<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32494036</id><updated>2011-04-21T13:35:16.575-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Polish the Star</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Richard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10815590960560007748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>19</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32494036.post-116438474831025341</id><published>2006-11-24T08:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-24T08:14:59.040-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Senses</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;A mouth was talking to a Nose and Eye.&lt;br /&gt;A passing listening Ear Said,” Pardon me,&lt;br /&gt;but you spoke so loud,&lt;br /&gt;I couldn’t help but overhear.”&lt;br /&gt;But the Mouth just closed and the Nose turned up And the Eye just looked away,&lt;br /&gt;And the Ear with nothing more to hear Went sadly on its way.&lt;br /&gt;Shel Silver Stein&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32494036-116438474831025341?l=polishthestar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/feeds/116438474831025341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32494036&amp;postID=116438474831025341' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/116438474831025341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/116438474831025341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/2006/11/senses.html' title='Senses'/><author><name>Richard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10815590960560007748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32494036.post-116388138200567502</id><published>2006-11-18T12:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-18T12:23:02.016-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Batty</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;The baby bat&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Screamed out in fright,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;"Turn on the dark,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;I'm afraid of the light."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32494036-116388138200567502?l=polishthestar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/feeds/116388138200567502/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32494036&amp;postID=116388138200567502' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/116388138200567502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/116388138200567502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/2006/11/batty.html' title='Batty'/><author><name>Richard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10815590960560007748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32494036.post-116359943135833511</id><published>2006-11-15T06:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-15T06:04:24.260-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Shadow Race</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Every time I’ve raced my shadow&lt;br /&gt;When the sun was at my back,&lt;br /&gt;It always ran ahead of me,&lt;br /&gt;Always got the best of me.&lt;br /&gt;But every time I’ve raced my shadow&lt;br /&gt;When my face was toward the sun,&lt;br /&gt;I won.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32494036-116359943135833511?l=polishthestar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/feeds/116359943135833511/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32494036&amp;postID=116359943135833511' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/116359943135833511'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/116359943135833511'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/2006/11/shadow-race.html' title='Shadow Race'/><author><name>Richard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10815590960560007748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32494036.post-116342208080108718</id><published>2006-11-13T04:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-13T04:48:00.813-08:00</updated><title type='text'>How Many, How Much</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;How many slams in an old screen door? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Depends how loud you shut it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;How many slices in bread?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Depends how thin you cut it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;How much good inside a day?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Depends how good you live them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;How much love inside a friend?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Depends how much you give them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32494036-116342208080108718?l=polishthestar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/feeds/116342208080108718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32494036&amp;postID=116342208080108718' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/116342208080108718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/116342208080108718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/2006/11/how-many-how-much.html' title='How Many, How Much'/><author><name>Richard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10815590960560007748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32494036.post-116306745576010132</id><published>2006-11-09T02:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-09T02:17:35.773-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Eight Balloons</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7046/2760/1600/ballons3.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Eight ballons no one was buy in All broke loose one afternoon. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Eight balloons with strings a- fly in Free to do what they wanted to.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;One flew up to touch the sun – POP! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;One thought highways might be fun – POP! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;One took a nap in a cactus pile – POP! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;One stayed to play with a careless child – POP!