Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

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

February 20, 2008

Today’s Announcement

Don’t forget to order your copy of Angels Watching Over Me, the story of an ordinary woman facing less than ordinary challenges.  Angels Watching Over Me is a story of family love, sacrifices, poverty and an undying faith that makes heroes out of all of us. Here is the link in case you have forgotten it: http://www.lulu.com/content/964306

Important notice: Storytime Tapestry is a free e-zine, however donations are always needed to help with the operating expenses of running the newsletter and to keep Storytime Tapestry the quality newsletter you are so accustomed to.   You can make your donations to paypal at: winterose@videotron.ca, or if you would prefer to use the mail system contact the publisher at the same email address: winterose@videotron.ca

Today’s Stories

  ~**~**~

 
And They Call You a Writer?

Ricky Fico

I am, of course, a writer. As anybody else who happens to convey their thoughts to the written word. Okay, there are excellent conveyors, not-so-great ones; fat ones, skinny ones; hirsute conveyors and the hairless ones.

There are tiny tykes who write and gray-haired grandmothers. To be a writer, what does one need? A PhD, a special certificate, a special kind of driver's license? What then?

Perhaps a fine-leaded pencil and a napkin will do just fine. Which reminds me, "You can't lead a horse to water but a pencil must be lead."

I was never trained to be a writer. Sure, I was a straight A student in English but truthfully, that has nothing to do with me being a writer. What distinguishes me as a writer is my will. My will to write. And of course, what I write depends on, eh, let me see. Perhaps because it's sunny. Or cloudy. Maybe I just won a million dollars and I need to express my excitement with a countless number of strangers. Perhaps I will write about the half a million I donated to one of my favorite charities. Or write about the new house I bought Momma.

Or should I borrow a page from my amazing life and share it with the rest of the world. Should I convey some of my philosophies, my hopes, my dreams. Shall I use what gifts were bestowed on me by a greater power and share them with the masses. Easiest way I know is through writing. Do I wish to have my works in the libraries of the world? Well, of course I do. Of course you do too. Isn't what I have to say important enough to pass on? You betcha! And isn't what you have to say equally as important? You better believe it!

For the naysayers who laugh at you when you say you're a writer, beware. Do not criticize the stroke of your neighbor's pen. It is mightier than you may think. It has been consecrated and recognized as the greatest tool ever developed. And with it, you will be victorious. Without it, you will be another victim of quiet desolation. You do remember that old quote a very wise man once wrote: "The mass of men living their lives in quiet desperation." I refuse to have any part of that. Pass me the pen!

Ricky Fico

ricky@tri-umphs.com

www.tri-umphs.com     

~**~**~

The Call
Bill Walker
missourisage@yahoo.com

 Some day, some time, some place, we will get the call, "it is time
to come home." The dash is over. You know that dash mark between
two dates, the day you bounced into this world, and the date you left
this world. For some the dash is short, very short. While others are
just like the old Timex watch, they keep on ticking,  Then one day way
down the road, the call comes.

I remember one day in the hospital, a person died in the ER room.
I walked out and ran  into Pastor Buller. Now there was the best
liked man of the cloth one could find, bar none. He was a Mennonite
preacher, he worked for the hospital, both he and his wife. We old
timers still know the Beatrice Community Hospital as the Mennonite
Hospital. Now he never cared what church you did, or did not go to,
if you needed a preacher to visit with, he was always right handy. My
mother, said she could always count on him popping in her room as soon
as he got the news she was in the hospital. He told me after she  got
her call, he would miss visiting with her. I got him to preach her
services.

Any way, this day, as I met him just out of the ER room. I said, "his
clock stopped." Pastor Buller said "I don't understand just what you
mean ?" I said, "well preacher, I believe when your born in
this world, a clock is set up in Heaven, with your name on it. It may
run just a short time, or it may run a longer time. Some day it will
stop, and that is when you get the call to come home." He said. " You
know I never thought of it that way, but you might just be right, as we
don't know when the call is going to come that it is time to go home."

