by Edgar Allan Poe
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
I and my Annabel Lee—
With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we—
Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in Heaven above
Nor the demons down under the sea
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea—
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
On this day in 1849 Edgar Allan Poe's "Annabel Lee" was published, just two days after his death. (October 11)
Source: Everyman's Library
18 October 2014
SWEENEY AMONG THE NIGHTINGALES
by T. S. Eliot (1888 - 1965)
Apeneck Sweeney spreads his knees
Letting his arms hang down to laugh,
The zebra stripes along his jaw
Swelling to maculate giraffe.
The circles of the stormy moon
Slide westward toward the River Plate,
Death and the Raven drift above
And Sweeney guards the horned gate.
Gloomy Orion and the Dog
Are veiled; and hushed the shrunken seas;
The person in the Spanish cape
Tries to sit on Sweeney’s knees
Slips and pulls the table cloth
Overturns a coffee-cup,
Reorganized upon the floor
She yawns and draws a stocking up;
The silent man in mocha brown
Sprawls at the window-sill and gapes;
The waiter brings in oranges
Bananas figs and hothouse grapes;
The silent vertebrate in brown
Contracts and concentrates, withdraws;
Rachel née Rabinovitch
Tears at the grapes with murderous paws;
She and the lady in the cape
Are suspect, thought to be in league;
Therefore the man with heavy eyes
Declines the gambit, shows fatigue,
Leaves the room and reappears
Outside the window, leaning in,
Branches of wistaria
Circumscribe a golden grin;
The host with someone indistinct
Converses at the door apart,
The nightingales are singing near
The Convent of the Sacred Heart,
And sang within the bloody wood
When Agamemnon cried aloud,
And let their liquid droppings fall
To stain the stiff dishonoured shroud.
Source: Everyman's Library
Apeneck Sweeney spreads his knees
Letting his arms hang down to laugh,
The zebra stripes along his jaw
Swelling to maculate giraffe.
The circles of the stormy moon
Slide westward toward the River Plate,
Death and the Raven drift above
And Sweeney guards the horned gate.
Gloomy Orion and the Dog
Are veiled; and hushed the shrunken seas;
The person in the Spanish cape
Tries to sit on Sweeney’s knees
Slips and pulls the table cloth
Overturns a coffee-cup,
Reorganized upon the floor
She yawns and draws a stocking up;
The silent man in mocha brown
Sprawls at the window-sill and gapes;
The waiter brings in oranges
Bananas figs and hothouse grapes;
The silent vertebrate in brown
Contracts and concentrates, withdraws;
Rachel née Rabinovitch
Tears at the grapes with murderous paws;
She and the lady in the cape
Are suspect, thought to be in league;
Therefore the man with heavy eyes
Declines the gambit, shows fatigue,
Leaves the room and reappears
Outside the window, leaning in,
Branches of wistaria
Circumscribe a golden grin;
The host with someone indistinct
Converses at the door apart,
The nightingales are singing near
The Convent of the Sacred Heart,
And sang within the bloody wood
When Agamemnon cried aloud,
And let their liquid droppings fall
To stain the stiff dishonoured shroud.
Source: Everyman's Library
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 the 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 steam
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 taints its equal gleam,
And ages drop in it like rain.
Source: Everyman's Library
Ralph Waldo Emerson is one of the best-loved figures in nineteenth-century American literature. Though he earned his central place in our culture as an essayist and philosopher, since his death his reputation as a poet has grown as well. Known for challenging traditional thought and for his faith in the individual, Emerson was the chief spokesman for the Transcendentalist movement. His poems speak to his most passionately held belief: that external authority should be disregarded in favor of one’s own experience. From the embattled farmers who “fired the shot heard round the world” in the stirring “Concord Hymn,” to the flower in “The Rhodora,” whose existence demonstrates “that if eyes were made for seeing, / Then Beauty is its own excuse for being,” Emerson celebrates the existence of the sublime in the human and in nature. Combining intensity of feeling with his famous idealism, Emerson’s poems reveal a moving, more intimate side of the man revered as the Sage of Concord.
