RUMI

Lifted from Sufia Jamil with due credit and respect ...

Happy Birthday to our Beloved Rumi

Mevlana Jalaluddin Balkhi, widely known as Rumi, is celebrated as one of the world’s greatest poets, mystics, and thinkers. He was born on September 30, 1207, in Balkh (in present-day Afghanistan). Through his timeless works, he earned a cherished place not only in Persian and Tajik literature, but also in the shared treasury of world culture.

Rumi placed love at the very center of existence. He taught that it is only through love that the soul can reach spiritual perfection and draw closer to God. His verses overflow with kindness, truth, and purity, guiding every reader toward goodness and Universal Love.

Today, Maulana’s fame is truly global. His works, translated into countless languages, continue to inspire and are cherished across Europe, America, and the East. Like a radiant star in the sky of enlightenment, his words illuminate the soul and fill hearts with love.

 For this, Rumi will always remain one of the greatest voices of Humanity. .

Respectfully,

GOODBYE SEPTEMBER

CTTO

NOTES FROM TEACHER AUBREY

Lifted from FB

25 Short Poems You Can Memorize in Under a Minute 🕒✨

 1. Emily Dickinson

“Hope” is the thing with feathers—

That perches in the soul—

And sings the tune without the words—

And never stops—at all—

 2. Robert Frost

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

 3. William Blake

To see a World in a Grain of Sand,

And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,

Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand,

And Eternity in an hour.

 4. Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up

Like a raisin in the sun?

Or does it explode?

 5. Matsuo Bashō (Haiku)

An old silent pond—

A frog jumps into the pond,

Splash! Silence again.

 6. Sara Teasdale

I make the most of all that comes,

And the least of all that goes.

 7. Ezra Pound

The apparition of these faces in the crowd;

Petals on a wet, black bough.

 8. William Shakespeare (Sonnet 18)

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

 9. Edna St. Vincent Millay

My candle burns at both ends;

It will not last the night;

But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends—

It gives a lovely light.

 10. Haiku (Issa)

O snail,

Climb Mount Fuji,

But slowly, slowly!

 11. Ogden Nash

Candy

Is dandy,

But liquor

Is quicker.

 12. Walt Whitman

I sound my barbaric yawp

Over the roofs of the world.

 13. Carl Sandburg

The fog comes

on little cat feet.

 14. Emily Brontë

No coward soul is mine,

No trembler in the world’s storm-troubled sphere.

 15. Emily Dickinson

Because I could not stop for Death—

He kindly stopped for me—

 16. Haiku (Buson)

A summer river being crossed

how pleasing

with sandals in my hands!

 17. Christina Rossetti

Better by far you should forget and smile

Than that you should remember and be sad.

 18. Robert Herrick

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,

Old Time is still a-flying.

 19. Haiku (Bashō)

Winter solitude—

in a world of one color

the sound of wind.

 20. A.E. Housman

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now

Is hung with bloom along the bough.

 21. Emily Dickinson

Tell all the truth but tell it slant—

Success in Circuit lies.

 22. John Donne

No man is an island,

Entire of itself.

 23. Rupi Kaur

you might not have been my first love

but you were the love that made

all the other loves

irrelevant.

 24. Robert Burns

O my Luve’s like a red, red rose

That’s newly sprung in June.

 25. Haiku (Shiki)

After the storm

the empty sky is filled

with autumn voices.

KEEPING QUIET

By Pablo Neruda

Now we will count to twelve

and we will all keep still

for once on the face of the earth,

let’s not speak in any language;

let’s stop for a second,

and not move our arms so much.

It would be an exotic moment

without rush, without engines;

we would all be together

in a sudden strangeness.

Fishermen in the cold sea

would not harm whales

and the man gathering salt

would not look at his hurt hands.

Those who prepare green wars,

wars with gas, wars with fire,

victories with no survivors,

would put on clean clothes

and walk about with their brothers

in the shade, doing nothing.

What I want should not be confused

with total inactivity.

Life is what it is about;

I want no truck with death.

If we were not so single-minded

about keeping our lives moving,

and for once could do nothing,

perhaps a huge silence

might interrupt this sadness

of never understanding ourselves

and of threatening ourselves with death.

Perhaps the earth can teach us

as when everything seems dead

and later proves to be alive.

Now I’ll count up to twelve

and you keep quiet and I will go.

Source: AWAKIN ORG

Short Summary:

The poet Pablo Neruda, in his poem "Keeping Quiet," advocates for moments of pause and reflection to foster peace and harmony in the world.  (Al)

AUTHOR 

Pablo Neruda is a Chilean poet, who started writings poems at the age of 13. He won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1971.

