Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

Saturday, November 13, 2010

The Awakening Of My Spirit


(Author unknown)


A time comes in your life when you finally get it…when, in the midst of all your fears and insanity, you stop dead in your tracks and somewhere the voice inside your head cries out…ENOUGH!
Enough fighting and crying and blaming and struggling to hold on. Then, like a child quieting down after a tantrum, you blink back your tears and begin to look at the world through new eyes.

This is your awakening.

You realize it’s time to stop hoping and waiting for something to change, or for happiness, safety and security to magically appear over the next horizon.

You realize that in the real world there aren’t always fairy tale endings, and that any guarantee of “happily ever after” must begin with you…and in the process a sense of serenity is born of acceptance.

You awaken to the fact that you are not perfect and that not everyone will always love, appreciate or approve of who or what you are…and that’s OK. They are entitled to their own views and opinions.

You learn the importance of loving and championing yourself…and in the process a sense of new found confidence is born of self-approval.

You stop complaining and blaming other people for the things they did to you – or didn’t do for you – and you learn that the only thing you can really count on is the unexpected.

You learn that people don’t always say what they mean or mean what they say and that not everyone will always be there for you and everything isn’t always about you.
So, you learn to stand on your own and to take care of yourself…and in the process a sense of safety and security is born of self-reliance.

You stop judging and pointing fingers and you begin to accept people as they are and to overlook their shortcomings and human frailties…and in the process a sense of peace and contentment is born of forgiveness.

You learn to open up to new worlds and different points of view. You begin reassessing and redefining who you are and what you really stand for.

You learn the difference between wanting and needing and you begin to discard the doctrines and values you’ve outgrown, or should never have bought into to begin with.

You learn that there is power and glory in creating and contributing and you stop maneuvering through life merely as a “consumer” looking for you next fix.

You learn that principles such as honesty and integrity are not the outdated ideals of a bygone era, but the mortar that holds together the foundation upon which you must build a life.

You learn that you don’t know everything, it’s not you job to save the world and that you can’t teach a pig to sing. You learn the only cross to bear is the one you choose to carry and that martyrs get burned at the stake.

Then you learn about love. You learn to look at relationships as they really are and not as you would have them be. You learn that alone does not mean lonely.

You stop trying to control people, situations and outcomes. You learn to distinguish between guilt and responsibility and the importance of setting boundaries and learning to say NO.

You also stop working so hard at putting your feelings aside, smoothing things over and ignoring your needs.

You learn that your body really is your temple. You begin to care for it and treat it with respect. You begin to eat a balanced diet, drinking more water, and take more time to exercise.

You learn that being tired fuels doubt, fear, and uncertainty and so you take more time to rest. And, just food fuels the body, laughter fuels our soul. So you take more time to laugh and to play.

You learn that, for the most part, you get in life what you deserve, and that much of life truly is a self-fulfilling prophecy.

You learn that anything worth achieving is worth working for and that wishing for something to happen is different than working toward making it happen.

More importantly, you learn that in order to achieve success you need direction, discipline and perseverance. You learn that no one can do it all alone, and that it’s OK to risk asking for help.

You learn the only thing you must truly fear is fear itself. You learn to step right into and through your fears because you know that whatever happens you can handle it and to give in to fear is to give away the right to live life on your own terms.

You learn to fight for your life and not to squander it living under a cloud of impending doom.

You learn that life isn’t always fair, you don’t always get what you think you deserve and that sometimes bad things happen to unsuspecting, good people…and you lean not to always take it personally.

You learn that nobody’s punishing you and everything isn’t always somebody’s fault. It’s just life happening. You learn to admit when you are wrong and to build bridges instead of walls.

You lean that negative feelings such as anger, envy and resentment must be understood and redirected or they will suffocate the life out of you and poison the universe that surrounds you.

You learn to be thankful and to take comfort in many of the simple things we take for granted, things that millions of people upon the earth can only dream about: a full refrigerator, clean running water, a soft warm bed, a long hot shower.