Thy summer voice, Musketaquit,
Repeats the music of the rain;
But sweeter rivers pulsing flit
Through thee, as thou through the 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 steam
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 taints its equal gleam,
And ages drop in it like rain.
Source: Everyman's Library
Ralph Waldo Emerson is one of the best-loved figures in nineteenth-century American literature. Though he earned his central place in our culture as an essayist and philosopher, since his death his reputation as a poet has grown as well. Known for challenging traditional thought and for his faith in the individual, Emerson was the chief spokesman for the Transcendentalist movement. His poems speak to his most passionately held belief: that external authority should be disregarded in favor of one’s own experience. From the embattled farmers who “fired the shot heard round the world” in the stirring “Concord Hymn,” to the flower in “The Rhodora,” whose existence demonstrates “that if eyes were made for seeing, / Then Beauty is its own excuse for being,” Emerson celebrates the existence of the sublime in the human and in nature. Combining intensity of feeling with his famous idealism, Emerson’s poems reveal a moving, more intimate side of the man revered as the Sage of Concord.
15 October 2014
AUTUMN
Soon we will plunge ourselves into cold shadows,
And all of summer's stunning afternoons will be gone.
I already hear the dead thuds of logs below
Falling on the cobblestones and the lawn.
All of winter will return to me:
derision, Hate, shuddering, horror, drudgery and vice,
And exiled, like the sun, to a polar prison,
My soul will harden into a block of red ice.
I shiver as I listen to each log crash and slam:
The echoes are as dull as executioners' drums.
My mind is like a tower that slowly succumbs
To the blows of a relentless battering ram.
It seems to me, swaying to these shocks, that someone
Is nailing down a coffin in a hurry somewhere.
For whom? -- It was summer yesterday; now it's autumn.
Echoes of departure keep resounding in the air.
~Charles Baudelaire
*
Modern poetry begins with Charles Baudelaire (1821-67), who employed his unequalled technical mastery to create the shadowy, desperately dramatic urban landscape -- populated by the addicted and the damned -- which so compellingly mirrors our modern condition. Deeply though darkly spiritual, titanic in the changes he wrought, Baudelaire looms over all the work, great and small, created in his wake.
Source: Everyman's Library
29 September 2014
THE MORE LOVING ONE
"Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.
How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.
Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.
Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time."
by W. H. Auden
Source: Everyman's Library
W.H. Auden died in Vienna, Austria on this day in 1973 (aged 66).
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.
How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.
Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.
Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time."
by W. H. Auden
Source: Everyman's Library
W.H. Auden died in Vienna, Austria on this day in 1973 (aged 66).
25 September 2014
SEE ON THE INSIDE
♥*✿*•♥
Sometimes people are quick
to judge others,
when what you see
isn't really all there.
People have different moods
different personalities
different desires,
so what you're really seeing
is only a mask,
of what others want you to see.
On the inside,
we all have the same desires,
a kind smile,
a warm heart,
a tender soul,
all wanting to be reached
on the inside.
We're all not perfect,
only human,
we'll have ups and downs
like a merry-go-round,
we'll make many mistakes.
But just remember,
the next time you see a person,
do not judge whats on
the outside,
we could be having a bad day.
Try and see on the inside,
and you will see,
the kind smile,
the warm heart,
the tender soul,
reaching out....
Copyright © Sherri Emily Avery
Source: Positive Thoughts
Sometimes people are quick
to judge others,
when what you see
isn't really all there.
People have different moods
different personalities
different desires,
so what you're really seeing
is only a mask,
of what others want you to see.
On the inside,
we all have the same desires,
a kind smile,
a warm heart,
a tender soul,
all wanting to be reached
on the inside.
We're all not perfect,
only human,
we'll have ups and downs
like a merry-go-round,
we'll make many mistakes.
