I wanta write a poem for the ages.
For the George Washingtons
of my generation.
I wanta write a poem for the ages.

For the Thomas Jeffersons
and the
Benjamin Franklins who
aren't afraid to dream of
words that haven't been
created
and things that have
yet to be
designed.
I wanta write a poem for the ages.

For the
Revolutionaries who
have yet to be
born.
For the Paul Reveres
who have yet
to take their midnight
rides
one if by land,
two if by sea.
one if by land,
two if by sea.

I wanta write a poem for the ages.

For the
modern day
Lewis and Clarks who
explored a land beyond
exploration's eye.
For the Sacagawea guides that
guide from a shining sea
to a sea of gold.
For the immigrants who
traversed waters of salty tears
made solely of their own fears.
I wanta write a poem for the ages.

For the slaves held captive
not by their captors,
but by their own fears,
hopes,
desires
and dreams.
Afraid to pursue a land
just slightly beyond their own
R          e          a          c          h.

I wanta write a poem for the ages.
For the conductors of the railroad
that was unseen.
The one that ran not on
coal and steam,
but the one that
ran on
Dreams.

I wanta write a poem for the ages,
for the Teddy Roosevelt
conservationists
and the Stravinsky
concert pianists
and the Maya Angelou
performers,
and the,
people.

I wanta write a poem for the ages.
For the soldiers battling
for a cause they didn't
even start.
For the lives that gave their
lives for a cause,
because they believed in
The cause.

I wanta write a poem for the ages.
For the Daddy who's still
looking for work,
For the Mommy who has
given up
Hope.
For the widow and
her orphan,
For the soup kitchens
that can't
stay open long enough.
For the failing
Economy.

I wanta write a poem for the ages.
For the mustached
man in Germany
rising to a power
ever Grand.
For the nations willing to
ignore it if they can.
For the day that everything
changed.
December 7th, 1941
will forever live
in infamy.

I wanta write a poem for the ages.
For the unconquered Jews who
fought back.
For Anne Frank and her
family.

I wanta write a poem for the ages
For the modern day
Martin Luther King
Jr.'s.
For the ones
who
Aren't afraid to challenge a
System designed to
fight against them.
For the
modern day
Claudette Colvins.
The ones who
aren't afraid to sit down
to make a stand.

I wanta write poem for the ages
For the modern day
Buzz Aldrins
who are
altogether underrated
Just
because they came in
Second.

I wanta write a poem for the ages.
A poem that speaks louder
than words
and goes beyond
generations.

So I wrote a poem for the ages.

Per quanto adoro un matrimonio moderno o rustico .io sono un vero romantico a cuore .Un amante Jane Austen che si innamora perdutamente di morbidi .fiori lussureggianti e giardino ricevimenti partito- esque che vi toglierà il fiato .Questo .amici miei .è uno di quei matrimoni.Una splendida storia drop-dead .che è tutto il romanticismo .e tutto sulla bella .Vedi tutto catturato dalle Fotografia Redfield nella piena galleria .

ColorsSeasonsSummerSettingsMansionStylesRomanticTraditional Elegance

Da Sposa.Peter e io ci siamo incontrati nella scuola media.ma non iniziare risalente fino a dopo ci siamo laureati di scuola superiore .Dopo incontri per oltre otto anni .Peter ha infine deciso di proporre .con l'aiuto del nostro cane .Dexter .Peter fece un segno da appendere al collo Dexter ' che ha dettoè èommy .vuoi sposare papà?ècon un po' di zampa di cane sul segno .363 giorni dopo che Peter ha proposto .ci siamo sposati .Se potessi scegliere alcune parole chiave per descrivere l'ispirazione complessiva



