Sketch Notes is my Web site's seasonal page
where I can just get creative and have fun.
In This Issue:
| Important Note: All of the original writings are copyrighted, belong to those who created them, and should not be used in any way without their permission. |
Fathers, grandfathers, brothers, husbands, sons, uncles, cousins,
nephews, in-laws—all the men we love bring so many vital things into
our world. And how dull it would be without them!
Today’s men thrive within their changing roles as husband and father,
adding a special element of strength and care within the family. There
is no question of their fundamental contribution to marriage, family,
business, community, the arts—and so many other responsibilities
and dimensions they take on during their lives.
This Sketch Notes is dedicated to all the men in our lives--to, from,
and for their unique perspective--and to wish all the loving fathers,
including my own, a very happy Father’s Day.
nephews, in-laws—all the men we love bring so many vital things into
our world. And how dull it would be without them!
Today’s men thrive within their changing roles as husband and father,
adding a special element of strength and care within the family. There
is no question of their fundamental contribution to marriage, family,
business, community, the arts—and so many other responsibilities
and dimensions they take on during their lives.
This Sketch Notes is dedicated to all the men in our lives--to, from,
and for their unique perspective--and to wish all the loving fathers,
including my own, a very happy Father’s Day.
My Touchstone for Life
By Donelle M. Knudsen
Dad, my Touchstone for life,
ready with an encouraging word.
Today I need him more than ever,
the one who always understood.
When my brand new puppy ran away,
Dad drove all over to bring her home.
I hugged her tight with tears of joy,
Blondie, white spaniel my very own.
Every night he tucked me into bed,
told funny stories, face lit up with a grin.
He taught me to read and play chess,
I am who I am because of him.
I fell out of a tree right on my head,
my friend called Dad, he ran all the way.
Carried home in his strong arms I rested,
as he watched over me the entire day.
Dad taught me to ride a bike and drive a
car,
knowing the value of learning life skills.
Camping trips, fun at the beach, drive-in
movies,
best childhood memories alive for me still.
I miss Dad, my Touchstone for life,
his ready smile, quiet strength, gentle
spirit.
Remembering his simple words of
wisdom,
Things always have a way of working out.
Even though his words ring true today,
I want to hold his hand as I face this
storm.
But I’ll have to close my eyes to hear
him say,
Kiddo, don’t worry you’ll be okay.
By Donelle M. Knudsen
Dad, my Touchstone for life,
ready with an encouraging word.
Today I need him more than ever,
the one who always understood.
When my brand new puppy ran away,
Dad drove all over to bring her home.
I hugged her tight with tears of joy,
Blondie, white spaniel my very own.
Every night he tucked me into bed,
told funny stories, face lit up with a grin.
He taught me to read and play chess,
I am who I am because of him.
I fell out of a tree right on my head,
my friend called Dad, he ran all the way.
Carried home in his strong arms I rested,
as he watched over me the entire day.
Dad taught me to ride a bike and drive a
car,
knowing the value of learning life skills.
Camping trips, fun at the beach, drive-in
movies,
best childhood memories alive for me still.
I miss Dad, my Touchstone for life,
his ready smile, quiet strength, gentle
spirit.
Remembering his simple words of
wisdom,
Things always have a way of working out.
Even though his words ring true today,
I want to hold his hand as I face this
storm.
But I’ll have to close my eyes to hear
him say,
Kiddo, don’t worry you’ll be okay.
My Touchstone For Life.................Donelle M. Knudsen
for my father......................................john k zimmerman
Dedication......................................paul yogi nipperess
My Old Pop..........................................Jeanette Cooper
The Postman...........................................Ron Dondiego
Little Giant........................................J. Donald Coonrod
Aging Actor.........................................Alfred J. Garrotto
A Coin For Your Pocket.................................Julia Rose
A Father's Love..................................Felix LeRoy Perry
A Parent's Love..................................Michael A. Bostick
Passing Through Life......................Stanley T. Crawford
Grandpa's Elizabeth..............................Stephen Pollard
Just Wanted You To Know.....................Leann Marshall
for my father......................................john k zimmerman
Dedication......................................paul yogi nipperess
My Old Pop..........................................Jeanette Cooper
The Postman...........................................Ron Dondiego
Little Giant........................................J. Donald Coonrod
Aging Actor.........................................Alfred J. Garrotto
A Coin For Your Pocket.................................Julia Rose
A Father's Love..................................Felix LeRoy Perry
A Parent's Love..................................Michael A. Bostick
Passing Through Life......................Stanley T. Crawford
Grandpa's Elizabeth..............................Stephen Pollard
Just Wanted You To Know.....................Leann Marshall
for my father
by john k zimmerman
You did not teach me right from wrong
You taught me to think about right and
wrong
and to understand the difference.
