LIFE IS A POEM

New Beginnings

2009-11-08T05:56:00.000-08:00

It's only the beginning now
...a pathway yet unknown
At times the sound of other steps
...sometimes we walk alone

The best beginnings of our lives
May sometimes end in sorrow
But even on our darkest days
The sun will shine tomorrow.

So we must do our very best
Whatever life may bring
And look beyond the winter chill
To smell the breath of spring.

Into each life will always come
A time to start anew
A new beginning for each heart
As fresh as morning dew.

Although the cares of life are great
And hands are bowed so low
The storms of life will leave behind
The wonder of a rainbow.

The years will never take away
Our chance to start anew
It's only the beginning now
So dreams can still come true.

by Gertrude B. McClain

I Can Wade Grief

2009-11-04T01:35:00.000-08:00

I can wade Grief—
Whole Pools of it—
I'm used to that—
But the least push of Joy
Breaks up my feet—
And I tip—drunken—
Let no Pebble—smile—
'Twas the New Liquor—
That was all!

Power is only Pain—
Stranded, thro' Discipline,
Till Weights—will hang—
Give Balm—to Giants—
And they'll wilt, like Men—
Give Himmaleh—
They'll Carry—Him!

by Emily Dickinson

Grief

2009-11-02T08:31:00.000-08:00

I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless;
That only men incredulous of despair,
Half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air
Beat upward to God's throne in loud access
Of shrieking and reproach. Full desertness,
In souls as countries, lieth silent-bare
Under the blanching, vertical eye-glare
Of the absolute Heavens. Deep-hearted man, express
Grief for thy Dead in silence like to death--
Most like a monumental statue set
In everlasting watch and moveless woe
Till itself crumble to the dust beneath.
Touch it; the marble eyelids are not wet:
If it could weep, it could arise and go.

by Elizabeth Browning

A poem about death and the life hereafter

2009-11-01T00:24:00.000-07:00

Death is nothing at all.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
I am I, and you are you.
Whatever we were to each other, that we still are.
Call me by my old familiar name,
speak to me in the easy way which you always used.
Put no difference in your tone,
wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was,
let it be spoken without effect,
without the trace of a shadow on it.
Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same that it ever was;
there is unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am waiting for you, for an interval,
somewhere very near, just round the corner.

And all is well.

by Henry Scott Holland
~ 1847-1918

Meeting And Passing

2009-10-31T00:52:00.000-07:00

As I went down the hill along the wall
There was a gate I had leaned at for the view
And had just turned from when I first saw you
As you came up the hill. We met. But all
We did that day was mingle great and small
Footprints in summer dust as if we drew
The figure of our being less that two
But more than one as yet. Your parasol
Pointed the decimal off with one deep thrust.
And all the time we talked you seemed to see
Something down there to smile at in the dust.
(Oh, it was without prejudice to me!)
Afterward I went past what you had passed
Before we met and you what I had passed.

by Robert Frost

Teaching

2009-10-30T00:41:00.000-07:00

Then said a teacher, "Speak to us of Teaching."

And he said:

No man can reveal to you aught but that which already lies half asleep in the dawning of our knowledge.

The teacher who walks in the shadow of the temple, among his followers, gives not of his wisdom but rather of his faith and his lovingness.

If he is indeed wise he does not bid you enter the house of wisdom, but rather leads you to the threshold of your own mind.

The astronomer may speak to you of his understanding of space, but he cannot give you his understanding.

The musician may sing to you of the rhythm which is in all space, but he cannot give you the ear which arrests the rhythm nor the voice that echoes it.

And he who is versed in the science of numbers can tell of the regions of weight and measure, but he cannot conduct you thither.

For the vision of one man lends not its wings to another man.

And even as each one of you stands alone in God's knowledge, so must each one of you be alone in his knowledge of God and in his understanding of the earth.

by Kahlil Gibran

Education Gives Luster to Motherland

2009-10-28T07:37:00.000-07:00

Wise education, vital breath
Inspires an enchanting virtue;
She puts the Country in the lofty seat
Of endless glory, of dazzling glow,
And just as the gentle aura's puff
Do brighten the perfumed flower's hue:
So education with a wise, guiding hand,
A benefactress, exalts the human band.

Man's placid repose and earthly life
To education he dedicates
Because of her, art and science are born
Man; and as from the high mount above
The pure rivulet flows, undulates,
So education beyond measure
Gives the Country tranquility secure.

Where wise education raises a throne
Sprightly youth are invigorated,
Who with firm stand error they subdue
And with noble ideas are exalted;
It breaks immortality's neck,
Contemptible crime before it is halted:
It humbles barbarous nations
And it makes of savages champions.
And like the spring that nourishes
The plants, the bushes of the meads,
She goes on spilling her placid wealth,
And with kind eagerness she constantly feeds,
The river banks through which she slips,
And to beautiful nature all she concedes,
So whoever procures education wise
Until the height of honor may rise.

From her lips the waters crystalline
Gush forth without end, of divine virtue,
And prudent doctrines of her faith
The forces weak of evil subdue,
That break apart like the whitish waves
That lash upon the motionless shoreline:
And to climb the heavenly ways the people
Do learn with her noble example.

In the wretched human beings' breast
The living flame of good she lights
The hands of criminal fierce she ties,
And fill the faithful hearts with delights,
Which seeks her secrets beneficent
And in the love for the good her breast she incites,
And it's th' education noble and pure
Of human life the balsam sure.

And like a rock that rises with pride
In the middle of the turbulent waves
When hurricane and fierce Notus roar
She disregards their fury and raves,
That weary of the horror great
So frightened calmly off they stave;
Such is one by wise education steered
He holds the Country's reins unconquered.
His achievements on sapphires are engraved;
The Country pays him a thousand honors;
For in the noble breasts of her sons
Virtue transplanted luxuriant flow'rs;
And in the love of good e'er disposed
Will see the lords and governors
The noble people with loyal venture
Christian education always procure.

And like the golden sun of the morn
Whose rays resplendent shedding gold,
And like fair aurora of gold and red
She overspreads her colors bold;
Such true education proudly gives
The pleasure of virtue to young and old
And she enlightens out Motherland dear
As she offers endless glow and luster.

by Dr. Jose Rizal

Psalm of Life

2009-10-01T05:53:00.000-07:00

Tell me not in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou are, to dust thou returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each tomorrow
Find us farther than today.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act, - act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sand of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us then be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Home Sweet Home

2009-08-30T05:08:00.000-07:00

Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam,
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home;
A charm from the sky seems to hallow us there,
Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!

An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain;
Oh, give me my lowly thatched cottage again!
The birds singing gayly, that come at my call --
Give me them -- and the peace of mind, dearer than all!
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!

I gaze on the moon as I tread the drear wild,
And feel that my mother now thinks of her child,
As she looks on that moon from our own cottage door
Thro' the woodbine, whose fragrance shall cheer me no more.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!

How sweet 'tis to sit 'neath a fond father's smile,
And the caress of a mother to soothe and beguile!
Let others delight mid new pleasures to roam,
But give me, oh, give me, the pleasures of home.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!

To thee I'll return, overburdened with care;
The heart's dearest solace will smile on me there;
No more from that cottage again will I roam;
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home.
Home, home, sweet, sweet, home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!

by: John Howard Payne

As I Walked Out One Evening

2009-03-12T15:20:00.000-07:00

As I walked out one evening,
Walking down Bristol Street,
The crowds upon the pavement
Were fields of harvest wheat.

And down by the brimming river
I heard a lover sing
Under an arch of the railway:
'Love has no ending.

'I'll love you, dear, I'll love you
Till China and Africa meet,
And the river jumps over the mountain
And the salmon sing in the street,

'I'll love you till the ocean
Is folded and hung up to dry
And the seven stars go squawking
Like geese about the sky.

'The years shall run like rabbits,
For in my arms I hold
The Flower of the Ages,
And the first love of the world.'

But all the clocks in the city
Began to whirr and chime:
'O let not Time deceive you,
You cannot conquer Time.

'In the burrows of the Nightmare
Where Justice naked is,
Time watches from the shadow
And coughs when you would kiss.

'In headaches and in worry
Vaguely life leaks away,
And Time will have his fancy
To-morrow or to-day.

'Into many a green valley
Drifts the appalling snow;
Time breaks the threaded dances
And the diver's brilliant bow.

'O plunge your hands in water,
Plunge them in up to the wrist;
Stare, stare in the basin
And wonder what you've missed.

'The glacier knocks in the cupboard,
The desert sighs in the bed,
And the crack in the tea-cup opens
A lane to the land of the dead.

'Where the beggars raffle the banknotes
And the Giant is enchanting to Jack,
And the Lily-white Boy is a Roarer,
And Jill goes down on her back.

'O look, look in the mirror,
O look in your distress:
Life remains a blessing
Although you cannot bless.

'O stand, stand at the window
As the tears scald and start;
You shall love your crooked neighbour
With your crooked heart.'

It was late, late in the evening,
The lovers they were gone;
The clocks had ceased their chiming,
And the deep river ran on.

Poetry by Wystan Hugh Auden

For Once, Then, Something

2009-03-10T15:12:00.000-07:00

Others taught me with having knelt at well-curbs
Always wrong to the light, so never seeing
Deeper down in the well than where the water
Gives me back in a shining surface picture
Me myself in the summer heaven godlike
Looking out of a wreath of fern and cloud puffs.
Once, when trying with chin against a well-curb,
I discerned, as I thought, beyond the picture,
Through the picture, a something white, uncertain,
Something more of the depths--and then I lost it.
Water came to rebuke the too clear water.
One drop fell from a fern, and lo, a ripple
Shook whatever it was lay there at bottom,
Blurred it, blotted it out. What was that whiteness?
Truth? A pebble of quartz? For once, then, something.

Poetry by Robert Frost

I Knew a Woman

2009-03-08T14:57:00.000-07:00

I knew a woman, lovely in her bones,
When small birds sighed, she would sigh back at them;
Ah, when she moved, she moved more ways than one:
The shapes a bright container can contain!
Of her choice virtues only gods should speak,
Or English poets who grew up on Greek
(I'd have them sing in chorus, cheek to cheek.)

How well her wishes went! She stroked my chin,
She taught me Turn, and Counter-turn, and stand;
She taught me Touch, that undulant white skin:
I nibbled meekly from her proffered hand;
She was the sickle; I, poor I, the rake,
Coming behind her for her pretty sake
(But what prodigious mowing did we make.)

Love likes a gander, and adores a goose:
Her full lips pursed, the errant note to seize;
She played it quick, she played it light and loose;
My eyes, they dazzled at her flowing knees;
Her several parts could keep a pure repose,
Or one hip quiver with a mobile nose
(She moved in circles, and those circles moved.)

Let seed be grass, and grass turn into hay:
I'm martyr to a motion not my own;
What's freedom for? To know eternity.
I swear she cast a shadow white as stone.
But who would count eternity in days?
These old bones live to learn her wanton ways:
(I measure time by how a body sways.)

by Theodore Roethke

The Clod and the Pebble

2009-03-05T14:46:00.000-08:00

'Love seeketh not itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care,
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a heaven in hell's despair.'

So sung a little clod of clay,
Trodden with the cattle's feet,
But a pebble of the brook
Warbled out these metres meet:

'Love seeketh only Self to please,
To bind another to its delight,
Joys in another's loss of ease,
And builds a hell in heaven's despite.'