But just remember,
the next time you see a person,
do not judge whats on
the outside,
we could be having a bad day.
Try and see on the inside,
and you will see,
the kind smile,
the warm heart,
the tender soul,
reaching out....
Copyright © Sherri Emily Avery
Source: Positive Thoughts
23 September 2014
Where Peaceful Waters Flow
To dance upon the earth,
And cradled in the sands of time,
Comes a newborn babies'' birth.
A gentle breeze blows through the night,
It whispers through the grass,
And ripples on the water form
As rain glistens on the glass.
And you listen to the sound,
The Lords' presence all around.
He summons us to go
Where peaceful waters flow.
A rainbow arcs across the sky,
A promise is displayed.
The graceful flight of a butterfly,
It takes my breath away.
The autumn leaves in their splendor
Fall gracefully to the earth,
And stars proclaim their song at night,
What is their beauty worth?
And you listen to the sound,
The Lords' presence all around.
He summons us to go
Where peaceful waters flow.
© Keith Burroughs
Feb 2011
Source: Family Friends Poetry
I'M NO STRANGER TO THE RAIN
I'm no stranger to the rain
I'm a friend of thunder
Friend, is it any wonder lightning strikes me
I've fought with the devil
Got down on his level
But I never gave in, so he gave up on me
I'm no stranger to the rain
I can spot bad weather
And I'm good at finding shelter in a downpour
I've been sacrificed by brothers
Crucified by lovers
But through it all I've withstood the pain
I'm no stranger to the rain
But when I get that foggy feeling
The one I'm a feelin' now
If I don't keep my head, I may drown
But it's hard to keep believing
I'll even come out even
While the rain beats a hole in the ground
And tonight it's really coming down
I'm no stranger to the rain
But there'll always be tomorrow
And I'll beg, steal, or borrow a little sunshine
I'll put this cloud behind me
That's how the Man designed me
To ride the wind and dance in hurricanes
I'm no stranger to the rain
Oh, no, I'm no stranger to the rain
I'm no stranger to the rain
I'm a friend of thunder
Friend, is it any wonder lightning strikes me
But I'll put this cloud behind me
That's how the Man designed me
To ride the wind and dance in hurricanes
I'm no stranger to the rain.
~Keith Whitley
I'm a friend of thunder
Friend, is it any wonder lightning strikes me
I've fought with the devil
Got down on his level
But I never gave in, so he gave up on me
I'm no stranger to the rain
I can spot bad weather
And I'm good at finding shelter in a downpour
I've been sacrificed by brothers
Crucified by lovers
But through it all I've withstood the pain
I'm no stranger to the rain
But when I get that foggy feeling
The one I'm a feelin' now
If I don't keep my head, I may drown
But it's hard to keep believing
I'll even come out even
While the rain beats a hole in the ground
And tonight it's really coming down
I'm no stranger to the rain
But there'll always be tomorrow
And I'll beg, steal, or borrow a little sunshine
I'll put this cloud behind me
That's how the Man designed me
To ride the wind and dance in hurricanes
I'm no stranger to the rain
Oh, no, I'm no stranger to the rain
I'm no stranger to the rain
I'm a friend of thunder
Friend, is it any wonder lightning strikes me
But I'll put this cloud behind me
That's how the Man designed me
To ride the wind and dance in hurricanes
I'm no stranger to the rain.
~Keith Whitley
21 September 2014
A GIFTED PAINTER
If I were a gifted painter,
I would paint a world of delight.
If I were a wordsmith of note,
I would create a universe of kindness.
If my voice could entrance generations,
My music would echo round the globe.
I am simply what I am,
A Soul blessed with sight.
I see what the World could be.
I speak of Life, Joy and Love.
I build with my heart,
To the eternal tune of the song of Light.
Paint Your own world in your colors.
Sing Your own song in the key-of-you.
Write upon the ages
The Beauty of your Heart.
Let the Light of your Soul
Create your Own Life.
