After a while you learn
The subtle difference between
Holding a hand and chaining a soul
And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning
And company doesn't always mean security.
And you begin to learn
That kisses aren't contracts
And presents aren't promises
And you begin accept your defeats
With the grace of a woman
Not the grief of a child.
And you learn
To build all your roads on today
Because tomorrow's ground is
Too uncertain for plans
And futures have a way
Of falling down in mid flight
After a while you learn
That even sunshine burns if you get too much
So you plant your own garden
And decorate your own soul
Instead of waiting
For someone to bring you flowers
And you learn
That you really can endure
That you are really strong
And you really do have worth
And you learn and you learn
With every goodbye, you learn.
♥*✿*•♥ Veronica A. Shoffstall ♥*✿*•♥
Source: Thyme and Again, FB
24 April 2014
LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL
To those who see with loving eyes,
Life is beautiful.
To those who speak with a tender voice,
Life is peaceful.
To those who help with gentle hands,
Life is full.
And to those who care with compassionate hearts,
Life is good beyond all measures."
♥*✿*•♥ ANON ♥*✿*•♥
Life is beautiful.
To those who speak with a tender voice,
Life is peaceful.
To those who help with gentle hands,
Life is full.
And to those who care with compassionate hearts,
Life is good beyond all measures."
♥*✿*•♥ ANON ♥*✿*•♥
23 April 2014
ALONENESS
Willing to experience aloneness,
I discover connection everywhere;
Turning to face my fear,
I meet the warrior who lives within;
Opening to my loss,
I am given unimaginable gifts;
Surrendering into emptiness,
I find fullness without end.
Each condition I flee from pursues me.
Each condition I welcome transforms me
And becomes itself transformed
Into its radiant jewel-like essence.
I bow to the one who has made it so,
Who has crafted this Master Game;
To play it is pure delight,
To honor it is true devotion.
by Jennifer Welwood
Source: Ups, Downs and Roundabouts
I discover connection everywhere;
Turning to face my fear,
I meet the warrior who lives within;
Opening to my loss,
I am given unimaginable gifts;
Surrendering into emptiness,
I find fullness without end.
Each condition I flee from pursues me.
Each condition I welcome transforms me
And becomes itself transformed
Into its radiant jewel-like essence.
I bow to the one who has made it so,
Who has crafted this Master Game;
To play it is pure delight,
To honor it is true devotion.
by Jennifer Welwood
Source: Ups, Downs and Roundabouts
15 April 2014
A COWBOY'S PRAYER
Oh Lord, I've never lived where churches grow.
I love creation better as it stood,
That day You finished it so long ago
And looked upon Your work and called it good.
I know that others find you in the light
That's sifted down through tinted window panes,
And yet I seem to feel You near tonight
In this dim, quiet starlight on the plains.
I thank You, Lord, that I am placed so well,
That You have made my freedom so complete;
That I'm no slave of whistle, clock, or bell
Nor weak-eyed prisoner of wall and street.
Just let me live my life as I've begun
And give me work that's open to the sky;
Make me a pardner of the wind and sun,
And I won't ask a life that's soft or high.
Let me be easy on the man that's down;
Let me be square and generous with all.
I'm careless sometimes, Lord, when I'm in town,
But never let 'em say I'm mean or small!
Make me as big and open as the plains,
As honest as the hoss between my knees,
Clean as the wind that blows behind the rains,
Free as the hawk that circles down the breeze!
Forgive me, Lord, if sometimes I forget.
You know about the reasons that are hid.
You understand the things that gall and fret;
You know me better than my mother did.
Just keep an eye on all that's done and said
And right me, sometimes when I turn aside,
And guide me on the long, dim trail ahead
That stretches upward toward The Great Divide.
~Badger Clark
Source: The Horse Mafia, FB
I love creation better as it stood,
That day You finished it so long ago
And looked upon Your work and called it good.
I know that others find you in the light
That's sifted down through tinted window panes,
And yet I seem to feel You near tonight
In this dim, quiet starlight on the plains.
I thank You, Lord, that I am placed so well,
That You have made my freedom so complete;
That I'm no slave of whistle, clock, or bell
Nor weak-eyed prisoner of wall and street.
Just let me live my life as I've begun
And give me work that's open to the sky;
Make me a pardner of the wind and sun,
And I won't ask a life that's soft or high.
Let me be easy on the man that's down;
Let me be square and generous with all.
I'm careless sometimes, Lord, when I'm in town,
But never let 'em say I'm mean or small!
Make me as big and open as the plains,
As honest as the hoss between my knees,
Clean as the wind that blows behind the rains,
Free as the hawk that circles down the breeze!
Forgive me, Lord, if sometimes I forget.
You know about the reasons that are hid.
You understand the things that gall and fret;
You know me better than my mother did.
Just keep an eye on all that's done and said
And right me, sometimes when I turn aside,
And guide me on the long, dim trail ahead
That stretches upward toward The Great Divide.
~Badger Clark
Source: The Horse Mafia, FB
1 April 2014
WHEN I WAKE EARLY IN THE MORNING
✻ღ♥*✿*•♥ღ✻
When I wake early in the morning,
A brand new day I see,
I lift my head up to the sky,
And thank God for letting me be me.
Uncertain as to what the day will bring,
Don't know what lies ahead,
Not sure of my confrontations,
I ask God to guide me on the path Ill tread.
The birds sing their sweet, sweet song,
The bees hum their precious melody,
The wind blows where it wishes,
All coming together in perfect harmony.
Down on the ground the ants find their prey,
And the squirrel rambles from tree to tree,
The gopher finds its place in a hole,
And the rabbit roams aimlessly.
The beautiful lily blooms bright and fair,
The roses are red and pink and white,
The dandelions are ready for picking,
And the grass is green and full and bright.