Poetry of William Blake

Let These be Your Desires

2009-03-03T14:39:00.000-08:00

Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself
But if your love and must needs have desires,
Let these be your desires:

To melt and be like a running brook
That sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart
And give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer
For the beloved in your heart
And a song of praise upon your lips.

- Khalil Gibran

Where the Sidewalk Ends

2009-03-01T14:27:00.000-08:00

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

by Shel Silverstein

Just Plane Dead

2009-02-23T02:40:00.000-08:00

She stands in front of the entire plane
She tries her best to explain
What to do in the event of an emergency
And at the same time assuring us with her voice
This is in-fact,
A safe place to be.
I heard contrary to mass belief
It was one of the most dangerous ways to get around
That experts, statisticians and insurers have found

She places a very old lifejacket on...

"In the unlikely event of a landing at sea.."
Surely you cannot attempt a landing without land
Maybe this is what she means by unlikely
Maybe she should say
That there is a strong possibility
That we could plunge from the sky screaming all the way...
Sod trying to put a life jacket on
Maybe that's just a diversion to think about
Seconds before your lights will go out

She continues on,
With her demonstration

"Exits are here, here, here and here,
Two at the front two at the back."
Now I wasn't nervous when I waited in departures for this flight
Sitting, thinking of beer and weighing up whether to down a pint,
Should I dare?
It may make me need a pee in mid air
I heard when you pee up there in the sky
It's ejection from the plane forms a block of ice
And some unsuspecting passing person below might just die!
If it fell on their head,
Death by urination it is said,
Isn't a pleasant way to end up dead!

Anyway back to this pre-flight horror filled lecture.
Lifejacket - don't open, wait till you get outside right
Oxygen from the ceiling, mask on tight
Exits, gotcha
Sit and enjoy this flight.

So to recap...

In the event of an unlikely event
The following sequence is what should be followed
Listen to the captain speak loudly over the loud speaker
Place your oxygen mask over your face is the first thing to do
Before helping others that you see turning blue
Wrestle to get your seatbelt on
Pray or scream depending whether your coolness has gone
Maybe confess your unfaithfulness to your partner
Maybe a secret you've kept hidden or maybe you've lived with a lie
Remember to do this only if you're sure you're going to die
And plunge very very very quickly out of the sky
If perhaps your death isn't forthcoming
Perchance the plane's simply skidded
With sparks and flames flying
To a metal screaming halt
Wrestle with your seatbelt to get that off
And vault
Vault all those people who can't move as quickly
Punch and kick your way to the door
Pull anyone in your way to the floor
A matter of life for you, death for anyone in your way
Forget the excuse me or the pardons or the have a nice day
And hope one of those fun looking inflatable bouncy shoots is in place.
Or you may exit the exit and fall on your face.
That you wouldn't want to do
Lying, after all that effort to escape
With your skull cracked in two

These words I think should replace the instructions you're normally fed.
And should set you in better stead
So you know what you're doing
You'll avoid ending up just plane dead.

Gordon Taylor

JUST FOR THIS DAY

2009-02-15T18:15:00.000-08:00

Just for this morning, I am going to smile whenever I see your face and laugh when I feel like crying.

Just for this morning, I will let you wake up softly, all rumpled in your flannel and I will hold you until you are ready.

Just for this morning, I will let you choose what you want to wear, and smile and say you're beautiful.

Just for this morning, I am going to step over the laundry, and pick you up and take you to the park to play.

Just for this morning, I am going to eat a huge breakfast, with bacon, eggs, toast and waffles and you don't have to eat any.

Just for this morning, I will leave the dishes in the sink, and let you teach me how to put that 100 piece puzzle together.

Just for this afternoon, I will unplug the telephone and keep the computer off, and sit with you in the garden blowing bubbles.

Just for this afternoon, I will not yell once, not even a tiny grumble when you scream and whine for the ice cream truck, and I will buy you one if he comes by.

Just for this afternoon, I won't worry about what you are going to be when you grow up or who you might have been before your diagnosis.

Just for this afternoon, I will let you help me bake cookies, and I won't stand over you trying to fix things.

Just for this afternoon, I will let you put all kinds of barrettes in my hair, and put lipstick on my face, and I will tell you how pretty you have made me look.

Just for this afternoon, I will take you to McDonalds and buy us both a Happy Meal so you can have both toys.

Just for this evening, I will hold you in my arms and tell you a story about how you were born, and how much we love you.

Just for this evening, I will let you splash in the bathtub and not get angry when you throw water over your sister's head.

Just for this evening, I will let you stay up late while we sit on the porch swing and count all the stars.

Just for this evening, I will bring you glasses of water and snuggle beside you for three hours and miss my favorite show on TV.

Just for this evening, when I kneel down to pray, I will simply be grateful for all that I have and not ask for anything, except

Just one more day.

Only You

2009-02-10T06:45:00.000-08:00

Only the touch of you
Frees my heart and mind
Only the touch of you
Takes away the crying times.

Only the feel of you
Calms my soul inside,
Only the care of you
My makes feel alive.

Only the love of you
Makes me feel like I’m a man,
Only you believe in me enough
To tell me that I can.

You believe in me sometimes
More than I do myself,
You encouraged me to take my dreams
Down from off the shelf.

When others turned their backs on me
And told me I was through,
Only you stood by me Baby,
Truly, Only you…

- Samishii Suzume

Spell Checker

2009-02-08T06:32:00.000-08:00

Eye halve a spelling chequer
it came wwith ny pea sea
It plainly marques four my revue
Miss steaks eye cannot sea

Eye strike a key and type a word
And weight four it two say
Weather eye am wrong oar write
It shows me strait a weigh

As soo as a mist ache is maid
It nose bee four two long
And eye can put the error rite
It rare lea ever wrong

Eye have run this poem tjhrew it
Eye am shore your pleased two no
Its letter perfect awl the weigh
My chequer tolled me sew

- Sauce unknown

Anticipation

2009-01-24T17:59:00.000-08:00

How beautiful the earth is still,
To thee - how full of happiness!
How little fraught with real ill,
Or unreal phantoms of distress!
How spring can bring thee glory, yet,
And summer win thee to forget
December's sullen time!
Why dost thou hold the treasure fast,
Of youth's delight, when youth is past,
And thou art near thy prime?

When those who were thy own compeers,
Equals in fortune and in years,
Have seen their morning melt in tears,
To clouded, smileless day;
Blest, had they died untried and young,
Before their hearts went wandering wrong,
Poor slaves, subdued by passions strong,
A weak and helpless prey!

"Because, I hoped while they enjoyed,
And, by fulfillment, hope destroyed;
As children hope, with trustful breast,
I waited bliss - and cherished rest.
A thoughtful spirit taught me, soon,
That we must long till life be done;
That every phase of earthly joy
Must always fade, and always cloy:

This I foresaw - and would not chase
The fleeting treacheries;
But, with firm foot and tranquil face,
Held backward from that tempting race,
Gazed o'er the sands the waves efface,
To the enduring seas - ;
There cast my anchor of desire
Deep in unknown eternity;
Nor ever let my spirit tire,
With looking for what is to be!

It is hope's spell that glorifies,
Like youth, to my matured eyes,
All Nature's million mysteries,
The fearful and the fair -
Hope soothes me in the grief I know;
She lulls my pain for others' woe,
And makes me strong to undergo
What I am born to bear.

Glad comforter! Will I not brave,
Unawed, the darkness of the grave?
Nay, smile to hear Death's billows rave -
Sustained, my guide, by thee?
The more unjust seems present fate,
The more my spirit swells elate,
Strong, in thy strength, to anticipate
Rewarding destiny!"

- Emily Jane Brontë

January Diet Poem

2009-01-19T08:09:00.000-08:00

It was the month after Christmas and all through the house
nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.
The cookies I'd nibbled, the eggnog I'd taste,
at the holiday parties had gone to my waist.

When I got on the scales there arose such a number!
When I walked to the store (less a walk than a lumber).
I'd remember the marvelous meals I'd prepared;
The gravies and sauces and beef nicely rared,
the wine and the rum balls, the bread and the cheese
and the way I'd never said, "No Thank you, please."

As I dressed myself in my husband's old shirt
and prepared once again to do battle with dirt.
I said to myself, as I only can
"you can't spend a winter disguised as a man!"

So---away with the last of the sour cream dip,
get rid of the fruit cake, every cracker and chip
every last bit of food that I like must be banished
till all the additional ounces have vanished.

I won't have a cookie----not even a lick.
I'll want only to chew on a long celery stick.
I won't have hot biscuits, or corn bread or pie,
I'll munch on a carrot and quietly cry.

I'm hungry, I'm lonesome and life is a bore,
but isn't that what January is for?
Unable to giggle, no longer a riot.

The New Era

2009-01-03T09:58:00.000-08:00

The new era has begun.
This is an era of peace and prosperity, and light everywhere.
In each heart is hope, aspiration,
a celestial desire to justify its own existence on this planet.
In this era of peace and content...
all have there own dreams and wishes...
And one day this age shall begin.
Where there shall be no losers but only winners.
One day each good heart shall be happy.
Each person will be born equal.
Each one shall have equal resources
and none shall be considered
to be greater than the other.
There shall be no bias of resources and opportunities.
And hence each one would get exactly that which he deserves.
What an age this would be ...
Where god shall dwell in each good man's heart.

by Sagar Patil

New Beginnings

2008-12-31T06:51:00.000-08:00

I take a stroll on the beach
The wind blows through my hair
My dress clings to my skin
The moonlight glistens off my face

I pull the band off my finger
I kiss the golden ring
I toss the shiny object to the sea
Never to be seen again

I feel the sand between my toes
I begin to run and dance along the shore
A melody of happiness sings in my soul
The harmony of freedom comes from within

My heart conducts the orchestra
The symphony begins to play
My tears disappear like notes on the waves
The song embodies the very essence of my soul

The tide comes in around my feet
Cleansing me of all mistakes
I am set free at last
Reborn, yet again

I can hear the flutes play
The trumpets come to birth
Followed by the violin and the coronet
My soul has been released

My song floats on the wind
Through the sky, past the stars
My angel smiles down upon me
Playing her harp from above

A prayer I hear from my lips
And a voice from within sings
"Hallelujah, Hallelujah!
Oh God, thank you! AMEN!"

by Jeanne Carlson

T'was the Night before Christmas

2008-12-25T04:24:00.000-08:00

T'was the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

Clement Clarke Moore (1779 - 1863) wrote the poem T'was the night before Christmas also called “A Visit from St. Nicholas" in 1822.

The Prophets said Life was Beautiful

2008-12-20T06:24:00.000-08:00

Love lies hidden even in the quietness of the rocks.
And on beaches where no one has yet walked,
or even touched with their dreams.

Love is hidden in cloudy days
and darken skies
just waiting to be discovered
by young lovers, huddled up
in the warmth of each other,
under the branches of an old oak.
They do not need windows to see
that love is a cousin of the wind.
It can be felt but not easily seen.

Look within.
Mysteries are not always solved by looking outside.
There are things that we need never understand
and places we do not need to see or be.
The truth is everywhere - crying out to be found!

The faithful earth
has seen many sunsets
and many dark periods,
yet it keeps spinning around
ever searching for the sun.
That the gift of light,
that forever waits
on the other side of our darkness.

We should be more like our brother earth.
Regardless of how dark it may seem,
we must keep moving towards the light.
Truth will wait for us patiently,
as if, time was not real
nor mattered.

Love, my dear friends is the only truth.
The only light worth turning towards.
The only thing that is real!

by Bill McDonald
Copyright © 1998 Bill McDonald. All rights reserved.