~Dulce Caramia
I would paint a world of delight.
If I were a wordsmith of note,
I would create a universe of kindness.
If my voice could entrance generations,
My music would echo round the globe.
I am simply what I am,
A Soul blessed with sight.
I see what the World could be.
I speak of Life, Joy and Love.
I build with my heart,
To the eternal tune of the song of Light.
Paint Your own world in your colors.
Sing Your own song in the key-of-you.
Write upon the ages
The Beauty of your Heart.
Let the Light of your Soul
Create your Own Life.
~Dulce Caramia
2 August 2014
A GENTLE BREEZE
As I sit here all alone admiring the view of an early sunrise
I tilt my head back and close my eyes.
A soft gentle breeze crosses my face
I look around and enjoy the quietness of God's peace and the soft gentle pace
The trees are in full bloom, the leaves ready to fall
God's beauty of earth, I admire it all.
As the sun comes up and begins a new day
I sit here quietly and begin to pray.
Dear God, I begin to say, please watch over my life and keep me safe
Give me hope and show me faith.
Guide my path and let me know you are near.
Allow me to be strong and filled with love, for love conquers all fear.
A gentle breeze crosses my path, and gives me a slight chill
God answers and says: I am with you still.
I've never left you alone, or threw you aside, I am in your heart, I will be your guide.
I will show you the way to master life's difficulties, and trust your heart,
For I am with you now and forever, I shall never part.
A gentle breeze I feel again, I know my prayers are answered, God has heard my plea.
He has pointed this out for me to see.
Life has many surprises each and every day. We cannot live on regrets and sorrow.
Once again I feel a gentle breeze which means God is saying:
My child there is a tomorrow:
The sun will shine once again, the birds will continue to sing.
Memories will last forever, and enjoy life a new today, and all that it may bring.
© Laurie Swartzfager
September 2011
Source: Family Friend Poems
12 July 2014
LIGHT
♥*✿*•♥
I am blue
I am ocean
I am sky
I am brown
I am soil
I am the roots
that never die
I am yellow
I am sun
I am stars
I am red
I am blood
I am every beat
of my waking heart.
I am orange
I am fire
I am the get set
before the go.
I am green
I am the trees
I am the moss which
finds beauty
in cracks and holes.
I am white
I am cotton trees
I am the moon
The falling snow
I am grey
I am mountain
I am rock, pebbles
and stone.
I am all life
I am all colour
Earth is my mother.
Life is my father.
In embracing
every colour
of our souls
We find the love.
We find home.
This you are this
This you are that
No, we are it all
together,
Our souls deep down
Remember that.
Why war?
Because we deny our colours.
We go against nature
trying just to be one and
no way the other.
But one day
I believe the heart
Will say that
too much red
has been shed.
And we will bow
before the blue,
the brown and the green
and the healing
will begin
all the colours will
again fuse as a
glorious team.
There will be no just black
or no just white.
We will realise our rainbow
heritage.
We will remember
all colours come from
Light.
by SC Lourie, from Light
27 June 2014
"CHILDREN" by Khalil Gibran
Source: Everyman's Library
"And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, 'Speak to us of Children.'
And he said:
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 children as 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 your 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."
A bilingual anthology of poems from the sixth century to the present, Arabic Poems is a one-of-a-kind showcase of a fascinating literary tradition. The Arabic poetic legacy is as vast as it is deep, spanning a period of fifteen centuries in regions from Morocco to Iraq. Themes of love, nature, religion, and politics recur in works drawn from the pre-Islamic oral tradition through poems anticipating the recent Arab Spring. Editor Marlé Hammond has selected more than fifty poems reflecting desire and longing of various kinds: for the beloved, for the divine, for the homeland, and for change and renewal. Poets include the legendary pre-Islamic warrior ‘Antara, medieval Andalusian poet Ibn Zaydun, the mystical poet Rabi‘a al-‘Adawiyya, and the influential Egyptian Romantic Ahmad Zaki Abu Shadi. Here too are literary giants of the past century: Khalil Gibran , author of the best-selling The Prophet; popular Syrian poet Nizar Qabbani; Palestinian feminist Fadwa Tuqan; Mahmoud Darwish, bard of occupation and exile; acclaimed iconoclast Adonis; and more. In their evocations of heroism, nostalgia, mysticism, grief, and passion, the poems gathered here transcend the limitations of time and place.
