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Life Amidst the Rhymes

Monika Hardy

A Collection of Poetry and Short Stories

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Dedicated to

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Family and friends, near and far.
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Foreword

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Based on memories of life and all the wonderful times with
friends and family throughout the years.

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May it bring you joy!
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Life Amidst the Rhymes
Who knoweth.
Shall I hit it on the noseth
Seest thou thyself betwixt the lines
Or dost thou seest another amidst the rhymes

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Fermented memories becometh quite sweet
Blessed am I when thou washeth my feet
Yet sadness prevaileth on thought of another
I will miss you my dear sweet little brother

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Solace in laughter and hugs from grandchildren
Each one so different yet such precious kin
Mom, Nieces, Nephews, Uncles, Cousins and Aunts
Whether ye be In-Laws or Out-Laws, you make my heart dance

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The summer heat remindeth me of summers gone by
Castles in the sand, and baby oil...WHY
Summers swimming at the lake, jumping off the pier
How sweet it was to have my boys near

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Rocks in pockets, round and round in the dryer they pound
Time marches onward, leaves fall to the ground
One day they are here, the next they are gone
Living their own life, and facing the dawn

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A family are we as God has ordained
Some of us miles apart yet He has ingrained
A love of family for both far and near
Thinkest thou of me fondly, as I do of you all my dears

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Monika Hardy

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The Six Little Tomatoes

Once there were five, now there are six little tomatoes
One day they all got squished, how not a one knows
Into a bottle together they went, cup by cup
A few spices and stirred, and soon became ketchup

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Let us out, let us out, the tomatoes they cried
Down came the hand of the giant, the bottle he smashed
Out squirted the ketchup all over the world
Sweetness now covers the earth like a flag unfurled

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El Hombre del Blanco

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El Hombre del Blanco
We love how you smile so
From ear to ear with all your might
You are such a precious sight

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An Orchestra Conductor
Before the age of four
Speed Racer in your walker
As you cause such a stir

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Playtime and therapy bring much progress
Now you create a toddler size o' mess
El Hombre del Blanco
We love you so

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You touched my heart when back you blew
The kisses I sent and I thought you had no clue
Of the motion and emotion sent your direction
Ah, but precious one, you shine like the sun

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Consider Beauty

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Monik

a Har

dy

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As I take a moment and consider the beauty before me, the business of life comes to a stand
still. Breaths become deeper and peace becomes pronounced. Deeper contemplation of the term
beauty, finds it in crisis during this Age. Plato knew that beauty was the good, the true, the
real. That each of these was equivalent to beauty.
Augustine knew the same was established in reality. Yet today we commonly sever the good
from the true and do not comprehend the power of beauty.
I find myself lacking and ask to be beautiful to You.
However, I ask amiss.
It is not physical beauty of myself You seek, as Johnathan Edwards once remarked,
but "a sweet mutual consent".
Beauty truly is in the eye of the beholder. As we behold the face of our Creator and come to
know Him personally, our vision of beauty, once severed from reality, now enters into the mutual
consent of goodness, truth, reality and beauty. When true beauty blossoms, it is the created,
bringing glory to the Creator.
May our days be filled with moments of sweet mutual consent with our Maker and we
behold His creation.

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dy

a Har

Monik

The Summer Garden
One green bean, two green beans.
Three green beans and four.
Five, six, seven green beans.
"Can I have some more?"

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“Of course you may!”
Little fingers helped plant bean seeds within the ground.
"And now they grow on trees!"
Not trees, said I, but on sunflower stalks they wound.
It was a jungle of strawberries, green beans and flowers.
We ate some, the squirrels ate some,
And we fought the birds for what we thought was ours.

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Many a day we had to water to keep the seeds wet,
If ever there was hope to have veggies on the table to set.

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Lightning made the peas grow tall by creating more nitrogen
If only Grandpa would allow us to have a hen,
Then there would be enough manure for the garden.
"I will build a box to hold your dirt, but we shall have no hen!"

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Did I mention cucumbers? We turned them into pickles.
Little ones find them fun to eat while and fill them with giggles.
The bees they buzzed around the bright sunflowers.
Day after day we spent time outside for hours.

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Sweet peas grown in a box that wind around bamboo
Who picked all the ripe pods and left none for me.... who?
"It was me you see, for I wanted too."
Omi knew dear one, just wanted to hear you.

