Friday, July 19, 2013

Poem



Her hair was up in a ponytail
Her favorite dress tied with a bow
Today was Daddy's Day at school
And she couldn't wait to go.
But her mommy tried to tell her,
That she probably should stay home.
Why the kids might not understand,
If she went to school alone.
But she was not afraid;
She knew just what to say.
What to tell her classmates
Of why he wasn't there today.
But still her mother worried,
For her to face this day alone.
And that was why once again,
She tried to keep her daughter home.
But the little girl went to school,
Eager to tell them all.
About a dad she never sees,
A dad who never calls.
There were daddies along the wall in back,
For everyone to meet
Children squirming impatently,
Anxious in their seats.
One by one the teacher called,
Each student from the class.
To introduce their daddy,
As seconds slowly passed.
At last the teacher called her name,
Every child turned to stare.
Each of them was searching,
For a man who wasn't there.
"Where's her daddy at?"
She heard a boy call out.
"She probably doesn't have one"
Another student dared to shout.
And from somewhere near the back,
She heard a daddy say,
"Looks like another deadbeat dad,
Too busy to waste his day."
The words did not offened her,
As she smiled up at her mom.
And looked back at her teacher,
Who told her to go on.
And with hands behind her back,
Slowly she began to speak.
And out from the mouth of a child,
Came words incredibly unique.
"My daddy couldn't be here,
Because he lives so far away.
But I know he wishes he could be,
Since this is such a special day.
And though you cannot meet him,
I wanted you to know.
All about my daddy,
And how much he loves me so.
He loved to tell me stories
He taught me to ride my bike.
He surprised me with pink roses,
And taught me to fly a kite.
We used to share fudge sundaes,
and ice cream in a cone.
And though you cannot see him,
I'm not standing here alone.
Cause my daddy's always with me
Even though we are apart.
I know because he told me,
He'll forever be in my heart."
With that, her little hand reached up,
and lay across her chest.
Feeling her own heartbeat,
Beneath her favorite dress.
And from somewhere in the crowd of dads,
Her mother stood in tears.
Proudly watching her daughter,
Who was wise beyond her years.
For she stood up for the love
Of a man not in her life.
Doing what was best for her,
Doing what was right.
And when she dropped her hand back down,
Staring straight into the crowd.
She finished with a voice so soft,
But its message clear and loud.
"I love my daddy very much,
He's my shining star.
And if he could he'd be here,
But heaven's just too far.
You see he was a fireman
And died just this past year.
When airplanes hit the towers
And taught Americans to fear.
But sometimes when I close my eyes,
It's like he never went away."
And then she closes her eyes,
And saw him there that day.
And to her mother's amazement,
She witnessed with surprise.
A room full of daddies and children,
All starting to close their eyes.
Who knows what they say before them,
Who knows what they felt inside.
Perhaps for merely a second,
They saw him at her side.
"I know you're with me Daddy."
To the silence she called out.
And what happened next made believers,
Of those once filled with doubt.
Not one in that room could explain it,
For each of their eyes had been closed.
But there on the desk beside her,
Was a fragrant long-stemmed pink rose.
And a child was blessed, if only for a moment,
By the love of her shining bright star.
And given the gift of believing,
That heaven is never too far


Enter your email address:


Delivered by FeedBurner
Main site address is http://www.vinodhemdev.blogspot.com Subscribe in a reader For more stories, click on the word Home or click on ONE STORY A DAY
Subscribe to ONE STORY A DAY
We also invite you to send us stories you would like to see published in this blog. You can send us either stories you have written or stories written by others that you have liked. You may rest assured that both you and the author are credited for your submission. Just send a copy of your stories and other pieces to my email address: vinodhemdev@gmail.com
ONE STORY A DAY