AND WE'D LEARN TO LOVE US TOO

Lifted from Angela L Heft

If one day we swapped places -

I was you and you were me

I wonder what it is that both of us

Would actually see

I wonder if you’d notice

How your smile lights up your face

How when you walk into a room

You brighten up the place

I wonder if you’d see the way

You always make the time

For those who seek you out because

You’re patient and you’re kind

And maybe I would notice

How I always stand my ground

And how I lift up those I love

When they are lost or down

Perhaps I’d notice how

I’m quite content all by myself

And how I’m always there for others

When they ask for help 

And if you felt your patience 

And if you could see your smile

If I could help myself

And feel my kindness for a while

Then maybe we would understand

We cannot be defined 

By all that we fixate on

In our mirrors and our minds 

Yes, if we both swapped places

And had someone else to be

Perhaps we’d come to realise

There’s so much we cannot see

And maybe in the moments

You were me and I was you

We would see why people love us

And we’d learn to love us too..

Source: Women Self-Help

SKY VIEW

Inspiring view from above. 

Photo credit to Lara Allard

7 February 2025

In flight to Launceston TASMANIA 

The pleasantry this horizon bids

It's vast a space that never ends 

The light of day moves through the sky 

The sphere of such kingdom is where 

God's wisdom is seen

Who can ever dare to comprehend.

Leah C. Dancel 

Copyright ©️ 8 August 2025

All rights reserved 

Casula NSW 

A DREAM OF LONG AGO

Copyright Musical piece

A pdf copy removed from storage 

TRIBUTES TO THE WALKERS

My friends who are a family to me whom we lost in a tragic car accident along the Princess  Highway at Kiah NSW.

KIAH

Kiah is a coastal locality on the Princes Highway in southeast New South Wales situated about 220km south-southeast of Canberra (show me) (the nearest capital city). Sydney (show me), the capital of New South Wales, is about 380km north-northeast of Kiah. Kiah is at an elevation of approximately 37m above sea level. Wikipedia 

TO THE ONES WHO STILL BELIEVE IN TENDERNESS

Lifted from Wild Grace Arising

“To the Ones Who Still Believe in Tenderness”

To the ones who still cry at sunsets…

Who hold old letters like relics.

Who light candles when the world feels too loud.

Who speak softly to animals,

and thank the moon just for showing up.

To the ones who love like it’s a prayer.

Not a performance.

Not a bargain.

But a living flame — steady, quiet, true.

To the ones who would rather sit in silence

than offer words that aren’t real.

Who choose kindness,

even when it isn’t returned.

Who show up, even when no one claps.

To you —

You are not too much.

You are not too soft.

You are not alone.

Your tenderness is not a flaw in a hardened world.

It is a light. A bridge. A blessing.

Please don’t dim it.

This world aches for the gentle.

And somewhere — quietly, maybe even now —

someone is praying to meet a heart like yours.

If this speaks to the soft within you,

you’re welcome to share what it stirred —

or simply carry it with you like a secret blessing.

— Wild Grace Arising 🤍🌸✨

© louisejanecarter 2025

LOVE SIMPLY GIVES

By Dostoevsky as created by Carazon

DOSTOEVSKY said

I never needed your love 

in return. 

All I ever wished was 

for your heart

to be at peace.

Because real love

It doesn't ask

It simply gives.

Loving you was never about 

holding on.

It was about feeling alive

in your presence,

About the way you lit up 

the darkest corners of me

without even trying.

You were a warmth 

I never knew I was missing. 

A moment that felt like 

forever 

even if it passed too soon.

You gave me something timeless,

the kind of joy that no goodbye 

can take away.

So even if we part, 

Know this:

I have loved,

I have felt,

and, because of you,

I will never be the same. 

MY WISH FOR YOU

By Ralph Waldo Emerson

This is my wish for you:
Comfort on difficult days,
smiles when sadness intrudes,
rainbows to follow the clouds,
laughter to kiss your lips,
sunsets to warm your heart,
hugs when spirits sag,
beauty for your eyes to see,
friendships to brighten your being,
faith so that you can believe,
confidence for when you doubt,
courage to know yourself,
patience to accept the truth,
Love to complete your life."

✍️ Ralph Waldo Emerson

LEAH DANCEL, GRACE IN MOTON

Composed by Rado Gatchalian

12 June 2025

Leah Dancel, light on the breeze,

A melody woven through whispering trees.

Her laughter dances on golden strings,

A symphony of joy the morning brings.

She moves with grace, both gentle and bold,

A story of kindness in whispers untold.

Her heart, a lantern in a world so wide,

Guiding lost souls with love as her guide.

In every step, a rhythm is spun,

A dance with the stars, a race with the sun.

Leah Dancel, yourspirit takes flight--

A beacon of hope in the softest of light.

DREAMING OF WINTER

By Don Luman-ag

DREAMING OF WINTER

Living in a country,

where it's only wet or dry

To experience snow,

is what I'm raring to try

I dream of a winter wonderland,

My oh my!