May You Always Feel Loved

2008-12-19T06:04:00.000-08:00

May you find serenity and tranquility in a world you may not always understand.

May the pain you have known and conflict you have experienced give you the strength to walk through life facing each new situation with courage and optimism.

Always know that there are those whose love and understanding will always be there, even when you feel most alone.

May you discover enough goodness in others to believe in a world of peace.

May a kind word, a reassuring touch, a warm smile be yours every day of your life, and may you give these gifts as well as receive them.

Remember the sunshine when the storm seems unending.

Teach love to those who know hate, and let that love embrace you as you go into the world.

May the teaching of those you admire become part of you, so that you may call upon them. Remember, those whose lives you have touched and who have touched yours are always a part of you, even if the encounters were less than you would have wished. It is the content of the encounter that is more important than its form.

May you not become too concerned with material matters, but instead place immeasurable value on the goodness in your heart.

Find time in each day to see the beauty and love in the world around you.

Realize that each person has limitless abilities, but each of us is different in our own way. What you may feel you lack in one regard may be more than compensated for in another. What you feel you lack in the present may become one of your strengths in the future.

May you see your future as one filled with promise and possibility. Learn to view everything as a worthwhile experience.

May you find enough inner strength to determine your own worth by yourself, and not be dependent on another's judgements of your accomplishments.

May you always feel loved.

by Sandra Sturtz Hauss
Copyright © 1987 Sandra Sturtz Hauss. All rights reserved.

The Path to Awareness - Just Go

2008-12-17T05:55:00.000-08:00

Bow not your head, but raise it proudly
Following the banners of honor and ambition
To the ultimate goal.
Not in servile scraping, nor even in humility
Lies the path for the nobly-born to follow
Only gird one's loins, center one's energy
Center all consciousness in the space of an atom
And go.

Burst through the images of richness and tradition
Or be caught in the net of beauty forever
Leave books, leave walls, leave the loved ones around you
Or they shall be dragged as millstones
Through endless miles of space.

Wait not on time, for all you will ever perceive is change
Wait not on place, for all places are one
Wait not on permission, for there is none to grant it
Just go.

Travel through the warm and watery channels of the body
And continue its warmth past the blazing cold fires of space
Change, and watch the worlds change around you
Be silent, and watch the eternal.

Never are you ready
Never are you worthy
Never is the time here for you to go
Ignore time,
And watch the glistening waters of the universe bow at your feet.

Jump into the ocean of being with all your soul
Is the water to hot? To cold? To medium?
You are already swimming, why ask of the water
The correct stroke?

Open your heart to the swift currents
Have the waterfall of knowledge splash upon your head
Wash clean your body with joy and spontaneity
Cleanse out temptation, hesitation, and tension
And go.

Grow like a tree, or a flower, or an age
Feeling the overwhelming pulsation of life beating within
Breathing, heartbeat, rhythms of waking and sleep
You are a symphony of love
Hear it.

Beloved, do not be timid
It is graceful to play and hide behind leaves
But it is nobler, wiser, and more courageous
To walk out unafraid, proud, and free
And dance the dance of compassion.

Light the holy fires in the caves of the world
Make brilliant the darkness
Make flowing the heart
Let the snaking chants of war and hunger be stilled
Transcend
To the glorious songs of wonder.

Beloved, do not linger in the play of illusions
In the dances of light and darkness
Mysteries are there to be solved
Sound is there to be stilled
The eternal is here to be experienced

Open the heart by chanting and movement
Open, by the powers of Time and of Space
Become, as forces of change swirl around you
Be, in the midst of all manifest grace.

THE WEAVING of the CRYSTAL RIVER

At Last

2008-12-16T00:42:00.000-08:00

At last, when all the summer shine
That warmed life's early hours is past,
Your loving fingers seek for mine
And hold them close—at last—at last!
Not oft the robin comes to build
Its nest upon the leafless bough
By autumn robbed, by winter chilled,—
But you, dear heart, you love me now.

Though there are shadows on my brow
And furrows on my cheek, in truth,—
The marks where Time's remorseless plough
Broke up the blooming sward of Youth,—
Though fled is every girlish grace
Might win or hold a lover's vow,
Despite my sad and faded face,
And darkened heart, you love me now!

I count no more my wasted tears;
They left no echo of their fall;
I mourn no more my lonesome years;
This blessed hour atones for all.
I fear not all that Time or Fate
May bring to burden heart or brow,—
Strong in the love that came so late,
Our souls shall keep it always now!

by Elizabeth Akers Allen

Going Away

2008-12-15T02:44:00.000-08:00

Walking to-day on the Common,
I heard a stranger say
To a friend who was standing near him,
'Do you know I am going away? '
I had never seen their faces,
May never see them again;
Yet the words the stranger uttered,
Stirred me with nameless pain.

For I knew some heart would miss him,
Would ache at his going away!
And the earth would seem all cheerless
For many and many a day.
No matter how light my spirits,
No matter how glad my heart,
If I hear those two words spoken,
The teardrops always start.

They are so sad and solemn,
So full of a lonely sound;
Like dead leaves rustling downward,
And dropping upon the ground,
Oh, I pity the naked branches,
When the skies are dull and gray,
And the last leaf whispers softly,
'Good-bye, I am going away.'

In the dreary, dripping autumn,
The wings of the flying birds,
As they soar away to the south land,
Seem always to say those words.
Wherever they may be spoken,
They fall with a sob and a sigh;
And heartaches follow the sentence,
'I am going away, Good-bye.'

O God, in Thy blessed kingdom,
No lips shall ever say,
No ears shall ever harken
To the words 'I am going away.'
For no soul ever wearies
Of the dear, bright angel land,
And no saint ever wanders
From the sunny golden land.

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

love walks

2008-12-14T02:28:00.000-08:00

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens on her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek, and on that flow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

All Things Bright and Beautiful

2008-12-12T02:08:00.000-08:00

All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.

Each little flower that opens,
Each little bird that sings,
He made their glowing colors,
He made their tiny wings.

The purple-headed mountain,
The river running by,
The sunset, and the morning,
That brightens up the sky;

The cold wind in the winter,
The pleasant summer sun,
The ripe fruits in the garden,
He made them every one.

He gave us eyes to see them,
And lips that we might tell,
How great is God Almighty,
Who has made all things well.

by Cecil Frances Alexander

In the Dark

2008-12-11T03:06:00.000-08:00

In the dark I can see
For the first time the real me.
When all lights fade and I'm alone,
I hear the thoughts that are my own.
The quiet whispers shout out-loud
And I am left to wonder how
The person who I used to be
Transforms into the real me.
The insecurities I face
All seem to find their secret place.
I smile as I realize
That despite the daily lies,
I am who I want to be
When in the dark I look at me.

by Amy Flynn

The School of Night

2008-12-11T01:44:00.000-08:00

What did I study in your School of Night?
When your mouth's first unfathomable yes
Opened your body to be my book, I read
My answers there and learned the spell aright,
Yet, though I searched and searched, could never guess
What spirits it raised nor where their questions led.

Those others, familiar tenants of your sleep,
The whisperers, the grave somnambulists
Whose eyes turn in to scrutinize their woe,
The giant who broods above the nightmare steep,
That sleeping girl, shuddering, with clenched fists,
A vampire baby suckling at her toe,

They taught me most. The scholar held his pen
And watched his blood drip thickly on the page
To form a text in unknown characters
Which, as I scanned them, changed and changed again:
The lines grew bars, the bars a Delphic cage
And I the captive of his magic verse.

by Alec Derwent Hope

Women And Roses

2008-12-06T05:56:00.000-08:00

I dream of a red-rose tree.
And which of its roses three
Is the dearest rose to me?

Round and round, like a dance of snow
In a dazzling drift, as its guardians, go
Floating the women faded for ages,
Sculptured in stone, on the poet's pages.
Then follow women fresh and gay,
Living and loving and loved to-day.
Last, in the rear, flee the multitude of maidens,
Beauties yet unborn. And all, to one cadence,
They circle their rose on my rose tree.

Dear rose, thy term is reached,
Thy leaf hangs loose and bleached:
Bees pass it unimpeached.

Stay then, stoop, since I cannot climb,
You, great shapes of the antique time!
How shall I fix you, fire you, freeze you,
Break my heart at your feet to please you?
Oh, to possess and be possessed!
Hearts that beat 'neath each pallid breast!
Once but of love, the poesy, the passion,
Drink but once and die!---In vain, the same fashion,
They circle their rose on my rose tree.

Dear rose, thy joy's undimmed,
Thy cup is ruby-rimmed,
Thy cup's heart nectar-brimmed.

Deep, as drops from a statue's plinth
The bee sucked in by the hyacinth,
So will I bury me while burning,
Quench like him at a plunge my yearning,
Eyes in your eyes, lips on your lips!
Fold me fast where the cincture slips,
Prison all my soul in eternities of pleasure,
Girdle me for once! But no---the old measure,
They circle their rose on my rose tree.

Dear rose without a thorn,
Thy bud's the babe unborn:
First streak of a new morn.

Wings, lend wings for the cold, the clear!
What is far conquers what is near.
Roses will bloom nor want beholders,
Sprung from the dust where our flesh moulders.
What shall arrive with the cycle's change?
A novel grace and a beauty strange.
I will make an Eve, be the artist that began her,
Shaped her to his mind!---Alas! in like manner
They circle their rose on my rose tree.

by Robert Browning

Evening Solace

2008-12-04T09:09:00.000-08:00

The human heart has hidden treasures,
In secret kept, in silence sealed;
The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures,
Whose charms were broken if revealed.
And days may pass in gay confusion,
And nights in rosy riot fly,
While, lost in Fame's or Wealth's illusion,
The memory of the Past may die.

But, there are hours of lonely musing,
Such as in evening silence come,
When, soft as birds their pinions closing,
The heart's best feelings gather home.
Then in our souls there seems to languish
A tender grief that is not woe;
And thoughts that once wrung groans of anguish,
Now cause but some mild tears to flow.

And feelings, once as strong as passions,
Float softly back at faded dream;
Our own sharp griefs and wild sensations,
The tale of others' sufferings seem.
Oh ! when the heart is freshly bleeding,
How longs it for that time to be,
When, through the mist of years receding,
Its woes but live in reverie !

And it can dwell on moonlight glimmer,
On evening shade and loneliness;
And, while the sky grows dim and dimmer,
Feel no untold and strange distress
Only a deeper impulse given
By lonely hour and darkened room,
To solemn thoughts that soar to heaven,
Seeking a life and world to come.

by Charlotte Bronte

A Frozen Tear

2008-12-03T08:28:00.000-08:00

By William Thomas

Winter in Kodiak, a time of little light.
The snow brightens the ground and the stars light up the night.
A cluster of Spruce sag deep, a drift in front of my car.
My heart weighs heavy. Thoughts of relatives afar.
A blustery wind blows, north then south.
A cold winter thirst, warm java for my mouth.
A homeless man sleeps, all bundled in clothes.
His heart deep with thoughts of past Christmas woes.
A handshake, a smile, a sip of my coffee.
A friend in waiting, I became to he.
Some food from the shelter, a warm place to rest.
His life for the moment, felt happy and blessed.
He told me the stories of days long ago.
My full attention, he required, to him I happily bestowed.
A veteran of the war, a father of four.
A long distance call seemed to matter no more.
The blanket of stars and the snow under his feet,
only brought back memories of a scar so deep.
A story from my life, I understood his loss.
To spend Christmas without family, there's no greater cost.
One more handshake. A “man-hug” goodbye.
His face looked of worry, wondered if I would be back tonight.
A job in Kodiak sometimes is so rare.
But I am happy to tell you, where I work is here.
A smile, a thought, the lending of an ear.
A thousand times more helpful than a frozen tear.

