Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

The newsletter devoted to spreading love and cultural awareness around the world.

September 17, 2007

Publishers Favourite Sites:

Rosanne Catalano

http://www.rosannecatalano.net/

Michael Smith

http://subs.zinester.com/86758/

Barbara Weymouth

penwormprayerwarriors-subscribe@yahoogroups.com

Helen Dowd

www.occupytillicome.com

Dean Perchick

http://symzonia.blogspot.com

I'd like to tell you about a new website that I discovered and now love where all of your favorite authors can be heard on video from your own computer!

The website is Bookvideos.tv and is coming to you from Simon & Schuster publishing. Check it out at: http://www.bookvideos.tv! You won't be sorry you did.

Today’s Announcement

Happy Birthday Jim Kirton, wt@wynter.ca from your friends at Storytime Tapestry.

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Today’s Stories

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The Blacksmith
Bill Walker
missourisage@yahoo.com

Mr. Dan the man Webster says a blacksmith is one who makes metal into tools, machine parts, and other objects by heating it in a forge and hammering it into shape on a anvil.

In the Bible we read of many men who had to be put to the fire, heated, and pounded into a form that God used. Some were really put to a test. Others really went through great fires of life.

If we read about the life and times of Moses, we learn he had it good for a while, then he had to run for his life. He went through the fires of a life on the run, then getting a wife. He was being tested, he was being pounded into shape. A tool of God was being made. At last he was refined, and pounded into the shape God needed. Like a fine tool, or silver.

David was tested, and pounded into shape also. If you remember he guarded the flock of sheep. He ran into the wolf that was looking for a meal. He was but a lad with a sling shot. God was working on him; God the blacksmith of life.

God has taken people of little note, worked them, pounded them into shape. Heated, and pounded them into shape on the anvils of life.

We see this with Jesus. He picked men, 12 men of little note. He worked them into shape, he too is the blacksmith.   Many times he might have wondered about them. Did he pick the right ones? Must have, only one failed the test; but he had to work them, and do the heat, and pound them on the anvil a few times.

Is your life all a bed of roses, with no thorns? Well you and I must be heated, pounded into shape. The rough times are a must. We need to be refined into a tool by God. Some times things seem dark, but the dark days will lead to the sunshine. Some day those that went though the fires of life, were refined, and made pure, will see the Glory Train.

Is God your Blacksmith?
Tinker and Poo; The Boys Write
http://www.iuniverse.com/bookstore/book_detail.asp?&isbn=0-595-35741-5
 
 

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Poetry Corner

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Roll Up Your Sleeves
by Gary Jacobson © 2001

jacobs@atcnet.net

http://namtour.com/rollupyoursleeves.html 

America, time to roll up your sleeves
To fight for all who for freedom grieves
In liberty in law believes
Restore again that sanctity justice breathes.
Comes again the call to action daunting
Consecrated From America’s brave heart gleaming
To pick another fly from the ointment.
Terrorists spewed from foul minded abasement
Visited with bitter gall
On us disgorged their venomous vitriol.

America, time to roll up your sleeves
Time to give back what terror conceives
Robbing all sanctity of life a band of thieves
Lurking in darkened shadow where madmen hide
Bearing pretentious religious pride
Those pseudo clerics could not abide
To let America breathe free
So attacked, and signed their warrant destiny.

America, time to roll up your sleeves
Upon our soul though thorny plague aggrieves
Terrorists heralding their own condemnation
In our grim devastation.
Osama Bin Laden, that pompous ascetic
This raving fanatic sealed his doom prophetic.
The mighty whirlwind upon his head we shall sow
That peace again might someday grow.
We did not strike a first telling blow
Though time and time again had reason to do so.

America, time to roll up your sleeves
To restore again that sanctity freedom leaves.
We always turned the other cheek
Did not in the past “Infinite Justice” seek
Now out of sanctimonious hate
To he who sights of carnage elate
Terrorists have crossed the final line
Went too far for the last time!
No, we did not strike the first blow
But will gladly the last blow bestow!

Our arrow to Osama Bin Laden’s heart sings
A sirens song bullet with his name on it brings
Out of the mouth of America’s frustration
Payback for despicable horror that rocked a nation
Fly on angels of right avenging
Upon the head of unwashed infidel descending
From him exact just recompense
Seek for evil done, full rights redress.
Good men, must rise to stop in this world, madmen!

We shall sow our almighty sword in thunder
To plow his evil machinations under
With our strong right hand
A united band
Our sovereign nations
Repulsed by unholy terrorism’s creations
Who spread its great sacrilege to laced winds asunder
Terrorist’s unrighteous dominions plunder.

Obliterate this obnoxious desert warrior
Spouting hateful rhetoric with sanctimonious fervor
Inciting his evil congregation
Shamelessly insolent in monstrous presumption
Blaspheming the very name of God
This lunatic fringe in righteous facade
Bringing distilled tears to angels who weep.
See them paid in like kind for sins they reap.