"And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, 'Speak to us of Children.'
And he said:
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 children as 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 your 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."
A bilingual anthology of poems from the sixth century to the present, Arabic Poems is a one-of-a-kind showcase of a fascinating literary tradition. The Arabic poetic legacy is as vast as it is deep, spanning a period of fifteen centuries in regions from Morocco to Iraq. Themes of love, nature, religion, and politics recur in works drawn from the pre-Islamic oral tradition through poems anticipating the recent Arab Spring. Editor Marlé Hammond has selected more than fifty poems reflecting desire and longing of various kinds: for the beloved, for the divine, for the homeland, and for change and renewal. Poets include the legendary pre-Islamic warrior ‘Antara, medieval Andalusian poet Ibn Zaydun, the mystical poet Rabi‘a al-‘Adawiyya, and the influential Egyptian Romantic Ahmad Zaki Abu Shadi. Here too are literary giants of the past century: Khalil Gibran , author of the best-selling The Prophet; popular Syrian poet Nizar Qabbani; Palestinian feminist Fadwa Tuqan; Mahmoud Darwish, bard of occupation and exile; acclaimed iconoclast Adonis; and more. In their evocations of heroism, nostalgia, mysticism, grief, and passion, the poems gathered here transcend the limitations of time and place.
12 June 2014
"PEACEFUL WATERS"
"Thus, the first instruction toward Peace:
is not to be silent, nor to act on a roll of dice.
The first instruction toward Peace is:
One cannot step into the same water twice.
Thus, Peace I leave with you;
My peace I give to you.
And may it be so, world without end.
This being a Truth no human can undo.
For Peace comes from loving what ought never be un-loved,
from an eternal bell that cannot be unrung for any price….
Peace comes from ever knowing in love and in life,
one cannot step into the same water twice."
~Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes
✻ღ♥*✿*•♥ღ✻
Source: Tim Cox Fine Arts
is not to be silent, nor to act on a roll of dice.
The first instruction toward Peace is:
One cannot step into the same water twice.
Thus, Peace I leave with you;
My peace I give to you.
And may it be so, world without end.
This being a Truth no human can undo.
For Peace comes from loving what ought never be un-loved,
from an eternal bell that cannot be unrung for any price….
Peace comes from ever knowing in love and in life,
one cannot step into the same water twice."
~Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes
✻ღ♥*✿*•♥ღ✻
Source: Tim Cox Fine Arts
4 June 2014
MAN OF THE SEA
D. H. Lawrence
Do you see the sea, breaking itself to bits against
the islands
yet remaining unbroken, the level great sea?
Have I caught from it
the tide in my arms
that runs down to the shallows of my wrists,
and breaks
abroad in my hands, like the waves among the rocks
of substance?
Do the rollers of the sea
roll down my thighs
and over the submerged islets of my knees
with power, sea-power
sea-power
to break against the ground
in the flat, recurrent breakers of my two feet?
And is my body ocean, ocean
whose power runs to the shores along my arms
and breaks in the foamy hands, whose power rolls out
to the white-trending waves of two salt feet?
I am the sea, I am the sea!
Source: Everyman's Library
Do you see the sea, breaking itself to bits against
the islands
yet remaining unbroken, the level great sea?
Have I caught from it
the tide in my arms
that runs down to the shallows of my wrists,
and breaks
abroad in my hands, like the waves among the rocks
of substance?
Do the rollers of the sea
roll down my thighs
and over the submerged islets of my knees
with power, sea-power
sea-power
to break against the ground
in the flat, recurrent breakers of my two feet?