e il tema stavamo andando perché sarebbero: romantico .classico ed elegante .Niente di troppo pesanteèVolevamo una serata piena luce d'amore .risate .la famiglia e gli amici .Volevamo solo che tutto sia classico .
tocchi speciali e progetti fai da te : Abbiamo avuto un artista dal vivo (pittore ).che ogni singolo ospite pensava fosse davvero incredibile !E lei era assolutamente abiti da cerimonia taglie forti incredibile ;una giovane donna di grande talento .Inoltre .il nostro cane ha svolto un ruolo speciale .era sullo sfondo della cerimonia di nozze .e poi dopo ci siamo sposati ufficialmente è venuto avanti in modo che potessimo recesso lungo la navata come una famiglia .La nostra lista di birra è stata inoltre selezionata a mano dal padre dello sposo .

PROGETTI fai da te:zecche

èsalvavita nel cartoncino che sembravano coi libri conè e èsu di loro .o la data del matrimonio .o la nostra monogramma sposato in penna d'oro .

èLa toile e tabella navy numeri in corniciè eacquisti per telai per diversi mesi .raccogliendo una o due qui o là .poi spray dipinto tutti loro oro .Mi piace toile e volevo nel mio matrimonio in qualche modo .ma non è tutto .così ** avuto l'idea di fare la tabella numeri toile .Quindi.con avorio e carta da parati blu toile .** tagliato ogni pezzo in base vestiti da sposa economici alle dimensioni del telaio.rintracciato numeri .e poi dipinto i numeri blu navy con vernice artigianali .

èHo anche fatto ilè èr .e la signoraèfirmare allo stesso modo.ma utilizzata vernice d'oro per un tocco diverso .

Fotografia : Fotografia Redfield | Florist : Radebaugh ' fioraio e Greenhouse | Wedding Cake : Graul ' Mercato | Cerimonia Luogo : La Liriodendron Mansion | Banco Luogo vestiti da sposa economici : La Liriodendron Mansion | Scarpe : Ivanka Trump | Bridesmaids Dresses : Alfed Sung | Catering :Dean And Brown Catering | vestito dello sposo : Tux Da Chaps Ralph Lauren | Grooms Scarpe : Clarks bostoniano | Cerimonia Musicista : Miriam Joy | Day Of Coordinatore: Stephanie Day Of Dream Day Planners | Abiti Groomsmen ' : Tux Da Chaps Ralph Lauren | Hair Stylist :sally Morales Of Blondie ' Hair Studio | Inviti .programmi e Signage: persnickety Invito Studio | Jewlerey : Kate ***** | live Artista / Pittore : Leah Crumbling | Banco Gruppo: The Bachelor Ragazzi band | Videographers : Reflexion Videografia | Designer Abito da sposa: AmsaleAmsale è un membro del nostro Look Book .Per ulteriori informazioni su come vengono scelti i membri .fare clic qui
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Can’t wait to be seventy
With knees that hang
Like fleshy skin tags
Over my knee highs
And Custard feet
All squelched into my Clarks.

No prunes
In my grocery basket
Just lots of cheese
Chocolate and beer
Which will make me gassy
So I’ll ask for a backrub
To get my wind up.

I’ll say those things
I’ve always wanted to say
And not come off
Like a social landmine
Because people will just think
I’m batty.

They’ll smile
And nod
And make corkscrew gestures
Behind my back
But I won’t care.

I shall say
**** a lot
Because people
Will not expect that
From a portly granny
With a blue rinse.
But I shall never be unkind
Of all of the ugly words
You can use
**** is probably
The most benign.

I shall read great books
Filled with ideas
And speak to the deaf geriatrics
In the old folks home
And say things like-
So what did you think of that?
And even as they
Clutch their hearts
To prepare for their exit
From this world
I shall say-
I feel that strongly too
And in this way
Everything shall
Be part of my interlude
It shall all be about me
Me
Me
Me

THE SOLDIER


Billy Clark was seventeen
When he went off to war.
He kissed his mum and dad goodbye
And walked out through the door.
He kissed his girl at the station
And wiped away her tears.
He said that he’d be back again
If it took a  thousand years.

