Me Mum   

\\nOf all the ventures I\\\’ve chased after\\nI\\\’ve been in brawls and swung from rafters,\\nyet nothing gives me such sweet laughter…\\n\\nAs me luvin\\\’ mum.\\n\\nI\\\’ve gotten lost in coral forests\\nI\\\’ve sung the drunken pirates chorus,\\nBut she sees through me just like I\\\’m porous…\\n\\nThat\\\’s me mum\\n\\nHer temperament is one to savor\\nseasoned through with Scottish flavor\\nshe taps the wits the Good Lord gave her…\\n\\nAye!  That\\\’s me mum.\\n\\nAs a  lad done bad, she\\\’d fetch a stick\\nI\\\’d get whooped, then me wounds I\\\’d lick\\nIf I back-talked, me poor ear she\\\’d flick…\\n\\nArghhh!  That\\\’s me mum.\\n\\nHer prayers finally took a hold\\nWhich kept us all from grief untold\\nShe\\\’s a saint - if I might be so bold…\\n\\nThat\\\’s me mum.\\n\\nWell, I\\\’ve seen the sights, had many pleasures\\nReaped rewards of countless bajar juego pokertorneo pokerpoker freejuegos cartas pokerpoker multijugador gratismultiplayer poker gameset de pokermejor juego pokerdescargar poker gratistexas holdem pokerjuego de poker para descargarplay poker texaspoker caribe pagina internetpoker texasdescargar juego de pokerpoquer texas holdjugar poker texas holdempoker 5 cartasjuego de poker pcjugar poker omaha gratistexas holdem descargapoker on line españoltutorial pokerpoker caribe lineaonline pokerjuego poker eroticocaribbean poker internetprogama codigo pokerel mejor poker en lineapoker instrucciones de juegojuegos polly pokerjugar tragamonedas internet,jugar tragamonedas web,juego tragamonedasruleta europea portal internetganar premio paginas webmaquina tragaperras portal webcasinos internacionales portales internetjuego seguro paginas webcasino madrid comunidad madridganar dinero verdadero portal weblive rouletteapuestas ruletaruleta portales webmaquinas tragaperras lineajuego de casino gratiscasino madridganar premio portalcasinos gratisjuegos casino onlinepremio paginas webjuego gratis,juego gratis portales internet,jugar gratis pagina web measures\\nBut one of me most cherished treasures…\\nYup…\\n\\nThat\\\’s me mum!\\n                                                                                              \\nYer Swashbuckler  -  04/25/2001\\n

ps - She really didn\\\’t beat me as soundly as she should have.  I deserved and proudly earned each and every lickin\\\’ that I got (as well as several that I didn\\\’t, but Mum\\\’s the word).  Dave

I hope you enjoy it as much as she did.  Ya’know, she actually used to get a charge out of teasing me for the fact that I could never read the bloody thing all the way through without tripping over the lump in my throat.

So now you know where my odd sense of humor comes from. (hehe)

Thanks Mom;-)

Swashbuckler’s Mommy

by Dave Franzwa

Each day as I would fall awake
you’d say “good morning dear.”
Like sunshine on a rainy day
you’d shower me with cheer.

And as I dressed,
my mind impressed
with all the day would bring
the things I’d do
time spent with you
my life a song to sing.

Then breakfast you’d make sure I ate
and send me on my way
to kingdoms only I could see
I’d venture off to play.

The lands I saw
struck me with awe
I saved a maiden fair
the dragon knew
his dad I slew
so cowered in his lair.

It made no difference how I went
by land or sea I’d roam
but driven by an emptiness
by lunchtime I’d be home.

And there you’d be
with food for me
and milk to quench my thirst
my trusty steed
you’d also feed
then all my wounds you nursed.

You helped me get undressed when I was
oh, so tuckered out
and as I bathed you’d smile and sigh,
as you turned my pockets out.

The treasures there
beyond compare
you guarded with your life
a cork, a bone,
a smooth flat stone,
a broken pocketknife.

As twilight closed the covers on
the pages of the day
you’d kneel with me beside my bed,
my prayers we would say.

