Happy Thanksgiving

Dust off your pilgrim hat

The land of hope awaiting

Across the seven seas

Beyond the great divide

Let’s brave the odds, we’ll bat-

ten down the hatches, fighting

the storm until it yields.

Have faith – God will provide

Live for the Love of it,
Sasha A. Palmer (aka Happy)

Set free the song...

SET FREE THE SONG

 that swells within your heart.

Why keep it quiet when it’s meant to be

unchained and roaming? To the world impart

your soulful secret. Share the melody

lest your unyielding fragile human frame

breaks like a solid dam that cannot tame

the mighty torrents of the purest joy…

Unleash the song of the undying praise

for one true King who reigns with love. Employ

the instruments of music. For they raise

the hymn of glory to the One on high.

He, in His shining greatness, won’t deny

a single gift. Our voices, weak and strong,

our handmade trumpets, harps and violins,

our drums and cymbals He’ll accept. Your song

and that of angels are divinely kin...

Unlock your heart and let your life proclaim

the endless wonder of His holy name.

Inspired by

The Psalms

150

A Call to Praise God with Musical Instruments

Live for the Love of it,

Sasha A. Palmer (aka Happy)

More on dog's life

Every dog has his

snoozeday

Live for the Love of it,

Sasha A. Palmer (aka Happy)

Staring contest

I will not move, or blink 

I'll make her hear

my silent plea...

Oh, will she ever  think

to scratch my ear...

and PLAY with me?

Live for the Love of it,

Sasha A. Palmer (aka Happy)

Second childhood. A sonnet.

I would be cunning if I were to say,

“The second childhood does not bother me,

I do not care ‘bout keeping it at bay,

I won’t be troubled should I live to see

Its cruel effect on my petite grey cells,

My somewhat high (if questionably) mental

Capacity.” True, as the time propels

Me toward the finish, I get sentimental –

I love my brain. Yet, I would gladly choose

The soft’ning of its squiggly-wiggly matter

O’er hardened heart. I would not bear to lose

My quirks and laugh lines, specially the latter –

I’d go all wrinkly lest I fail to joy

In things like puddles, fireflies, or a toy.

Live for the Love of it,

Happy  

My dog is something else

Nothing like a nap in the sun...

with a good comfy pillow...

a dog's life...

Live for the Love of it,

Happy

Trees, leaves and shadows

 Cannot get enough of them

Live for the Love of it,
Happy

Paris lives

 Pale as the morning stars, the moments fall.

 Across the world another's hurting, I

 Read more into the soaring leitmotiv

“I is another," I'll again be whole,

 Shine in the rising sun, November leaves.

Friday the 13th

Hang in there...

Live for the Love of it,

Happy

Love sonnet

I would be cunning if I were to say, 

“I care not for the mem’ries of our youth,

What came to pass, the fires of yesterday

Do not disturb my slumb’ring heart.” In truth

It’s oft awake until the spark of dawn

Ignites the sky, until the eastern welkin

Is set ablaze with ardent hues that spawn

Yet further reminiscing. But mistaken

You’d be, my love, should you presume that I

Dwell on the flaming past, for we’ve been blessed

With here and now; nor would I ever try

To keep the sun from falling in the west:

Together we shall watch the ancient scars

Burn down to ashes strewn amidst the stars.

Live for the Love of it,

Happy

Make a turn.