He headed for the trenches,
For Afghanistan.
Gallipoli, The Falklands.
Beirut  and Vietnam.
He set off for Dunkirk,
Agincourt and Troy.
Passchendaele would make
A man out of a boy.

A million Billy Clarks
Have gone away to war.
Old men sit and shake their heads.
They’ve passed this way before.


He was in the thick of it
Right from the very start.
But Billy was a brave boy
With a patriotic heart.
Billy fought his hardest
But he was in a fix.
These were guns and tanks he faced
Not childhood toys and sticks.

Now, Billy was no coward,                            
But he was scared as hell.
No boy should have to bury
His comrades where they fell.
It took a thousand years
For Billy to return
And still the burning question is:
When will we ever learn?

When will this crazy world unite
And watch  each others’ back?
When  media screams  the headline:
‘GREEN MEN FROM MARS ATTACK!!!!’.

A million Billy Clarks
Have gone away to war.
Old men sit and shake their heads
They’ve seen it all before.

The ancient tacoma grainery,
Stands in a corner of its own now.
Tne dark tunnell still has leggs when
she lets go.
The dock street rail yard fills up the city like a
loaf of hotnsteamy bread.
Farther down our ambitious tycoon
Stacks up condos, wheat pancakes,
Is his breakfast of choice.
They demolished the old elks club.
Which sprung across the street
like a walmart super store.
Blue and yellow is workers vest
perks and all.  Their members still
grase for golfballs off the ten million dollar tees.
There isnt much enjoyment, they'd rather drink.
Last month my two foot clarks walked through the sliding dorrs hospitality.
Wanting to see the high mountain of sucess,
I looked for organic oats.  
My minds to random.
I inch up to the screen and see the faces of migrant workers,
Hang like meat.
After six months in america half the under employed,
Are giving up.
Deported with their children.
My hope still goes out to the college students.
And their first morgage of inflamatory dough.
They all buy up every job still hoping for change.
No marrijuana in public,
Get away while the officers turn their backs,
With their guns to pepper a face.
In the taxing store.
Im afraid we smoked heavilly.
Love to the workers,
Love to their vests.
Everythings devoliping to quick.
My new bike slices by cars of ritz crackers.
Everthings been built to last.
There nothing left to buil on,
Only a few vacent lots that wait for tresspassers.
One man dives through a trash can and isnt scared.
He picks out a hamburger bun and eats his lunch.

I marry you in the playground.

This limitless concrete jungle, a place where wars break, houses are made and tea is served now hosts a grander event.

Spring blossoming hedgerows arch over head framing our glee, we stand together.

Resplendent in sweatshirt, Teflon and scuffed Clarks, your gingham has never looked so glorious, and I feel under-dressed and overwhelmed next to your face. The one that every mother could love.

Presided over by a select few and away from prying eyes, boisterous scuffles over footballs and teachers who just wouldn’t, couldn’t get our love.

Our diamonds and sapphires might be gelatine and e-numbers, but this commitment is delicious. As sweet and sticky as the hold you have over me.

I take your hand in mine and run for the boundaries.

Little feet buckled up
in scuffed Clarks,
we ambled down hill

Below, the valley
coloured toasted wheat
smelled of forever

The school hall,
everyday familiar
for singing hosannah
became exotic, foreign

Different games played
and illicit sherbet
in cardboard tubes
to be chewed to a pulp
in carefree mouths

All the term rules fell,
and stayed away
til the apple trees called time

Welham Road, Streatham.

Brown Clarks shoes all new,
Taking me back and forth to school,
In the rain and in the sun,
Skipping, dancing going for a run;
Under my bed they slept at night,
Polished and bright at morning light,
Was it the fairies that kept them clean,
Or mother's hand,
Spreading the cleaming sheen.

Love Mary **
Thank you Mum and Dad for keeping my feet straight and dry.