God bless the rich,
God bless the poor,
the young, the old, the lame
thank Jesus Christ
who paid the price
and took away our blame.

Then I’d slip in between the sheets,
and you’d turn down the light,
and kiss me gently pon the cheek…
I knew that all was right.

Then as I slept,
the smile that crept,
across your face spoke love;
from God through you,
a love so true,
my blanket from above.

Those days are now so long ago,
my hair in spots has grayed
you’ve gotten somewhat older too,
memories seem to fade.

But I still feel
that when I kneel
you’re with me when I pray
and heaven knows
my love still grows - Mom
Happy Mother’s Day.

 

 Say - If you’d like to get yer hands on the pdf complete with poem and graphic before Mother’s Day, just take a poke at this link right here:

==> Swashbuckler’s Mommy

Please feel free to comment.

Back then, I was still battling Demon Rum…  whiskey, brandy, tequilla, wine, beer, and any other assorted adult beverages I got my hand on.

For those of you who are grammar fanatics and don’t already know, “hand” was made singular for a reason.  Only one of them decided to show up at birth.  Thank goodness it’s was my favorite one;-)

Anyway, I was nursing a cup of coffee at a Sherry’s restaurant in Canby, Oregon, while waiting for a favorite cousin (Elroy), to meet me for breakfast.

While I was waiting, this poem dropped in out of the blue. It was all I could do to keep up with the words as they fell from my pencil.

No work, just scribbling that took all of 20 minutes to create.  Enjoy.

Ship in a Bottle  “5/90″ 

by Dave Franzwa

Like a ship inside a bottle
I’d built my life with care,
the best materials were used
my craftsmanship was fair.

The hull would withstand, so I thought
life’s rugged shores of stone,
the rudder, hewn with pride, by hand
the course I’d set - my own.

The sails were made of far-fetched dreams
and individually sewn,
so sensitive they’d catch a breath
or a kiss, so lightly blown.

I thought the bottle would protect
my ship from any gale,
and with my own hand on the helm
was certain I’d not fail.

I sailed along without much thought
of other ships at sea,
whatever course I chose - I took
warm breezes carried me.

Until one day when challenged
in the straits of self-belief,
my sails were filled with fear and doubt
I hit an unseen reef.

My bottle broke, a thousand shards
of glass went everywhere,
now tossed into the elements
I sank into despair.

Not since the bay of apathy
with it’s tides of emptiness,
that washed upon those lifeless sands
had I felt such lonliness.

I drifted for the longest time
my mind screamed just to think,
the sea began to boil and churn
my ship commenced to sink.

my heart was gripped with panic
I fell down to my knees,
I begged god to be merciful
and prayed he’d hear my pleas.

At once the mighty seas were calm
the raging storm did cease,
and a precious, gentle voice began
to flood my heart with peace.

Be still, my child, I’m with you now
you’ve nothing left to fear,
you’ve trod this path alone thus far
from this point on I’m here.

I had to let you charge up to
the brink of life and death,
you know me as the carpenter
the one from Nazareth.

I am the stumbling stone of old
upon whom all must fall,
be broken, crushed and raised again
if answering my call.

From here on out I’m with you
no matter where you roam,
my spirit’s here to comfort, til’
I come to take you home.

Until that day, I charge you
live life and follow me,
don’t worry how you’ll manage it
my strength abounds in thee.

I consider now, each item
I surrendered at the cross,
and grateful as I hit my knees
I’ve suffered no real loss.

And now each morning, as I rise
I thank God for my life,
I thank him for my humble home
my children and my wife.

But mostly I just thank him for
His love throughout the day,
I guard the hope He’ll use me
as the potter uses clay.

I ask Your will, not mine, my Lord
be done through me, I pray,
and offer You this humble shell
as Yours to use this day.

David B. Franzwa

My sister sent me an article about a prayer composed bt St.Patrick in 433 AD.  As usual, this inspired  me to venture into my imagination and come back out trailing the following verses behind me.

Happy St.Patrick’s Day   (and thanks, Sis. This was fun;-)

Leprechaun’s Visit

~ by Dave Franzwa

As I walked through the woods in the back of my mind
I spied a wee man `cross a glen
I’d met him before, and knew I was in store
for a tale, “Shamus, where have you been?”