Thursday, July 18, 2013

monks

A man is driving down the road and his car breaks down near a
monastery. He goes to the monastery, knocks on the door, and
says, "My car broke down. Do you think I could stay the night?"
The monks graciously accept him, feed him dinner, even fix his
car. As the man tries to fall asleep, he hears a strange sound.
A sound unlike anything he's ever heard before. The Sirens that
nearly seduced Odysseus into crashing his ship comes to his mind.
He doesn't sleep that night. He tosses and turns trying to figure
out what could possibly be making such a seductive sound.
The next morning, he asks the monks what the sound was, but they
say, "We can't tell you. You're not a monk." Distraught, the man
is forced to leave.
Years later, after never being able to forget that sound, the man
goes back to the monastery and pleads for the answer again.
The monks reply, "We can't tell you. You're not a monk."
The man says, "If the only way I can find out what is making that
beautiful sound is to become a monk, then please, make me a monk."
The monks reply, "You must travel the earth and tell us how many
blades of grass there are and the exact number of grains of sand.
When you find these answers, you will have become a monk."
The man sets about his task.
After years of searching he returns as a gray-haired old man and
knocks on the door of the monastery. A monk answers. He is taken
before a gathering of all the monks.
"In my quest to find what makes that beautiful sound, I traveled
the earth and have found what you asked for: By design, the world
is in a state of perpetual change. Only God knows what you ask.
All a man can know is himself, and only then if he is honest and
reflective and willing to strip away self deception."
The monks reply, "Congratulations. You have become a monk. We
shall now show you the way to the mystery of the sacred sound."
The monks lead the man to a wooden door, where the head monk says,
"The sound is beyond that door."
The monks give him the key, and he opens the door. Behind the
wooden door is another door made of stone. The man is given the
key to the stone door and he opens it, only to find a door made
of ruby. And so it went that he needed keys to doors of emerald,
pearl and diamond.
Finally, they come to a door made of solid gold. The sound has
become very clear and definite. The monks say, "This is the last
key to the last door."
The man is apprehensive to no end. His life's wish is behind
that door! With trembling hands, he unlocks the door, turns
the knob, and slowly pushes the door open. Falling to his knees,
he is utterly amazed to discover the source of that haunting
and seductive sound......
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
But, of course, I can't tell you what it is because you're not
a monk.
- from ArcaMax Jokes/docs daily chuckles


Enter your email address:


Delivered by FeedBurner
Main site address is http://www.vinodhemdev.blogspot.com Subscribe in a reader For more stories, click on the word Home or click on ONE STORY A DAY
Subscribe to ONE STORY A DAY
We also invite you to send us stories you would like to see published in this blog. You can send us either stories you have written or stories written by others that you have liked. You may rest assured that both you and the author are credited for your submission. Just send a copy of your stories and other pieces to my email address: vinodhemdev@gmail.com
ONE STORY A DAY

Thursday, July 11, 2013

Women are not fat

With time, women gain weight because we
accumulate so much information and wisdom
in our heads that when there is no more room,
it distributes out to the rest of our bodies.
So we aren't fat, we are enormously cultured,
educated and happy.
Beginning today, when I look at my rear in the
mirror I will think...
“Good grief, look how smart I am!”.
- from Ann F.
                     ------------------------------
Moral: When you change the way you look at things, the things you
look at change - Wayne Dyer


       Taken from:
Doc's daily chuckles
Enter your email address:


Delivered by FeedBurner
Main site address is http://www.vinodhemdev.blogspot.com Subscribe in a reader For more stories, click on the word Home or click on ONE STORY A DAY
Subscribe to ONE STORY A DAY
We also invite you to send us stories you would like to see published in this blog. You can send us either stories you have written or stories written by others that you have liked. You may rest assured that both you and the author are credited for your submission. Just send a copy of your stories and other pieces to my email address: vinodhemdev@gmail.com
ONE STORY A DAY

Tuesday, July 9, 2013

Hammer

A man is in court for murder and the judge says 'You are charged with beating your wife to death with a hammer.'

Then a voice at the back of the court says, 'you bastard.'

Then the judge continues, 'you are also charged With beating Your daughter to death with a hammer.'

Again the voice at the back of the court says, 'you bastard.'

The judge says, 'now we cannot have any more of these outbursts from you or I shall charge You With contempt, now what is the problem?'

Then the man at the back of the court says, 'fifteen years I lived next door to that bastard and everytime I asked to borrow a hammer he said he never had one!'
 

Enter your email address:


Delivered by FeedBurner
Main site address is http://www.vinodhemdev.blogspot.com Subscribe in a reader For more stories, click on the word Home or click on ONE STORY A DAY
Subscribe to ONE STORY A DAY
We also invite you to send us stories you would like to see published in this blog. You can send us either stories you have written or stories written by others that you have liked. You may rest assured that both you and the author are credited for your submission. Just send a copy of your stories and other pieces to my email address: vinodhemdev@gmail.com
ONE STORY A DAY

Sunday, July 7, 2013

Are you my son?

An old man was sitting on a bench at the mall. A young man walked up to the bench and sat down. He had spiked hair all different colors, green, red, orange, blue, and yellow. The old man just stared.

The young man said, "What's the matter old timer, never done anything wild in your life?"

The old man replied, "Got drunk once and had sex with a parrot. I was just wondering if you were my son.

Enter your email address:


Delivered by FeedBurner
Main site address is http://www.vinodhemdev.blogspot.com Subscribe in a reader For more stories, click on the word Home or click on ONE STORY A DAY
Subscribe to ONE STORY A DAY
We also invite you to send us stories you would like to see published in this blog. You can send us either stories you have written or stories written by others that you have liked. You may rest assured that both you and the author are credited for your submission. Just send a copy of your stories and other pieces to my email address: vinodhemdev@gmail.com
ONE STORY A DAY