----- Original Message ----- 
From: "Rafael Martinez" <[email protected]>
To: "'Cynthia Groopman'" <[email protected]>
Sent: Friday, January 09, 2009 9:40 AM
Subject: Today's Poems


>A Chance for a Beginning
> New years are a chance for a beginning
> Even when there hasn't been an end.
> Wheels turn in an interminable bend,
> Yet, marked in one spot, seem to wobble spinning.
> Each year, we hope to do a little better
> Although we know that really nothing's changed.
> Reason thinks that everything's arranged,
> So we must dream if we would fate unfetter.
> --John Sankey
>
> Today's Story
> The Pain Passes
> Although Henri Matisse was nearly 28 years younger than Auguste Renoir, 
> the
> two great artists were dear friends and frequent companions.
> When Renoir was confined to his home during the last decade of his life,
> Matisse visited him daily. Renoir, almost paralyzed by arthritis, 
> continued
> to paint in spite of his infirmities.
> One day as Matisse watched the elder painter working in his studio, 
> fighting
> torturous pain with each brush stroke, he blurted out, "Auguste, why do 
> you
> continue to paint when you are in such agony?"
> Renoir answered simply, "The beauty remains, the pain passes."
> And so, almost to his dying day, Renoir put paint to canvas. One of his 
> most
> famous paintings, "The Bathers," was completed just two years before his
> passing, 14 years after he was stricken by this disabling disease.
> --Unknown
> Today's Poem
> Friends
> A friend is someone we turn to
> when our spirits need a lift.
> A friend is someone we treasure
> for our friendship is a gift.
> A friend is someone who fills our lives
> with beauty, joy, and grace.
> And makes the whole world we live in
> a better and happier place.
> --Jean Kyler McManus
>
> The Cold Change
> In the cold change which time hath wrought on love
> (The snowy winter of his summer prime),
> Should a chance sigh or sudden teardrop move
> Thy heart to memory of the olden time;
> Turn not to gaze on me with pitying eyes,
> Nor mock me with a withered hope renewed;
> But from the bower we both have loved, arise
> And leave me to my barren solitude!
> What boots it that a momentary flame
> Shoots from the ashes of a dying fire?
> We gaze upon the hearth from whence it came,
> And know the exhausted embers must expire:
> Therefore no pity, or my heart will break;
> Be cold, be careless -- for thy past love's sake!
> --Caroline Norton
>
>
> 



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