Believe in Yourself

2008-11-27T00:37:00.000-08:00

Believe in yourself -
in the power you have
to control your own life, day by day,
Believe in the strength
that you have deep inside,
and your faith will help
show you the way.
Believe in tomorrow
and what it will bring -
let a hopeful heart carry you through,
For the things will work out
if you trust and believe
there's no limit
to what you can do.

by Emily Matthews

Declutter Happy

2008-11-25T03:24:00.000-08:00

Stack it, store it, box it, shelve it,
Throw it, bin it, gift it, repair it,
Recycle, Freecycle, Charity shop or friend
Ebay, Antique shop, bargain ad or mend.

Books, clothes, tools, electronic games and toys,
Guitars, recorders, organs and other noise,
Gadgets old and new, that little black dress,
Ornaments, adornments, paperwork and mess.

Trash or treasure, how do you measure,
Sentiment, attachment, pain or pleasure,
Own it, hoard it, emotional ties,
Deal with it, clear it, open your eyes.

Just in case! What a waste! Ah there it is!
Not seen this for ages! - Just the bizz,
Lose that weight, I remember that date,
This I love and that ....I hate

This is just stuff and you've moved on,
It's belongs in the past - the past is gone,
Catalogue it, photo album. select the best,
Organise and cherish, discard the rest.

Happinesspages.com

WHEN I AM OLD

2008-11-23T02:55:00.000-08:00

One day, when I am very old
This hurt will be forgotten.
I’ll quietly, carefully, walk through the town
Button my coat against the cold
And think about my shopping.
I’ll pass the little bridges
And the church where we lit candles
And I won’t remember, I’ll have no care
That once upon a long-gone time
We held hands there.

I won’t remember how we watched
The water swirl against the old brick wall
And promised we’d come back one day;
Or that you smiled into my eyes
And told me I was beautiful.
I will have forgotten, in the busy passing days
The sweetness of someone my own to hold,
And the sound of your voice and the warmth you brought
when I felt lonely and life was cold.

When I am very old, one day
(just a few million breaths away)
I’ve promised myself (so I know it’s true)
I will have forgotten that I wanted to grow old with you.

by Mandy Baldwin

There was a Child Went Forth

2008-11-18T00:50:00.000-08:00

by Walt Whitman (1891)

There was a child went forth every day;
And the first object he look’d upon, that object he became;
And that object became part of him for the day, or a certain part of the day, or for many years, or stretching cycles of years.

The early lilacs became part of this child,
And grass, and white and red morning-glories, and white and red clover, and the song of the phoebe-bird,
And the Third-month lambs, and the sow’s pink-faint litter, and the mare’s foal, and the cow’s calf,
And the noisy brood of the barn-yard, or by the mire of the pond-side,
And the fish suspending themselves so curiously below there—and the beautiful curious liquid,
And the water-plants with their graceful flat heads—all became part of him.

The field-sprouts of Fourth-month and Fifth-month became part of him;
Winter-grain sprouts, and those of the light-yellow corn, and the esculent roots of the garden,
And the apple-trees cover’d with blossoms, and the fruit afterward, and wood-berries, and the commonest weeds by the road;
And the old drunkard staggering home from the out-house of the tavern, whence he had lately risen,
And the school-mistress that pass’d on her way to the school,
And the friendly boys that pass’d—and the quarrelsome boys,
And the tidy and fresh-cheek’d girls—and the barefoot negro boy and girl,
And all the changes of city and country, wherever he went.

His own parents,
He that had father’d him, and she that had conceiv’d him in her womb, and birth’d him,
They gave this child more of themselves than that;
They gave him afterward every day—they became part of him.

The mother at home, quietly placing the dishes on the supper-table;
The mother with mild words—clean her cap and gown, a wholesome odor falling off her person and clothes as she walks by;
The father, strong, self-sufficient, manly, mean, anger’d, unjust;
The blow, the quick loud word, the tight bargain, the crafty lure,
The family usages, the language, the company, the furniture—the yearning and swelling heart,
Affection that will not be gainsay’d—the sense of what is real—the thought if, after all, it should prove unreal,
The doubts of day-time and the doubts of night-time—the curious whether and how,
Whether that which appears so is so, or is it all flashes and specks?
Men and women crowding fast in the streets—if they are not flashes and specks, what are they?
The streets themselves, and the façades of houses, and goods in the windows,
Vehicles, teams, the heavy-plank’d wharves—the huge crossing at the ferries,
The village on the highland, seen from afar at sunset—the river between,
Shadows, aureola and mist, the light falling on roofs and gables of white or brown, three miles off,
The schooner near by, sleepily dropping down the tide—the little boat slack-tow’d astern,
The hurrying tumbling waves, quick-broken crests, slapping,
The strata of color’d clouds, the long bar of maroon-tint, away solitary by itself—the spread of purity it lies motionless in,
The horizon’s edge, the flying sea-crow, the fragrance of salt marsh and shore mud;
These became part of that child who went forth every day, and who now goes, and will always go forth every day.

(from Leaves of Grass)

Just One

2008-11-17T00:27:00.000-08:00

One song can spark a moment,
One flower can wake the dream.
One tree can start a forest,
One bird can herald spring.
One smile begins a friendship,
One handclasp lifts a soul.
One star can guide a ship at sea,
One word can frame the goal
One vote can change a nation,
One sunbeam lights a room
One candle wipes out darkness,
One laugh will conquer gloom.
One step must start each journey.
One word must start each prayer.
One hope will raise our spirits,
One touch can show you care.
One voice can speak with wisdom,
One heart can know what's true,

One life can make a difference,
You see, it's up to you!

Anonymous

IF I SHOULD DIE

2008-11-16T00:17:00.000-08:00

If I should die,
And you should live,
And time should gurgle on,
And morn should beam,
And noon should burn,
As it has usual done;
If birds should build as early,
And bees as bustling go,--
One might depart at option
From enterprise below!
'Tis sweet to know that stocks will stand
When we with daisies lie,
That commerce will continue,
And trades as briskly fly.
It make the parting tranquil
And keeps the soul serene,
That gentlemen so sprightly
Conduct the pleasing scene!

by Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

My Brother’s Fishing Pole

2008-10-12T02:58:00.000-07:00

I saw my brother
Sitting by a lake so smooth and clear.
I saw the fishing pole in his hand.
I was reluctant to interfere.

But I yelled and waved.
He nodded and waved back.
I slowly walked across the field
Struggling to stay on track.

“Why are you here?” I asked.
“Are there not better things to do?”
“I need this rest,” he said.
“Before coming home for you.”

He looked so peaceful,
Calm and free from strife.
There had been few peaceful times
In his very troubled life.

I was so pleased to see
The gentle look upon his face,
The lines of fatigue and worry gone,
The glow of love was in their place.

I was so happy for him.
My joy he could easily see.
I had worried so about him
Now his pain had been set free....

And as I awoke from this sweet dream
With images still so clear,
I slowly realized that
My brother was not here.

Was it yesterday,
Or the day before?
I had attended his funeral.
He was alive no more.

But now I understand
What Heaven is about.
It’s a place that is free
From all earthly fear and doubt.

And now I truly know
My brother’s in a better place.
For God allowed me a glimpse
Of the peace upon his face.

by Sharon Tanner

********************

For my dearest friend, whose beloved brother died of leukemia two days ago, may you and your family find solace in the thought that Neil is now finally at peace.

Crossroads

2008-10-02T08:36:00.000-07:00

The second half of my life will be black

to the white rind of the old and fading moon.

The second half of my life will be water

over the cracked floor of these desert years.

I will land on my feet this time,

knowing at least two languages and who

my friends are. I will dress for the

occasion, and my hair shall be

whatever color I please.

Everyone will go on celebrating the old

birthday, counting the years as usual,

but I will count myself new from this

inception, this imprint of my own desire.

The second half of my life will be swift,

past leaning fenceposts, a gravel shoulder,

asphalt tickets, the beckon of open road.

The second half of my life will be wide-eyed,

fingers shifting through fine sands,

arms loose at my sides, wandering feet.

There will be new dreams every night,

and the drapes will never be closed.

I will toss my string of keys into a deep

well and old letters into the grate.

The second half of my life will be ice

breaking up on the river, rain

soaking the fields, a hand

held out, a fire,

and smoke going

upward, always up.

- Joyce Sutphen

*********************

I am looking forward to it...

Have I ever

2008-09-30T09:07:00.000-07:00

Have I ever told you

that if I sit really still and silent,

sometimes. I like to think

I can hear your heart beating

in time with mine?

Have I ever told you

that when I watch you speak to me

through lines and cords,

and bytes and ram,

I imagine

your voice,

whispering into my ear?

Have I ever told you

that I wait out each day

in anticipation,

wanting

only an hour or two,

just a second in space and time,

to feel close to you?

Have I ever told you

that there has been times,

when I ached for you,

ached for you so badly,

that the emotions overwhelmed me..

and so I sat and cried?

Have I ever told you

that sometimes,

I will reach out,

touching your name

on this cold screen before me,

wishing

I could reach in

and pull you to me?

Have I ever told you

that after the first time I heard

the sound of your voice,

thousands of miles away,

I sat up all night,

turning the conversation

over and over in my mind,

examining it,

like some newly discovered

species of flower?

Have I ever told you

that I would give everything up,

just for one night

to be able to lay near you,

to feel your chest rise and fall

with each breath you take,

just to know that you are real?

Have I ever told you

that I dream of you often,

I dream of you reaching out

and touching my hand,

simply to let me know

that you are there,

and everything is okay?

Have I ever told you,

have I still yet to tell you . . .

that I love you?

- by Ravenz23

I miss you like a cloud with no sun in the sky

2008-09-21T00:53:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure where to start,
I don't know how to begin,
I guess I'll start with i miss you,
Cause that's what I'm feeling within,

I miss you like a cloud
with no sun in the sky,
It has nothing to look up
to and so it cries,
Crying raindrops fall
onto the ground,
To just fade to nothing,
nowhere to be found,

I miss you like
a tree with no leave,
Nothing to move
and drift in the breeze,
Leave scattered and sodden,
Walked upon,
a broke soul down trodden,

I miss you like
a mouth with no tongue,
It cannot speak,
all these words left unsung,
They just hang in the moment
caught up in the mind,
Words left unspoken
and all left behind,

I miss you like
friends all alone,
Each missing each other,
calling them on the phone,
It's like no ones answering
your endless calls,
Pleas echoing
along deserted halls,

I miss you like
a lover torn away,
From the one she cares for
and thinks of each day,
When she reaches for his hand,
and when she reaches for his kiss,
And theres nothing there,
only memories of this,

I miss you as a lover,
I miss you as a friend,
I miss your words,
Of how we wouldn't end,

I miss you as a tree,
And i miss you as a cloud,
I miss you with every tears i cry,
Each tear shows I'm not proud,

I miss you as i fall apart,
And i reach out for you touch,
And then i remember you're not there,
God i miss you babe, so much.

by Deadnalone

********************

I wish I could envelope you in my arms ad infinitum.