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;One tried to taste some bacon fry in – POP! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;One fell in love with a porcupine – POP!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;One looked close in a crocodile’s mouth – POP! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;One sat around till his air ran out – WHOOSH! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Eight balloons no one was buy in They broke loose and away they flew,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Free to float and free to flyAnd free to pop where they wanted to.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32494036-116306745576010132?l=polishthestar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/feeds/116306745576010132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32494036&amp;postID=116306745576010132' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/116306745576010132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/116306745576010132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/2006/11/eight-balloons.html' title='Eight Balloons'/><author><name>Richard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10815590960560007748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32494036.post-116284329479987687</id><published>2006-11-06T11:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-06T12:01:34.813-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Zebra Question</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;I asked the zebra, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Are you black with white stripes? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Or white with black stripes? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;And the zebra asked me, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Are you good with bad habits? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Or are you bad with good habits? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Are you noisy with quiet times? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Or are you quiet with noisy times?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Are you happy with some sad days? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Or are you sad with some happy days? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Are you neat with some sloppy ways?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Or are sloppy sad with some neat ways? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;And on and on and on and on And on and on he went. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;I’ll never ask a zebra About stripes again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Shel Silver Stein&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32494036-116284329479987687?l=polishthestar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/feeds/116284329479987687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32494036&amp;postID=116284329479987687' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/116284329479987687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/116284329479987687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/2006/11/zebra-question.html' title='Zebra Question'/><author><name>Richard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10815590960560007748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32494036.post-116223731705455219</id><published>2006-10-30T11:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-10-30T11:41:57.066-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The little boy and the old man</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Said the little boy," Sometimes I drop my spoon."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Said the old man, " I do that too."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;The little boy whispered, " I wet my pants."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;I do that too," laughed the little old man.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Said the little boy, " I often cry."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;The old man nodded, " So do I."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;" But worst of all," said the boy,” it seems Grown-Ups don’t pay attention to me." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand." I know what you mean,"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;said the little old man.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32494036-116223731705455219?l=polishthestar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/feeds/116223731705455219/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32494036&amp;postID=116223731705455219' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/116223731705455219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/116223731705455219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/2006/10/little-boy-and-old-man.html' title='The little boy and the old man'/><author><name>Richard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10815590960560007748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32494036.post-116185748432263396</id><published>2006-10-26T03:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-26T03:11:24.333-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sour Face Ann</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;With your chin in your hand,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Haven’t you ever been pleased?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;You used to complain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;That you had no fur coat,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;And now you complain of the fleas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Shel Silver Stein&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32494036-116185748432263396?l=polishthestar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/feeds/116185748432263396/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32494036&amp;postID=116185748432263396' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/116185748432263396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/116185748432263396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/2006/10/sour-face-ann.html' title='Sour Face Ann'/><author><name>Richard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10815590960560007748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32494036.post-116137305697588503</id><published>2006-10-20T12:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-20T12:37:36.996-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Peckin</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;The saddest thing I ever did see&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Was a woodpecker peck in at a plastic tree,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;He looks at me, and “Friend” says he,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;“Things aren’t as sweet as they used to be.” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Shel Silver Stein&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32494036-116137305697588503?l=polishthestar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/feeds/116137305697588503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32494036&amp;postID=116137305697588503' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/116137305697588503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/116137305697588503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/2006/10/peckin.html' title='Peckin'/><author><name>Richard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10815590960560007748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32494036.post-116074700213232880</id><published>2006-10-13T06:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-20T12:39:33.426-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Put Something In</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Draw a crazy picture,&lt;br /&gt;Write a nutty poem,&lt;br /&gt;Singe a mumble-gumble song,&lt;br /&gt;Whistle through your comb.&lt;br /&gt;Do a loony-goony danceCross the kitchen floor,&lt;br /&gt;Put something silly in the world&lt;br /&gt;That it wasn’t there before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shel Silver Stein&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32494036-116074700213232880?l=polishthestar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/feeds/116074700213232880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32494036&amp;postID=116074700213232880' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/116074700213232880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/116074700213232880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/2006/10/put-something-in.html' title='Put Something In'/><author><name>Richard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10815590960560007748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32494036.post-115973095714425234</id><published>2006-10-01T12:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-01T12:29:17.156-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dead or Alive</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Two men started a fight in a street. The big man hit the little man hard, and the little man fell down on the ground. Then the big man saw a policeman who was coming along the street, the big man hid himself in a shop.The policeman looked down at the man on the ground but the little man did not move. A taxi was coming along the street and the policeman stopped it. Then he took the man in his arms and put him into the back of the taxi. The policeman got into the taxi too."Go to a doctor's house quickly," he said.The man in the back did not move or speak. "He's dead!" the policeman thought.When the taxi stopped outside the doctor's house, the policeman carried the man inside, and the doctor looked at him."He may be dead," said the doctor as soon as he saw him. "He isn't moving."The little man heard the doctor and sat up. He was afraid. "I'm not dead," he carried. "I'm alive!"The policeman was angry. "Do you know better than the doctor?" he asked."Yes," said the man. "I wanted to get away from that big man who hit me, and I got away. Thank you very much. Good morning!"&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32494036-115973095714425234?l=polishthestar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/feeds/115973095714425234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32494036&amp;postID=115973095714425234' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/115973095714425234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/115973095714425234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/2006/10/dead-or-alive.html' title='Dead or Alive'/><author><name>Richard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10815590960560007748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32494036.post-115868411934816986</id><published>2006-09-19T09:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-19T09:41:59.363-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stupid</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;One of Harry's feet was bigger than the other.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;"I can never find boots and shoes for my feet, "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;he said to his friend Dick.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;"Why don't you go to a shoemaker?" Dick said. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;"Aren't they very expensive?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;"No," Dick said, "some of them aren't. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;There's a good one in our village, and his quite cheap. Here's his address.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;" He wrote something on a piece of paper and gave it to Harry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Harry went to the shoemaker in Dick's village a few days later, and the shoemaker made him some shoes.Harry went to the shop again a week later and looked at the shoes. Then he said to the shoemaker angrily, "You're a silly man! I said, "Make one shoe bigger than the other," but you've made one smaller than the other.