You did not teach me to grab for myself
You taught me that in community and
Solidarity there is strength.
You taught me the simple courage
of personal integrity that changes
Systems for the better.
Such simple lessons that I hardly
marked,
or valued, at the time. Simple lessons
that that made me who i am
John R Zimmerman
1916-1979
by john k zimmerman
You did not teach me right from wrong
You taught me to think about right and
wrong
and to understand the difference.
You did not teach me to grab for myself
You taught me that in community and
Solidarity there is strength.
You taught me the simple courage
of personal integrity that changes
Systems for the better.
Such simple lessons that I hardly
marked,
or valued, at the time. Simple lessons
that that made me who i am
John R Zimmerman
1916-1979
Dedication
by paul yogi nipperess
This dedication was written for my new
"Gann Signs" ebook, to be released in
the coming weeks.
Dedication:
Allan Clyde Nipperess 27061915 - 23032000
Country blood in his veins,
Of simple stock, with truth at heart
And a willing hand to lend
To all in times of need.
Lue, down Mudgee way
Was his childhood haunt.
But soon the world a-beckoned him,
Armoury and radio was the taunt.
World War II found him in his prime,
Alongside friends, in desert climes.
El Alamein, Benghazi, Tripoli and Damascus,
Too, were just stops, along the way.
Faith, courage and knowledge steered them
on,
Through Libya, Italy, Sicily and Turkey too.
They scarcely had time to breathe,
As 450 Squadron pounded the Hun,
Until, it was time to leave.
Returning to raise a family,
Blazing a unique trail, along the way.
His peacetime role, as a Mason
Always underlay,
A clever and humourous fellow,
Who would always have his say.
Cars, radios and television sets,
He could fix them all.
From dawn to dusk, his many stories
Bounced off the workshop walls.
A scribe of a zillion letters
To a family, far and wide
He honed his skills, as a writer,
To take his last goal, in his stride.
As his life was closing,
He had one more job to do.
To write a book about THE war,
For his buddies and me and you.
Now he has gone, we miss him lots,
And one thing is for sure.
His skills live on between us,
And his guidance will endure.
That was “A.C. Nippo”,
Our Dad and confidant.
by paul yogi nipperess
This dedication was written for my new
"Gann Signs" ebook, to be released in
the coming weeks.
Dedication:
Allan Clyde Nipperess 27061915 - 23032000
Country blood in his veins,
Of simple stock, with truth at heart
And a willing hand to lend
To all in times of need.
Lue, down Mudgee way
Was his childhood haunt.
But soon the world a-beckoned him,
Armoury and radio was the taunt.
World War II found him in his prime,
Alongside friends, in desert climes.
El Alamein, Benghazi, Tripoli and Damascus,
Too, were just stops, along the way.
Faith, courage and knowledge steered them
on,
Through Libya, Italy, Sicily and Turkey too.
They scarcely had time to breathe,
As 450 Squadron pounded the Hun,
Until, it was time to leave.
Returning to raise a family,
Blazing a unique trail, along the way.
His peacetime role, as a Mason
Always underlay,
A clever and humourous fellow,
Who would always have his say.
Cars, radios and television sets,
He could fix them all.
From dawn to dusk, his many stories
Bounced off the workshop walls.
A scribe of a zillion letters
To a family, far and wide
He honed his skills, as a writer,
To take his last goal, in his stride.
As his life was closing,
He had one more job to do.
To write a book about THE war,
For his buddies and me and you.
Now he has gone, we miss him lots,
And one thing is for sure.
His skills live on between us,
And his guidance will endure.
That was “A.C. Nippo”,
Our Dad and confidant.
My Old Pop
by Jeanette Cooper
My grandparents and my dad lived back in a time when even
a radio was a luxury. They were the greatest storytellers I've
known, and perhaps it's from them that I get my love of
telling stories through writing.
My Old Pop
In that little shack you see
Out there in the bay
Me and my old Pop came there
Nearly every weekend we’d stay.
We’d fish out of the windows,
We’d fish out of the doors,
We’d fish off the rough-hewn dock
We’d fish along the shore.
If lucky, we’d catch enough fish to fry
At the end of a long hot day,
Then we’d lean back in our lawn chairs
And look out across the bay.
