It’s said the knight in armour
Picked the flower for his love;
He did to prove his ardour,
But he wasn’t any dove,
For his armour weighed him down
Into the river though he fought,
He tossed the posy as he drown,
Crying please forget me not!
Weedy little flower, perky purple or pale blue,
You stand for memory and precious love so true,
Your petals five are symbols showing that you care,
Your golden heart a sign of love willingly laid bare.
Five pretty little petals,
Held by a heart of gold;
One petal stands for true love,
As beauteous as the dove;
Another is devotion,
Embracing love’s emotion;
A third is hope to help you cope,
A fourth is caring care,
With courage to be there,
While number five is memory
To honor you and me.
Chorus:
Forget-me-not, Forget-me-not,
Pretty blue and splendid, little flower.
Forget-me-not, Forget-me-not,
Remembrance is your power.
And while you may be going,
Your spirit lives with me.
Our memories are as beauteous
As any living tree.
So I promise this to you,
With everything I’ve got,
That I’ll be true dear,
That I’ll forget you not.
The whole is like a star,
The symbol of a dream.
It stands for love that flows,
As does the laughing stream.
So wear the little flower,
The wee forget-me-not,
It is the flower of remembrance
And love’s forever-ever knot.
For it is love, remember-ance,
A forever-ever knot.
The flower of remember-ance,
The wee forget-me-not.
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She tried to sit upon the couch– But Kitty cat was there. She tried to sit her down to eat– But Kitty cat was there. She took a stroll and tried to think– But Kitty cat was there. She went from dining room to kitchen sink And from the sink into her den– And Kitty cat was there.
She worked and then she headed for Her favourite easy chair, But wouldn’t you just know? Yes you know, Kitty cat was there! Come end of day and tired out, She tried to go to bed, And bless my soul, Of course, you know, Kitty cat was there!
Should she despair? Is this a something to repair? I’m thinking not; Just pick a spot And worry not, Kitty cat will first be there!
So she cuddles up with Kitty cat, For you cannot make a cat to scat, For truth be told that in the end, Kitty cat’s your friend. — —
For you cat lovers. This kitty cat – Mr. Cougar – was my Ann’s cat. He’s mine now (he said proudly, but really, I am his – you know cats).
As most of you know, Ann suffered through Alzheimer’s, and this is Alzheimer’s Awareness month. You also know about pet therapy. When you visit, take your pet along – pre-approved, of course.
“Kitty Cat Was There” is from my book “Chasing a Butterfly,” which I wrote during those Alzheimer’s days.
So, During January, I am donating 20% of all sales to the Alzheimer’s Society to help fight this epidemic.
You can order your copy of Chasing a Butterfly: A journey in poems of love and loss to acceptance, via
This story must be told Of a lady who lived so bold, Until the day she was laid so low By a sneaky, nasty blow. She fought so hard, she was so game, But the alien attack she could not tame.
She was brave right to the end, To the alien attack she refused to bend, For the alien sold her a pack of lies And the alien had her chasing butterflies.
So the lady got mad, he’d raised her ire, She shouted and screamed, she was on fire To banish that alien, even struck out, Got face to face, spat her venom like gout.
Next minute, don’t you know, She was calm, on an even flow. Something caught her fancy then, And she giggled till I don’t know when.
Come imminent setting of the sun Our lady was up and on the run, She had places to go, people to see. For some strange reason, she didn’t need me.
End of day, she had a little moment of silly play, Like she knew that in life you have to make hay, Then she fought and she kicked, she even played dead For the whole time I tried to get her into her bed.
Life went on in such a way, day after tiring day, She fought for her Self, trying to make Her stay. Then one night, she kissed my lips and said good night, Went to sleep, and then, finally, she was all right.