How blue and beautiful the sky is above,
How lovely the stream and river and sea,
And each new day I open my eyes,
I thank God for letting me be me.
╔═════ ೋღ☃ღೋ ═════╗
When I wake early in the morning,
A brand new day I see,
I lift my head up to the sky,
And thank God for letting me be me.
Uncertain as to what the day will bring,
Don't know what lies ahead,
Not sure of my confrontations,
I ask God to guide me on the path Ill tread.
The birds sing their sweet, sweet song,
The bees hum their precious melody,
The wind blows where it wishes,
All coming together in perfect harmony.
Down on the ground the ants find their prey,
And the squirrel rambles from tree to tree,
The gopher finds its place in a hole,
And the rabbit roams aimlessly.
The beautiful lily blooms bright and fair,
The roses are red and pink and white,
The dandelions are ready for picking,
And the grass is green and full and bright.
How blue and beautiful the sky is above,
How lovely the stream and river and sea,
And each new day I open my eyes,
I thank God for letting me be me.
╔═════ ೋღ☃ღೋ ═════╗
Ups, Downs and Roundabouts╚═════ ೋღ☃ღೋ ═════╝
26 March 2014
POEM by Walt Whitman
"I bequeathe myself to the dirt, to grow from the grass I love;
If you want me again, look for me under your boot-soles.
You will hardly know who I am, or what I mean;
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood.
Failing to fetch me at first, keep encouraged;
Missing me one place, search another;
I stop somewhere, waiting for you."
By Walt Whitman
Source: Everyman's Library
Walt Whitman died in Camden, New Jersey on this day in 1892 (aged 72).
Poems: Whitman contains forty-two of the American master's poems, including "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry," "Song of Myself," "I Hear America Singing," "Halcyon Days," and an index of first lines.
If you want me again, look for me under your boot-soles.
You will hardly know who I am, or what I mean;
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood.
Failing to fetch me at first, keep encouraged;
Missing me one place, search another;
I stop somewhere, waiting for you."
By Walt Whitman
Source: Everyman's Library
Walt Whitman died in Camden, New Jersey on this day in 1892 (aged 72).
Poems: Whitman contains forty-two of the American master's poems, including "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry," "Song of Myself," "I Hear America Singing," "Halcyon Days," and an index of first lines.
WHERE THERE IS LOVE
Where there is love the heart is light,
Where there is love the day is bright.
Where there is love there is a song,
To help when things are going wrong.
Where there is love there is a smile,
To make all things seem more worthwhile.
Where there is love there’s quiet peace,
A tranquil place where turmoils cease.
Love changes darkness into light,
And makes the heart take wingless flight.
From Ups, Downs & Roundabouts
Where there is love the day is bright.
Where there is love there is a song,
To help when things are going wrong.
Where there is love there is a smile,
To make all things seem more worthwhile.
Where there is love there’s quiet peace,
A tranquil place where turmoils cease.
Love changes darkness into light,
And makes the heart take wingless flight.
From Ups, Downs & Roundabouts
22 March 2014
ONCE BY THE PACIFIC
"The shattered water made a misty din.
Great waves looked over others coming in,
And thought of doing something to the shore
That water never did to land before.
The clouds were low and hairy in the skies,
Like locks blown forward in the gleam of eyes.
You could not tell, and yet it looked as if
The shore was lucky in being backed by cliff,
The cliff in being backed by continent;
It looked as if a night of dark intent
Was coming, and not only a night, an age.
Someone had better be prepared for rage.
There would be more than ocean-water broken
Before God's last Put out the light was spoken."
~Robert Frost
Source: from Everyman's Library
Great waves looked over others coming in,
And thought of doing something to the shore
That water never did to land before.
The clouds were low and hairy in the skies,
Like locks blown forward in the gleam of eyes.
You could not tell, and yet it looked as if
The shore was lucky in being backed by cliff,
The cliff in being backed by continent;
It looked as if a night of dark intent
Was coming, and not only a night, an age.
Someone had better be prepared for rage.
There would be more than ocean-water broken
Before God's last Put out the light was spoken."
~Robert Frost
Source: from Everyman's Library
12 March 2014
TOMORROW IS A BEAUTIFUL ROAD
Tomorrow is a beautiful road
That will take you right where
You want to go...
If you spend today
walking away from worry
and moving towards serenity;
leaving behind conflict
and traveling towards solutions;
and parting with emptiness
and finding fulfillment.
If you can do what works for you,
your present will be happier
and your path will be smoother.
And best of all?
You'll be taking a step
into a beautiful future...
~ © Douglas Pagels
Source: Inspiration Line
That will take you right where
You want to go...
If you spend today
walking away from worry
and moving towards serenity;
leaving behind conflict
and traveling towards solutions;
and parting with emptiness
and finding fulfillment.
If you can do what works for you,
your present will be happier
and your path will be smoother.
And best of all?
You'll be taking a step
into a beautiful future...
~ © Douglas Pagels
Source: Inspiration Line
ECCE PUER
"Ecce Puer" by James Joyce
"Of the dark past
A child is born;
With joy and grief
My heart is torn.
Calm in his cradle
The living lies.
May love and mercy
Unclose his eyes!
Young life is breathed
On the glass;
The world that was not
Comes to pass.
A child is sleeping:
An old man gone.
O, father forsaken,
Forgive your son!"
This selection of the major poems James Joyce published in his lifetime is accompanied by his only surviving play, Exiles. Joyce is most celebrated for his remarkable novel Ulysses, and yet he was also a highly accomplished poet. Chamber Music is his debut collection of lyrical love poems, which he intended to be set to music; in it, he enlivens the styles of the Celtic Revival with his own brand of playful irony. Pomes Penyeach, a collection written while Joyce was working on A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, sounds intimately autobiographical notes of passion and betrayal that would go on to resonate through the rest of his work. Joyce’s other poems include the moving “Ecce Puer,” written on the birth of his grandson, and his fiery satires “The Holy Office” and “Gas from a Burner.” Exiles was written after Joyce had left Ireland, never to return; it is a richly nuanced drama that reflects a grappling with the state of his own marriage and career as he was about to embark on the writing of Ulysses. In its tale of an unconventional couple involved in a love triangle, Exiles engages Joycean themes of envy and jealousy, freedom and love, men and women, and the complicated relationship between an artist and his homeland.