Good men of the world, roll up your sleeves
Seek that which our world’s oppression relieves
Old warriors walked the valley of shadowed wars
Thought we'd closed behind us senseless doors
Talking now of peace with war-no-more...
But now war’s banged through America’s front door
Struck at our very heart beyond freedom’s shore
Marching up main street heading for your door!
This is no more a far and away senseless war!

I ponder the only solution in justice retribution
To bind terror with its just reward
To send back to Hell that malignant horde
Back to the master who made them
Inspired them
For they will not stop,
Or to good flip-flop
Whose voice knells of tarnation come ringing
Choirs of demonic angel’s discordantly singing
Echoing in empty halls of damnation mingling.

Swoop down on that madman like an eagle
From bastions of liberty in our asphalt jungle
His black-hearted, diabolic plans boggle
Pluck him out of sinister desert lair
From where he’s unleashed such fiendish despair
Wrest him from wicked shadows hiding place
Where he abides by henchmen’s harboring grace.
From this world his fanatical, unclean soul erase!

Yes, America must roll up our sleeves
But let us beware
This will not be battle we deem fair.
These men hate us with every fiber of being
Dedicated in moral conviction more than willing
Anxious to give their lives in dying committing
A ferociously dedicated, intelligent adversary.
America is by far the stronger nation militarily
But physical strength is less important than
conviction morally.

We too must be morally committed
We must be equally for the long haul dedicated
For this fight will not be short and swift
To excise the demon from fissured rift
For the infidel by conscience led
Wants no victory without us or them dead
Or as proverbs lament
This indeed will be the winter of our discontent.

To ferret the infidel out we must make decision
Among innocent teaming masses ridden
To incise the cancerous lesion
For it is far too easy for civilization
To turn toward barbarism
Pluck out cankered disease with surgical incision
Root out evil with exacting precision
Excise without killing the body of public opinion.
For when tempestuously uncaring becomes our hate
It buries us in a pit even beneath them we hate.

So America, roll up your sleeves
For everywhere around us the madness unfolds
Till we question how our sanity holds
There is much work to be done
That will carry us far beyond setting sun.
Where they think us complacently soft
Show them resolve hard
Wean them from all support bereft
With steeled resolve, be not afeard
We are in for a fight!
For these strange men won’t vanish into the night.
************

"Terrorism," and "A New Awareness," http://namtour.com/terrorism.html

"We The People," http://namtour.com/wethepeople.html

************

I would appreciate your vote for "Vietnam Picture Tour!" as a "Top Military Site," at "Veterans Topsites." Just Click this link to vote: http://www.worldwidetopsites.com/php/in.php?id=knights
Vietnam Picture Tour is presently in 3rd place on "Military Topsites" thanks to your efforts ... so whether you vote once, every day, or now and then...I sincerely Thank You! 

Author of "My Thousand Yard Stare." You've asked for a book of my poems ... well, here it is, 270 pages with over two hundred full color pictures and graphics in this book of my most popular poetry. Buy my book instantly at, http://namtour.com/marketplace.html with the security and ease of PayPal or your choice of credit cards.

 If you wish it signed by the author, email me.

Webmaster of "Vietnam Picture Tour," http://namtour.com/namtour.html A walk in "the park" grunts called Vietnam, with the 1st Air Cavalry on combat patrol. Experience chilling reality to leave the sweet and sour taste of "the Nam" pungent on your tongue, the smell of "the Nam" acrid in your nostrils, and textures of "the Nam" imbedded in you as though you walked beside me in combat.

My poignant poem directory, pictures and artwork show the essence and feeling of war on young "boys next door."  http://namtour.com/nampoemsNpix.html

"Realm Of Poetry," Poems of love and romance, spirituality and meditation, Golden Oldies, comedy, Fantasy Quests of the regal knight Richard Lionheart to the crusades and seeking the Holy Grail, dueling dragons, frolicking fairies, and comedy ... 

http://namtour.com/P/RealmOfPoetry.html

this also links to my other site of riding that carnivore

That bestial ogre called war ...

Wondering "When will we ever learn?"

Sending generation upon generation into war's fiery pit to burn.

~**~**~

Readers Feedback

 Peggy Ann, you are absolutely right. On your story, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, you said as it is. I am doing a research on WWII here in Germany and some people won't talk about it while others have to problem to talk about their past. However, you could see the pain in their eyes and how much robbed them of happiness for many years. You can see the guilt in their eyes because they were unable to do a thing to pretend it. However, their sense of survival brought them back from ruins to civilization.... Their stories are full of emotions from tears to hate. Their stories are not written in book, because who cares about the German pain.... I do.  Before I started my research I read some articles on PTSD and that equipped me with the necessary tools to get their stories without intensifying their pain. It was rewarding.

I thank you for writing this story. It was well put.  Amen  TANNIA

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