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Posts from the ‘poetry’ Category



Life changes every minute of every day. You lose friends. You gain friends. You realize your friend wasn’t ever really your friend. And that person you used to hate can make a really good friend. You look for love. You find love. You lose love. You realize that all along you’ve been loved. You laugh. You cry. You laugh so hard that you cry. You do this. You do that. You really wish you hadn’t done that. You learn from that and are glad that you did. You have your ups. You have your downs. You see good movies. You see bad movies. You look at others and wish you were them. You then realize who they are and are glad that you’re you. You love life. You hate life. In the end, you just find yourself to be living life no matter what’s thrown at you.
~ Source: x3bbycakes


mirror images

You were the mirror image of me when we were kind enough to have patience.

Without patience is life barren?  Oh, that’s contradictory, isn’t it?  Without patience, life becomes overgrown with gray spiny weeds, trees that break and bristle to the touch, and sand spurs that draw blood.  Mirror images in tranquil repose look toward each other for peace and solace and perhaps live like these two butterflies do.  In a separate but equal space, in peace.  And though the wind, should it roar, these two could be swallowed up in a millisecond, it is patience that holds them steady through the rowdy wind.  Mirror images find strength in the other.


have a colorful (Labor) day!

Sometimes it’s important to work for that pot of gold. But other times it’s essential to take time off and to make sure that your most important decision in the day simply consists of choosing which color to slide down on the rainbow.  (Douglas Pagels)

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life is eternal

This is a post about reflecting back to a time when, for a short but brutal time, I’d lost the ability to reflect on eternity.

This post is prompted by the lovely piece that I have included at the bottom of this post called: A Parable of Immortality, written by Henry van Dyke.

I recently came across these words as I was unpacking knick knacks.  This parable is printed on a sympathy card that I’d received in 2001.

I was having a terrible time in 2001 – unable to come to grips with the death of a friend.  I memorized these words like a mantra, thinking that it would give me solace, and it did.

In short, receiving this card coincided with being able to breathe again after my dear friend died so suddenly, without any warning at all.  Gone.  Leaving behind three children, a husband, me, and everyone else who loved her.

I was distraught at her death and was unable to see clearly; unable to see the good in anything.  I was angry.  I hated God.  I hated that life was so cruel. I couldn’t accept that I would never see my friend again.  But worse, I couldn’t accept that I would see my friend again – that life really does go on – in another plane, perhaps, but that we do go on and we will meet again.

The reality of the grief of my friends death tested my spirituality, or rather, my lack of it.

I was drowning in grief and the spirituality I’d thought was strong in me, was lost in the stars and beyond the reach of my waking reality.

Oh, I was so full of anger.  I remember crying (sobbing) and using the couch as a punching bag.  I was lost in grief. I was out to sea – drowning and flailing – every waking and sleeping moment was painful.  So, I memorized this parable.  It became one of the rocks that brought me back from the hell of thinking that there was no God, that life was just miserable heartache.

Thankfully, when I did emerge from the living hell, I was stronger and more whole than when I went down the hole.

It’s remarkable how resilient we are.  We go on and life goes on as it will – and it goes by so fast, doesn’t it?!

Perhaps eternity is really just a blink of an eye?  Perhaps the alternate universe is really just another consciousness – a separate reality that crosses and connects with our reality – only we are not always aware of it?  (There is more to the beyond than is written in our religious texts.)

Regardless, this card was like a gentle caress that quieted my volcanic thoughts – thoughts that would not keep still.   It so softly reassured me that life is eternal.

Like the Mariner, our soul goes on to a new sea or landscape that is just over yonder, a whisper away, maybe.  Or, is the beyond NOT measured in time?  Could it be that our dusk is an eternal dawn on the other side?  If dusk and dawn meet, perhaps that’s when we meet our loved ones again?  If that is so, we are just barely beyond time’s reach….Perhaps time is our concept only.  Perhaps there is no time in the beyond.

We can’t begin to know.

Anyway, I came across this card again recently as I was unpacking my treasures and I wanted to share its simple though profound message with you.

A Parable of Immortality

I am standing upon the seashore.  A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength and I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come down to mingle with each other. Then some one at my side says: “There! She’s gone.”

Gone where? Gone from my sight- that is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side, and just as able to bear her load of living freight to the place of destination.

Her diminished size is in me, not in her; and just as the moment when some one at my side says, “There! She’s gone,” there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout, “There she comes!”


memorial day – the origins

It is likely that Memorial Day had many separate origins. Many towns and cities either planned or had spontaneous public gatherings that focused on honoring those who died in battle.

These humble beginnings grew into a recognition that we humans need to honor our fallen heroes.

Memorial Day was originally called Decoration Day in response to decorating the graves of Union and Confederate soldiers at Arlington National Cemetery.

Although it is difficult to pinpoint what state could lay claim to the birth of Memorial Day, (there are quite a few stories as to its origin), the day is generally attributed to having its first observance on the 30th of May, 1868.   (

To honor this day, I want to share the poem Flanders Field with you.  I hope you enjoy it and the photography.