We’d watch the seabirds swooping low
Diving for fish as quick as a sigh,
Calling out their strange bird calls
White wings floating against a lovely blue sky.
My old pop had a memory like a recorder,
And loved to tell stories about his life
He told me a story grandpa told to him
Of how grandpa chose grandma for his wife.
(He bid for her basket at a picnic.)
Pop talked about his life as a boy
When the entire family worked the farm
Hard work and few returns, he said,
Cold winters when the old fireplace kept us warm.
We had wonderful vegetable gardens, he added
And lots of fine nourishing food to eat,
But cattle were very important for their milk
So poultry and pork were served for our meat.
Twilight slowly slides to dusk
Darkness with a million stars create a glorious sight
Mosquitoes begin feeding on our arms and face,
Making it time to say goodnight.
Let me tell you another story, Pop mutters from
his bed,
From my cot I listen to his voice so deep,
My mind forming pictures and images from his
words
Until I fall fast asleep.
Let me tell you another story…
Goodnight, Pop,
I hope you’re still telling your stories--
to the angels!
I love you…
by Jeanette Cooper
My grandparents and my dad lived back in a time when even
a radio was a luxury. They were the greatest storytellers I've
known, and perhaps it's from them that I get my love of
telling stories through writing.
My Old Pop
In that little shack you see
Out there in the bay
Me and my old Pop came there
Nearly every weekend we’d stay.
We’d fish out of the windows,
We’d fish out of the doors,
We’d fish off the rough-hewn dock
We’d fish along the shore.
If lucky, we’d catch enough fish to fry
At the end of a long hot day,
Then we’d lean back in our lawn chairs
And look out across the bay.
We’d watch the seabirds swooping low
Diving for fish as quick as a sigh,
Calling out their strange bird calls
White wings floating against a lovely blue sky.
My old pop had a memory like a recorder,
And loved to tell stories about his life
He told me a story grandpa told to him
Of how grandpa chose grandma for his wife.
(He bid for her basket at a picnic.)
Pop talked about his life as a boy
When the entire family worked the farm
Hard work and few returns, he said,
Cold winters when the old fireplace kept us warm.
We had wonderful vegetable gardens, he added
And lots of fine nourishing food to eat,
But cattle were very important for their milk
So poultry and pork were served for our meat.
Twilight slowly slides to dusk
Darkness with a million stars create a glorious sight
Mosquitoes begin feeding on our arms and face,
Making it time to say goodnight.
Let me tell you another story, Pop mutters from
his bed,
From my cot I listen to his voice so deep,
My mind forming pictures and images from his
words
Until I fall fast asleep.
Let me tell you another story…
Goodnight, Pop,
I hope you’re still telling your stories--
to the angels!
I love you…
The Postman
by Ron Dondiego
I'm a big fan of Pablo Neruda and Garcia Lorca, so I
was inspired by the movie to write this poem. It is
perhaps one of my best. Si?
He walked with Pablo
By a turquoise sea,
Listening as the wind
Swallowed his strange words
He was moved,
By the images of the poet
To love a simple woman
Whose skin, burnt brown
By the blinding sun,
Carried the scent
Of olive groves
To his simple heart
Pablo wrote of passion,
And the torment
Of the slaving masses -
With their filthy mouths agape
Under the weight of coal -
With their bodies imprisoned,
And disfigured by the blast
Of a demonic furnace
Then Pablo left
The little island,
And the postman,
In his simple soul,
Received initiation
From the goddess,
The one whose eyes
Rip open a man's heart
So that he can bleed for beauty
With unrestrained tears,
So that he can hear love songs
From lips that open into caverns,
Where ancient syllables of words
Lose their obsolete meanings -
And are swept away,
By a treacherous current
Into a sky of dripping twilight
Alone in the silence
He found his voice -
So he wrote one poem
So perfect, so tender
That the sea gulls
Stole it, and lifted it up
To the seven sisters,
Who flung it past the stars
Then the postman died -
With his soulful song
Strung like diamonds
In the blackness of space
His face, one of many
Was crushed - in a sea ablaze
From the anger of dieing men
His life ebbed into nothingness
And Pablo, walking alone
By the rim of the sea,
Read his poem,
And was moved to tears
by Ron Dondiego
I'm a big fan of Pablo Neruda and Garcia Lorca, so I
was inspired by the movie to write this poem. It is
perhaps one of my best. Si?