Source: Everyman's Library
"Of the dark past
A child is born;
With joy and grief
My heart is torn.
Calm in his cradle
The living lies.
May love and mercy
Unclose his eyes!
Young life is breathed
On the glass;
The world that was not
Comes to pass.
A child is sleeping:
An old man gone.
O, father forsaken,
Forgive your son!"
This selection of the major poems James Joyce published in his lifetime is accompanied by his only surviving play, Exiles. Joyce is most celebrated for his remarkable novel Ulysses, and yet he was also a highly accomplished poet. Chamber Music is his debut collection of lyrical love poems, which he intended to be set to music; in it, he enlivens the styles of the Celtic Revival with his own brand of playful irony. Pomes Penyeach, a collection written while Joyce was working on A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, sounds intimately autobiographical notes of passion and betrayal that would go on to resonate through the rest of his work. Joyce’s other poems include the moving “Ecce Puer,” written on the birth of his grandson, and his fiery satires “The Holy Office” and “Gas from a Burner.” Exiles was written after Joyce had left Ireland, never to return; it is a richly nuanced drama that reflects a grappling with the state of his own marriage and career as he was about to embark on the writing of Ulysses. In its tale of an unconventional couple involved in a love triangle, Exiles engages Joycean themes of envy and jealousy, freedom and love, men and women, and the complicated relationship between an artist and his homeland.
Source: Everyman's Library
11 March 2014
BUY ME A ROSE
He works hard to give her all he thinks she wants —
A three-car garage, her own credit cards;
He pulls in late to wake her up with a kiss goodnight
If he could only read her mind, she'd say . . .
Buy me a rose,
Call me from work,
Open a door for me ...
What would it hurt?
Show me you love me by the look in your eyes,
These are the little things I need the most in my life.
Now the days have grown to years of feeling all alone
And she can't help but wonder what she's doing wrong;
Lately she'd try anything to turn his head,
Would it make a difference if she'd said . . .
Buy me a rose,
Call me from work,
Open a door for me
What would it hurt?
Show me you love me by the look in your eyes,
These are the little things I need the most in my life.
And the more that he lives, the less that he tries
To show her the love that he holds inside;
And the more that she gives, the more that he sees,
This is the story of you and me.
So I bought you a rose
On the way home from work
To open the door
To a heart that I hurt,
And I hope you notice this look in my eyes
'Cause I'm gonna make things right for the rest of your life.
And I'm gonna hold you tonight . . .
Do all those little things for the rest of your life.
~Written by Jim Funk and Erik Hickenlooper
(Sung by Kenny Rogers and Alison Krauss
Source: Inspiration Line
A three-car garage, her own credit cards;
He pulls in late to wake her up with a kiss goodnight
If he could only read her mind, she'd say . . .
Buy me a rose,
Call me from work,
Open a door for me ...
What would it hurt?
Show me you love me by the look in your eyes,
These are the little things I need the most in my life.
Now the days have grown to years of feeling all alone
And she can't help but wonder what she's doing wrong;
Lately she'd try anything to turn his head,
Would it make a difference if she'd said . . .
Buy me a rose,
Call me from work,
Open a door for me
What would it hurt?
Show me you love me by the look in your eyes,
These are the little things I need the most in my life.
And the more that he lives, the less that he tries
To show her the love that he holds inside;
And the more that she gives, the more that he sees,
This is the story of you and me.
So I bought you a rose
On the way home from work
To open the door
To a heart that I hurt,
And I hope you notice this look in my eyes
'Cause I'm gonna make things right for the rest of your life.
And I'm gonna hold you tonight . . .
Do all those little things for the rest of your life.
~Written by Jim Funk and Erik Hickenlooper
(Sung by Kenny Rogers and Alison Krauss
Source: Inspiration Line
A STRONG WOMAN
A strong woman works out every day to keep her body in shape —
But a woman of strength looks
deep inside to keep her soul in shape.
A strong woman isn't afraid of anything —
But a woman of strength shows
courage in the midst of her fear.
A strong woman won't let anyone get the best of her —
But a woman of strength gives
the best of herself to everyone.
A strong woman makes mistakes and avoids the same in the future —
But a woman of strength realizes
life's mistakes can also be blessings and capitalizes on them.
A strong woman walks sure footedly —
But a woman of strength knows
when to ask for help.
A strong woman wears the look of confidence on her face —
But a woman of strength wears
an aura of grace.
A strong woman has faith that she is strong enough for the journey —
But a woman of strength has faith
that it is in the journey that she will become strong.
~Author Unknown
(March 8, 2014: A Global Day of Celebration connecting all women
around the world and inspiring them to achieve their full potential.)
But a woman of strength looks
deep inside to keep her soul in shape.
A strong woman isn't afraid of anything —
But a woman of strength shows
courage in the midst of her fear.
A strong woman won't let anyone get the best of her —
But a woman of strength gives
the best of herself to everyone.
A strong woman makes mistakes and avoids the same in the future —
But a woman of strength realizes
life's mistakes can also be blessings and capitalizes on them.
A strong woman walks sure footedly —
But a woman of strength knows
when to ask for help.
A strong woman wears the look of confidence on her face —
But a woman of strength wears
an aura of grace.
A strong woman has faith that she is strong enough for the journey —
But a woman of strength has faith
that it is in the journey that she will become strong.
