Monday, June 6, 2016

The Rose That Cried to Cooking With White People 
The secret of a crying rose 
The secret of white people cooking 


The Rose That Cried (repeating poem) 

A brand new day had just begun
Its blessing shown on everyone
A man in garden having fun
Amid his flowers kissed by sun
Amazed at what his eyes there spied
The gentle rose that sweetly cried
-
Perhaps some haze had fooled his eyes
Had caused his mind to fantasize
But with his hope the heartbeats rise
Such beauty could he realize
And there his dreams were not denied
The gentle rose that sweetly cried
-
He called his love to come and see
To share with her this mystery
For through her eyes was he set free
To feel the Joys of what might be
In wonderment and tears she sighed
The gentle rose that sweetly cried
-
Who knows how long she gazed at sight
No time dare blemish pure delight
This precious moment she held tight
What was it called her soul to flight
What secret scent did there abide
The gentle rose that sweetly cried
-
And so it was they passed their day
As worldly matters drift away
And wishes shared what words would say
How did it all end up this way
What kiss of life could it confide
The gentle rose that sweetly cried
-
She’s taken to that day he called
She found him in the garden sprawled
It seems as though his heart had stalled
The horrid sight by flowers walled
And there was weeping by his side
The gentle rose that sweetly cried


Beauty and sadness combine to make this poem. This is what is called a tight poem. Each stanza contain two sets of rhymes. One set of rhymes consisting of four lines and one rhyme leading to the repeating line, "The gentle rose that sweetly cried". All lines are comprised of eight beats. All this was done to increase focus on the story. 

This is a poem about one of my fans, supporter and Masonic brothers, Scott Andrews. Scott was drawn to me when I took charge of the Lodge's public schools committee. Scott was one of those silent "worker bee" that most organisations are familiar with. As I grew up the ranks, Scott grew prouder and more admirative of me. After two years, he invited me and Arlene to diner, with him and his wife, at his house. On entering Scott's home, one has to say to himself, "Here is a gentleman who really loves his wife." These two loved each other so much, one could feel it just walking through their front door. Even more amazing was the backyard. To dedicate his love to his wife, Bettie, Scott presented her with a gorgeous garden, that would greet her each morning from their bedroom window. Here was a man, who most people couldn't think much of. He seemed outwardly quite average. But entering Scott's home; seeing how much he loved his wife; basking in the paradise of that garden; here was the dream of many. Scott died of a heart attack in his garden. I performed his funeral.

Here is an example of an individual like many. A person we pass everyday, not thinking much of, yet possessing wondrous talents. I believe everyone is special, possessing skills all their own. We are all special. We all have marvels to offer. Think of Scott, His magic to love one person inspired me. I'm sure I wasn't the only one so inspired. His inspiration flowered in his garden, which surely was a inspiration of many. So it is, I believe, with all of us. Some of our gifts may be a bit more subtle, but no less as precious. What is your gift(s)? What makes you special? You are, you know. Let's take the moment to enjoy.


Let's get back to the poem: "Bette Midler "The Rose" 

From seriousness to silliness (I hope) 


The first chef to be aired on television was Philip Harben. The name of the show, which aired on BBC in 1946, was "Cookery". And the first meal was Lobster vol-au-vents. Since then many chefs have entered our homes and hearts, delighting us with countless delicacies. Throwing his at into the ring is Sam, a creation of Rudy Mancuso of Awkward Puppets. Sam is about to share with us a cooking style so often overlooked. 
If this looks too familiar, maybe we should start watching cooking shows. "Cooking with White People" 


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Love is like a beautiful flower 
which I may not touch, 
but whose fragrance makes 
the garden a place of delight 
just the same. 
Helen Keller


8 comments:

  1. Love is a powerful creator.
    My special talent? I am an appreciator.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. As an appreciator you may also be a builder.
      Thank you for appreciating me

      Delete
  2. Can't always read a book by the cover - as they say :)
    Scott that was by what you have typed was a gardener, one that loved it and showed a small part of that love to his wife.
    What a beautiful poem.
    It is a 'sense' one has when one walks into someone else's home and feel the love that is there. Very prominent at times, and can always tell if it's a home of great love, little love, affection and so on.
    (One day, you will work me out )

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Very potent thought for this edition.
      Thank you for adding such value

      Delete
  3. I think im only special to my husband. I'm not sure what makes me special to him.
    Yellow roses are my favorite.
    Lisa

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh? I've read your blog. You have the power of the smile.
      Yellow roses - friendship
      Thank you for spreading your smile here

      Delete
  4. I think there is often more to people than what is expected. Thank you for that reminder and for the beautiful poem.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. That has been my experience, a gift that in the charity business,was a blessing for everyone.
      Thank you for everything

      Delete