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The summer garden is now bare and the arctic cold wind blows.
Jars of apples, carrots and pears have already been enjoyed.
Plum sauce and pickles, sunflower seeds and more giggles,
Are memories that will last long after the snow falls.

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To you my dear grandchildren I will always be grateful,
For your help in the Summer Garden, and to your Omi.
When one day you grow up and have a garden of your own,
Plant sunflowers, strawberries and green beans and remember me fondly. 


Take Another Look

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Down, down, down she stepped.
The sights she saw made her go lower.
How could this be?
How came it about?
A world without beauty brought many a doubt.
Will all around go deeper into the hole as it falls?
Must it really be so all ya’lls?

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No, no, no she cries.
Enough is enough.
Stand strong and tall and don't give in.
Take another look at life.
Bring back the beauty, and live.
Bring back love and give.
Keep life simple, don't call it sappy.
Give of yourself and make others happy.

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Lost in Thought

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Lost in thought I found you today.
In wonderful memories of yesterday.
Can I come in and spend some time with you.
I pray my prayers bring you comfort too.
I like to remember the thoughts that were funny.
They stick to the ribs when laughing, like honey.
I know life keeps you busy while you are working hard.
So I will write this poem and send it your way in a card.

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I hope it brings you peace and joy to read.
And brings back thoughts of when we planted seeds.
That continue to bloom and grow within your heart.
Just as you grew inside of me from the start.

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Memories of times past remind me of life when it was simpler.
When we looked forward to Lake time from summer to summer.
May your memories of us be sweet as ours are of both of you.
But for heaven's sake don't cry like your momma when you read this phoo!

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The Castle

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Racing to ones seat was difficult at best,
when in a room full of adults.
There were legs everywhere and of course,
the occasional pole to avoid.
If it weren't for the hand holding my hand,
I would have made it to the row of chairs first.
I did remember that it was polite to let the girls
go first.
a Har

Monik

dy

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After my sisters and their dollies walked down
the row, it was finally my turn.

I like chairs.
I like to climb up into chairs.
I like to hide under chairs.
I like to swing my feet back and forth when I sit in a chair.
Sometimes I fall out of my chair.
But I don't like to sit in a chair too long.

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My family was finally settled into our row of seats.
It would be awhile before I would escape from this chair.
There was a row of chairs and people in front of me.
There was a row of chairs and people behind me.

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If I move quickly I could make it under the chair in front of me.
One quick jump and.....

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Papa's arms are very long.
Papa's hands are very strong.
Papa can pick me up off the floor with one hand!
He can put me in my chair really fast!
I love my Papa!

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It's fun to smile at people and see so many things.
That man has a belt the same color as my belt!
That man has a brown belt.
It is not the same color as my belt.
I got a new belt for Christmas.
I also got a new castle for Christmas.

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I like thinking about my castle.
My Grandpa made my castle.
My castle is grey.
My castle has lots of round things on top.
I broke one of the round things on my castle.
My castle has a red flag on top.
I like to play with my soldiers in my castle.

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Mama, look, there is my friend!
Yes Mama, I will talk quietly.
But Mama, she does not yet know that I have a castle!
The piano started and the man up front started moving his hands.

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We all stood up and started singing to the King.
Pastor Steve will soon say Amen!
Then I can tell my friend about my new castle!

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The Hillbilly Mobile

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My eyes were glued to the padded bench seat that had been bolted to the top of the
bed of a rusty old truck. I was to climb the step stool into the bed of the truck and buckle
up.
“Are there seat belts on that thing?”
“Yup, all aboard”
The air was not as thick up near the Canadian Rockies today from the nearby fires,
but the rusty old truck managed to fill the area with a cloud of exhaust. My face covered
with the coat I brought along, helped me filter out the gas fumes, until the rusty old
Hillbilly Mobile made it’s way down the gravel road. With good ol’ huntin’ dog at our
feet, we slowly made our way to the highway. Now on the wide open road, our pace
quickened which made me thankful that I had brought a coat and sunglasses, of course I
almost lost them in the wind.
The looks of shock and disbelief encouraged me to wave a neighborly wave to all
who ventured past. I felt as if I should be wearing a straw hat, overalls and black out a
few teeth just to give the viewers the full meal deal. As our driver slowed the sputtering
vehicle to take the turn off, I thought our tour was over and we were going to head back
to camp. However, the adventure had just begun.
Our accent on the gravel washboard of a road, winding up the side of the mountain,
brought some fearful moments. Looking down the ravine was out of the question and
looking up just reminded me of how far it was to the top! If I closed my eyes I knew from
experience that those on either side of me would not be happy with my motion sickness.
Needless to say, I called upon God.
“I am so thankful that I am Yours and You are mine, and if I don’t make it through
this ride, please take me home quickly, and if You are open to suggestions...painlessly
too.”
“Breath in, breathe out,” I kept reminding myself. I know I was strapped in with a
seat belt, but a lot of good that was going to do me if the old rusty truck goes rolling
down the steep ravine.
"No! Don’t look down," kept running through my brain. "Why is the driver smiling?
Why is he looking back through the window, and why isn’t he looking at the road?"
“Alrighty, we've done made it to the top", announced our driver.