That Distance was between Us

2008-09-19T00:46:00.000-07:00

That Distance was between Us
That is not of Mile or Main—
The Will it is that situates—
Equator—never can—

Emily Dickinson

Risk

2008-09-16T00:35:00.000-07:00

To laugh is to risk appearing the fool.
To weep is to risk appearing sentimental.
To reach out to others is to risk involvement.
To expose feelings is

to risk exposing your true self.
To place your ideas, your dreams

before a crowd is to risk their loss.
To love is to risk not being loved in return.
To live is to risk dying.
To hope is to risk despair.
To try is to risk failure.

But risks must be taken,
because the greatest hazard

in life is to do nothing.

The person who risks nothing,
does nothing, has nothing, and is nothing.

They may avoid suffering and sorrow,
but they cannot learn, feel, change, grow, love, live.

Chained by their attitudes, they are a slave,
they forfeited their freedom.

Only the person who risks can be free

- Author Unknown

My Heart Believes In You

2008-09-14T09:14:00.000-07:00

by Stewart Bradshaw

I kept my head up high,
and then you came my way.
I have been hurt so many times.
My heart filled with so much pain.
but now that pain has gone away.
For I have found a place I want to be.
This place I see is with thee.
For in your arms I have felt and seen,
a wonderful feeling that I cannot believe.
A safe haven in your arms just for me.
Now I give my heart to thee.
For my heart believes in you.

*************

Before I met you I just knew that in your arms I can just be still -- I was right.

I love you beloved...

Our First Meeting

2008-09-13T00:25:00.000-07:00

Take me back to when we first met
I traveled half way around the world
Funny enough you were late
But I would have easily waited a lifetime

My memory recalls the wait in between your calls
The intricate art on the ceilings, the marble floor
The affluent mingle inside the hotel
And the beggars just outside the door

Mother introduces her daughter for the very first time
It seems so cold, so calculated, so unnecessary
Surely love must play a part in this arrangement
But no, this is India, that will come later - perhaps

Finally you arrive and nothing else matters
My eyes confirms what my imagination conjured up
My first words are you are so beautiful
Today my last words will be the same

**********************

If it's the other way around, I'd likewise travel halfway around the world just to see if it's really you whom I have fallen in love with -- or was it just the idea of you... Fortunately, I know the answer now.

A Love For All Time

2008-09-12T07:48:00.000-07:00

Breathless kisses

Burning touches

Soft-spoken words of love

Urgently spoken words of passion.

A man and a woman

One complete love

Since time began

Predestined to be as one.

We've been together before

In other lifetimes

We've fought dragons

And have been torn

from each others arms

Yet our love prevailed.

We've walked on this earth

many times together

Perhaps for a moment

Perhaps for years

But our heart is one heart

And we were meant to be.

So when our time on earth

Once again comes to a close

Have no worries my dear

For we will find each other again

And again

And again.

For our love is ageless

Eternal

A love for all time.

Dawn Choike

********************

Love knows no boundaries -- unfortunately "we" build up walls and then we get more rubbish to block the way so that later on we'll have a good excuse why "we failed."

Anticipation

2008-08-09T12:49:00.000-07:00

If ever should these waiting lips,
They'll leave a trail of passion,
Time never will erase.
For they have waited for so long,
And hungered for your touch;
Ached with anticipation,
From wanting you so much.

If ever should these empty arms,
Be filled with loving you;
You'll never want another,
Each time will be brand new.
For I have waited for so long,
And longed to feel your touch;
Ached with anticipation,
From wanting you so much.

If ever should these hands of mine,
Across your body linger;
You'll know the heat of my desire,
With the touch of every finger.
For they have waited for so long,
And hungered for your touch;
Ached with anticipation,
From wanting you so much.

If ever should my body,
Lay touching yours alone;
As we explore each other,
Like two souls coming home.
For I have waited for so long,
And longed so for your touch;
Ached with anticipation,
From wanting you so much

Allison Chambers Coxsey

*******************

I shall see you soon beloved...

Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow

2008-07-29T10:34:00.000-07:00

I said to my friend,
“See her leaning over his arm.?
Yesterday she leaned over my arm.”
And he said:
“Tomorrow she will lean over mine.”
And I said,
“See her sitting at his side,
And yesterday she sat at my side.”
And he said:
“Tomorrow she will sit at mine.”
And I said,
“Don’t you see her drinking from his cup?
And yesterday she sipped from mine.”
And he said:
“Tomorrow she will drink from mine.”
And I said,
“Look at how she glances at him with eyes
full of love!
And with just such love, yesterday
she glanced at me.”
And he said:
“Tomorrow she will glance at me likewise.”
And I said,
:Listen to her whispering songs of
love in his ear.
And yesterday she whispered the same songs
in mine.”
And he said:
“Tomorrow she will whisper them in mine.”
And I said,
“Look at her embracing him; and
yesterday she embraced me.”
And he said:
Tomorrow she will lie in my arms.”
And I said,
“What a strange woman she is!”
And he said:
“She is Life.”

- Kahlil Gibran

2008-07-25T00:20:00.000-07:00

by Lisa Roberts

For an Eternity I’ve felt anger
For a lifetime I’ve felt Pain
I feel pain for the little girl in me
that had to grow up before her time
I feel pain for the teenager

that never got the chance

to have friends to lime
I feel pain for the young woman
who everyone used trickery

and deceit on
I feel pain for the adult who

gave her whole life
and soul to carry her baby
I feel pain for the adult who

had her baby to early and prayed

for him to survive
I feel pain for the woman who

watched her son fight to stay with her
I feel pain for the woman

who never got to hold him
and tell him everything was going to be ok
I feel pain for the soul who watched

her son died while doing everything to help him

Today I still feel a stifling pain
Towards the people who should have
protected me and did not
I feel pain for lashes life dealt me
I feel pain for the friends that used me,
hurt me both body and soul
I feel pain for the child, girl, woman
who could not bring herself to hate anyone
I feel pain that even after

every painful event in my life
I could still pray and forgive

I feel pain all over, a pain

that may never leave my life

***************************

It has been too long. It has been too much.

Insomniac

2008-07-25T00:10:00.000-07:00

by Sylvia Plath

The night is only a sort of carbon paper,
Blueblack, with the much-poked periods of stars
Letting in the light, peephole after peephole . . .
A bonewhite light, like death, behind all things.
Under the eyes of the stars and the moon's rictus
He suffers his desert pillow, sleeplessness
Stretching its fine, irritating sand in all directions.
Over and over the old, granular movie
Exposes embarrassments--the mizzling days
Of childhood and adolescence, sticky with dreams,
Parental faces on tall stalks, alternately stern and tearful,
A garden of buggy rose that made him cry.
His forehead is bumpy as a sack of rocks.
Memories jostle each other for face-room like obsolete film stars.

He is immune to pills: red, purple, blue . . .
How they lit the tedium of the protracted evening!
Those sugary planets whose influence won for him
A life baptized in no-life for a while,
And the sweet, drugged waking of a forgetful baby.
Now the pills are worn-out and silly, like classical gods.
Their poppy-sleepy colors do him no good.

His head is a little interior of grey mirrors.
Each gesture flees immediately down an alley
Of diminishing perspectives, and its significance
Drains like water out the hole at the far end.
He lives without privacy in a lidless room,
The bald slots of his eyes stiffened wide-open
On the incessant heat-lightning flicker of situations.

Nightlong, in the granite yard, invisible cats
Have been howling like women, or damaged instruments.
Already he can feel daylight, his white disease,
Creeping up with her hatful of trivial repetitions.
The city is a map of cheerful twitters now,
And everywhere people, eyes mica-silver and blank,
Are riding to work in rows, as if recently brainwashed.

2008-07-24T07:22:00.000-07:00

To let go does not mean to stop caring,
it means I can't do it for someone else.
To let go is not to cut myself off,
it's the realization I can't control another.
To let go is not to enable,
but allow learning from natural consequences.

To let go is to admit powerlessness,
which means the outcome is not in my hands.
To let go is not to try
to change or blame another,
it's to make the most of myself.
To let go is not to care for,
but to care about.

To let go is not to fix,
but to be supportive.
To let go is not to judge,
but to allow another to be a human being.
To let go is not to be in the middle
of arranging all the outcomes,
but to allow others
to affect their destinies.

To let go is not to be protective,
it's to permit another to face reality.
To let go is not to deny,
but to accept.
To let go is not to nag, scold or argue,
but instead to search out my own
shortcomings and correct them.

To let go is not to adjust
everything to my desires,
but to take each day as it comes
and cherish myself in it.
To let go is not to criticize
or regulate anybody,
but to try to become
what I dream I can be.
To let go is not to regret the past,
but to grow and live for the future.

To let go is to fear less and love more
Remember: The time to love is short

--author unknown

****************

In my life I had to let go of a lot of things... a few good friends, a couple of love ones, love unrequited, heartaches from my past, my obsolete ways and thinking, plans which would not materialize no matter what I do, some unpleasant memories, traces of bitterness, anger and resentments -- all because I know that if I don't, I will never be able to move on and experience the other beautiful things that life has to offer...

The Dummy

2008-07-19T19:44:00.000-07:00

by Michael Mack

In that forgotten part of town
Where wasted hopes and dreams abound,
A wrinkled man with life near end,
In hopes to have at least one friend,
Fashioned bits of wood and things
And made a dummy run by strings.

He sat alone for hours on end,
Conversing with his only friend
And found delight within the fact
That he controlled it's every act.
He told it how he never had
A chance, since all his luck was bad
Although he'd tried so to succeed -
The dummy nodded and agreed.

And how his journeys in romance
Had never given him a chance,
And wasn't it a crying shame
That he was always held to blame
When everyone knew, oh so well,
That life is but a living Hell,
Controlled by lust and power and greed?
The dummy nodded and agreed.

With patience that would rival saints,
That dummy sat through all complaints
And, with each little expert tug,
He'd droop his head or bow or shrug
And give some comfort to the man
Who held his lifelines in his hand
And helped to fill a lonely need
When he just nodded and agreed.

Senility increased with time
As did the old man's phantomime,
And feverish fingers pulled with glee
The dummy's dance of misery.
They never left each other's side
Until the day both stopped and died.
We found them lying, hand in hand,
The dummy - and his wooden friend.

******************

Funny how too many people waste their time finding the perfect partner, an alter ego who would mirror their very thoughts, emotions, etc. -- only to realize later that they have missed what it's really like to love and live...

Variations On The Word Love

2008-07-16T00:27:00.000-07:00

Margaret Atwood

This is a word we use to plug holes with.

It's the right size for those
warm blanks in speech
for those red heart-shaped vacancies
on the page that look nothing
like real hearts.
Add lace and you can sell it
We insert it also in the one empty space
on the printed form
that comes with no instructions.
There are whole magazines
with not much in them
but the word love,
you can rub it all over your body
and you can cook with it too.
How do we know it isn't what goes on
at the cool debaucheries of slugs
under damp pieces of cardboard?
As for the weed-seedlings nosing
their tough snouts up
among the lettuces, they shout it.
Love! Love! sing the soldiers,
raising their glittering knives in salute.

Then there's the two of us.
This word is far too short for us,
it has only four letters,
too sparse to fill those deep bare
vacuums between the stars
that press on us with their deafness.
It's not love we don't wish
to fall into, but that fear.
this word is not enough
but it will have to do.
It's a single vowel
in this metallic silence,
a mouth that says
O again and again in wonder and pain,
a breath, a finger grip on a cliffside.
You can hold on or let go.
You can hold on or let go.

Dream Variation

2008-07-15T00:38:00.000-07:00

by Langston Hughes

To fling my arms wide
In some place of the sun,
To whirl and to dance
Till the white day is done.
Then rest at cool evening
Beneath a tall tree
While night comes on gently,
Dark like me--
That is my dream!

