In Bettendorf, where whispers of history unfold, Stands a schoolhouse, a story to be told. Forest Grove, with walls of ancient hue, Built in the 1870s, where dreams first flew.
One room, a sanctuary of learning and light, Children gathered from dawn till twilight. Slate boards and wooden desks, memories etched deep, Where knowledge was sown, promises to keep.
Windows framed vistas of fields and sky, Witness to seasons as years drifted by. Laughter and lessons mingled with grace, A timeless rhythm in this cherished place.
Teachers’ voices, guiding gentle and wise, Kindling sparks in eager young eyes. Reading, writing, and arithmetic’s song, In Forest Grove, they all belonged.
Echoes of the past, in every beam and stone, A testament to the seeds once sown. Legacy of learning, a beacon so bright, Forest Grove School, a beacon of light.
Through decades, its spirit remains, A symbol of growth, where knowledge reigns. In Bettendorf's heart, forever it will stay, Forest Grove School, in memories’ array.
Happy Father's Day to our Father in Heaven, Your love and grace, to us, are given. There's only one gift I can humbly bring: My trust and my love, from deep within.
In Your embrace, I find my peace, From worries and burdens, You grant release. With every prayer and every thought, Your endless love is all I've sought.
Guiding me gently through each day, Your light illuminates my way. On this special day, I lift my voice, In Your boundless love, I rejoice.
Happy Father's Day, my Lord above, Receive my trust and all my love.
Think of Rio de Janeiro, a city of grace, A vision that comes to mind, a holy embrace. Perched on Corcovado, high and grand, Cristo Redentor with outstretched hand.
A granite sentinel, 2,300 feet high, Looms above samba's rhythm and sky. Christ the Redeemer, arms wide and kind, Welcomes all, with a heart aligned.
"The first sight from airports, his open arms, A brotherly presence, shielding from harms," Says designer Gilson, with pride and cheer, A symbol of love, ever so near.
When journeys end and flights alight, No need to seek, in day or night. For he finds us, with a gentle glow, Guiding us home, in Rio’s flow.
To all our Fathers who are in Heaven
Thank you for all the Love you have given
The many times you picked me up when I fell down
In my eyes, you always wore a crown
My heart aches with memories of Love
I have tears of Joy when your smile I think of
Thank you for never giving up on me
For the Loving-kindness you showed me
No matter the memory of others and their dad
They would not be here if it weren't in God's Plan
A Wonderful day to remember your forgiving Love
My heart can't wait to join you in Heaven above
June 17, 2023
MarkWaldrop
In Yellowstone's embrace, where wild spirits roam, A rare white buffalo is born, prophecy's tome. Lakota voices whisper through the windswept grass, A sacred sign emerges, as ages past.
A calf of snowy white, a vision pure, A symbol of hope, of times to endure. Blessing bestowed, yet a cautionary tale, A call to protect where the wild ones prevail.
Chief Arvol Looking Horse speaks with ancient grace, His words a solemn echo in this hallowed place. "This birth," he says, "is both blessing and warning, A dawn of better times, yet a sign of mourning."
The earth's heart beats with each creature's plight, Guardians of nature must rise to the fight. For in this calf's eyes, we see a plea, To shield our world, to let it be free.
So let us heed this sacred birth's decree, To honor and safeguard all we see. For in the white buffalo, a truth profound, Better times await, if we protect this ground.
Father's Day brings back many memories for me
Sitting on his knee singing Tiny Turned Up Nose to me
He played Santa at Christmas I was too young to understand
I thought there was something familiar
about the touch of His hand
As I look back at the pictures now
I can't believe I didn't recognize Him somehow
Some Dads are tender some Dads are tough
All Dads smell good to their kids because their hot stuff
Whether your Dad is living or in Heaven
There aren't enough words to describe what they have given
June 14, 2023
MarkWaldrop
In childhood's dawn, a tale unfolds, Of tender hearts and stories told, A mother’s choice, a grandmother’s care, In a world that seemed so unfair.
At five, four, and one, we were left behind, By a mother who turned from love’s kind, Our grandmother, at seventy-three, Embraced us with a heart so free.
The judge inquired, could she provide? With courage strong, she did decide, To raise us well, with love so grand, In city streets or country land.
But sorrow struck, a painful theft, Our savings gone, our hearts bereft, Mother took what wasn’t hers, Leaving wounds that time deters.
Yet through the pain, a light did shine, Our grandmother’s love, pure and divine, She moved us far, to greener fields, Where broken hearts had time to heal.
Football games and concerts played, Piano notes in sweet parade, Weddings, births, life’s milestones passed, Mother missed them, chose her path.
But grandmother, with strength and grace, Filled our lives with love’s embrace, She saw us grow, and guided true, Her wisdom old, yet ever new.
She lived to ninety-seven years, Her loss brought forth our deepest tears, Engraved in stone, our hearts declare, “Forever in our hearts” is there.
In memories, her teachings stay, Her love remains, come what may, Our angel now in heaven’s light, Guiding us through darkest night.
For in her arms, we found our way, Through childhood’s night to bright today, Her legacy, a love so vast, A beacon from our cherished past.
This is a photo of them together with their new children. Credit: Bishop Family Farm
Sad night last night, shadows deep, The ewe’s heart heavy, unable to sleep, Her lamb, stillborn, gone too soon, She cried through the night, under the moon.
In dawn's soft light, a new hope gleams, For sorrow yields to brighter dreams, The ewe on the right, with twins so small, Has heard the grieving mother's call.
A gift of love, so pure and kind, One tiny lamb, now reassigned, From mother’s heart to mother’s care, A bond of life, beyond compare.
Now brighter days, with joy in sight, Two mothers share the morning light, One grieving heart, now healed by grace, As love and life find their place.
In fields of green, beneath the sky, Two mothers watch their lambs run by, A story told of loss and gain, Of tender hearts, through joy and pain.
Animals are incredible, showing respect more than some, With hearts that speak a language to which we often succumb. Bill Brock spoke of a moment, profound and silently still, A grave site visited, a testament to a will.
He walked with his companion, a creature of gentle grace, Though never knowing death's shadow, it found a solemn place. The dog lay down in reverence, an instinctive silent plea, As if it understood the weight of the sacred cemetery.
In stillness, there was wisdom, in quiet, there was a bond, A photo captured the essence, a moment to be fond. For sometimes in their silence, animals understand, Respecting life's great mysteries, more than many in this land.
So let us learn from creatures, their simple, profound respect, In moments of deep sorrow, their actions we reflect. For in their silent reverence, they teach us to be kind, To honor life and memory, with love and peace of mind.