And is my body ocean, ocean
whose power runs to the shores along my arms
and breaks in the foamy hands, whose power rolls out
to the white-trending waves of two salt feet?
I am the sea, I am the sea!
Source: Everyman's Library
30 May 2014
STILL I'LL RISE
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may tread 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 wells
Pumping 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
I rise.
╔═════ ೋღ☃ღೋ ═════╗
RIP: 28 May 2014
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may tread 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 wells
Pumping 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
I rise.
╔═════ ೋღ☃ღೋ ═════╗
Maya Angelou╚═════ ೋღ☃ღೋ ═════╝
RIP: 28 May 2014
24 May 2014
WHERE WE BELONG
we'll find a place
to call our own
it won't be long now
we're almost home
reflections of another time
reflections of another place
the light above
rained down its grace
it's here and now
this time is ours
this journey now
this road we're on
is where we belong
remember us
remember when
so long ago
when it was cold
deep in the woods
the autumn chill
hung in the air
we didn't care
this is our time
this is our place
it's not a dream
this love is real
i can feel it in
my heart can feel
it in my soul
this is where
we both belong.
~Michael Traveler
Postcards from the Past
✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧
to call our own
it won't be long now
we're almost home
reflections of another time
reflections of another place
the light above
rained down its grace
it's here and now
this time is ours
this journey now
this road we're on
is where we belong
remember us
remember when
so long ago
when it was cold
deep in the woods
the autumn chill
hung in the air
we didn't care
this is our time
this is our place
it's not a dream
this love is real
i can feel it in
my heart can feel
it in my soul
this is where
we both belong.
~Michael Traveler
Postcards from the Past
✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧
21 May 2014
TIME PASSED
There was a time in my life that I fell in a hole.
I’m not proud about it.
I saw it coming and I still fell in.
It hurt I cried... I cried a lot.
The hole was dark.
I was terrified I might never find my way out.
Time passed.
I planted bitter seeds in the bare earth.
My eyes adjusted to the darkness.
I was still in a hole, but it was MY hole.
It wasn’t so bad.
Time passed.
I began to decorate the walls.
I lined the shelves with books.
I stocked the larder.
It felt comfortable in the hole now.
It wasn’t so bad.
Time passed.
The wall paper began to sag and tear away from the walls. My eyes could see the bare earth beneath.
I saw the roots of the bitter seeds I had planted.
I blessed their gnarled form.
I touched their withered blooms.
I whispered sweet soulful words of hope.
I still cried.... but now I prayed.
Time passed.
I began to read books.
My mind grew curious.
My eyes grew wise.
My heart grew bold.
My body grew restless.
I startled the darkness with a giggle.
It felt wonderful.
I read more, asked more, wanted more.
I grew bold
There was a time when I climbed out of a hole.
©Kristin Louise Granger
23/8/13
Source: FB via Butterflies and Pebbles
I’m not proud about it.
I saw it coming and I still fell in.
It hurt I cried... I cried a lot.
The hole was dark.
I was terrified I might never find my way out.
Time passed.
I planted bitter seeds in the bare earth.
My eyes adjusted to the darkness.
I was still in a hole, but it was MY hole.
It wasn’t so bad.
Time passed.
I began to decorate the walls.
I lined the shelves with books.
I stocked the larder.
It felt comfortable in the hole now.
It wasn’t so bad.
Time passed.
The wall paper began to sag and tear away from the walls. My eyes could see the bare earth beneath.
I saw the roots of the bitter seeds I had planted.
I blessed their gnarled form.
I touched their withered blooms.
I whispered sweet soulful words of hope.
I still cried.... but now I prayed.
Time passed.
I began to read books.
My mind grew curious.
My eyes grew wise.
My heart grew bold.
My body grew restless.
I startled the darkness with a giggle.
It felt wonderful.
I read more, asked more, wanted more.