But I'm here in the tropics,

Why oh why?

While others get to enjoy,

all four seasons

Here, it's either rain or shine,

for scientific reasons

That's how things work,

it's been that way for eons

So we just content ourselves,

with the help of freons

© Don Luman-ag

5:20 AM, Thursday, 13 June 2024

Samal Island, Philippines

DEATH AND GRIEF

CTTO

INVICTUS

By William Ernest Henley

Invictus

By William Ernest Henley

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.

✍️

  🌟 Dive deeper into Victorian resilience! 

DUST OF SNOW

By Robert Frost

THE OLD VIOLIN

By Myra Brooks Welch

''The old Violin ''

'Twas battered and scarred,

And the auctioneer thought it

hardly worth his while

To waste his time on the old violin,

but he held it up with a smile.

"What am I bid, good people", he cried,

"Who starts the bidding for me?"

"One dollar, one dollar, Do I hear two?"

"Two dollars, who makes it three?"

"Three dollars once, three dollars twice, going for three,"

But, No,

From the room far back a gray bearded man

Came forward and picked up the bow,

Then wiping the dust from the old violin

And tightening up the strings,

He played a melody, pure and sweet

As sweet as the angel sings.

The music ceased and the auctioneer

With a voice that was quiet and low,

Said "What now am I bid for this old violin?"

As he held it aloft with its' bow.

"One thousand, one thousand, Do I hear two?"

"Two thousand, Who makes it three?"

"Three thousand once, three thousand twice,

Going and gone", said he.

The audience cheered,

But some of them cried,

"We just don't understand."

"What changed its' worth?"

Swift came the reply.

"The Touch of the Masters Hand."

"And many a man with life out of tune

All battered and bruised with hardship

Is auctioned cheap to a thoughtless crowd

Much like that old violin.

A mess of pottage, a glass of wine,

A game and he travels on.

He is going once, he is going twice,

He is going and almost gone.

But the Master comes,

And the foolish crowd never can quite understand,

The worth of a soul and the change that is wrought

By the Touch of the Masters' Hand.

Source: FB

- 

MUM and DAD

Lifted from MISSING YOU MOM AND DAD

🕊️ To My Mom and Dad:

You didn’t just give me your name,

You built the soul from which I came.

You taught me love that doesn’t fade,

And strength in silence gently laid.

You showed up when the days were long,

You stood behind me, firm and strong.

No need for words to feel your grace—

Your love was always in its place.

I carry both of you each day,

In all I do, in what I say.

In how I give, in how I stand,

You’re still the ones who shaped my hands.

Though time has taken you from here,

Your presence still feels ever near.

I miss you more than I can say—

But I’ll love you both in every way.

Source: FB 1 June 2025

THE WAY THROUGHOUT

By Adam Murray

Credit to  Pam Bell

The Way Through

Walk slowly,

not as one chasing applause,

but as one who knows

where their hope is anchored.

Move with purpose,

but leave space for mercy...

for interruptions that look like people,

for detours that become divine appointments.

Speak only what builds.

Hold back the need

to always be right.

Let your words taste like grace...

seasoned, steady,

never sharp with ego.

Carry light,

not burdens that don’t belong to you.

And when the road grows steep,

lean hard into prayer...

not as a last resort,

but as your first breath.

Forgive often.

Not because it’s easy,

but because it’s freeing.

And love...

not just the ones who love you back,

but the ones who forgot how to receive it.

Stay rooted

when the world rushes past.

Be faithful in small things.

Do the unseen work

like it matters to God...

because it does.

And when the time comes

to speak truth,

do it in love...

not to win,

but to lift.

This is the way through life:

not in spotlight,

but in surrender.

Not by force,

but by faithfulness.

A RIPPLE OF BLESSINGS

By Jeffrey Cejero

12 May 2025

Foreword:

She is not weak. Her strength lies in her softness. She is a ripple of blessings. This poem is a tribute to our pure, beautiful and powerful mothers.

Happy Mother's Day!
 

*****

A Ripple of Blessings

jepoy

Her heart is not stone but water,

cool as a spring,

soft as mist,

flowing in silence,

mistakenly weak yet stronger than anything that breaks.

When the earth is cracked with loneliness,

she brings the gift of rain,

filling hollow places

so you remember you are not alone.

She carries weight like ocean depths,

letting go of pieces...

a warm cup, a gentle gaze,

your sorrow held in her soothing embrace

to make space for you.

She carves beauty with time, quenching thirst,

her touch cool as riverwater,

her presence like dawn's dew

as if it were a gift fallen from heaven.

In her stillness, you see yourself.

Her waves don't crash,

they kiss the shore, your feet, your fears.

She flows to guide and not to flee,

her voice a lullaby of leaves and rain.

She washes away tears, doubts, unspoken fears...