~Author Unknown
(March 8, 2014: A Global Day of Celebration connecting all women
around the world and inspiring them to achieve their full potential.)
TIME PASSES BY
Dreams drift away like leaves on the water,
They roll down the river and slip out of sight;
Too many times we do what we ought,
Put off 'til tomorrow what we'd really rather do tonight,
And later realize:
Time passes by, people pass on,
At the drop of a tear, they're gone;
Let's do what we dare, do what we like,
And love while we're here before time passes by.
Thoughts are like pennies we keep in our pockets,
They're never worth nothing 'til we give them away;
But love's like a promise in an unopened letter,
Where nights full of pleasure seldom see the light of day,
When life gets in the way.
Time passes by, people pass on,
At the drop of a tear, they're gone;
Let's do what we dare, do what we like,
And love while we're here before time passes by.
Written by Jon Vezner & Susan Longaker
Sung by Kathy Mattea
Source: Inspiration Line
They roll down the river and slip out of sight;
Too many times we do what we ought,
Put off 'til tomorrow what we'd really rather do tonight,
And later realize:
Time passes by, people pass on,
At the drop of a tear, they're gone;
Let's do what we dare, do what we like,
And love while we're here before time passes by.
Thoughts are like pennies we keep in our pockets,
They're never worth nothing 'til we give them away;
But love's like a promise in an unopened letter,
Where nights full of pleasure seldom see the light of day,
When life gets in the way.
Time passes by, people pass on,
At the drop of a tear, they're gone;
Let's do what we dare, do what we like,
And love while we're here before time passes by.
Written by Jon Vezner & Susan Longaker
Sung by Kathy Mattea
Source: Inspiration Line
9 March 2014
BLESSINGS
✻ღ♥*✿*•♥ღ✻
May Light always surround you;
Hope kindle and rebound you.
May your Hurts turn to Healing;
Your Heart embrace Feeling.
May Wounds become Wisdom;
Every Kindness a Prism.
May Laughter infect you;
Your Passion resurrect you.
May Goodness inspire
your Deepest Desires.
Through all that you Reach For,
May your arms Never Tire.
~D. Simone
Source:Ups, Downs & Roundabouts
May Light always surround you;
Hope kindle and rebound you.
May your Hurts turn to Healing;
Your Heart embrace Feeling.
May Wounds become Wisdom;
Every Kindness a Prism.
May Laughter infect you;
Your Passion resurrect you.
May Goodness inspire
your Deepest Desires.
Through all that you Reach For,
May your arms Never Tire.
~D. Simone
Source:Ups, Downs & Roundabouts
8 March 2014
I AM A WILD WOMAN
Woman is the light of God. ~Rumi♥*✿*•♥
I am a wild woman
I know, inspite of myself
and in spite of what I've been told
that there's beauty in every age
no matter how old
I am a wild woman
I've learned what it means to be a life bearer
to bear children
to create art
to plant seeds of love
I am a wild woman
from the depths of the dirt underneath my fingernails
to the height of my very soul
I am one with the Earth
the winds from the four directions whisper through my skin
I am a wild woman
and the spirit of every wild woman coalesces in me
for we are each wild women
and we are all the spirit of the wild woman
I will follow the voice in my heart
I am a wild woman
I sing from my heart
I dance with the stars
I howl at the moon
I love uncontrollably
I am a wild woman
from the deepest, darkest, most sacred part of me
I am fearless
I cry in strength
I open my arms to the sky and welcome the rain
I am a wild woman
I nurture, love and protect
I stand, strongly, silently, sweetly for my brothers
I walk dutifully, prayerfully, joyfully upon the mother
and I will not be stopped
I am a wild woman.
♥ྀ ♥ྀ ♥ྀ Melissa Clary ♥ྀ ♥ྀ ♥ྀ
23 February 2014
TAKE TIME
Take time to think - It is the source of all power.
Take time to read - It is the fountain of wisdom.
Take time to play - It is the source of perpetual youth.
Take time to be quiet - It is the opportunity to seek God.
Take time to be aware - It is the opportunity to help others.
Take time to love and be loved - It is God's greatest gift.
Take time to laugh - It is the music of the soul.
Take time to be friendly - It is the road to happiness.
Take time to dream - It is what the future is made of.
Take time to pray - It is the greatest power on earth.
Take time to give - It is too short a day to be selfish.
Take time to work - It is the price of success.
There is a time for everything. . . .(Anon)
Source: •● Ups, Downs & Roundabouts ●•
Take time to read - It is the fountain of wisdom.
Take time to play - It is the source of perpetual youth.
Take time to be quiet - It is the opportunity to seek God.
Take time to be aware - It is the opportunity to help others.
Take time to love and be loved - It is God's greatest gift.
Take time to laugh - It is the music of the soul.
Take time to be friendly - It is the road to happiness.
Take time to dream - It is what the future is made of.
Take time to pray - It is the greatest power on earth.
Take time to give - It is too short a day to be selfish.
Take time to work - It is the price of success.
There is a time for everything. . . .(Anon)
Source: •● Ups, Downs & Roundabouts ●•
22 February 2014
ON THE DEATH OF A BELOVED
(To My Parents)
On the the death of a beloved...
Though we need to weep your loss,
You dwell in that safe place in our hearts,
Where no storm or might or pain can reach you.
Your love was like the dawn
Brightening over our lives
Awakening beneath the dark
A further adventure of colour.
The sound of your voice
Found for us
A new music
That brightened everything.
Whatever you enfolded in your gaze
Quickened in the joy of its being;
You placed smiles like flowers
On the altar of the heart.
Your mind always sparkled
With wonder at things.
Though your days here were brief,
Your spirit was live, awake, complete.
We look towards each other no longer
From the old distance of our names;
Now you dwell inside the rhythm of breath,
As close to us as we are to ourselves.
Though we cannot see you with outward eyes,
We know our soul's gaze is upon your face,
Smiling back at us from within everything
To which we bring our best refinement.