To fling my arms wide
In the face of the sun,
Dance! Whirl! Whirl!
Till the quick day is done.
Rest at pale evening...
A tall, slim tree...
Night coming tenderly
Black like me.

Poet Seers

***********************

For David...

A Sleep of Dreams

2008-07-13T00:05:00.000-07:00

Travelled road ~ rough and worn
I've walked with ease on many morn
Down your path of known delights
I've trodden through on many nights
To sleep a dreamless sleep

My footsteps echo not within
Within the paths where I have been
Oh, how I crave my soul's respite
To dream of life within this night
To sleep a sleep of dreams

Oh, travelled road ~ you're all I've known
But fever deep inside has grown
To walk the walk that others might
And realize a dream tonight
To sleep a sleep of dreams

This trodden path is worn and long
Each day does bring a seasoned song
That's sung till light has turned to night
And dulls the life with no delight
To sleep a dreamless sleep

I see a field of emerald green
No foot has passed ~ nor ever been
Down unseen path toward dawning light
I'll stay until the sweetest night
To sleep my sleep of dreams....

Hazelmarie Elliott

************************

In my dream, I can conquer it all!

How Could I Sleep?

2008-07-11T10:40:00.000-07:00

My soul was playing with yours
How could I sleep?

No veils, An emotion so pure
How could I sleep?

Happiness drowning my being
How could I sleep?

Armed with strength, all fears flying
How could I sleep?

Your breath on my breast
How could I sleep?

Full moon in my heart
How could I sleep?

Didn't need the sleep, felt so complete
How could I sleep?

Renu Rakheja a.k.a Tranquil Ocean
Poemsabout.com

distance

2008-07-10T06:04:00.000-07:00

tonight time's wings fold.
you have taken the wind eastward
to the mountains
and my bed is still and wide.
at this time of night only the alone sit up.
my hand writes words to hold the spaces
you left,
but listen:
I can't seem to get the dimensions right;

no words can fill the distance of your voice.

***************

This was sent by a dear friend whose mere idea I have loved deeply...

If You But Knew

2008-07-08T10:44:00.000-07:00

If you but knew
How all my days seemed

filled with dreams of you
How sometimes in the silent night
Your eyes thrill through me

with their tender light,
How you, 'mid other forms I seek-
Oh, love more real than though

such dreams were true
If you but knew.

Could you but guess
How you alone make all my happiness,
How I am more willing for your sake
To stand alone, give all and nothing take,
Nor chafe to think me bound while you are free

Quite free , till death, to love you silently,
Could you but guess.

Could you but learn
How when you doubt my truth I sadly yearn
To tell you all, to stand for one brief space
Unfettered, soul to soul, as face to face,
To crown you queen, My queen, till life shall end,
My lover and likewise my truest friend,
Would you love me, dearest, as fondly in return,
Could you but learn?

Not on a "pity-pot," nor ranting or venting... I''m just tired

2008-07-08T09:13:00.000-07:00

I’m tired of being misunderstood,
nerves are shot,
weak – like old wood.
I’m tired of being ill,
no energy, can’t think,
losing my skills.
I’m tired of so-called friends,
stabbing me in the back,
again and again.
I’m tired of trying to make things right,
i give up – I surrender,
no will to fight.
I’m tired of seeing others in pain,
raises frustration,
drives me insane.
I’m tired of not being able to cry,
i’d melt away,
nothing left inside.
I’m tired because I can’t feel,
walking in a daze – numb
this can’t be real.
I’m tired of being “strong,”
i’m weak, i’m fragile,
its gone on way to long.
I don’t know what else to say,
i’m hoping, i’m dreaming,
i’m begging, i’m pleading,
please, take this feeling away.
Right now… I’m just tired…

I am too. Most of the time.

.Space-Time Language

2008-06-30T02:47:00.000-07:00

by Dongfang Hong

If you accept the idea that everything

is in constant motion,
it becomes clear that language

in it's current development
does not reflect this reality.

Representing spatial movement
horizontally (behind-now-forward)

and time vertically (past-
present-future) a sentence

such as 'I go to work' becomes

..I..........go...........to...............work
I-I-I..go-go-go..to-to-to..work-work-work
..I..........go...........to...............work

for small increments of space and time.

Other words could
be inserted for greater increments,

such as

......I...............quickly............to...........break
late I-I-frenzied I..stroll-walk-run...

to-to-to...work-work-work
.10 min ago I..........slowly...........

to..........start-work

One can see the possibility for

greater expressiveness, with the
invention of shorter symbols

for space and time.

- PoemAbout.com

***************

Amusing. Witty. I'm suddenly a fan! :)

Courage

2008-06-26T09:58:00.000-07:00

By Anne Sexton

It is in the small things we see it.
The child's first step,
as awesome as an earthquake.
The first time you rode a bike,
wallowing up the sidewalk.
The first spanking when your heart
went on a journey all alone.
When they called you crybaby
or poor or fatty or crazy
and made you into an alien,
you drank their acid
and concealed it.

Later,
if you faced the death of bombs and bullets
you did not do it with a banner,
you did it with only a hat to
comver your heart.
You did not fondle the weakness inside you
though it was there.
Your courage was a small coal
that you kept swallowing.
If your buddy saved you
and died himself in so doing,
then his courage was not courage,
it was love; love as simple as shaving soap.

Later,
if you have endured a great despair,
then you did it alone,
getting a transfusion from the fire,
picking the scabs off your heart,
then wringing it out like a sock.
Next, my kinsman, you powdered your sorrow,
you gave it a back rub
and then you covered it with a blanket
and after it had slept a while
it woke to the wings of the roses
and was transformed.

Later,
when you face old age and its natural conclusion
your courage will still be shown in the little ways,
each spring will be a sword you'll sharpen,
those you love will live in a fever of love,
and you'll bargain with the calendar
and at the last moment
when death opens the back door
you'll put on your carpet slippers
and stride out.

- American Poems

***********************

It is the will to live... The willingness to face life's adversaries... The faith to believe that one day, it's all going to be fine -- that, ultimately, is courage.

Beautiful Angel

2008-06-22T10:20:00.000-07:00

by Trevor Johnson

You are to me

All that an angel could be

My love for you

Is here for all the world to see

The gleam in your eyes

Is what keeps me alive

You are the vision of beauty

I see in front of me

The minor sound of your sweet voice

Is enough to make my heart rejoice

You're an Angel to me

The most beautiful person

This world shall ever see

A special place in my heart

I shall forever have for thee

You are my love
You are my world

You are this Beautiful Angel to me

Poem Lovers

The In Betweens

2008-06-18T12:10:00.000-07:00

In between the time where I see
the end and long after the start,
I pause and reflect the braveness
of seeing this until closure.

It is in this suspension that life
seems to free fall all around
and yet frozen in a time capsule.

In between, the dream and the conscious,
the fear of being trapped abound.

In between, the day gone by
and tomorrow fast approaching,
should I stay, should I remain?

In between excitement and fear,
a battle that neither is lost nor won.

In between…

***********************************

Awaiting new life...

Original Post: Bloggityblog

Just Fade Away

2008-06-08T06:12:00.000-07:00

Where are you going

my fine young friend
The path that you follow

has come to an end
Your journey continues

but which way to go
So many choices but only you know
The world that we live in moves quickly you see
Make your decisions or just cease to be
For death comes to quickly for those who stand still
So follow your dreams accomplish at will
So many voices will echo the way
And so many listen the words they say
And those that deny will squander the day
And slowly but surely just fade away
Where are you going my fine young friend
The honor of ages are left to defend
A trendy yet subtle approach to the day
And when you speak they will hear what you say
For age does not maturity make
The wisdom of years have all been a fake
For wisdom won’t come with the number of years
But how will you stop and open your ears
So many voices will echo the way
And so many listen the words that they say
And those that deny will squander the day
And slowly but surely just fade away
So where are you going my fine young friend

Copyright © Donald B. Dousharm 1990-2008 All Rights Reserved. http://thevertouscollection.blogspot.com/

*****************

Just something that struck me...

Facts of Life

2008-06-07T00:22:00.000-07:00

"Where did I come from?" young Freddy said
His father choked, whilst his Mother went red
But being prepared for this moment already
His Mother quietly took the hand of young Freddy

And led him away to the quiet of the den
Where she picked up a book made to enlighten young men
Starting off with the birds and then with the bees
She proceeded to lecture with quiet expertise

Progressing to humans to ova and sperm
But noticing that Freddy was not keen to learn
He kept glancing around and looking about
His Mother was worried that she'd left something out

How vast was his knowledge on the subject already?
"Any questions then?" she asked of Young Freddy
"But where did I come from" that's what I mean
My Mate came from Scotland, and his Dad, Aberdeen

FunnyPoets

*******************************

I think kids are just hilarious! I have a five-year old kid so I am still "enjoying" that stage where I am often caught off guard with her antics and crazy questions. There are even times when her innocent queries would affect my views about certain aspects of life... then I smile and laugh and hug her! :-)

A Poem For Those Over 30

2008-06-06T02:57:00.000-07:00

A computer was something on TV
From a science fiction
show of note
A window was something
you hated to clean
And ram was the cousin of a goat.

Meg was the name of my girlfriend
And gig was a job for the nights
Now they all mean different things
And that really mega bites.

An application was for employment
A program was a TV show
A curser used profanity
A keyboard was a piano.

Memory was something that you lost with age
A CD was a bank account
And if you had a 3 inch floppy
You hoped nobody found out.

Compress was something you did to the garbage
Not something you did to a file.
And if you unzipped anything in public
You'd be in jail for awhile.

Log on was adding wood to the fire
Hard drive was a long trip on the road
A mouse pad was where a mouse lived
And a back up happened to your commode.

Cut you did with a pocket knife.
Paste you did with glue
A web was a spider's home
And a virus was the flu.

I guess I'll stick to my pad and paper
And the memory in my head
I hear nobody's been killed in a computer crash
But when it happens, they'll wish they were dead.

Funny Poets

*********************

I'm 31 but I may be more computer and internet-savvy than those people over 30 that this poet has known! :-D

Lazybones

2008-06-05T01:05:00.000-07:00

Some people think that I'm lazy.
Some people think that I'm not.
But somehow I try to keep writing
With the minimal time that I've got.

The problem is now in the offing.
I'd like to write a lot more.
But time is too short so I waiver
Though It hurts me down to the core.

Dear friends please let me remind you
Before my goof-off days mount
This poem might be a bit short folks
But its really the thought that should count.

Author's Den

***************************************

I don't really mind working my @%$& out, especially when it challenges me or when I'm at least learning a lot from it. In writing, blogging and similar endeavors however, I have to keep my creative juice flowing - but it's not always as easy or spontaneous as it seems. Perhaps my unconscious mind is telling me to have a break for a while and just let things slide. Trouble is, when I'd follow such creepy advice from something (or someone???) too cryptic and vague, I usually find myself becoming too lazy to go back and use what remains of my brain neurons.

(But then again, I might really be just excusing myself from my sheer laziness! :P)

Happiness

2008-06-04T11:16:00.000-07:00

by Raymond Carver

So early it's still almost dark out.
I'm near the window with coffee,
and the usual early morning stuff
that passes for thought.

When I see the boy and his friend
walking up the road
to deliver the newspaper.

They wear caps and sweaters,
and one boy has a bag over his shoulder.
They are so happy
they aren't saying anything, these boys.

I think if they could, they would take
each other's arm.
It's early in the morning,
and they are doing this thing together.