Then, you begin to take responsibility for yourself by yourself and you make yourself a promise to never betray yourself and to never, ever settle for less than you heart’s desire.

You make it a point to keep smiling, to keep trusting, and to stay open to every wonderful possibility.

You hang a wind chime outside your window so you can listen to the wind.

Finally, with courage in you heart, you take a stand, you take a deep breath, and you begin to design the life you want to live as best as you can.

Monday, March 8, 2010

Flapper


LOVE has crept out of her sealed heart
As a field-bee, black and amber
Breaks from the winter-cell, to clamber
Up the warm grass where the sunbeams start.

Mischief has come in her dawning eyes,
And a glint of colored iris brings
Such as lies along the folded wings
Of the bee before he flies.

Who, with a ruffling, careful breath,
Has opened the wings of the wild young sprite?
Has fluttered her spirit to stumbling flight
In her eyes, as a young bee stumbleth?
Love makes the burden of her voice.

The hum of his heavy, staggering wings
Sets quivering with wisdom the common things
That she says, and her words rejoice.


~ D.H. Lawrence

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

The Gypsy Violin




I love music, especially violin music, but when I hear the gypsy violin something magical happens to me. All I have to do is close my eyes and I am amid the gypsies. I can almost smell their campfire and feel the music luring, tempting, craving - dance, dance, please dance for me.


The Gypsy Violin

The compelling violin lures
With an irresistible yearn
Dance, dance, please dance for me
I can no longer adjourn!
Ethereal notes float from its strings
Caressing like a lover's hand
Sensual music, Angel's touch
Leading the way to wonderland
Embracing with utter delight
Craving, beckoning me
Tempting my lonely heart
Dance, dance on my melody!
Faster, faster the music escapes
Without compassion to body or soul
Seducer of lonely hearts
Until dancing is my only goal
Faces gyrate while I dance on passion
Flashes of fire in the corner of my eyes
The violin plays like never before
Until I become one and loneliness dies
With a final cry and a final touch
The violin stops, the music ends
Leaving behind an emptiness
We'll meet again, my violin friend ...
We'll meet again.


Saturday, February 20, 2010

Choices

by Junglecookie

Abasement, degradation is simply the manner of life of the man who has refused to be what it is his duty to be.


Jose Ortega y Gasset

Sunday, February 7, 2010

Enduring Love



At the break of day ,
and by the morning light you cling to me.
In my prickly moments,
You bring me peace and harmony.

When day is done;
With tight shut eyes I see your adoring face before me,
And feel your trembling, midnight lips upon my burning flesh.

Though time and space is etched with fire upon my soul,
it matters not for me.
I do not question why,
Nor would I ask or answer this.
For you are too my strength, in time.
For you are truly
my enduring love.


cbruce

Monday, February 1, 2010

Finally Ready For Love



Take my hand and lead the way;

tell me all you want to say.

Whisper softly in my ear,

all those things I want to hear.

Kiss my lips and touch my skin;

bring out passions deep within.

Pull me close and hold me near;

take away my pain and fear.

In the darkness of the night,

be my beacon, shine your light.

In the brightness of the sun,

show me that you are the one.

Give me wings so I can fly;

for I can soar when you're nearby.

Enter my heart, break down the wall,

it's time for me to watch it fall.

I've been a prisoner, can't you see?

Break my chains and set me free.

Strip me of my armor tight;

you'll find I won't put up a fight.

Release my soul held deep within . . .

I'm ready now, let love begin.

by Ruth Kephart

Nothing Gold Can Stay



Nature's first green is gold,

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf's a flower;

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf,

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day

Nothing gold can stay.



Robert Frost

Analysis /Critique



Nothing Gold Can Stay


We believe this lyric poem means when you are born and are a child you are gold or innocent and pure. You are unaware of the world as a child. Your childhood is the hardest thing to hold on to. Childhood is the first part of your life. But it only last a while. As you grow up you loose that innocence, you learn to be strong and confident. You face hardships throughout your life. You begin to loose the golden innocence of your childhood and build a layer of confidence and security as you go into adulthood to fight and protect yourself from the world.