He said, “David, me lad, it’s adventures I’ve had
I’ve a story to you, for to tell
won’t ye settle yer rump on this old walnut stump
and make ready to listen ye well?

You see, this was McGee, t’was a Leprechaun he
who’d been given the first name of Shamus
He had stature, this man, of the little folk clan
and by our mortal standards was famous.

Though large for his kind, I’m quite sure that you’ll find
and imagine with me you’ll agree
to look into his eyes, a short squat would be wise
because Shamus was just 2 foot 3

He related a story of old Irish glory
and of magically vanquishing foes
I could barely sit still for his words gave a thrill
and his voice with intensity rose.

T’was the tale of St.Patrick that wee Shamus told
to speak mercies of God and good will
to the king of the land, led his band, oh so bold
as the Druids lay ambush to kill.

Though they’d set up a snare, it would harm not a hair
as their deaths weren’t written that day
for dear Patrick aware, that the ambush was there
with his men knelt and started to pray

When they were done, they had victory won
as they knew that the Druids were pawns
with the shield of the Son, Druids saw nought but one
tiny doe and her family of fawns.

I bid Shamus good day, then turned back just to say
that I doubted if ere I could tell
the story of old and St.Patrick so bold
not like Shamus could, nary so well.

But Shamus McGee was nowhere to be found
so I went to the place I’d begun
what he’d told me about, left my mind with no doubt
even Leprechauns worship the Son.

of setting verse to rhyme
And giving folks a needed lift
When ever I’ve had time.

Time’s surely one commodity
too precious just to waste
which happens when we fail to see
it vanish in our haste.

For years I’d pull my treasure chest
of talent gently out
and polish up the very best
I’d hide the rest for doubt.

Until one day, The Spirit said
relax and let it go
I’ll teach you not to use your head
to fathom what you know.

You may not know just what I mean
when I choose through you to write
for I target other hearts unseen
just waiting for the light.

Your spirit’s where creation starts
it’s there the dye is cast
go sow your seeds on others hearts
the harvest will be vast.

Since then I’ve not a single doubt
I believe whatever flows
was meant to speak to hearts about
what the spirit only knows.

Take time to smell the roses, friend
take time to spread some cheer
take time to write a card to send
take time to lend and ear.

These are the gifts that matter most
these are the ties that bind
by way of the spirit I bring this toast
seek good and the good you’ll find.

At times, that line gets blurred to the point that you may not know who’s doing the writing…

The kid that I was/am, or me time-traveling as The Swashbuckler. Truth be told, it gets blurry for me sometimes.

There will be clues along the way, though.  If I happen to mention something about saving a damsel in distress, and in the next breath say something about getting “cooties” from her, you can pretty much figure I was writing from a standpoint a little closer to the 7-year old.

As a lad, one of my favorite swashbucklers was…

Peter Pan!

He had some pretty nifty tricks he could perform that I was always just a little envious of.  Flying, for instance.  Although I didn’t think much of the idea that I’d have to wear skin-tight leotards in order to be a swashbuckler, I guess that even at the tender age of seven, I knew that sacrifices must be made.

Later on I would develop a more mature view of who I wanted to be like…

Superman!!

Crud. More skin-tight leotards. (Hmm?)

Anyway, Peter Pan was a favorite early on, until I found out that he was a she, at least in the Broadway version of the story.

It was a traumatic experience, finding out that one of my heroes, who was supposed to be a guy, was really a girl.

Now ladies, please don’t get me wrong, here. A few of my favorites back then (and now), were and are swashbucklerettes.

At least Annie Oakley wasn’t pretending to be a guy! And.. She could get away with saying she had to go save somebody in dis dress;-)

I got over my disappointment later on when I discovered that Mary Martin (aka Peter Pan) was also Larry Hagman’s mother.

You remember Larry, right?  Capitain Tony Nelson of “I Dream of Jeannie” fame, aka J.R. Ewing of “Dallas?”

It was still traumatic, but I’m getting over it.