Let us not look for you only in memory,
Where we would grow lonely without you.
You would want us to find you in presence,
Beside us when beauty brightens,
When kindness glows
And music echoes eternal tones.
When orchids brighten the earth,
Darkest winter has turned to spring;
May this dark grief flower with hope
In every heart that loves you.
May you continue to inspire us:
To enter each day with a generous heart.
To serve the call of courage and love
Until we see your beautiful face again
In that land where there is no more separation,
Where all tears will be wiped from our mind,
And where we will never lose you again.
♥*✿*•♥John O'Donohue ♥*✿*•♥
Source: Rest in the Arms of Angels
On the the death of a beloved...
Though we need to weep your loss,
You dwell in that safe place in our hearts,
Where no storm or might or pain can reach you.
Your love was like the dawn
Brightening over our lives
Awakening beneath the dark
A further adventure of colour.
The sound of your voice
Found for us
A new music
That brightened everything.
Whatever you enfolded in your gaze
Quickened in the joy of its being;
You placed smiles like flowers
On the altar of the heart.
Your mind always sparkled
With wonder at things.
Though your days here were brief,
Your spirit was live, awake, complete.
We look towards each other no longer
From the old distance of our names;
Now you dwell inside the rhythm of breath,
As close to us as we are to ourselves.
Though we cannot see you with outward eyes,
We know our soul's gaze is upon your face,
Smiling back at us from within everything
To which we bring our best refinement.
Let us not look for you only in memory,
Where we would grow lonely without you.
You would want us to find you in presence,
Beside us when beauty brightens,
When kindness glows
And music echoes eternal tones.
When orchids brighten the earth,
Darkest winter has turned to spring;
May this dark grief flower with hope
In every heart that loves you.
May you continue to inspire us:
To enter each day with a generous heart.
To serve the call of courage and love
Until we see your beautiful face again
In that land where there is no more separation,
Where all tears will be wiped from our mind,
And where we will never lose you again.
♥*✿*•♥John O'Donohue ♥*✿*•♥
Source: Rest in the Arms of Angels
19 February 2014
THE JOY of UNSELFISH GIVING
Time is not measured by the years that you live
But by the deeds that you do and the joy that you give-
And each day as it comes brings a chance to each one.
To love to the fullest, leaving nothing undone
That would brighten the life or lighten the load
of some weary traveler lost on Life's Road-
So what does it matter how long we may live
If as long as we live we unselfishly give.
╔═════ ೋღ☃ღೋ ═════╗
Helen Steiner Rice╚═════ ೋღ☃ღೋ ═════
13 February 2014
BEAUTIFUL WORLD
╔═════ ೋღ☃ღೋ ═════╗
W. L. CHILDRESS╚═════ ೋღ☃ღೋ ═════╝
Here's a song of praise for a beautiful world,
For the banner of blue that's above it unfurled,
For the streams that sparkle and sing to the sea,
For the bloom in the glade and the leaf on the tree;
Here's a song of praise for a beautiful world.
Here's a song of praise for the mountain peak,
Where the wind and the lightning meet and speak,
For the golden star on the soft night's breast.
And the silvery moonlight's path to rest;
Here's a song of praise for a beautiful world.
Here's a song of praise for the rippling notes
That come from a thousand sweet bird throats
For the ocean wave and the sunset glow,
And the waving fields where the reapers go;
Here's a song of praise for a beautiful world.
Here's a song of praise for the ones so true,
And the kindly deeds they have done for you;
For the great earth's heart, when it's understood,
Is struggling still toward the pure and good;
Here's a song of praise for a beautiful world.
Here's a song of praise for the One who guides,
For He holds the ships and He holds the tides.
And underneath and around the above
The world is lapped in the light of His love;
Here's a song of praise for a beautiful world.
✻ღ♥*✿*•♥ღ✻
My Personal Note: Today is 14 February 2014. It's the day that I could have chosen better than any day in my life. For today, I found my true love after years of futile searching in the libraries wherever I go. I tried searching it from any poetry websites but to no avail. Then I tried one more time. I Google(d) it and typed a line in the browser: 'here's a song of praise for the beautiful world'. Then a miracle happened when I was taken to Google Archive of world's oldest newspapers. The Lewiston Daily Sun of Mississippi USA has opened its door for me when its edition of 9 August 1941 revealed the middle of page 4 with a box entitled WIDER and DEEPER and there it was! A big bold printed beloved poem of mine, BEAUTIFUL WORLD which is close to my heart for as long as I can remember since my elementary days. I could not remember the author, but after a thorough reading of the whole stanzas, i was convinced without doubt and decided that THIS IS IT!
This poem has a huge sentimental value to me. Its great impact has me to see the world around me,and, view it with awesome inspiration. That inspiration helped mould my desire to connect with our loving Creator; how His great grand design of this world's most beautiful, delightful and magnificent landscape we live in manifested His Omnipotent Power! His glory as can be observe in the movement, coming and going of the sun from dawn to twilight till it rests at night time, only to find that bright glowing orb lighting the other side of the world. How His divine hands made the mountains, hills, valleys, plateaus, flatlands, hinterlands, swamps, seas, oceans, rivers, seashores, beaches, fields, trees, plants, and flowers of all kinds, birds, animals, wildlife,
My awesome Creator has never stopped to amaze me even in times He shows His wrath as shown in the turbulence of the apocalyptic deliverance of natural disasters and catastrophes manifested in cyclones, hurricanes, modern Noah's deluge, burning bushes, tsunamis and many more!
The BEAUTIFUL WORLD brings me back happy memories of my old hometown where I partly grew up as a child. Where I spent my early childhood education, where I learned hard days of life that helped develop my understanding about survival.