Robert Frost uses nature to argue that when you are born your gold and slowly as you get older the gold fades. Sooner or later you're going to die. So don't take life for granted. Like the poem says "So dawn goes down to day" means when your gold your a kid and everything is new to you. That is dawn. when you get older you lose your innocence and that is day; when nothing is new anymore. Nothing gold can stay. Robert Frost shows through this poem that he believes that: Youth doesn't last forever. Also it means to cherish your life because one day we will die. We choose this poem over the thousands upon thousands of choices because we also believe that life is gold and it is worth to cherish.


This poem includes many literary terms such as alliteration, repetition, consonance, mood, figure of speech and many more.


Thank You for this controbution

Monday, January 18, 2010

Seventh Heaven



As the heavens swirled above our heads,time stood still..
Only the sound of our breath sturred the frothly silence and the thump of 2 hearts beating in perfect harmony gave rhythm to the hot summer's night.



cbruce

Saturday, January 16, 2010

The Hunt



What is this idea of a perfect love?


In what hidden place does he so cleverly reside?

Where is this perfect love that is found within me?

In what corner of my heart does he so cleverly hide?

How does he appear?.. I ask..

Who can describe this tenant that I might require that he show himself ?

Instead he taunts from his reclusive place with fleeting images without a trace.

Yet he shows not his face to me,

nor does his presence nourish me.

I will hunt him down with dogs..if they will hunt!

Still they bark and sniff but he is not dislodged.

I will command to no avail.

And all is silenced beneath the clatter of the hunt;

Torrents washed this fateful trail.

And so I am still here astride my steed.. prepared to hunt..

And yet… there is no track or trace

to lead me to this hiding place.


cbruce

Sunday, January 10, 2010

What is your time?




May I take a moment of your Time?

They say to never ask for a moment of a man’s Time; just take it..is that robbery? 
A theft of Time?
Time and Time again you say?
Is it then more Time ?
Going big Time?…
Time piling up… Time after Time?
or repeating itself…. Time and again..
Father Time?
No Mother Time or Sibling Time…Time for me or Time for you..Time for us..?
Don’t waste Time!..
We have all the Time in the world..
Time cut short?..
That was Good Timing or maybe… it was Bad Timing..
Timing is everything they say..
A Time to laugh a Time to cry… A Time to live… 
A Time to die..
A Time for everything under the sun, they say..
Not Enough Time?
Too much Time on your hands?....Both hands?
Short hand or Long hand?
A moment in Time..A moment can cast long memories..In Time ..Over Time …In due Time….
Why does everything take too much Time? Or sooo.. much Time?
Where did the Time go?..
How do we stay In Time or is it On Time?
Can we synchronize Our Time?
Will we have the Same Time?
Is this a Good Time?
Do you have The Time?
Do you have Extra Time?
Thank you for Your Time

We just had..
a Little
Time.

cbruce

Friday, December 18, 2009

My String





What is it that saddens me this year?


The family that once was?
The children grown?
What is it that wrenches me so much, this year?
A modest lunch instead of Christmas dinner?


My brother
In clouded memory does he remain,
Obscured by time and space..
His blurred face fades still more each year;
His picture with me on the floor
It takes me to another place..
As if transported by this trace.
Will I lose another?
Will this be our last, as well..
This year..Dear brother.

My sisters who used to cook and wrap the Christmas gifts ,
endured their little brother
While he holds the ribbon or spills his drink…they twist his ear…
I thought always there would be another..
Will it be our last..This year?
Sister dear


Why is it so hard to count my blessings of witch I have so many?
I can recount them in my brain….but there is no connection;
The string is broken..Lost somewhere in all the ribbon..This I fear;
What is it that saddens me this time of year?