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32494036-115868411934816986?l=polishthestar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/feeds/115868411934816986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32494036&amp;postID=115868411934816986' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/115868411934816986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/115868411934816986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/2006/09/stupid.html' title='Stupid'/><author><name>Richard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10815590960560007748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32494036.post-115780933244941060</id><published>2006-09-09T06:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-09T06:42:12.456-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Musical Career</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;She wanted to play the piano, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;But her hands couldn’t reach the keys.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; When her hands could finally reach the keys, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Her feet couldn’t reach the floor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; When her hands could finally reach the keys,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; And her feet could reach the floor,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; She didn’t want to play that old piano anymore. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Shel Silver Stein&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32494036-115780933244941060?l=polishthestar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/feeds/115780933244941060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32494036&amp;postID=115780933244941060' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/115780933244941060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/115780933244941060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/2006/09/musical-career.html' title='Musical Career'/><author><name>Richard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10815590960560007748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32494036.post-115755820862419240</id><published>2006-09-06T08:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-06T08:56:49.333-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mother the only truth in this world</title><content type='html'>My mother only had one eye.&lt;br /&gt;I hated her … she was such an embarrassment.&lt;br /&gt;She cooked for students &amp; teachers to support the family.&lt;br /&gt;There was this one day during elementary school where my mom came to say hello to me.&lt;br /&gt;I was so embarrassed.&lt;br /&gt;How could she do this to me?I ignored her, threw her a hateful look and run out.&lt;br /&gt;The text day at school one of my classmate said,"EEEE, your mom only has one eye!"&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to bury myself.I also wanted my mom to just. Disappear.&lt;br /&gt;So I confronted her that day and said, "If you're only gonna make me a laughing stock,&lt;br /&gt; why don't you just die?!!!"My mom did not respond …&lt;br /&gt;I didn't even stop to think for a second a bout what I had said,&lt;br /&gt; because I was full of anger.&lt;br /&gt;I was oblivious to her feelings.&lt;br /&gt;I wanted out of that house, and have nothing to do with her.&lt;br /&gt;So I studied real hard, got a chance to go to Singrapore to study.&lt;br /&gt;Then I got married.I bought a house of my own.&lt;br /&gt;I had kids of my own.I was happy with my life, my kids and the comforts.&lt;br /&gt;Then one day, my mother came to visit me.&lt;br /&gt; She hadn't seen me in years and she didn't meet her grandchildren.&lt;br /&gt;When she stood by the door, my children laughed at her,&lt;br /&gt; and I yelled at her for coming over uninvited.&lt;br /&gt;I screamed at hear, "How dare you com to my house and scare my children!&lt;br /&gt;"GET OUT OF HERE! NOW!And to this, my mother quietly answered,&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, I'm sorry.&lt;br /&gt;I may have gotten the wrong address,&lt;br /&gt;" And she disappeared out of sight.&lt;br /&gt;One day, a letter regarding a school reunion came to my house in Singrapore.&lt;br /&gt;So I lied to my wife that I was going on a business trip.&lt;br /&gt;After the reunion, I went to the old shak just out of curiosity.&lt;br /&gt;My neighbors said that she died.&lt;br /&gt;I did not shed a single tear.&lt;br /&gt;They handed me a letter that she had wanted me to have.&lt;br /&gt;"My dearest son, I think of you all the time.&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry that I same to Singapor and scared your children.&lt;br /&gt;I was so glad when I heard you were coming for the reunion.&lt;br /&gt;But I may not be able to even get out of bed to see you.&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry that I was a constant embarrassment to you when you were growing up.&lt;br /&gt;You see …….. when you were very little, you got into an accident, and lost your eye.&lt;br /&gt;As a mother, I couldn't stand watching you having to grow up with one eye.&lt;br /&gt;So I gave you mine.&lt;br /&gt; I was so proud of my son who was seeing a whole new world for me, in my place,&lt;br /&gt; with that eye with my love to you,&lt;br /&gt;Your mother.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32494036-115755820862419240?l=polishthestar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/feeds/115755820862419240/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32494036&amp;postID=115755820862419240' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/115755820862419240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/115755820862419240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/2006/09/mother-only-truth-in-this-world.html' title='Mother the only truth in this world'/><author><name>Richard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10815590960560007748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32494036.post-115755634093230328</id><published>2006-09-06T08:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-06T08:39:53.456-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Reflection</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Each Time I see the Upside-Down man&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Standing in the water,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I look at him and start to laugh,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Although I shouldn’t do that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;For maybe in another world&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Another time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Another town,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Maybe he is right side up&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;And I am upside down.