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This life is like a carousel ride. you like it or you don't,
but once the wheels have started to turn, you hold fast to the rope
and ride your horse at the pace that's set for you to do your job;
for know it or not we all were chosen, even if we think it odd,
to do a special something to make the world a better place.
So, when you find the horse you like, keep on and win your race.

Joan Adams Burchell

One Flower

On this quiet, April, Easter day most homes are adorned with pure, white lillies.
Pink and blue hydrangeas peek out from behind window-curtains.
The azalea forms a beautiful centerpiece.
I, however, can think of only 'one' flower that I would like to see today -
my Rose - my Mom.

Joan Adams Burchell


How could we 'ever' live without trees;
their protection and shelter for man, birds and bees?
Spellbound in their hypnotic beauty, I face -
tall stately ones with poise and grace -
tiny saplings being sheltered by their tender embrace.
Some of them gnarled and some so old
that centuries of history could be told.
Maple, oak, birch and elm, chestnut, ash and linden;
balsam, pine and the mighty spruce, their splendour is never hidden.
Oh! There should be an unwritten rule for all of the human race .....
For each one of these true friends you cut down, you plant another in its place.

Joan Adams Burchell

A Gift

I pray that I may have a gift bestowed upon me -
not one of outward beauty but much deeper may it be;
a loving, understanding heart, a warm, inner glow
that shines for those who need a friend and I will be - they'll know.

Joan Adams Burchell


Plants are 'special' in my home, no matter what their names.
Some are wearing purple robes; others - pink champagne.
'Some' wait for Christmas to bloom, as if it is their way
of wishing a festive season and a happy holiday.

Then, there are those that I hold dear, decked out in Irish green.
Each has character, like the leprechaun, if it only could be seen.
They're different shades of green, you see, and play a special part.
No matter what my decor is, they blend in from the start.

Joan Adams Burchell

My Secret

My mind knew they were not coming but still I went ahead silently planning every little detail so that should, by some miraculous turn of events, my heart be right and a knock came at the door, I would be ready. This was my secret, season after season and year after year, on each and every holiday.
As time passed, my plans got weaker as I watched, broken, through the mist, cars parked everywhere at neighbours' homes. Their joyous laughter spilled over and was carried through the air. If I could just breathe some of it in!
When the phone, rang I was so cheerful for those precious moments until finally the time was up and the silence once-again engulfed me.
That was my yesterday. Today, I'll busy myself with other things and then - when tomorrow comes, I'll follow my heart again.

- Joan Adams Burchell -written 1989


Miscellaneous Poetry