Securitygal I like this

Securitygal is a 48 year old married woman from Mora, Minnesota, USA.

Welcome stumblers to my site. I have a great daughter who turned me into a stumbler, and I have had an awesome time doing it. Stay and check the site out, take anything you want I love to share. I have made a lot a new friends while stumbling and hope to meet more. Enjoy stumbling, I know I will.

Feb 19, 9:29pm: I'M HERE

I thank You Father up above
I thank You for Your awesome love.

I thank You for Your heavenly care
The ways You show me that Your'e still there.

When every one else walks away
I thank You Father, You always stay.

When inside it feels all hope is gone
You quicken my spirit with a new song.

When my world seems shattered beyond repair
I find Your comfort in times of prayer.

When darkness surrounds me, black as night
I thank You for Your guiding light.

When I feel I can no longer stand
You gently remind me, 'I'm here, you can.'

By frog

© 2000 frog (All rights reserved)
You can find more great poems if you go to myspace.com/frog4ever6 [myspace.com/frog4ever6]

Feb 19, 6:42pm

Feb 19, 6:10pm: A PLACE

There is a place not far away,
a place I long to be.
A place beyond the rainbow,
out past the rippling sea.
A place where all the stars will dance
like diamonds in the sky.
And the birds will sing so sweetly,
a heavenly lullabye.

A place where sorrow is no more,
and pain can not be found.
A tear is something that's never seen,
and laughter's a welcome sound.
A place where love will fall like rain
to touch all the people there.
Where hatred and war are not allowed,
we'll live without a care.

With my eyes I cannot see
this place I'm longing for.
But in my heart I know it's there,
it's a promise from my Lord.
A promise that one day He'll come
and take us all away.
To live and reign with Him forever,
in that place not far away.

By Frog 5/26/2007

You can find more great poems if you go to myspace.com/frog4ever6 [myspace.com/frog4ever6]

Feb 19, 4:07pm: An Angel in my Pocket

There's an angel in my pocket
who is watching over me,
just a little voice down deep inside
that I can hear, not see.

I wish that I could let her out
so that everyone could see
'cause we have the greatest secrets,
many things she shares with me.

She whispers little things to do
to make my parents glad
and tells me when there's something
that I want to do that's bad.

Oh I wish that I could see her
not just hear her talk to me...
it's just a little voice down deep inside
that I can hear, not see.

Feb 19, 3:25pm: lsimpson49.stumbleupon.com [lsimpson49.stumbleupon.com]
Thank you Isimpson49. Isimpson49.stumbleupon.com [stumbleupon.com] I just had to snitch a small sample
with this great picture.
Your site is as lovely as ever. Thanks for the pic.

Feb 16, 10:38pm

Feb 16, 8:25pm

Feb 16, 7:49pm: Indian Dreamer

Peaceful is the valley
where the Indian maiden walks.
In morning skies above her
a Raven soars and squawks.

The village of her people
lies quiet and serene
as her moccasins trudge narrow paths
through meadows lush and green.

She knows ancestral spirits
will protect her and will guide
as the trail leads her much higher
along the mountainside.

Gathering roots and berries
to preserve through winter's cold,
the maiden sings of ancient wars,
of young men brave and bold.

She rests by flowing waters
as sunlight streaks her hair,
with fingers dipping in the brook,
wild creatures gather there.

The fox, the deer, the Antelope
join her without sound,
fearing not the Indian girl
sitting soft upon the ground.

The mighty oak she leans against
is losing leaves but strong,
and she feels at one with nature
though summer is now gone.

Fall colors fast surround her,
and she marvels at their hue,
as Mother Earth makes changes
for wintertime now due.

A butterfly lights gently
on her shoulder, quiet there,
and she wonders at it's glory,
breathing softly, not to scare.

The geese on high are honking
as they pass in perfect Vs,
and she hears on withering flowers
the last hum of bumble-bees.

Soon the sweet young maiden
slumbers by the stream,
and rides her painted pony
in a soft and pleasant dream.

She crosses open prairie,
bareback upon her steed,
with a Brave she soon will marry
to keep the tribal creed.

A Blue Jay lands on oaken branch
and screeches overhead,
awakening the maiden
with visions in her head.

With heavy heart she rises,
returning to the band,
baskets of fresh berries
held tightly in her hand.

Plans for her tomorrows,
on other autumn days,
will be dreamed of in the future
as she sits on banks of clay.

Later `neath the quiet moon,
the family gathers `round
preparing beds on pine bows
strewn upon the ground.

Nestled in warm buffalo robes
beneath the starry skies,
with teepee for a shelter,
she again will close her eyes.