Once a year I get the chance
To wish you birthday cheer.
It pleases me no end to say,
I wish you another great year.
So happy birthday to you (name),
From the bottom of my heart.
And may your good times multiply,
Till they’re flying off the chart!
by
Karl Fuchs
Each year your birthday reminds me
That I really want to say
I’m very glad I know you;
I think of you each day.
I hope you enjoy your birthday,
All the pleasures it has in store,
And because I appreciate you,
I hope you have many more!
By
Joanna Fuchs,
I try to figure out why you love me,
Why I still get butterflies when I’m around you
Baby it’s magic
Why I can still feel your lips on mine 5 minutes later,
Why after all this time, we’re still together,
Baby it’s magic
Why I feel like nothing could ever harm me in your arms,
Why everytime you leave, I die a little,
Baby it’s magic
Why I can’t stay mad at you for long,
If you would ever leave me boy, you’d take my life away,
Baby, you’re magic
by
Samantha Young
You are a person
who makes life easier and better
for everyone around you.
Your continual acts
of thoughtfulness
and kindness
brighten each day.
What you did for me
will glow in my memory,
reviving pleasant feelings
every time I think about it.
I appreciate you,
and I thank you.
by
Joanna FuchsThankyou
The words “Magic Flute” delighted me when
I was small, I ran about with shiny objects as
Magic Flutes, little cars as Magic Dinky Toys,
a long stick covered in foil was my Magic Wand,
I always carry a toy endowed with Magic Powers
by me, a beautiful children’s book is my talisman,
a guarantee that magic never runs out; an ethereal
fairy, an array of miniature birds, a dragonfly sitting
on my computer, create all the magic I need…
I really appreciate you,
Your helpful, giving ways,
And how your generous heart
Your unselfishness displays.
I thank you for your kindness,
I will not soon forget;
You’re one of the nicest people
I have ever met.
by
Joanna Fuchs
Motionless, stationary, static, on the side of the slope am I.
A solitary, secluded, singular troll caught out in the light of the day.
My analysis, considerations, thoughts move as fast as my body may.
I contemplate and cogitate in my ossified, fossilised, petrified state.
Immobility leaves me limited, restricted, constrained while I wait.
Glacial reflections collide with tectonic plate speed.
Repetitive thoughts of my goal. Of what I need.
As I regard, scrutinise, watch the world rushing by.
Now the sun is descending, lowering, sinking at last.
The sky turns to orange, navy, then black.
I ease my limbs. They splinter and crack.
Gets easier. Moves start to flow.
Move my head, turn to look, where I will go
Now I can, start to move, work up to fast.
Up ahead, my sole goal, head for the glow.
Cannot be stopped. I feel the need
to hasten, to quicken, build up to speed
Close to the edge. Can feel the heat.
Don’t stop now. My journey, almost complete.
Continue on, step to the brink.
Now I pause, savour this, brief time to think.
Then one pace, and I’m off, dive for below.
Feel the heat, permeate, and liquefy.
Edges erode, and form ablates.
Hit surface, feel rapture, a blissful state.
Substance mixes, self dims, but, awareness expands
Others. Around. Feelings impinge. Hear. ‘He understands’.
Contentment. Pervade. Feed back. Multiply.
Time. Unknown. Stasis. Satisfaction.
Sense. Discontent.
Query. Confirm. Meant.
‘Dull’. Chorus. ‘Tedious’. Claim.
Paradise. Lost. Decadence. Shame.
Pressure. Build. Anger. Dismay.
Rock. Cracks. Gives. Release. Hooray.
Freedom. Movement. Excitement. Action.
Slipping. Sliding. World. Rushing by.
Collapsing. Toppling. Tumbling. Flowing
Identities. Split. Rivulets. Slowing.
Obvious now, the sunlit chill
I’m nervous. I fear it, knowing it will
leave me inhibited, restrained and shackle my limbs.
Which splinter and crack as reasoning slows. Meditation falters and
Like truthless dreams, so are my joys expir’d,
And past return are all my dandled days;
My love misled, and fancy quite retir’d–
Of all which pass’d the sorrow only stays.
My lost delights, now clean from sight of land,
Have left me all alone in unknown ways;
My mind to woe, my life in fortune’s hand–
Of all which pass’d the sorrow only stays.
As in a country strange, without companion,
I only wail the wrong of death’s delays,
Whose sweet spring spent, whose summer well-nigh done–
Of all which pass’d only the sorrow stays.
Whom care forewarns, ere age and winter cold,
To haste me hence to find my fortune’s fold.
by
Sir Walter Raleigh
And lo! ’twas done with speed of light;
The evening soon the world embraced,
And o’er the mountains hung the night.
Soon stood, in robe of mist, the oak,
A tow’ring giant in his size,
Where darkness through the thicket broke,
And glared with hundred gloomy eyes.
From out a hill of clouds the moon
With mournful gaze began to peer:
The winds their soft wings flutter’d soon,
And murmur’d in mine awe-struck ear;
The night a thousand monsters made,
Yet fresh and joyous was my mind;
What fire within my veins then play’d!
What glow was in my bosom shrin’d!
I saw thee, and with tender pride
Felt thy sweet gaze pour joy on me;
While all my heart was at thy side.
And every breath I breath’d for thee.
The roseate hues that spring supplies
Were playing round thy features fair,
And love for me–ye Deities!
I hoped it, I deserved it ne’er!
But, when the morning sun return’d,
Departure filled with grief my heart:
Within thy kiss, what rapture burn’d!
But in thy look, what bitter smart!
I went–thy gaze to earth first roved
Thou follow’dst me with tearful eye:
And yet, what rapture to be loved!
And, Gods, to love–what ecstasy!
by
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Farewell to the bushy clump close to the river
And the flags where the butter-bump hides in forever;
Farewell to the weedy nook, hemmed in by waters;
Farewell to the miller’s brook and his three bonny daughters;
Farewell to them all while in prison I lie—
In the prison a thrall sees naught but the sky.
Shut out are the green fields and birds in the bushes;
In the prison yard nothing builds, blackbirds or thrushes.
Farewell to the old mill and dash of waters,
To the miller and, dearer still, to his three bonny daughters.
In the nook, the larger burdock grows near the green willow;
In the flood, round the moor-cock dashes under the billow;
To the old mill farewell, to the lock, pens, and waters,
To the miller himsel’, and his three bonny daughters.
by
John Clare