I grew bold
There was a time when I climbed out of a hole.
©Kristin Louise Granger
23/8/13
Source: FB via Butterflies and Pebbles
PROMISE YOURSELF
Promise Yourself
To be so strong that nothing
can disturb your peace of mind.
To talk health, happiness, and prosperity
to every person you meet.
To make all your friends feel
that there is something in them
To look at the sunny side of everything
and make your optimism come true.
To think only the best, to work only for the best,
and to expect only the best.
To be just as enthusiastic about the success of others
as you are about your own.
To forget the mistakes of the past
and press on to the greater achievements of the future.
To wear a cheerful countenance at all times
and give every living creature you meet a smile.
To give so much time to the improvement of yourself
that you have no time to criticize others.
To be too large for worry, too noble for anger, too strong for fear,
and too happy to permit the presence of trouble.
To think well of yourself and to proclaim this fact to the world,
not in loud words but great deeds.
To live in faith that the whole world is on your side
so long as you are true to the best that is in you.
✿*•..¸✿ Christian D. Larson ✿*•..¸✿
Source: Journey to Peace
To be so strong that nothing
can disturb your peace of mind.
To talk health, happiness, and prosperity
to every person you meet.
To make all your friends feel
that there is something in them
To look at the sunny side of everything
and make your optimism come true.
To think only the best, to work only for the best,
and to expect only the best.
To be just as enthusiastic about the success of others
as you are about your own.
To forget the mistakes of the past
and press on to the greater achievements of the future.
To wear a cheerful countenance at all times
and give every living creature you meet a smile.
To give so much time to the improvement of yourself
that you have no time to criticize others.
To be too large for worry, too noble for anger, too strong for fear,
and too happy to permit the presence of trouble.
To think well of yourself and to proclaim this fact to the world,
not in loud words but great deeds.
To live in faith that the whole world is on your side
so long as you are true to the best that is in you.
✿*•..¸✿ Christian D. Larson ✿*•..¸✿
Source: Journey to Peace
2 May 2014
"POPPIES ON LUDLOW CASTLE"
by Willa Cather (1873-1947)
"THROUGH halls of vanished pleasure,
And hold of vanished power,
And crypt of faith forgotten,
A came to Ludlow tower.
A-top of arch and stairway,
Of crypt and donjan cell,
Of council hall, and chamber,
Of wall, and ditch, and well,
High over grated turrets
Where clinging ivies run,
A thousand scarlet poppies
Enticed the rising sun,
Upon the topmost turret,
With death and damp below,--
Three hundred years of spoilage,--
The crimson poppies grow.
This hall it was that bred him,
These hills that knew him brave,
The gentlest English singer
That fills an English grave.
How have they heart to blossom
So cruel and gay and red,
When beauty so hath perished
And valour so hath sped?
When knights so fair are rotten,
And captains true asleep,
And singing lips are dust-stopped
Six English earth-feet deep?
When ages old remind me
How much hath gone for naught,
What wretched ghost remaineth
Of all that flesh hath wrought;
Of love and song and warring,
Of adventure and play,
Of art and comely building,
Of faith and form and fray--
I'll mind the flowers of pleasure,
Of short-lived youth and sleep,
That drunk the sunny weather
A-top of Ludlow keep."
Before Willa Cather went on to write the novels that would make her famous, she was known as a poet, the most popular of her poems reprinted many times in national magazines and anthologies. Her first book of poetry, April Twilights, was published in 1903, but Cather significantly revised and expanded it in a 1923 edition entitled April Twilights and Other Poems. This Everyman’s Library edition reproduces for the first time all the poems from both versions of April Twilights, along with a number of uncollected and previously unpublished poems by Cather, as well as an illuminating selection of her newly released letters. In such lyrical poems as “The Hawthorn Tree,” “Winter at Delphi,” “Prairie Spring,” “Poor Marty,” and “Going Home,” Cather exhibits both a finely tuned sensitivity to the beauties of the physical world and a richly symbolic use of the landscapes of myth. The themes that were to animate her later masterpieces found their first expression in these haunting, elegiac ballads and sonnets.