I know one thing, there is no one that can look at a new born baby,
and have any idea of its life span. It may be perfect in health, and
just live a short time. It can also be very poor in health, and just
keep right on ticking. No one knows the amount of time the dash makes
up, not till the call comes.

My question is are you ready for the call? I have heard the bright
remark, "I have my bags packed." That may well be, but I still
think even if one does have the bags packed so to speak, there is
always something that is left unfinished. You know life is like
traveling to see your children, or your mother, or dad, in another
town, or state. Almost always a few miles headed for home, it comes
to you, something you should have told them about. Oh well there
will be another trip one day. Maybe and maybe not. The call may just
come, when you least expect it. I believe if one reads the Book of
Job. You can sure learn a lot. No man knows just when  things
can happen, even to an almost perfect man.
Tinker and Poo; The Boys Write
http://www.iuniverse.com/bookstore/book_detail.asp?&isbn=0-595-35741-5

Poetry Corner

~**~**~

IGNORANCE

Dr. Harmander Singh

It was a day of my approach to get a response from someone, whom I thought to be very wise. I went there and found that sometime, we find difficulty to communicate when the other person is preoccupied with some thoughts. When I found no way to get proper attention, I regretted about my ignorance. My heart was beating saying:

Alas! Alas! Alas!

I am really

Yes really

Have feelings of shame

And tears of wisdom

In the Sight

That seems beyond,

My understanding

And inside my wondering

From the selfishness

Of human heart

That seems dry to

The rain of virtues

On the day of Great Adventures

Bhagouauty wants to

Make a cry for human Ignorance.

Dr. Harmander Singh

bhagouauty@gmail.com

 ~**~**~

LOVE

Dr. Harmander Singh

He was in love with birds; plants, trees, animals and you know all humans were special for him. His love was not blind. He said to a wise woman what his heart felt in the depth of love. He said in his mood of affection about love, saying:

Love is not blind

It has eyes

Having the sight

Of virtues that are deep

Within the soul

And outside

The realm of cleverness

But inside

The heart

That seeks

And weeps

And longs

For beloved

So strongly

That the eyes

Of love for Bhagouauty

Has only pure sight of

Faithfulness for selflessness

That is the essences of humanly love.

Dr. Harmander Singh

bhagouauty@gmail.com

  ~**~**~

MY LOVE

Dr. Harmander Singh

Sometimes, those who love deeply gets so tender that to say their love in words is too difficult to express. For them, only existence of love matters. One such boy said about his ideal love for living with peace, love, oneness and togetherness. He said:

I was born

On my birthday

With having seen

The things

That creates

Feelings of love

In my soul

And in my body

I search

For someone whom I could

Love with all

My heart

And those

Name could be

In my all breathes

Positively yes, Dear,

Supreme being is Bhagouauty’ love

For the life of the soul as

It is a song.

Dr. Harmander Singh

bhagouauty@gmail.com
 

Readers Feedback

Carol, I must say that I agree with every word Ellie wrote there my friend.  Never doubt your worth or the good you are doing in this world.  Wishing you every joy, Joe

~**~**~

Here is our Storytime Tapestry Angels: Also, I would like to thank those of you who chose to be a silent angel and gave an anonymous donation to keep Storytime Tapestry up and running.

Clara Westerfer, Mark Crider, Rosanne Catalano, Paula Booher, Kay Seefeldt, Mariane Holbrook, Mary Ellen Grisham, Louise Nomani, Sharon Bryant, Angela Walker, Hart and Helen Dowd, Keith Ready, Ginger Morgenstern, Ellie Braun-Haley, Surinder Jandu, Bob Shaw, Carol Meeks, Charlotte Hilliard, Maria Keller, Marilyn Sink, Victor Buhagiar, Clarice Hinson, Conrad Cardinal,