Saturday, May 23, 2015

Penelope's Adventure

Penelope Bear, who just didn't care,
Sneaked out after dark to play in the park.
She didn't tell her mother, her sister or brother.
She didn't tell her father -- it was too much bother.
Penelope ran just as fast as she can
Down the dark city street on her little bear feet.
When she got to the park, it was lonely and dark,
But she wanted to play so she stayed anyway.
She swung on the swings and hung from the rings.
She was happy to glide down the big metal slide.
She rode all around on the merry-go-round,
And dug in the sand with her little bear hand.
Then, a voice in the air said, "Come here, little bear."
Penelope shuddered to hear those words uttered.
She turned and she ran just as fast as she can --
And she didn't look behind to see what she'd find.
She ran into the house like a scared little mouse.
Her parents were sad she had been so bad,
But they hugged her and kissed her and said how they missed her.
Penelope cried -- she was frightened inside.
The lesson is clear: Every good little bear
Shouldn't play in the park all alone after dark!
Written for my daughter, Ariel Pisturino
Dawn Pisturino
Copyright 1985-2015 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.
I looked into the big, big sky
And watched an airplane passing by;
I was too small for him to see,
And so he never noticed me.
May 3, 1986
Dawn Pisturino
Copyright 1986-2015 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.

Sunday, May 3, 2015

The Harpist's Song: Poetry of Ancient Egypt

Found in an 18th Dynasty Tomb:
This great one is well!
Good is the destiny, good the destruction!
For a generation passes,
and another remains, since the time of the ancestors,
those gods who existed aforetime,
who rest in their pyramids,
and the blessed noble dead likewise,
buried in their pyramids.
The builders of chapels, their places are no more.
What has become of them?
I have heard the words of Imhotep and Hordedef,
whose sayings are so told:
what of their places? Their walls have fallen;
their places are no more, like those who never were.
None returns from there to tell their conditions,
to tell their state, to reassure us,
until we attain the place where they have gone.
May you be happy with this, forgetfulness giving you benediction.
Follow your heart while you live!
Put myrrh on your head!
Clothe yourself with fine linen!
Anoint yourself with true wonders of the divine rite!
Increase your happiness!
Be not weary-hearted! Follow your heart and happiness!
Make your things on earth! Do not destroy your heart,
until that day of lamentation comes for you!
The Weary-hearted does not hear their lamentation;
mourning cannot save a man from the tomb-pit.
Make holiday! Do not weary of it!
Look, no one can take his things with him.
Look, no one who has gone there returns again.