He walked with Pablo
By a turquoise sea,
Listening as the wind
Swallowed his strange words
He was moved,
By the images of the poet
To love a simple woman
Whose skin, burnt brown
By the blinding sun,
Carried the scent
Of olive groves
To his simple heart
Pablo wrote of passion,
And the torment
Of the slaving masses -
With their filthy mouths agape
Under the weight of coal -
With their bodies imprisoned,
And disfigured by the blast
Of a demonic furnace
Then Pablo left
The little island,
And the postman,
In his simple soul,
Received initiation
From the goddess,
The one whose eyes
Rip open a man's heart
So that he can bleed for beauty
With unrestrained tears,
So that he can hear love songs
From lips that open into caverns,
Where ancient syllables of words
Lose their obsolete meanings -
And are swept away,
By a treacherous current
Into a sky of dripping twilight
Alone in the silence
He found his voice -
So he wrote one poem
So perfect, so tender
That the sea gulls
Stole it, and lifted it up
To the seven sisters,
Who flung it past the stars
Then the postman died -
With his soulful song
Strung like diamonds
In the blackness of space
His face, one of many
Was crushed - in a sea ablaze
From the anger of dieing men
His life ebbed into nothingness
And Pablo, walking alone
By the rim of the sea,
Read his poem,
And was moved to tears
Little Giant
by J. Donald Coonrod
Author’s note: Poem written after a visit to
our grandson, Noah, then just over a year
old. He loves to grab eyeglasses and smiles
as he waves them wildly in a clutched fist.
He comes when you least expect it;
sunny little smile, golden rose,
determined baby nose, suddenly
softly in your face grasping glasses
in giggling light, pouring rainbows,
many hues of new days dawning
and their starry nights.
by J. Donald Coonrod
Author’s note: Poem written after a visit to
our grandson, Noah, then just over a year
old. He loves to grab eyeglasses and smiles
as he waves them wildly in a clutched fist.
He comes when you least expect it;
sunny little smile, golden rose,
determined baby nose, suddenly
softly in your face grasping glasses
in giggling light, pouring rainbows,
many hues of new days dawning
and their starry nights.
Aging Actor
by Alfred J. Garrotto
A veteran actor toward the end of his career
stands in the wings and prepares to go
onstage.
Spotlight on, smile lit,
godparents’ son set to steal
the scene; cast take care.
[I am sad to announce that my "aging actor"
cousin passed away in early February 2006.
We will all miss him. Now, he is with his
parents, my godparents, acting up a storm in
heaven.]
by Alfred J. Garrotto
A veteran actor toward the end of his career
stands in the wings and prepares to go
onstage.
Spotlight on, smile lit,
godparents’ son set to steal
the scene; cast take care.
[I am sad to announce that my "aging actor"
cousin passed away in early February 2006.
We will all miss him. Now, he is with his
parents, my godparents, acting up a storm in
heaven.]
| For a real and unexpected treat, click on the names of each writer as you read their work below. You will find their unique bio and more of their work. Enjoy! |
| A Coin For Your Pocket by Julia Rose Our grandson Josh used to love to hear his Papa play with his silver dollar that he always carried in his pocket. When Josh turned eight Papa gave him his very own silver dollar to carry in his pocket and someday give it to his grandson..... A great big coin for your pocket just like papa has. Now keep it safe and try not to lose it and please never ever hock it! Although this coin isn't worth near enough it means so much more than you realize, along with this dollar you'll grow a little taller each time you look him in the eyes. This silver dollar will become a part of you, and when you're big and tall, you'll remember the love your granddad had even when you were so small. |
A Father's Love
by Felix LeRoy Perry
I was reading something Kate wrote this morning and it
really made me think, this is in response...
I read a poem today by my friend Kate
Spoke of a mother's loving feelings word for word
She prefaced wondering what it is a father feels
That compares to a mother's immortal umbilical cord
A Father's Love
I thought for a bit back almost thirty years
to a night etched in my brain and heart
when I heard that cry and felt that child
knew no one would ever keep us apart
I wiped the teardrops from my eyes
and touched my baby girl's new born skin
as heaven smiled inside my heart and soul
knew there lay someone special there within
I knew from that very first minute of her life
that my world was changed forever more
that God had given me the perfect gift
a gurgling little girl to love of this I am sure
I watched her grow from baby to toddler
from toddler to stumbling walks to climbing a
tree
to little Barbie dreams and strawberry ice cream
to teenage crushes, dreams shared with me
I walked her down the wedding aisle in white
Gave away a part and it hurt I will not lie
then stood beside her hospital bed again when
another small gift of love to me began to cry
by Felix LeRoy Perry
I was reading something Kate wrote this morning and it
really made me think, this is in response...
