I'll meet you in the irises My dear, my dear Where no one will see How much you mean to me Hide in the flowers, My dear, my dear And we'll spend the hours Searching for our towers With no one but you and me. We'll count the stars My dear, my dear And race …
I don't believe it is any surprise as to the inspiration of today's poem. I don't know where you live but it is the dog days of summer here in Oklahoma, triple digits every day. Today is a high of 111F, not the "feels like" mind you, but actual Fahrenheit temperature.
"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me!" That's what they taught us to use as a quick response to bullying, more so name-calling and verbal teasing. I doubt this would be effective when placed in a headlock and enduring a noogie. Whenever I'd run tearfully to my parents after a sibling made a bullying poem about me (it actually was well made but at six this was not appreciated as of yet), my parents, tired from full time jobs and three kids, would say "sticks and stones, sweetie. Go back and say that to them."
July 6th, 1907 gave us one of the most influential artists ever to pick up a paintbrush. I hate to say it but until recently, I had always heard of the name Frida but not really know much about the surrealistic artist who left her brand on paint with what she considered not "dreams or nightmares" but her "own reality."
The World of Abigail Rose 