She is what we seek

when hearts run dry,

when our souls are tired,

when hopes and dreams are burned to ashes.

Just a drop of her is a ripple of blessings.

She is like water.

She is mother.

OH CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN!

Lifted from Bookish Literature 

O Captain! My Captain!

BY WALT WHITMAN

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,

The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,

The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,

While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;

                         But O heart! heart! heart!

                            O the bleeding drops of red,

                               Where on the deck my Captain lies,

                                  Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;

Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,

For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,

For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;

                         Here Captain! dear father!

                            This arm beneath your head!

                               It is some dream that on the deck,

                                 You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,

My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,

The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,

From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;

                         Exult O shores, and ring O bells!

                            But I with mournful tread,

                               Walk the deck my Captain lies,

                                  Fallen cold and dead.

_______________________________________________________________

This poem is an elegy for President Abraham Lincoln, who was assassinated in 1865, shortly after the end of the American Civil War. The poem uses an extended metaphor of a ship returning to port after a perilous voyage, while the captain lies dead on the deck. 

The speaker, a sailor, mourns the loss of his captain and father figure, while the rest of the nation celebrates the victory and peace.

The poem was first published in 1865 in a collection called Sequel to Drum-Taps, which contained Whitman’s poems inspired by the events of the Civil War.

Later, it was included in the 1867 and subsequent editions of Leaves of Grass, Whitman’s most famous work. The poem is one of Whitman’s most conventional poems, as it follows a regular rhyme scheme and meter, unlike much of his other free verse poetry. 

The poem is also one of Whitman’s most popular and quoted poems, as it captures the mood of a nation in mourning and pays tribute to one of its greatest leaders.

IF TOMORROW STARTS WITHOUT ME

Lifted from English Literature

If Tomorrow Starts Without Me 

(Saddest Poem Ever)

When tomorrow starts without me,

And I'm not there to see,

If the sun should rise and find your eyes

all filled with tears for me,

I wish so much you wouldn't cry

The way you did today,

While thinking of the many things,

We didn't get to say.

I know how much you love me,

As much as I love you,

and each time that you think of me,

I know you'll miss me too.

But when tomorrow starts without me,

Please try to understand,

That an angel came and called my name,

And took me by the hand,

and said my place was ready,

In heaven far above,

And that I'd have to leave behind

All those I dearly love.

But as I turned to walk away,

A tear fell from my eye

For all my life, I'd always thought,

I didn't want to die.

I had so much to live for,

So much left yet to do,

It seemed almost impossible,

That I was leaving you.

I thought of all the yesterdays

The good ones and the bad,

I thought of all the love we shared,

and all the fun we had

If I could re-live yesterday

Just even for a while,

I'd say good-bye and kiss you

And maybe see you smile.

But then I fully realized,

That this could never be,

For emptiness and memories,

would take the place of me.

And when I thought of worldly things,

I might miss come tomorrow,

I thought of you, and when I did,

My heart was filled with sorrow.

But when I walked through heaven's gates,

I felt so much at home

When God looked down and smiled at me,

From His great golden throne.

He said, "This is eternity,

And all I've promised you."

Today your life on earth is past,

But here life starts anew

I promise no tomorrow,

But today will always last,

And since each day's the same way

There's no longing for the past.

You have been so faithful,

So trusting and so true.

Though there were times

You did some things

You knew you shouldn't do.

But you have been forgiven

And now at last you're free.

So won't you come and take my hand

And share my life with me?

So when tomorrow starts without me,

Don't think we're far apart,

For every time you think of me,

I'm right here, in your heart. 

Author believed to be

~ David Romano

{PS}

WHEN I'M GONE

CTTO

CHRISTINA'S ROSETTI

2 May 2025

MISS ME, BUT LET ME GO 

When I come to the end of the road

And the sun has set for me

I want no rites in a gloom filled room

Why cry for a soul set free?

Miss me a little, but not for long

And not with your head bowed low

Remember the love that once we shared

Miss me, but let me go.

For this is a journey we all must take

And each must go alone.

It's all part of the master plan

A step on the road to home.

When you are lonely and sick at heart

Go to the friends we know.

Laugh at all the things we used to do

Miss me, but let me go ..

Christina Rosetti ✨

Artist Credit : Jungsuk Lee

Source: Still Standing Magazine 

TOMORROW MIGHT NOT COME

By Estelle Cortes Pimentel

Please tell people you love them, 

life is so fragile. 

Don't wait to bring flowers to the graveyard, 

it wouldn't matter to the ones buried there. 

Give them flowers while they can still smell them, 

and marvel at their beauty.

Dance with them,

Hold their hands,

Sit with them in silence,

Do all that while you can,

Tomorrow might not come.

~Estelle~

10172023

©️Estelle Cortes Pimentel

All Rights Reserved