Where is my string of hope...of gratefulness and inspiration..
Where is my string of laughter, excitement or even indignation?
In my mind’s eye..
Distant..Fading..
How do I retrieve it..
There is no picture..No picture..
Lost in ribbon is this I fear..My string..
I say this secretly..


hush..
Do not speak of it….


As if drifting, slippery blackness sticks to me,
As my fingers creak with hesitation quietly..
Without sign..or foot print does it come for me.
Then slowed and halted to a final stop.. Contributing no more..
Fingers motionless, frozen to the keyboard upon the floor..
hussssh

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

The House were I was Born





I remember, it was a morning, in summer,

The window was half-open, I drew near,
I could see my father at the end of the garden.
He was motionless, looking for something,
I could not tell what, or where, beyond the world,
His body was already bent over, but his gaze
Was lifted toward the unaccomplished or the impossible.
He had put aside his pick and his spade,
The air was fresh on that morning of the world,
But even freshness can be impenetrable, and cruel
The memory of the mornings of childhood.
Who was he, who had he been in the light,
I did not know, I still do not.

But I also see him on the boulevard,
Walking slowly, so much weariness
Weighing down the way he now moved,
He was going back to work, while I
was wandering about with some of my classmates
At the beginning of an afternoon still free from time.
To this figure, seen from afar, moving on its way,
I dedicate the words that cannot say what they would.


(In the dining room
Of the Sunday afternoon, in summer,
The shutters closed against the heat,
The table cleared, he suggested
Cards, since these are the only pictures
In the childhood house to satisfy
The needs of dream, but he leaves,
And when he does, the child clumsily takes the cards,
He puts the winning ones in the other’s hand,
Then waits feverishly for the game to begin again,
And for the one who was losing to win, and so triumphantly
That he might see in this victory a sign, something
to nourish some hope the child cannot know.
After this, two paths part, and one of them
Vanishes, and almost immediately, forgetfulness
Sets in, avid, relentless.


I have crossed out
These words a hundred times, in verse, in prose,
But I cannot
Stop them from coming back.)
The house where I was born (07) by Yves Bonnefoy


Note:
The inspiration for this drawing came from Domenico Ghirlandaio's Old Man and Child in the collection of the Louvre, and an affectionate snapshot of Bill Durks with his young stepdaughter, Dorothy. In the original painting, an old man with a nose distorted by rhinophymic growths looks down at the tow-headed child in his lap. One might think of the painting as a meditation on youth and old age but I think it is an expression of love that transcends physical appearance and knows no reservation. For me it demonstrates the intrinsic purity of a child's love. I have seen this for myself and have been touched forever because of it.
I was at the home of a woman who was a burn victom. She had healed but had been burned on 90% of her body. Her scares were horrable. Her once beautiful face now layers of scar tissue; but as we talked over coffee in the kitchen I forgot about the scars and listened to her recounting aspects of her life with much respect for her courage and bravery. As we talked her little daughter ..about 4 years old came bounding into the room. She asked mommy if she could go into the yard and play. Mommy said she could go and spontaniously the little girl put her arms around her mother's neck and kissed her on her mother's scared face.

There was no reservation from this mother and the little girl saw only the beauty of her loving mommy. Togeather they were, in that moment, in perfect harmony.  As for me I never forgot that demonstration of love, as in little Yves switching cards or as demonstrated in the drawing above, that spoke to me that day. It seems we never know when our lives will be touched in some profound way and sometimes we do not realize the full extent until our experiences are left to marinate for awhile. 
cbruce

Sunday, December 6, 2009

Haiku - Enlightenment




How is this
Science of Linguistics,
That bates and begs
the moras of its discipline..
In perfect sequence of seventeen
from this lofty tower
does it ivory strut and ivory preen ..
And with precision can speak to that ,
which is indescribable, I fear;
from any mouth to any ear?

To articulate through anything but deed,
that which is generalized ,
dependant on ones need.
Presents such contradiction
Is this I feel,
as if to transform soft flesh to hardened steel ..
And then upon its weighted words
and strength I fell ;
and through the ivory clear I saw,
I found it to be so..indeed.