Month: September 2026

The memory of watching Mama’s mouth turn upwards into a smile,I have kept safe through the years; it’s helped me through life’s miles.

Even to this day, I can see her smile, the image somewhat faded.It was clear to me that day she must have been elated.

Children playing everywhere, Mama baking as if she hadn’t a care.I smile at the image of her kneading dough, some white flour powder laced in her hair.

· · ·

Fourteen hungry children to feed,trying to fill our daily needs.

I often wonder what kept her beautiful smile intact.I couldn’t have ever filled her shoes; that is just a fact.

A smile lasts only seconds, but its warmth can stay to embrace youthrough the years of sadness or pain. It’s what will get you through.

· · ·

The smile on my Mama’s face has pulled me through dark years.She was a gentle giant; I’m sure she shed a million tears.

A smile can last forever, long after the person is gone.The best time to pull it out and use it is when you feel alone.

Mama’s smile has lasted a lifetime; at least her image has gotten me throughsome of life’s rough spots and days when I’m feeling blue.

A Mama’s smile is priceless, don’t trade it for anything.It’s there in your memory, filed away under the heading, “happiness it brings.”

♡

In loving memory of Billie Joyce Orcutt

GRANDAD WAS I never had my heart stolen by anyone so grand as when I was three and discovered my sweet granddad. My memories only go back to when I was three. That was my first real memory that to this day I can see. Mama said my granddad gave me my name when I was born. She had another name picked out and she was kind of torn, but she remembered the wife that granddad had lost in death as a young wife. He had to raise the children after her death and it completely changed their life. So Mom decided to let him have his way, and Grandad gave me the name I have to this day. In my memory at three, I was wearing a polka-dot dress, looking up at him, my head on his shoulder would rest. I remember looking into his sparkling eyes. They were a bright blue just like the sky. My granddad was a special man. His influence on me strong would always stand. In some nine short years, he came to be my daily sidekick next to me. He lived next to our fence line just down the road. Grandad was retired from working on the railroad. His garden stretched as far as your eyes could see. He used old Bill, a plow horse, to till the ground and plant seeds. In his garden from sunup to sundown is where my granddad could always be found. Everything I learned about the land was from watching Grandad as he used his big hands. There wasn’t a flower’s name he didn’t know. He could even make a sickly plant grow. The days and weeks turned into months and years, but when I was nine I experienced my worst fear. Grandad was tilling one day in the field when he just slumped over. I experienced cold chills. I didn’t understand the look on Daddy’s face, it was one of gloom, until the day they brought him from the hospital and put him in his room. He was only there for just a little while. I didn’t get to see him, but Mom said he died with a smile. I don’t remember much after that except that I would cry every time I saw Daddy wear his old hat. I started visiting my favorite place in the woods. I sat and thought about how things used to be good. I was staring at a bird in the corner — that’s the first time when I first saw him standing by the orchard gate. He was very plain and thin. I hesitated for a moment, got a little closer and I could see it was a bucket turned upside down on a post in front of me. It was someone’s target practice, no more a useful prize. The holes they made in the tin bucket looked like two big eyes. The dent in the middle looked like a nose a little bit. Turned upside down hanging there, the handle made it fit. It was just an old rusty bucket on an old fence post, but it wasn’t my granddad and that’s

The little girl was displaced,

Regarded as trash, a scorned race.

The Indian Removal Act,

An ugly governmental fact.

Their ancestral homeland,

The government banned.

West of the Mississippi River they went,

To the designated area now sent.

Exposure, disease, and starvation along the route,

Many more they would simply shoot.

Many died on the Trail of Tears,

A thousand-mile march of anguish and fears.

Barefoot, no shoes or socks,

Huddled together at Mantle Rock,

Waiting for the ferry to cross,

Many died. To the government, no loss.

Somehow, she survived the horror of it all,

A lifetime of anguish she recalls.

The death march called the Trail of Tears,

Still to be remembered through the years.

Man’s ugly inhumanity to man,

That was never what our Creator planned.

The flickering flame of life
Filled with anguish and strife

Trying to stay alight
Though wind rolls into fright

Our lives experience many
Days of happiness and plenty

Working hard to establish
Family life of bliss

As the flames die down
True friends huddle around

Your life was not in vain
A circle of true friends remains

Pull courage from deep inside
Don’t be afraid, don’t run and hide

As thousands of seconds fly by
Don’t waste them with echoes or sighs

Take a picture in your mind
Of all the memories you can find

When the flame goes out
I can say without a doubt

It brought joy and some tears
Many happy memories for the coming years

Your name means turn with the sun
when fully grown, you amaze everyone

beautiful yellow petals and fuzzy brown centers
you soak up the summer but dread when it’s winter

you’re not just another pretty face
you soak up toxins that harm the human race

You’re a generous lady feeding all your friends
your seeds feed the birds and then in the end

your bright shining face
as you stand waving in place

will always bring us back again

Shakespeare once wrote: “Of all flowers,
methinks Rose is best.”
But, still, I think there is a beauty
when rose petals are at rest

The Rose is an elegant, symbolic flower
Standing tall, exuding so much power

there is a reverence for roses;
they take your breath away
Watched by flower lovers in a garden
as they slowly sway

The Rose steals the hearts of those
who glances her way
A place never to be lost;
the Roses memory always stays