They come on, slowly.
The sky is taking on light,
though the moon still hangs pale over the water.

Such beauty that for a minute
death and ambition, even love,
doesn't enter into this.

Happiness. It comes on
unexpectedly. And goes beyond, really,
any early morning talk about it.

Famous Poets

Every Child

2008-05-26T09:47:00.000-07:00

by: Edna Casler Joll

Every child should know a hill
And the clean joy of running down its long slope

With the wind in his hair

He should know a tree--

The comfort of its cool lap of shade

And the supple strength of its arms

Balancing him between earth and sky

So he is the creature of both.

He should know bits of singing water--

The strange mysteries of its depths

And the long grasses that border it.

Every child should know some scrap

Of uninterrupted sky to shout against,

And have one star dependable and bright
For wishing on.

Abandonment

2008-05-20T11:22:00.000-07:00

by Tanya R. Sperl

Fearing the Devil's wrath
I run for Heaven's door,
solid and strong,
oak encased in iron.

I pound and I claw
til my fingers bleed red,
staining the oak, soaking the floor.

At once, I break through,
falling to my knees in gratitude
and I look upon the heavenly throne.
To my horror, He laughs at me,
just laughs like a madman.

And in my sorrow and my shame,
I crawl on bloodied hands
out the door, down the stairs,
back into the Pit.

Author's Den

Skipping Without Ropes

2008-05-19T07:57:00.000-07:00

by Jack Mapanje

I will, I will skip without your rope
Since you say I should not, I cannot
Borrow your son’s skipping rope to
Exercise my limbs; I will skip without

Your rope as you say, even the lace
I want will hang my neck until I die;
I will create my own rope, my own
Hope and skip without your rope as

You insist I do not require to stretch
My limbs fixed by these fevers of your
Reeking sweat and your prison walls;
I will, will skip with my forged hope;

Watch, watch me skip without your
Rope; watch me skip with my hope –
A-one, a-two, a-three, a-four, a-five
I will, a-seven, I do, will skip, a-ten,

Eleven, I will skip without, will skip
Within and skip I do without your
Rope but with my hope; and I will,
Will always skip you dull, will skip

Your silly rules, skip your filthy walls,
You weevil pigeon peas, skip your
Scorpions, skip your Excellency Life
Glory. I do, you don’t, I can, you can’t,

I will, you won’t, I see, you don’t, I
Sweat, you don’t, I will, will wipe my
Gluey brow then wipe you at a stroke
I will, will wipe your horrid, stinking,

Vulgar prison rules, will wipe you all
The hop about, hop about my cell, my
Home, the mountains, my globe as your
Sparrow hops about your prison yard

Without your hope, without your rope,
I swear, I will skip without your rope, I
Declare, I will have you take me to your
Showers to bathe me where I can resist

This singing child you want to shape me,
I’ll fight your rope, your rules, your hope
As your sparrow does under your super-
vision! Guards! Take us for a shower!

***************************

I just couldn't resist re-posting this.

I wish I could afford to do more... give more... I know I couldn't really solve the world's problems but I still am adamantly idealistic... Who knows?!?

Open Democracy

Funny -- to be a Century

2008-05-19T01:11:00.000-07:00

by Emily Dickinson

Funny -- to be a Century --
And see the People -- going by --
I -- should die of the Oddity --
But then -- I'm not so staid -- as He --

He keeps His Secrets safely -- very --
Were He to tell -- extremely sorry
This Bashful Globe of Ours would be --
So dainty of Publicity --

Famous Poets

***************

I just love how Emily Dickinson would often associate seemingly unrelated things and then subtly mock society's trivialities and foolishness.

I’m Nobody, Who are you?

Life in a Love

2008-05-18T01:30:00.000-07:00

by Robert Browning

Escape me?
Never—
Beloved!
While I am I, and you are you,
So long as the world contains us both,
Me the loving and you the loth, While the one eludes, must the other pursue.
My life is a fault at last, I fear:
It seems too much like a fate, indeed!
Though I do my best I shall scarce succeed.
But what if I fail of my purpose here?
It is but to keep the nerves at strain,
To dry one's eyes and laugh at a fall,
And baffled, get up to begin again,—
So the chase takes up one's life, that's all.
While, look but once from your farthest bound,
At me so deep in the dust and dark,
No sooner the old hope drops to ground
Than a new one, straight to the selfsame mark,
I shape me—
Ever
Removed!

Love Poems

Before I was Mom

2008-05-11T03:52:00.000-07:00

Before I was a Mom
I never tripped over toys or forgot words to a lullaby.
I didn't worry whether or not my plants were poisonous.
I never thought about immunizations.

Before I was a Mom -
I had never been puked on.
Pooped on.
Chewed on.
Peed on.

I had complete control of my mind and my thoughts.
I slept all night.

Before I was a Mom
I never held down a screaming child so doctors could do tests.
Or give shots.
I never looked into teary eyes and cried.
I never got gloriously happy over a simple grin.
I never sat up late hours at night watching a baby sleep.

Before I was a Mom
I never held a sleeping baby just because I didn't want to put him down.
I never felt my heart break into a million pieces when I couldn't stop the hurt.
I never knew that something so small could affect my life so much.
I never knew that I could love someone so much.
I never knew I would love being a Mom.

Before I was a Mom -
I didn't know the feeling of having my heart outside my body.
I didn't know how special it could feel to feed a hungry baby.
I didn't know that bond between a mother and her child.
I didn't know that something so small could make me feel so important and happy.

Before I was a Mom -
I had never gotten up in the middle of the night every 10 minutes to make sure all was okay.
I had never known the warmth, the joy, the love, the heartache,
the wonderment or the satisfaction of being a Mom.
I didn't know I was capable of feeling so much, before I was a Mom.

*********************************

Happy Mother's day to all the wonderful moms in the world! =)

To my beloved, I love you more than words...

Mourning Storm

2008-05-04T09:32:00.000-07:00

The luminous sky is covering up,
as clouds roll quietly in
smokey gray intimidation,
satiated droplets like sin.

The sky once lit
by optimistic light,
watch the clouds move in
with a menacing might.

Pushing people and creatures
back in to their shells,
the darkness envelops
with a story to tell.

The calm days are over
the purity gone,
as the storm sneaks in
just a bit before dawn.

The first wetness falls,
slowly at first
then drenches the lands
insatiable thirst.

Zigzag lightning
escorts claps of earsplitting thunder,
provoking desperate thoughts
and feelings of wonder.

Next comes the downpour,
releasing its rage
slipping so boisterously
from it's cotton-like cage.

Thunder crashes again
not once, but more and more
pushing the people farther inward;
keeps pounding at the door.

But the rain becomes less forceful
and the thunder is subdued,
it slowly lightens up
as most storms eventually do.

The land is now replenished
flowers bloomed and grass so plush
The storm moves on to another place
just as it came; in such a rush.

American Poetry

Picture Puzzle Piece

2008-03-28T14:02:00.000-07:00

by Shel Silverstein

One picture puzzle piece
Lyin' on the sidewalk,
One picture puzzle piece
Soakin' in the rain.
It might be a button of blue
On the coat of the woman
Who lived in a shoe.
It might be a magical bean,
Or a fold in the red
Velvet robe of a queen.
It might be the one little bite
Of the apple her stepmother
Gave to Snow White.
It might be the veil of a bride
Or a bottle with some evil genie inside.
It might be a small tuft of hair
On the big bouncy belly
Of Bobo the Bear.
It might be a bit of the cloak
Of the Witch of the West
As she melted to smoke.
It might be a shadowy trace
Of a tear that runs down an angel's face.
Nothing has more possibilities
Than one old wet picture puzzle piece.

*************************************

To quote my brother quoting Forrest Gump, "Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're gonna get!"

The possibilities are simply endless and our perception of the whole universe is as varied as all the stars it contains...

O Me! O Life!

2008-03-26T07:49:00.000-07:00

by Walt Whitman

O ME! O life!... of the questions of these recurring;
Of the endless trains of the faithless—of cities fill’d with the foolish;
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light—of the objects mean—of the struggle ever renew’d;
Of the poor results of all—of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me;
Of the empty and useless years of the rest—with the rest me intertwined;
The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?

Answer.
That you are here—that life exists, and identity;
That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.

Famous Poets

************************************

I wish it's that easy to do... live your life to the fullest, keep the faith, never give up.

As a child I have always been inquisitive, "Why is there no beginning and no end?" "Why are there poor and rich people?" "Why do people behave in certain ways while others don't?" ...More than two decades later, I never thought that I'd still be asking the same questions, only this time, I managed to make it even more complicated or more confusing or just plain daft & nonsensical.

Am I making mountains out of molehills? Perhaps -- Or does anything we ever say or do makes any sense at all?

A Daughter Is Born

2008-03-21T09:05:00.000-07:00

Encircle your child with love
Offer your hand to guide her

Shower her with tenderness
Shelter away her fears

May she look for sunshine when
There seems to be clouds
May she take a step further to
Find the best in people and life

May she show kindness and patience
Towards others
May confidence and poise propel
Her in life

Teach her appreciation for small
Things in life
The abundance of nature close at
Her feet

Help her to learn the power of
Words spoken
The response to actions which
Might be awakened

Shower her with your love and
Your pride
Protect her as needed, but let
Her fly free
Free to stand tall with absolute
Dignity

As she grows and discovers
Keep memories keen
For times in the future
When she flies free

Remember too as she grows to
Be a woman
She's a reflection of yourself
A reflection of the joy, kindness,
And dignity
A reflection of a woman set free
To pass down her teachings
From no other than thee.

Daughter Poems, Advice for raising a daughter, Family Poems

*******************************

When I was younger, I vowed to myself that when I become a parent myself, I would never repeat the "mistakes" of my own parents. Now that I am finally a parent however, about half of the time, I am not really sure if I'm doing the right thing or whether or not I should be doing such and such at all.

I know I love my daughter more than I have loved anything or anyone else in my life, yet when the going gets really tough (which is very often), sometimes I'd feel guilty for "dragging" her into this whole mess. Yet I also know that without her, I simply would not even have enough drive to get myself out of this mess...

I'm still learning. Still trying. Still thriving.

Surreal

2008-03-09T12:44:00.000-07:00

she gropes for reason

in dire attempt to make sense

of the futility of it all

yet numbness

seems to envelope

her whole being

she stood still

only to see the universe

spinning around

frantically

methodically

priding itself for its sanity

yet she remained still

just watching

just remaining very still

still trying to fathom

unsure whether she is really there

or not

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

2008-02-20T07:29:00.000-08:00

by Dylan Thomas (1914-1953)

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height,

Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

=======================

Listen to a rare recording by the poet:

Provided by Harper Audio

Life is Fine

2008-02-17T18:11:00.000-08:00

by Langston Hughes

I went down to the river,

I set down on the bank.

I tried to think but couldn't,

So I jumped in and sank.

I came up once and hollered!

I came up twice and cried!

If that water hadn't a-been so cold

I might've sunk and died.

But it was Cold in that water! It was cold!

I took the elevator

Sixteen floors above the ground.

I thought about my baby

And thought I would jump down.

I stood there and I hollered!

I stood there and I cried!

If it hadn't a-been so high

I might've jumped and died.

But it was High up there! It was high!

So since I'm still here livin',

I guess I will live on.

I could've died for love--

But for livin' I was born

Though you may hear me holler,

And you may see me cry--

I'll be dogged, sweet baby,

If you gonna see me die.

Life is fine! Fine as wine! Life is fine!