I let out a deep sigh of relief.
Then I heard, “hang on to yer hats while I turn this thing around.”
“Turn around? Here? There is no room to turn around,” ran through my mind.
Holding my breath again, the Hillbilly Mobile slowly backed to the edge of the
ravine side of the road behind me. At least I didn’t have to look at the depth of my
possible grave.
Finally the vehicle came to a stop, the gas fumes cleared, and the motor was turned
off.
The four of us, and ol’ huntin’ dog, remained still in the incredible silence atop the
huge mountain, staring at the majestic Canadian Mountain Range.
Be still my beating heart.
Waves of thankfulness flowed through me, the haze of area fires still filled the air
and blurred the view, and chocked the air, but nothing could diminish the sense of awe
that overwhelmed me. Range after range of jagged earth jutted high into the great
expanse. It just thrilled me to think about what God had created with dirt and breath, just
by speaking it into being.
Speaking of breath, I lost it a few more times coming down the windy mountain
road, but we did indeed make it back home, safe and sound, after our adventures that day
atop that mountain in the Hillbilly Mobile.

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One Day Soon

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She will grow out of it one day soon.
On went life a little different than planned.
Oblivious to the fact that things had not changed,
On flowed the grains of time sand.

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Life flowing from beginning to end,
Trapped and a bit slower in the middle.
On went the song of life, and love on the mend.
A few bad notes played on the fiddle.
Soon the song slowed and became a theme.
Stuck in the refrain which came to a halt.
Help me I'm hurting I'd cry and I'd scream.
The repeated reply, it's your own fault.

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Turns out I was sick, but who's here to hear?
Most fallen away for the times were too rough.
Not the self I once was before I fear,
But still refusing to drown in this stuff.

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Up stands this soul, upon the Rock.
Though my foot slipped, He picked me up.
To Him I still listen though others may mock.
He keeps me close and fills my cup.

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Still making progress slowly in His strength.
Thankfully moving onward without those essential parts.
A retelling of history will at length,
Hopefully one day bless willing hearts.

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When hope becomes reality Slow Mo will live in that far away land.
But at present at the pace of a snail, too slow for those who were around me.
Why are you so slow?
Move faster was the command.

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The plodding pace became the norm as none other knew she.
The frustration it brought to companions and friends made them ponder.
Could this be real or make believe?
We can only wonder.

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It must be told that sorrow for self for some time went on.
Now no longer needed, for in Him I am strong.
When the time comes for this tent to be gone,
You will find me safe in His arms, all eternity long.

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Curtain Call

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No Theologian or scholar I be.
No one of consequence is the key.
A servant by choice yet here I am, free.
No longer locked in sin, says He.

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For all the world's a stage we've heard.
Where two are gathered there is a promised third.
Truth displayed on pages of His Word.
Fly away, fly away, free like a bird.

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Cry like a baby, grow to be a man and die.
Life on stage passes quickly and we ask why?
The grass withers, the flowers fade, we sigh.
The soul that loves Jesus lives forever…. bye!

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Entire contents protected by U.S. Copyright 2014 Monika Hardy
All rights reserved.
All artwork and poems and short stories are the work of Monika Hardy.
No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, resold, or distributed
by or through any print or electronic medium without written permission from
the author. This e-book solely for the non-commercial use of the original
authorized purchaser, subject to the terms of use under which it was purchased.
Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials.

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Interior Design: Monika Hardy
Artwork: Monika Hardy
Photographs: Monika Hardy
Proofreading: Brad Hardy
Editing: Monika Hardy

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All inquiries: hizladybug@gmail.com