The BEAUTIFUL WORLD in my time was of simplicity where thunders and lightnings coloured the sky at night and made me curled up under the floor mat, covering my ears because of fears. The simplicity which found me whistling among the tiny birds on the tree and calling the wind on dry airless hot season. The simplicity of which our means of transport was our little shoeless feet as we walked long walks towards the big river, lake and spring to do our laundry, take a bath, gather shell food and play. Simplicity as we go to the woodland, forest, mountain or hills to gather drift woods for firewoods. Simplicity for the whole time we come and go to places our life was destined to be. All things comprise our BEAUTIFUL WORLD in the midst of both times in prosperity and adversity.
Thank you Google for sending me back the rippling notes of my old school days poetry once printed out in our English Reading Book, Doorways to Reading the BEAUTIFUL WORLD that I learned and remembered being taught to us in the class by my all time favourite teacher MRS. GLORIA REGIS ALAGAR of KAROMATAN CENTRAL ELEMENTARY SCHOOL (KAROMATAN, LANAO DEL NORTE) in 1962. My only regret was that, Mrs. ALAGAR did not stay through our graduation day.
25 January 2014
SEASHORE
by Ralph Waldo Emerson
I heard or seemed to hear the chiding Sea
Say, Pilgrim, why so late and slow to come?
Am I not always here, thy summer home?
Is not my voice thy music, morn and eve?
My breath thy healthful climate in the heats,
My touch thy antidote, my bay thy bath?
Was ever building like my terraces?
Was ever couch magnificent as mine?
Lie on the warm rock-ledges, and there learn
A little hut suffices like a town.
I make your sculptured architecture vain,
Vain beside mine. I drive my wedges home,
And carve the coastwise mountain into caves.
Lo! here is Rome and Nineveh and Thebes,
Karnak and Pyramid and Giant's Stairs
Half piled or prostrate; and my newest slab
Older than all thy race.
Behold the Sea,
The opaline, the plentiful and strong,
Yet beautiful as is the rose in June,
Fresh as the trickling rainbow of July;
Sea full of food, the nourisher of kinds,
Purger of earth, and medicine of men;
Creating a sweet climate by my breath,
Washing out harms and griefs from memory,
And, in my mathematic ebb and flow,
Giving a hint of that which changes not.
Rich are the sea-gods:—who gives gifts but they?
They grope the sea for pearls, but more than pearls:
They pluck Force thence, and give it to the wise.
For every wave is wealth to Daedalus,
Wealth to the cunning artist who can work
This matchless strength. Where shall he find, O waves!
A load your Atlas shoulders cannot lift?
I with my hammer pounding evermore
The rocky coast, smite Andes into dust,
Strewing my bed, and, in another age,
Rebuild a continent of better men.
Then I unbar the doors: my paths lead out
The exodus of nations: I disperse
Men to all shores that front the hoary main.
I too have arts and sorceries;
Illusion dwells forever with the wave.
I know what spells are laid. Leave me to deal
With credulous and imaginative man;
For, though he scoop my water in his palm,
A few rods off he deems it gems and clouds.
Planting strange fruits and sunshine on the shore,
I make some coast alluring, some lone isle,
To distant men, who must go there, or die.
Source: www.infoplease.com
I heard or seemed to hear the chiding Sea
Say, Pilgrim, why so late and slow to come?
Am I not always here, thy summer home?
Is not my voice thy music, morn and eve?
My breath thy healthful climate in the heats,
My touch thy antidote, my bay thy bath?
Was ever building like my terraces?
Was ever couch magnificent as mine?
Lie on the warm rock-ledges, and there learn
A little hut suffices like a town.
I make your sculptured architecture vain,
Vain beside mine. I drive my wedges home,
And carve the coastwise mountain into caves.
Lo! here is Rome and Nineveh and Thebes,
Karnak and Pyramid and Giant's Stairs
Half piled or prostrate; and my newest slab
Older than all thy race.
Behold the Sea,
The opaline, the plentiful and strong,
Yet beautiful as is the rose in June,
Fresh as the trickling rainbow of July;
Sea full of food, the nourisher of kinds,
Purger of earth, and medicine of men;
Creating a sweet climate by my breath,
Washing out harms and griefs from memory,
And, in my mathematic ebb and flow,
Giving a hint of that which changes not.
Rich are the sea-gods:—who gives gifts but they?
They grope the sea for pearls, but more than pearls:
They pluck Force thence, and give it to the wise.
For every wave is wealth to Daedalus,
Wealth to the cunning artist who can work
This matchless strength. Where shall he find, O waves!
A load your Atlas shoulders cannot lift?
I with my hammer pounding evermore
The rocky coast, smite Andes into dust,
Strewing my bed, and, in another age,
Rebuild a continent of better men.
Then I unbar the doors: my paths lead out
The exodus of nations: I disperse
Men to all shores that front the hoary main.
I too have arts and sorceries;
Illusion dwells forever with the wave.
I know what spells are laid. Leave me to deal
With credulous and imaginative man;
For, though he scoop my water in his palm,
A few rods off he deems it gems and clouds.
Planting strange fruits and sunshine on the shore,
I make some coast alluring, some lone isle,
To distant men, who must go there, or die.
Source: www.infoplease.com
SONG OF NATURE
by Ralph Waldo Emerson
Mine are the night and morning,
The pits of air, the gulf of space,
The sportive sun, the gibbous moon,
The innumerable days.
I hide in the solar glory,
I am dumb in the pealing song,
I rest on the pitch of the torrent,
In slumber I am strong.
No numbers have counted my tallies,
No tribes my house can fill,
I sit by the shining Fount of Life
And pour the deluge still;
And ever by delicate powers
Gathering along the centuries
From race on race the rarest flowers,
My wreath shall nothing miss.
And many a thousand summers
My gardens ripened well,
And light from meliorating stars
With firmer glory fell.
I wrote the past in characters
Of rock and fire the scroll,
The building in the coral sea,
The planting of the coal.