In Flanders Fields
by John McCrae, 1915.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row
That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

A lovely poem by Moina Michael was written in response to Flanders Field:

We cherish too, the Poppy red
That grows on fields where valor led,
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies.

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a daily dose of inspiration, and then some

Successes aren’t what really matter in life; it’s what we do with our failures that makes us, and our work, great in this world.

~Yehuda Berg


the hummingbird and songbird for Easter

Wishing all a Happy Easter, and blessed Holiday.   The music is “Songbird” sung by the late Eva Cassidy.


An Amazilia Hummingbird


Spring has sprung

Before you thought of Spring
Except as a Surmise
You see — God bless his suddenness —
A Fellow in the Skies
~Emily Dickinson
I heard mighty loud coos and clucking this morning, and lo and behold, spring has gifts to bring!   Here are ten tiny ducklings (8 are yellow, 2 are gray) born outside my window.  What joy!  It is evening now, they are there still.  Well, in truth, they are certainly not still, no, they are beautifully wild!

See the remains of the eggs?


i carry your heart in mine

Singular shades and sounds. This is what I am about these days; it’s not heavy, but it’s clamorous within me, like the sound of one cymbal when there should be two.  It’s the crash in my head, it startles my heart – shakes me awake, and the treble and tremble travel down to my toes. Yes, right down to the blister on my little toe.

Yes. This is exactly what I am about these days.

… is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows

higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)   ~e.e. cummings


no one is alone, not even in the woods?

There are days that I don’t believe this; and there are days when I so want to believe

No One Is Alone

No one here to guide you
Now you’re on your own
Only me beside you
Still you’re not alone
No one is alone
No one is alone

Sometimes people leave you
Half-way through the wood
Others may deceive you
You decide what’s good
You decide alone
But no one is alone

People make mistakes
Father’s, Mother’s
People make mistakes
Holding to their own
Thinking they’re alone

Honor their mistakes
Everybody makes
One another’s terrible mistakes

Witches can be right
Giants can be good
You decide what’s right
You decide what’s good
Just remember

Someone is on your side
Someone else is not
Well we’re seeing our side
Maybe we forgot
They are not alone
Cause no one is alone

Hard to see the light now
Just don’t let it go
Things will come out right now
We can make it so
Someone is on your side
No one is alone

Words and Lyrics by Steven Sondheim, from Into The Woods


a flower, a bee, revery

there were bees all around

Truly, there were bees every where I looked (if you look closely you’ll see two hives underneath the flower and to the right), but all they cared about? Oh, their sweet revery in the juice of these lush flowers.

I think Emily Dickinson would have been delighted to see this, too.


and so it goes with the heart


And so it goes when a heart

is locked,

or numb,

or frozen,

or simply ignores

its hunger

preferring instead to

stay asleep

quiet and


a forced sanctuary

to keep out


light and air and love and


Read more »


oh to write like this!

J.D. Salinger.  Icon.  These words twist my heart and blow my mind with how precise, bold and delicate they are at the same time!   I read this impeccable – no, this MASTERFUL perspective on the human condition a dozen times, each time savoring it as a delicacy.  

…you’re going to start getting closer and closer – that is, if you want to, and if you look for it and wait for it – to the kind of information that will be very, very dear to your heart. Among other things, you’ll find that you’re not the first person who was ever confused and frightened and even sickened by human behavior. You’re by no means alone on that score, you’ll be excited and stimulated to know. Many, many men have been just as troubled morally and spiritually as you are right now. Happily, some of them kept records of their troubles. You’ll learn from them – if you want to. Just as someday, if you have something to offer, someone will learn something from you. It’s a beautiful reciprocal arrangement. And it isn’t education. It’s history. It’s poetry. 

~J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye


never give all the heart?

This William Butler Yeats (1865-1935) poem has always been one of my favorites. I have wondered at it and about it for years.

I wonder is it always wise to hold back your heart? I suppose one has to only listen to thier heart to really know.

Loving is the birthright of the human race, isn’t it? We are born knowing that, I think, though often it fades into the opposite of love, and even into sheer wickedness as we see in the news reports of daily murders, and other such horrors.

But, we are born to love, this I do believe. I hope you believe with me.

Never give all the heart, for love
Will hardly seem worth thinking of
To passionate women if it seem
Certain, and they never dream
That it fades out from kiss to kiss;
For everything that’s lovely is
But a brief, dreamy, kind delight.
O never give the heart outright,
For they, for all smooth lips can say,
Have given their hearts up to the play.
And who could play it well enough
If deaf and dumb and blind with love?
He that made this knows all the cost,
For he gave all his heart and lost.


my flamingo

Flamingo Gardens 015 I hope you love birds, too. 
 It is economical. 
 It saves going to heavan.

(Emily Dickinson, 1830-1886)

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