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Shel Silver Stein&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32494036-115755634093230328?l=polishthestar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/feeds/115755634093230328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32494036&amp;postID=115755634093230328' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/115755634093230328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/115755634093230328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/2006/09/reflection.html' title='Reflection'/><author><name>Richard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10815590960560007748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32494036.post-115660928077900354</id><published>2006-08-26T09:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-26T09:26:17.246-07:00</updated><title type='text'>INTERVIEW WITH GOD</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I DREAMED I HAD AN&lt;br /&gt;INTERVIEW WITH GOD.&lt;br /&gt;"SO YOU WOULD LIKE TO&lt;br /&gt;INTERVIEW ME?"&lt;br /&gt;GOD ASKED.&lt;br /&gt;"IF YOU HAVE THE TIME,"&lt;br /&gt;I SAID.&lt;br /&gt;GOD SMILED,&lt;br /&gt;" MY TIME IS ETERNITY."&lt;br /&gt;" WHAT QUESTIONS DO YOU&lt;br /&gt;HAVE IN MIND FOR ME?"&lt;br /&gt;" WHAT SURPRISES YOU MOST&lt;br /&gt;ABOUT HUMANKIND?"&lt;br /&gt;GOD ANSWERED......&lt;br /&gt;" THAT THEY GET BORED&lt;br /&gt;WITH CHILDHOOD.&lt;br /&gt;THEY RUSH TO GROW UP AND THEN&lt;br /&gt;LONG TO BE CHILDREN AGAIN."&lt;br /&gt;" THAT THEY LOSE THEIR HEALTH&lt;br /&gt;TO MAKE MONEY ,&lt;br /&gt;AND THEN LOSE THEIR MONEY&lt;br /&gt;TO RESTORE THEIR HEALTH."&lt;br /&gt;"THAT BY THINKING ANXIOUSLY&lt;br /&gt;ABOUT THE FUTURE,&lt;br /&gt;THEY FORGET THE PRESENT,&lt;br /&gt;SUCH THAT THEY LIVE IN NEITHER&lt;br /&gt;THE PRESENT NOR THE FUTURE."&lt;br /&gt;" THAT THEY LIVE AS IF&lt;br /&gt;THEY WILL NEVER DIE,&lt;br /&gt;AND DIE AS IF THEY&lt;br /&gt;HAD NEVER LIVED."&lt;br /&gt;GOD'S HAND TOOK MINE AND&lt;br /&gt;WE WERE SILENT FOR A WHILE.&lt;br /&gt;AND THEN I ASKED......&lt;br /&gt;" AS THE CREATOR OF PEOPLE,&lt;br /&gt;WHAT ARE SOME OF LIFE'S LESSONS&lt;br /&gt;YOU WANT THEM TO LEARN?"&lt;br /&gt;GOD REPLIED WITH A SMILE,&lt;br /&gt;" TO LEARN THEY CANNOT MAKE&lt;br /&gt;ANYONE LOVE THEM.&lt;br /&gt;WHAT THEY CAN DO IS LET&lt;br /&gt;THEMSELVES BE LOVED."&lt;br /&gt;" TO LEARN THAT IT IS NOT GOOD&lt;br /&gt;TO COMPARE THEMSELVES TO OTHERS."&lt;br /&gt;" TO LEARN THAT A RICH PERSON&lt;br /&gt;IS NOT ONE WHO HAS THE MOST,&lt;br /&gt;BUT IS ONE WHO NEEDS THE LEAST."&lt;br /&gt;" TO LEARN THAT IT TAKES ONLY A FEW&lt;br /&gt;SECONDS TO OPEN PROFOUND WOUNDS&lt;br /&gt;IN PERSONS WE LOVE,&lt;br /&gt;AND IT TAKES MANY YEARS&lt;br /&gt;TO HEAL THEM."&lt;br /&gt;" TO LEARN TO FORGIVE BY&lt;br /&gt;PRACTICING FORGIVENESS."&lt;br /&gt;" TO LEARN THAT THERE ARE PERSONS&lt;br /&gt;WHO LOVE THEM DEARLY.&lt;br /&gt;BUT SIMPLY DO NOT KNOW HOW TO&lt;br /&gt;EXPRESS OR SHOW THEIR FEELINGS."&lt;br /&gt;" TO LEARN THAT TWO PEOPLE CAN LOOK AT&lt;br /&gt;THE SAME THING AND SEE IT DIFFERENTLY."&lt;br /&gt;" TO LEARN THAT IT IS NOT ALWAYS ENOUGH&lt;br /&gt;THAT THEY BE FORGIVEN BY OTHERS,&lt;br /&gt;THEY MUST FORGIVE THEMSELVES."&lt;br /&gt;" AND TO LEARN&lt;br /&gt;THAT I AM HERE&lt;br /&gt;ALWAYS."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32494036-115660928077900354?l=polishthestar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/feeds/115660928077900354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32494036&amp;postID=115660928077900354' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/115660928077900354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/115660928077900354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/2006/08/interview-with-god.html' title='INTERVIEW WITH GOD'/><author><name>Richard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10815590960560007748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32494036.post-115519281013506940</id><published>2006-08-09T23:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-26T09:24:59.560-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Joe Richards finished school when he was 18, and then his father said to him, "You've passed your examinations now, Joe, and you got good marks in them. Now go and get some good work. They're looking for clever people at the bank in the town. The clerks there get quite a lot of money now."&lt;br /&gt;A few days later, Joe went to the bank and asked for work there. A man took him into a small room and gave him some questions on a piece of paper. Joe wrote his answers on the paper, and then he gave them to the man.&lt;br /&gt;The man looked at them for a few minutes, and then he took a pen and said to Joe, Your birthday was on the 12th of June, Mr Rechards?"&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, sir," Joe said.&lt;br /&gt;"What year?" the man asked.&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, every year, sir," Joe said.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32494036-115519281013506940?l=polishthestar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/feeds/115519281013506940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32494036&amp;postID=115519281013506940' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/115519281013506940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/115519281013506940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/2006/08/happy-birthday.html' title='Happy Birthday'/><author><name>Richard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10815590960560007748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32494036.post-115519270922321258</id><published>2006-08-09T23:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-26T09:26:59.266-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Mother</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;My mother, I love you and I need you, Even Though&lt;br /&gt;I love you and I need you, even though!&lt;br /&gt;I may at times have made you tear your hair&lt;br /&gt;I set myself apart, but even so&lt;br /&gt;Your presence and your love are always there.