And thefts from satellites and rings
And broken stars I drew,
And out of spent and aged things
I formed the world anew;
What time the gods kept carnival,
Tricked out in star and flower,
And in cramp elf and saurian forms
They swathed their too much power.
Time and Thought were my surveyors,
They laid their courses well,
They boiled the sea, and piled the layers
Of granite, marl and shell.
But he, the man-child glorious,—
Where tarries he the while?
The rainbow shines his harbinger,
The sunset gleams his smile.
My boreal lights leap upward,
Forthright my planets roll,
And still the man-child is not born,
The summit of the whole.
Must time and tide forever run?
Will never my winds go sleep in the west?
Will never my wheels which whirl the sun
And satellites have rest?
Too much of donning and doffing,
Too slow the rainbow fades,
I weary of my robe of snow,
My leaves and my cascades;
I tire of globes and races,
Too long the game is played;
What without him is summer's pomp,
Or winter's frozen shade?
I travail in pain for him,
My creatures travail and wait;
His couriers come by squadrons,
He comes not to the gate.
Twice I have moulded an image,
And thrice outstretched my hand,
Made one of day and one of night
And one of the salt sea-sand.
One in a Judaean manger,
And one by Avon stream,
One over against the mouths of Nile,
And one in the Academe.
I moulded kings and saviors,
And bards o'er kings to rule;—
But fell the starry influence short,
The cup was never full.
Yet whirl the glowing wheels once more,
And mix the bowl again;
Seethe, Fate! the ancient elements,
Heat, cold, wet, dry, and peace, and pain.
Let war and trade and creeds and song
Blend, ripen race on race,
The sunburnt world a man shall breed
Of all the zones and countless days.
No ray is dimmed, no atom worn,
My oldest force is good as new,
And the fresh rose on yonder thorn
Gives back the bending heavens in dew.
Source: www.infoplease.com
Mine are the night and morning,
The pits of air, the gulf of space,
The sportive sun, the gibbous moon,
The innumerable days.
I hide in the solar glory,
I am dumb in the pealing song,
I rest on the pitch of the torrent,
In slumber I am strong.
No numbers have counted my tallies,
No tribes my house can fill,
I sit by the shining Fount of Life
And pour the deluge still;
And ever by delicate powers
Gathering along the centuries
From race on race the rarest flowers,
My wreath shall nothing miss.
And many a thousand summers
My gardens ripened well,
And light from meliorating stars
With firmer glory fell.
I wrote the past in characters
Of rock and fire the scroll,
The building in the coral sea,
The planting of the coal.
And thefts from satellites and rings
And broken stars I drew,
And out of spent and aged things
I formed the world anew;
What time the gods kept carnival,
Tricked out in star and flower,
And in cramp elf and saurian forms
They swathed their too much power.
Time and Thought were my surveyors,
They laid their courses well,
They boiled the sea, and piled the layers
Of granite, marl and shell.
But he, the man-child glorious,—
Where tarries he the while?
The rainbow shines his harbinger,
The sunset gleams his smile.
My boreal lights leap upward,
Forthright my planets roll,
And still the man-child is not born,
The summit of the whole.
Must time and tide forever run?
Will never my winds go sleep in the west?
Will never my wheels which whirl the sun
And satellites have rest?
Too much of donning and doffing,
Too slow the rainbow fades,
I weary of my robe of snow,
My leaves and my cascades;
I tire of globes and races,
Too long the game is played;
What without him is summer's pomp,
Or winter's frozen shade?
I travail in pain for him,
My creatures travail and wait;
His couriers come by squadrons,
He comes not to the gate.
Twice I have moulded an image,
And thrice outstretched my hand,
Made one of day and one of night
And one of the salt sea-sand.
One in a Judaean manger,
And one by Avon stream,
One over against the mouths of Nile,
And one in the Academe.
I moulded kings and saviors,
And bards o'er kings to rule;—
But fell the starry influence short,
The cup was never full.
Yet whirl the glowing wheels once more,
And mix the bowl again;
Seethe, Fate! the ancient elements,
Heat, cold, wet, dry, and peace, and pain.
Let war and trade and creeds and song
Blend, ripen race on race,
The sunburnt world a man shall breed
Of all the zones and countless days.
No ray is dimmed, no atom worn,
My oldest force is good as new,
And the fresh rose on yonder thorn
Gives back the bending heavens in dew.
Source: www.infoplease.com
TWO RIVERS
by Ralph Waldo Emerson
Thy summer voice, Musketaquit,
Repeats the music of the rain;
But sweeter rivers pulsing flit
Through thee, as thou through Concord Plain.
Thou in thy narrow banks art pent:
The stream I love unbounded goes
Through flood and sea and firmament;
Through light, through life, it forward flows.
I see the inundation sweet,
I hear the spending of the stream
Through years, through men, through Nature fleet,
Through love and thought, through power and dream.
Musketaquit, a goblin strong,
Of shard and flint makes jewels gay;
They lose their grief who hear his song,
And where he winds is the day of day.
So forth and brighter fares my stream,—
Who drink it shall not thirst again;
No darkness stains its equal gleam.
And ages drop in it like rain.
Source: www.infoplease.com
Thy summer voice, Musketaquit,
Repeats the music of the rain;
But sweeter rivers pulsing flit
Through thee, as thou through Concord Plain.
Thou in thy narrow banks art pent:
The stream I love unbounded goes
Through flood and sea and firmament;
Through light, through life, it forward flows.
I see the inundation sweet,
I hear the spending of the stream
Through years, through men, through Nature fleet,
Through love and thought, through power and dream.
Musketaquit, a goblin strong,
Of shard and flint makes jewels gay;
They lose their grief who hear his song,
And where he winds is the day of day.
So forth and brighter fares my stream,—
Who drink it shall not thirst again;
No darkness stains its equal gleam.