I read a poem today by my friend Kate
Spoke of a mother's loving feelings word for word
She prefaced wondering what it is a father feels
That compares to a mother's immortal umbilical cord
A Father's Love
I thought for a bit back almost thirty years
to a night etched in my brain and heart
when I heard that cry and felt that child
knew no one would ever keep us apart
I wiped the teardrops from my eyes
and touched my baby girl's new born skin
as heaven smiled inside my heart and soul
knew there lay someone special there within
I knew from that very first minute of her life
that my world was changed forever more
that God had given me the perfect gift
a gurgling little girl to love of this I am sure
I watched her grow from baby to toddler
from toddler to stumbling walks to climbing a
tree
to little Barbie dreams and strawberry ice cream
to teenage crushes, dreams shared with me
I walked her down the wedding aisle in white
Gave away a part and it hurt I will not lie
then stood beside her hospital bed again when
another small gift of love to me began to cry
| A Parent's Love by Michael A Bostick Showing the way for the future A Parent’s Love My children, as time goes by and the endless mistakes made by all, remember a Parent’s Love. This Love will carry you through all the hardship’s that life has to offer. It is a love that is freely given and never taken back. It is a part of us that has given you your looks, that somewhat awkward smile, the essence of life itself. Remember my children you were conceived out of love. It was the joining of two individuals during a night when all with the world was right. That is a parent’s love. A parent’s love will endure the perils of today and the heartaches of tomorrow. It is that love that will scold you and praise you all in the same breath. Confusing, but that’s A parent’s love. A parent’s love will last like the Sands of the Sahara for it comes from my parent’s and their parent’s to bestow upon you and yours and theirs. It is the fruit that binds us and makes one whole. I love you, A Parent’s Love. |
Passing Through Life
by Stanley T. Crawford
As a child, I play often as I can.
I run, skip or pretend to be a band.
I fill myself with ice cream from my spoon.
As my stomach stretches, like a big balloon.
As a teen, no one knows better than me.
I often believe only what I can see.
Mom and dad have grown too old for me.
I often tell them just to let me be.
As a parent, I play from time to time.
I spend most of my time earning each dime.
I try to help my children avoid my mistakes.
Yet my advice, they often refuse to take.
As a grandparent, my play times are rare.
It’s a challenge for me to climb each stair.
I thank God for added life each new day.
As of yet, He has not called me away.
by Stanley T. Crawford
As a child, I play often as I can.
I run, skip or pretend to be a band.
I fill myself with ice cream from my spoon.
As my stomach stretches, like a big balloon.
As a teen, no one knows better than me.
I often believe only what I can see.
Mom and dad have grown too old for me.
I often tell them just to let me be.
As a parent, I play from time to time.
I spend most of my time earning each dime.
I try to help my children avoid my mistakes.
Yet my advice, they often refuse to take.
As a grandparent, my play times are rare.
It’s a challenge for me to climb each stair.
I thank God for added life each new day.
As of yet, He has not called me away.
Grandpa's Elizabeth
by Stephen Pollard
From his book The Journey Through My Life
Grandpa was fond of all of us
But one of my sisters
He used to call Elizabeth
For she reminded Grandpa
Of one of his girlfriends
And whenever Grandpa
Would call her Elizabeth
It would annoy Grandma
And she would say
Well there he goes again
by Stephen Pollard
From his book The Journey Through My Life
Grandpa was fond of all of us
But one of my sisters
He used to call Elizabeth
For she reminded Grandpa
Of one of his girlfriends
And whenever Grandpa
Would call her Elizabeth
It would annoy Grandma
And she would say
Well there he goes again
Just Wanted You To Know by Leann Marshall Daddy Everyone always said I look like you Your middle child Same hair Same eyes Same knowing smile So sorry I went wild Those crazy teen-aged years So long ago... ...Just wanted you to know How proud I was The morning you brought my lunch to sixth grade Walked into class with the forgotten bag All eyes turned to see Your movie star handsome face “Is that your dad?” “Of course,” I said, and smiled... ...Just wanted you to know It’s what they couldn’t see Your wisdom, strength, and love Forever imprinted In my heart All those years ago That’s helped to carry me along... ...Just wanted you to know. |
| Come on--an inspirational Science Fiction book? |
| Read The Starfish People by Leann Marshall |
Click on the book to find a varied
selection of good reading!
Visit the Book Shelf
selection of good reading!
Visit the Book Shelf
 |