Source: Everyman's Library
"THROUGH halls of vanished pleasure,
And hold of vanished power,
And crypt of faith forgotten,
A came to Ludlow tower.
A-top of arch and stairway,
Of crypt and donjan cell,
Of council hall, and chamber,
Of wall, and ditch, and well,
High over grated turrets
Where clinging ivies run,
A thousand scarlet poppies
Enticed the rising sun,
Upon the topmost turret,
With death and damp below,--
Three hundred years of spoilage,--
The crimson poppies grow.
This hall it was that bred him,
These hills that knew him brave,
The gentlest English singer
That fills an English grave.
How have they heart to blossom
So cruel and gay and red,
When beauty so hath perished
And valour so hath sped?
When knights so fair are rotten,
And captains true asleep,
And singing lips are dust-stopped
Six English earth-feet deep?
When ages old remind me
How much hath gone for naught,
What wretched ghost remaineth
Of all that flesh hath wrought;
Of love and song and warring,
Of adventure and play,
Of art and comely building,
Of faith and form and fray--
I'll mind the flowers of pleasure,
Of short-lived youth and sleep,
That drunk the sunny weather
A-top of Ludlow keep."
Before Willa Cather went on to write the novels that would make her famous, she was known as a poet, the most popular of her poems reprinted many times in national magazines and anthologies. Her first book of poetry, April Twilights, was published in 1903, but Cather significantly revised and expanded it in a 1923 edition entitled April Twilights and Other Poems. This Everyman’s Library edition reproduces for the first time all the poems from both versions of April Twilights, along with a number of uncollected and previously unpublished poems by Cather, as well as an illuminating selection of her newly released letters. In such lyrical poems as “The Hawthorn Tree,” “Winter at Delphi,” “Prairie Spring,” “Poor Marty,” and “Going Home,” Cather exhibits both a finely tuned sensitivity to the beauties of the physical world and a richly symbolic use of the landscapes of myth. The themes that were to animate her later masterpieces found their first expression in these haunting, elegiac ballads and sonnets.
Source: Everyman's Library
YOU'VE GOT TO
I know just how it feels
to climb a mountain
only to fall back down;
there’s no will to try again
once you’ve hit the ground
But you’ve got to
You’ve got to move,
And I’ll be there
Be right there to help you
I know just how it feels
to spread your wings
only to never fly;
there’s no desire
to give it another try
But you’ve got to
You’ve got to fly,
And I’ll be there
Be right there to fly with you
I know just how it feels
to put one foot in front of the other
only to stumble before you fall;
there’s no strength left
to give it your all
But you’ve got to
You’ve got to walk,
And I’ll be there
Be right there to break your fall
I know just how it feels
to face the world alone
only to realize you were wrong;
there’s a friend there
to help you along
I’ll always be there to help you along
╔═════ ೋღ☃ღೋ ═════╗
to climb a mountain
only to fall back down;
there’s no will to try again
once you’ve hit the ground
But you’ve got to
You’ve got to move,
And I’ll be there
Be right there to help you
I know just how it feels
to spread your wings
only to never fly;
there’s no desire
to give it another try
But you’ve got to
You’ve got to fly,
And I’ll be there
Be right there to fly with you
I know just how it feels
to put one foot in front of the other
only to stumble before you fall;
there’s no strength left
to give it your all
But you’ve got to
You’ve got to walk,
And I’ll be there
Be right there to break your fall
I know just how it feels
to face the world alone
only to realize you were wrong;
there’s a friend there
to help you along
I’ll always be there to help you along
╔═════ ೋღ☃ღೋ ═════╗
Ups, Downs & Roundabouts╚═════ ೋღ☃ღೋ ═════╝
24 April 2014
YOU LEARN
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
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
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 ═════╝
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