And ages drop in it like rain.
Source: www.infoplease.com
WALDEINSAMKEIT
by Ralph Waldo Emerson
I do not count the hours I spend
In wandering by the sea;
The forest is my loyal friend,
Like God it useth me.
In plains that room for shadows make
Of skirting hills to lie,
Bound in by streams which give and take
Their colors from the sky;
Or on the mountain-crest sublime,
Or down the oaken glade,
O what have I to do with time?
For this the day was made.
Cities of mortals woe-begone
Fantastic care derides,
But in the serious landscape lone
Stern benefit abides.
Sheen will tarnish, honey cloy,
And merry is only a mask of sad,
But, sober on a fund of joy,
The woods at heart are glad.
There the great Planter plants
Of fruitful worlds the grain,
And with a million spells enchants
The souls that walk in pain.
Still on the seeds of all he made
The rose of beauty burns;
Through times that wear and forms that fade,
Immortal youth returns.
The black ducks mounting from the lake,
The pigeon in the pines,
The bittern's boom, a desert make
Which no false art refines.
Down in yon watery nook,
Where bearded mists divide,
The gray old gods whom Chaos knew,
The sires of Nature, hide.
Aloft, in secret veins of air,
Blows the sweet breath of song,
O, few to scale those uplands dare,
Though they to all belong!
See thou bring not to field or stone
The fancies found in books;
Leave authors' eyes, and fetch your own,
To brave the landscape's looks.
Oblivion here thy wisdom is,
Thy thrift, the sleep of cares;
For a proud idleness like this
Crowns all thy mean affairs.
Word Meaning:
Waldeinsamkeit - German - means "A feeling of solitude, being alone in the woods and a connectedness to nature."
Source: Maptia Blog
I do not count the hours I spend
In wandering by the sea;
The forest is my loyal friend,
Like God it useth me.
In plains that room for shadows make
Of skirting hills to lie,
Bound in by streams which give and take
Their colors from the sky;
Or on the mountain-crest sublime,
Or down the oaken glade,
O what have I to do with time?
For this the day was made.
Cities of mortals woe-begone
Fantastic care derides,
But in the serious landscape lone
Stern benefit abides.
Sheen will tarnish, honey cloy,
And merry is only a mask of sad,
But, sober on a fund of joy,
The woods at heart are glad.
There the great Planter plants
Of fruitful worlds the grain,
And with a million spells enchants
The souls that walk in pain.
Still on the seeds of all he made
The rose of beauty burns;
Through times that wear and forms that fade,
Immortal youth returns.
The black ducks mounting from the lake,
The pigeon in the pines,
The bittern's boom, a desert make
Which no false art refines.
Down in yon watery nook,
Where bearded mists divide,
The gray old gods whom Chaos knew,
The sires of Nature, hide.
Aloft, in secret veins of air,
Blows the sweet breath of song,
O, few to scale those uplands dare,
Though they to all belong!
See thou bring not to field or stone
The fancies found in books;
Leave authors' eyes, and fetch your own,
To brave the landscape's looks.
Oblivion here thy wisdom is,
Thy thrift, the sleep of cares;
For a proud idleness like this
Crowns all thy mean affairs.
Word Meaning:
Waldeinsamkeit - German - means "A feeling of solitude, being alone in the woods and a connectedness to nature."
Source: Maptia Blog
9 January 2014
WHEN GREAT TREES FALL
When great trees fall,
rocks on distant hills shudder,
lions hunker down
in tall grasses,
and even elephants
lumber after safety.
When great trees fall
in forests,
small things recoil into silence,
their senses
eroded beyond fear.
When great souls die,
the air around us becomes
light, rare, sterile.
We breathe, briefly.
Our eyes, briefly,
see with
a hurtful clarity.
Our memory, suddenly sharpened,
examines,
gnaws on kind words
unsaid,
promised walks
never taken.
Great souls die and
our reality, bound to
them, takes leave of us.
Our souls,
dependent upon their
nurture,
now shrink, wizened.
Our minds, formed
and informed by their
radiance,
fall away.
We are not so much maddened
as reduced to the unutterable ignorance
of dark, cold
caves.
And when great souls die,
after a period peace blooms,
slowly and always
irregularly. Spaces fill
with a kind of
soothing electric vibration.
Our senses, restored, never
to be the same, whisper to us.
They existed. They existed.
We can be. Be and be
better. For they existed.”
༺♥༻Maya Angelou༺♥༻
rocks on distant hills shudder,
lions hunker down
in tall grasses,
and even elephants
lumber after safety.
When great trees fall
in forests,
small things recoil into silence,
their senses
eroded beyond fear.
When great souls die,
the air around us becomes
light, rare, sterile.
We breathe, briefly.
Our eyes, briefly,
see with
a hurtful clarity.
Our memory, suddenly sharpened,
examines,
gnaws on kind words
unsaid,
promised walks
never taken.
Great souls die and
our reality, bound to
them, takes leave of us.
Our souls,
dependent upon their
nurture,
now shrink, wizened.
Our minds, formed
and informed by their
radiance,
fall away.
We are not so much maddened
as reduced to the unutterable ignorance
of dark, cold
caves.
And when great souls die,
after a period peace blooms,
slowly and always
irregularly. Spaces fill
with a kind of
soothing electric vibration.
Our senses, restored, never
to be the same, whisper to us.
They existed. They existed.
We can be. Be and be
better. For they existed.”
༺♥༻Maya Angelou༺♥༻
21 December 2013
INVICTUS
༺♥༻༺♥༻༺♥༻༺♥༻
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
-William Ernest Henley
1849-1903
༺♥༻༺♥༻༺♥༻༺♥༻
Hamba Kahla Tata Mandela!
༺♥༻༺♥༻༺♥༻༺♥༻
Hamba Kahla Tata Mandela!
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