—
This is a reposting because this is January, and January is Alzheimer’s Awareness Month. You can help fight this dread epidemic of a disease. For every book you buy, I will contribute 20% of the price to the Alzheimer’s Society. You can order your copy of Chasing a Butterfly: A journey in poems of love and loss to acceptance, via Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Chasing-Butterfly-H-W-Bryce/dp/1460299345 Friesen Press: https://books.friesenpress.com/store/title/119734000015361954/H.-W.-Bryce-Chasing-a-Butterfly
You look away for one minute And the whole world changes. And things aren’t what they used to be; Things aren’t where they should be, People are neither where they were Nor doing what they used to do. It is strangely disorienting.
Some twisted fate in the Time continuum that left me behind Has skewed the space I’m in, Stirred the pot, changed the meanings, Hardened the palette, altered The colours, and left me standing In a dour cloak of black and white Where the grey ought to be.
Was it me? Did I black out? Why Did the world go on when I looked away? What was the rush, what need Was there there? What troubles Did it elude, what trouble did it Stir? Why do I feel I have entered A worm hole? Which way is out? Why oh why did I look away?
Ah, well! Best keep my eye on the ball.
Else the one in time’s square will Take it all with it as it crashes down Upon the old year and opens the Doorway to a strange new world And intruduces the new kid in diapers. And what has he to teach us, pray tell?
Oh, to keep up with the Times and Not wait for old news to become New news again. Must find a way To keep current; must make time,
But not borrow, for borrowed time Can never be made up. So be brave, My boy, be brave. March on! March on!
I will do my best. I will do my bit. Happy is the happy one who Digs in and does. I’ll do.
Finding personal peace in a turbulent world, That is my quest as I focus my eye. When this year’s curtain falls and a new one Opens up, I will not turn away. I will not turn away. I WILL CATCH THE BALL.
W Bryce rspoetondS1cum009sm1 2,t52m6f3gc10f81ita g65Am6f3tt6gf1u7t60 · Shared with Public (Aug 18, 2023) 20 Years and Fire Again I may be on hiatus, but I am not asleep. Here is my poem about the Kelowna fire in 2003. THESE MEN THESE WOMEN By H. … Continue reading →
H. W. Bryce · Shared with Public Aug 18, 2023 Rats and Snakes H. W. Bryce Herb W Bryce I was just play riding my play horse, Galloping across the room, telling him To giddyap, when the sharp tongue of … Continue reading →
W Bryce · Aug 8, 2023 Shared with Public Rats and Snakes H. W. Bryce Herb W Bryce I was just play riding my play horse, Galloping across the room, telling him To giddyap, when the sharp tongue of … Continue reading →
Herb W Bryce oteonSsdprh2202uff016l4f5i3 l1a0uu198uAl7g9st638a0 6h4gl88,u · Shared with Public Aug 8, 2023 Seeds of Poetry H. W. Bryce Baby’s breath and first memories, Tiger Lilies and Whiskey Jacks, Wooden bridges and swimming holes, These are the beginnings of this young life. Nearly … Continue reading →
Herb W Bryce · Shared with Public One for Heritage! Lest we forget our roots. Carry on with the best. Old schoolhouse saved after all – to be repurposed – as a schoolhouse. Bravo. This is what I wrote when … Continue reading →
Herb W Bryce · Shared with Public I know I am on hiatus, but this memory peopped up in my “mailbox.” Trending! Memories Settings We hope you enjoy looking back and sharing your memories on Facebook, from the most recent … Continue reading →
ALL THE FLOWERS HAVE DIED H. W. Bryce Today, Saturday, July 8th, 2023, marks the 500th day Of the Unkrainian invasion by Russia. Dedicted to all Ukrainians: — — The wasteland lay smouldering, Smoke wisps floating up like balloons … Continue reading →
The five-minute shower H. W. Bryce They wanted us to save on our water consumption. They gave us water-saver dishwashers. The gave us little red booklets on how to conserve water. The gave us little mini hourglass timers for … Continue reading →
Everything in its Own Time H. W. Bryce The seasons come and the seasons go, Hiccups may well interrupt, but they can Never win. They are but novas burning out, For every season has its time, and so have … Continue reading →
