her mom by the hand with all of her might nodding yes the whole time with no luck, then she let go of her moms hand and got behind her and tried to push her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her mom then said “ok, ok let’s go” and then said “hurry up and get in the car before I change my mind” once said Daphne ran to the door, opened it in the process slamming the door against the wall beside the door almost breaking the etched stain glassed window that went the length of the door at the doorframe and then she ran as fast as she could to the car.  As her mom closed the door to lock it, Daphne got really antsy and “yelled hurry up, I want to see the boats and see how big the fish really are.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that Daphne’s mom teased her and walked up slowly to the car to antagonize her and by the time her mom got to the car she was squirming and trying to open the locked car door.  Daphne’s mom could have used her remote car alarm to unlock the door but decided to let Daphne squirm because to her it was funny seeing her daughter squirming in such a hurry to get in the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Daphne’s mom finally got to the car, she was laughing at her daughter as she whined about how slow her mom was getting to the car.  After they got in the car and started driving it was an endless barrage of questions from Daphne to her mom with the most frequent question being “are we there yet” which annoyed Daphne’s mom because it made a short trip feel like an eternity.  After a little while Daphne’s mom said, “the beach we are going to is in the big city” for which Daphne responded “how can you have a beach in the big city?” and Daphne’s mom explained that “a big city can have a beach if they are near the coastline and would have a beach in the ocean instead of a lake and you’ve been to the big city the beach is in” for which Daphne asked “I have?” and then asked “which city?” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daphne’s mom said “it is a city that you like and go to every summer to look at the swans and feed the ducks and geese”.    “Mommy, that ain’t a beach that’s just a little pond for the birds and those funny looking boats with the swan on them” Daphne said looking perplexed as her mom said “Honey the beach is in a different part of the city”.  “You will know when we are almost there” Daphne’s mom said as she honks her horn at someone that just cut her off.  Daphne then asked “mommy how will I know” for which her mom replied, “you will see this small castle, and if the weather is good we can get there early enough we can even take a tour of it.”  “The city has a castle on the beach and you never took me there, why?” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well honey I just did, but it’s not really a castle, it is actually a fort and because of its size and when it was built it was classified as a castle even though it’s not” said Daphne’s mom.  As they drive along on the short distance on the highway, Daphne’s mom tries to distract her from her line of question first by trying to play the normal games they play on their short day trips when they do things when Daphne’s dad isn’t around because of his travels for work. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, the games didn’t work, then Daphne’s mom tried to talk to her about her friends Andy and Becky but quickly found that she wished she didn’t bring up the subject because now Daphne was talking about what she was going to tell them when she got home.  Eventually, Daphne’s mom asked her to play her hand held video game or watch part of a movie so she can get some rest so she can take in all of the sights on Castle Island for which Daphne’s mom never told her the name of.   At first Daphne had a hard time with it being the naturally inquisitive little girl she was but eventually settled into watching her favorite movie on the overhead DVD player.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a little while as with any little girl, Daphne started squirming and wanting to ask more questions on the beach but a little whineier than before, and thankfully they weren’t far away and Daphne’s mom was able to divert her attention to the water on off to their right side that was coming into view.  With that the only thing that Daphne could say “are we there yet” over and over every so often with it only ending when they pulled into the part of the street that was reserved for beach parking at the edge of the breakwater reserved for beach parking and her mom saying “we’re here, sort of”. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Daphne’s mom got out of the vehicle Daphne asked “what do you mean sort of?” for which her mom replied “I’ll show you” as she was shooing Daphne out of the vehicle.  After all of the stuff was out of the vehicle, Daphne’s mom said “see that building way over there on the other side of the water” for which Daphne replied “ya” as little girls say, “that is where we are going but we have to walk from here if you want to watch some people fishing” said her mom.  After that she motioned for the asphalt that covered the top of the breakwater that went straight out into Boston Harbor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they started walking, Daphne asking questions starting with “where does this lead” for which her mom replied with “It leads to what is called The Sugar Bowl” for which Daphne responded back “why do they call it the sugar bowl?”, not knowing how to answer her mom just said that “I don’t know why they call it that, someone named it that before I even knew that it was there”.  Then she asked “is there where they fish?” as little girls would say, for which her mom said “yep, but that’s not the only place they fish, they also do it on the far side of that building” for which Daphne replied back with “what type of fish do they catch there?” and her mom said “many different types”.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-1501123261574848725?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/1501123261574848725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=1501123261574848725' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/1501123261574848725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/1501123261574848725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2007/11/daphnes-trip-to-castle-island-pages-1-2.html' title='Daphne&apos;s trip to Castle Island (pages 1 &amp; 2) childrens story'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/RzYO1N0ghAI/AAAAAAAAAA4/v5hhpLieSrc/s72-c/DSC00794.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1886869869124339804.post-4416724638137299554</id><published>2007-11-07T22:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-07T22:10:17.647-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wind'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='winter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='walking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='weather'/><title type='text'>Walking in the Cold Winter Wind</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Walking in the Cold Winter Wind&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the pre-dawn hours as the cold winter wind blows at you with the fierceness&lt;br /&gt;That feels like it goes right threw you as you are walking your morning walk, and it&lt;br /&gt;Feels like you just can’t get warm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you start to shiver all you want to do is go home and curl up into a ball with a comforter&lt;br /&gt;All around you to keep warm inside but yet you keep walking&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you walk, you keep telling yourself I need to keep walking and you start walking faster&lt;br /&gt;And faster until you’re almost jogging you then notice that even with the cold winter wind biting&lt;br /&gt;At you, you start warming up enough not to be intimidated by that wind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While you are walking you realize that the wind is driving you to keep warm makes you even&lt;br /&gt;More determined to walk that much faster and as you realize this you are surprised by&lt;br /&gt;The fact that you never even noticed that you are where you wanted to be and the walk is&lt;br /&gt;Now a memory&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1886869869124339804-4416724638137299554?l=seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/feeds/4416724638137299554/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1886869869124339804&amp;postID=4416724638137299554' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/4416724638137299554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1886869869124339804/posts/default/4416724638137299554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seanspoemsandstories.blogspot.com/2007/11/walking-in-cold-winter-wind.html' title='Walking in the Cold Winter Wind'/><author><name>Sean</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14266358631963731990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d_RkKnDiJtI/R4AExlF_CLI/AAAAAAAAADM/9XMW93gBODg/S220/DSC00925.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