&lt;br /&gt;You are my jail cell and ten-ton door.&lt;br /&gt;That keeps me from just being who I am.&lt;br /&gt;And so I pound the walls and go to war,&lt;br /&gt;Ramming all the rules that I can ram.&lt;br /&gt;Yet though I must rebel, all the while&lt;br /&gt;I know your love's the ground on which I stand.&lt;br /&gt;I wait upon the flash of your pround smile, my mother&lt;br /&gt;And twist inside at every reprimand.&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry for the times I've caused you pain;&lt;br /&gt;After these brief storms, love will remain.Barry tayler&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32494036-115519270922321258?l=polishthestar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/feeds/115519270922321258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32494036&amp;postID=115519270922321258' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/115519270922321258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/115519270922321258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/2006/08/my-mother.html' title='My Mother'/><author><name>Richard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10815590960560007748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32494036.post-115519187559018451</id><published>2006-08-09T23:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-09T23:47:18.400-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You have two choices</title><content type='html'>Jerry is the manager of a restaurant. He is always in a good mood.&lt;br /&gt;When someone would ask him how he was doing, he would always reply:&lt;br /&gt;“If I were any better, I would be twins!”&lt;br /&gt;Many of the waiters at his restaurant quit their jobs when he changed jobs, so they could follow him around from restaurant to restaurant.&lt;br /&gt;Why?&lt;br /&gt;Because Jerry was a natural motivator&lt;br /&gt;If an employee was having a bad day, Jerry was always there, telling him how to look on the positive site of the situation.&lt;br /&gt;Seeing this style really made me curious, so one day I want up to Jerry and asked him:&lt;br /&gt;“I don’t get it! No one can be a positive person all of the time. How do you do it?”&lt;br /&gt;Jerry replied, “Each morning wake up and say to myself, I have two choices today. I can choose to be in a good mood or I can choose to be in a bad mood.&lt;br /&gt;I always choose to be in a good mood.&lt;br /&gt;Each time something bad happens, I can choose to be victim or I can choose to learn from it.&lt;br /&gt;Every time someone comes to me complaining, I can choose to accept their complaining or I can point out the positive side of life.”&lt;br /&gt;“But it’s not always that easy,” I protested.&lt;br /&gt;“Yes, it is,” Jerry said.&lt;br /&gt;“Life is all a bout choices. When you cut away all the junk every situation is a choice.&lt;br /&gt;You choose how you react to situation.&lt;br /&gt;You choose how people will affect your mood.&lt;br /&gt;You choose to be in good mood or bad mood.&lt;br /&gt;It’s your choice how you live your life.”&lt;br /&gt;Several years later,&lt;br /&gt;I heard that Jerry accidentally did something you are never supposed to do in the restaurant business.&lt;br /&gt;He left the back door of his restaurant open. And then in the morning, He was robbed by three armed men.&lt;br /&gt;While Jerry trying to open the safe box, his hand, shaking from nervousness, slipped off the combination.&lt;br /&gt;The robbers panicked and shot him.&lt;br /&gt;Luckily, Jerry was found quickly and rushed to the hospital.&lt;br /&gt;After 18 hours of surgery and weeks of intensive care, Jerry was released from the hospital with frongments of the bullets still in his body …&lt;br /&gt;I saw Jerry a bout six month after the accident.&lt;br /&gt;When I asked him how he was, he replied, “If I were any better, I’d be twins. Want to see my scars?”&lt;br /&gt;I declined to see his wounds, but did ask him what had gone through his mind as a robbery took place.&lt;br /&gt;“The first thing that went through my mind was that I should have locked the back door,” Jerry said.&lt;br /&gt;“Then, after the shot me, as I lay on the floor, I remembered that I had two choices: I could choose to live or could choose to die. I choose to live”&lt;br /&gt;“Weren’t you scared?” I asked.&lt;br /&gt;Jerry continued, “The paramedics were great.&lt;br /&gt;They kept telling me I was going to be fine.&lt;br /&gt;But when they wheeled me into the Emergency Room and I saw the expression on the faces of the doctors and nurses, I got really scared.&lt;br /&gt;In their eyes, I read he’s a dead man.&lt;br /&gt;I knew I needed to take action.”&lt;br /&gt;“What did you do?” I asked?&lt;br /&gt;“Well, there was a big nurse shouting questions at me,” said Jerry.&lt;br /&gt;“She asked if I was allergic to anything.”&lt;br /&gt;“Yes” to bullets, I replied.&lt;br /&gt;Over their laughter, I told them:&lt;br /&gt;“I am choosing to live. Please operate on me as if I am a live, not dead.”&lt;br /&gt;“Jerry lived thanks to the skill of his doctors, but also because of his amusing attitude.&lt;br /&gt;I learned from him that every day you have the choice to either enjoy your life or to hate it.&lt;br /&gt;The only thing that is truly yours – that no one can control or take from you – is your attitude, so if you can take care of that, every thing else in life becomes much easier.&lt;br /&gt;Now you have two choices to make:&lt;br /&gt;1.                             You can deleted this message or&lt;br /&gt;2.     You can forward it to someone you care a bout.&lt;br /&gt;I hope you will choose #2.&lt;br /&gt;I did.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32494036-115519187559018451?l=polishthestar.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/feeds/115519187559018451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32494036&amp;postID=115519187559018451' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/115519187559018451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32494036/posts/default/115519187559018451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polishthestar.blogspot.com/2006/08/you-have-two-choices.html' title='You have two choices'/><author><name>Richard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10815590960560007748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