=============

If death wasn't so complicated and obscure, I bet a lot of people would choose it.

Life, afterall, is like a giant maze. Too often we somehow manage to end up in a "dead end." Hence, we go back to where we started just to begin the process all over again.

During the first four or five or even ten attempts, it's all adventures and new learnings and insights etc. etc., but after awhile, when you're already on your 104th attempt and you still couldn't get it right, sometimes you wish you could just sod the bloody maze and retire -- or not!

Be Glad Your Nose is on Your Face

2008-02-15T07:09:00.000-08:00

by Jack Prelutsky

Be glad your nose is on your face,

not pasted on some other place,

for if it were where it is not,

you might dislike your nose a lot.

Imagine if your precious nose

were sandwiched in between your toes,

that clearly would not be a treat,

for you'd be forced to smell your feet.

Your nose would be a source of dread

were it attached atop your head,

it soon would drive you to despair,

forever tickled by your hair.

Within your ear, your nose would be

an absolute catastrophe,

for when you were obliged to sneeze,

your brain would rattle from the breeze.

Your nose, instead, through thick and thin,

remains between your eyes and chin,

not pasted on some other place--

be glad your nose is on your face!

**************

You can take this poem literally or figuratively... either way, it still is funny when you think about it. :)

In real life though, it's not as amusing when things do not turn out the way we want it to be or when we would complain about how inadequate or unsatisfactory things are in our lives. Just like this poem nonetheless, as the author suggests, "it could be worse y'know!"

IF

2008-02-11T08:15:00.000-08:00

by Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;
If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!

Still I Rise

2008-02-10T09:28:00.000-08:00

by Maya Angelou

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

'Cause I walk like

I've got oil wellsPumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops.

Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don't you take it awful hard'

Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines

Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I've got diamonds

At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame

I rise

Up from a past that's rooted in pain

I rise

I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling

I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear

I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise

I rise.

Phenomenal Woman

2008-02-10T09:05:00.000-08:00

by Maya Angelou

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.

I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size

But when I start to tell them,

They think I'm telling lies.

I say,

It's in the reach of my arms

The span of my hips,

The stride of my step,

The curl of my lips.

I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.

I walk into a room

Just as cool as you please,

And to a man,

The fellows stand or

Fall down on their knees.

Then they swarm around me,

A hive of honey bees.

I say,

It's the fire in my eyes,

And the flash of my teeth,

The swing in my waist,

And the joy in my feet.

I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.

Men themselves have wondered

What they see in me.

They try so much

But they can't touch

My inner mystery.

When I try to show them

They say they still can't see.

I say,

It's in the arch of my back,

The sun of my smile,

The ride of my breasts,

The grace of my style.

I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.

Now you understand

Just why my head's not bowed.

I don't shout or jump about

Or have to talk real loud.

When you see me passing

It ought to make you proud.

I say,

It's in the click of my heels,

The bend of my hair,the palm of my hand,

The need of my care,

'Cause I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.

Dedicated to all the beautiful women... For all those whose lives made a difference and those who dared to live their lives to the fullest.

Somewhere I Have Never Traveled

2008-02-05T22:35:00.000-08:00

by EE Cummings

somewhere i have never traveled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near
your slightest look easily will unclose me

though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skillfully, mysteriously) her first rose
or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,

as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,

rendering death and forever with each breathing
(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

**************

One heartwarming poem dedicated by a friend... (just to balance all these feelings of impending doom that haunts me from time to time).

2008-02-05T22:13:00.000-08:00

Screams Of Silence
by Tim Chambers

Begone ye screams of silence, harbingers of pain
Cloaked in isolation, you mock in harsh disdain
My soul is torn asunder, I curse you, God of Hell
As you pierced my tortured soul, what horrors I befell.
You spoke of quiet solitude, to tempt me to your lair
Then lanced me in my troubled heart, to depths of dark despair
Nemesis, I beg of thee, rise up in righteous ire
Protect me from Tisiphone, from Hell's eternal fire
With all my voice I scream to you, protect me from the night
Alas, in forlorn desperation, I journey to the light
Banished to mind's Coventry, I heed the demon's call
Beckoned by the silent screams, I enter Dante's hall.

http://www.netpoets.com/poems/depress/0164002.htm

*****

Suicide Poem, A Sonnet
by Stage Diva

Was I bewitched so by the thin red line
To notice not that time released its hold
And let pale Iris snip the silver twine
To steal sweet youth before it turned to gold.
Existence now is not what I was told;
No seraphim and harps to grace my ear,
Just silence, painful silence, and the cold
Discomfort of my masochistic fear,
So icy cold, yet somehow seems to sear
My soul until the ache's too much to bare,
As mortal life mirages now appear:
Intangible are they; away they tear.
Mistake, it was; the curtain fell too soon
When razor's edge did charm me like the moon.

http://www.netpoets.com/poems/depress/0315002.htm

*****

Darkened Cigarettes
by Shane Downing

Alone, in front of the expanse of black,
Light from the side but faith no more,
A moment to ponder before I crack,
And I reach for the pain without a sore.

It eludes me, that devious and sly thought,
Leaving the notion of immense disease,
A smile - receiving the item that I sought,
But it's a lie - I'm brought to my knees.

One, the sender, blinks and turns away,
Finding solace in personal deceptions,
Letting this helpless being cry and stray,
Upon the brink of futile conceptions.

Once - just maybe - there had been the rose,
Impish grins shining to respond in aluminum,
But the heart - it feels what the mind knows,
Sensing pain in edifices and a small crumb.

Falling, now, with no signs of stopping known,
Occasional hints with the facade of light to see,
Snapping and breaking every single bone,
Yet one would see an untouched body.

Light - the purifying source of all knowledge and lies,
Those Mundane objects re-attaching mortal debts,
Here - no, perhaps there, light returns and deeply sighs,
Streaming the curling smoke of darkened cigarettes.

http://www.netpoets.com/poems/depress/0455003.htm

**************

If I would write about how I feel for the last five years or so... it would be something like these poems...

Wedding

2008-01-10T23:03:00.000-08:00

WEDDING
by: Kahlil Gibran (1883 - 1931)

You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore.
You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days.
Ay, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God.
But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.
Love one another, but make not a bond of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other's cup, but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.

Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.
For only the hands of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together, but not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.

2008-01-09T06:55:00.000-08:00

LOVE

                    by Roy Croft

I love you
Not only for what you are
But for what I am
When I am with you.
I love you
Not only for what
You have made of yourself
But for what
You are making of me.

I love you
For the part of me
That you bring out;
I love you
For putting your hand
Into my heaped-up heart
And passing over
All the foolish, weak things
That you can't help
Dimly seeing there,
And for drawing out
Into the light
All the beautiful belongings
That no one else had looked
Quite far enough to find.
I love you because you
Are helping me to make
Of the lumber of my life
Not a tavernBut a temple;
Out of the works
Of my every day
Not a reproach
But a song.

I love you
Because you have done
More than any creed
Could have done
To make me good
And more than any fate
Could have done
To make me happy.

You have done it
Without a touch,
Without a word,
Without a sign.
You have done it
By being yourself.
Perhaps that is what
Being a friend means,

After all.

*********************
For a very good friend whose love knows no bounds... my utmost gratitude and love.

If I Had My Life to Live Over

2008-01-09T06:28:00.000-08:00

If I Had My Life to Live Over

a letter written by Nadine Stair at age 85

If I had my life to live over, I'd dare to make more mistakes next time. I'd relax; I'd limber up. I would be sillier than I have been this trip. I would take fewer things seriously. I would take more chances. I would climb more mountains and swim more rivers. I would eat more ice cream and less beans. I would perhaps have more actual troubles, but I'd have fewer imaginary ones.

You see, I'm one of those people who lived sensibly and sanely hour after hour, day after day. Oh, I had my moments, and if I had to do it over again, I'd have more of them. In fact, I'd try to have nothing else. Just moments, one after the other, instead of living so many years ahead of each day. I've been one of those persons who never goes anywhere without a thermometer, a hot water bottle, a raincoat, and a parachute. If I had it to do over again, I would travel lighter than I have.

If I had my life to live over again, I would start barefoot earlier in the spring and stay that way later in the fall. I would go to more dance; I would ride more merry-go-rounds. I would pick more daisies.

*******************************

This isn't really a poem but the first time read it, I was able to relate instantly with Nadine. Although I have yet to reach the prime of my life, I've known long ago that I'd really rather stumble and fall a thousand times than be left in the dark or stare dumbly as I see my own life pass by.

I want to live my life to the fullest or to quote Wynona Ryder in "Little Women," become a great many person. I think life isn't just about getting a degree, or working, or keeping yourself and your house immaculately clean... I think it's more about exploring your horizon, getting to know people, making lasting relationships, trying to make a difference, loving unconditionally and courageously, fighting for a cause, hugging trees, and yes, picking more daisies!

I'M NOBODY! WHO ARE YOU?

2008-01-09T05:33:00.000-08:00

I'm nobody! Who are you?
by Emily Dickinson

I'm nobody!
Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us — don't tell!

They'd banish us, you know.
How dreary to be somebody
How public, like a frog.
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!

The Road Not Taken

2008-01-09T05:23:00.000-08:00

The Road Not Taken

by: Robert Frost (1874–1963)

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

ON CHILDREN

2007-10-31T11:00:00.000-07:00

by: Kahlil Gibran

Your children are not your children.They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.They come through you but not from you,And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts, For they have their own thoughts.You may house their bodies but not their souls,For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your childrenas living arrows are sent forth.The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.Let our bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.

I used to think I was a "rebel without a cause" or a "black sheep."Perhaps... But when I first held my daughter, I finally understood.

Yet I knew I couldnt keep her sheltered forever in as much as I wanted to... the way I didnt want to remain sheltered while I was growing up...

DO YOU FEAR THE FORCE OF THE WIND?

2007-10-31T10:29:00.000-07:00

By Hamlin Garland

Do you fear the force of the wind,

The slash of the rain?

Go face them and fight them,Be savage again.

Go hungry and cold like the wolf,

Go wade like the crane:

The palms of your hands will thicken,

The skin of your cheek will tan,

You ’ll grow ragged and weary and swarthy,

But you ’ll walk like a man!

Funny how too many people are too afraid to get their hands dirty, try out new things, expand their horizon or explore the unknown... funny how such unfounded fears often makes people realize one day that because they were too afraid to leave their comfort zones, their life has actually just passed away without them "realizing" it.

All my life, I've always been scared... yet I walk tall.

Yet I continue to struggle -- in hopes that one day, I shall reach my "final destination."

DESIDERATA

2007-10-31T09:22:00.000-07:00

I've stumbled upon this poem in College. Pretty simple yet profound... I think everyone could use a little "advice" about what the heck one should do amidst all this "chaos"...

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,and remember what peace there may be in silence.As far as possible without surrenderbe on good terms with all persons.Speak your truth quietly and clearly;and listen to others,even the dull and the ignorant;they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons,they are vexations to the spirit.If you compare yourself with others,you may become vain and bitter;for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble;it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.Exercise caution in your business affairs;for the world is full of trickery.But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;many persons strive for high ideals;and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.Especially, do not feign affection.Neither be cynical about love;for in the face of all aridity and disenchantmentit is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,gracefully surrendering the things of youth.Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.Beyond a wholesome discipline,be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe,no less than the trees and the stars;you have a right to be here.And whether or not it is clear to you,no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,whatever you conceive Him to be,and whatever your labors and aspirations,in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,it is still a beautiful world.Be cheerful.Strive to be happy.