[Be...] Posted February 16, 2018 Author Share Posted February 16, 2018 Thank you, Fluterbyee! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
[Be...] Posted February 19, 2018 Author Share Posted February 19, 2018 http://i66.tinypic.com/107o1tf.jpg You bow to the earth Lower limbs beneath us So that we may climb Along other boughs Spread wide into Sun Fine green hair of dreams Anchored to sturdy wood Leaves of loving words Falling gently upon us Budding again in light Captured wide in your soul And fed by the thick sap Of sweet tempered blood From the deep heartwood Within countless rings Of seasons of giving Thank you Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
[Be...] Posted February 19, 2018 Author Share Posted February 19, 2018 I can think of no more important quality to humanity than the gift of compassion. We have all suffered through this poison. We have lost chances to make memories for ourselves and others. It seems almost criminal that such a small thing has taken so much and yet I, for one, when I go deep enough into observation, when I see myself from a distance and not so close that I feel myself to be that bluebonnet growing through a crack in concrete, I can view something very different. Once my compassion was like that of a meteor shower. I would witness some precipitating event and my compassion would flash into being and my soul would be traversed from one side to the other. And this is how compassion’s fire would blaze in me, in discrete moments, responding to someone or something. But now I see that my long suffering has transformed me into something much more grand in the way of compassion. It is ever alight in me, it does not burn away, it is not in response but emerging constantly from the core of my being. Now compassion has become a comet, large and sustained it moves across my soul and life, and a trail is left in the hearts of whom I touch. Out of suffering has come this and I have no doubt that I have gained from and given more to the sacred fire of God’s love because of it. And when I get the missing pieces of my life back, no clouds will obscure me and I will be as beautiful and bright as ever a light has moved across darkness. Modify message Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
[Be...] Posted February 23, 2018 Author Share Posted February 23, 2018 For Freeme: A vein of iron is torn from the warmth of the earth Placed in fire and furnace and burned to red blood Poured molten into confinement to cool the boil Beatened and hammered into flattened rigidity Plunged into the tempering nerve numbing snow Edges sharpened by the sparks of grinding stone Leather bound and stretched tight upon the neck And skin removed and etched to the sharp chisel Yet out of this torture is shaped the strong blade Shining steel beauty to carry and cleave conflict http://i68.tinypic.com/rm7hx0.jpg Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
[be...] Posted February 23, 2018 Share Posted February 23, 2018 For Freeme: A vein of iron is torn from the warmth of the earth Placed in fire and furnace and burned to red blood Poured molten into confinement to cool the boil Beatened and hammered into flattened rigidity Plunged into the tempering nerve numbing snow Edges sharpened by the sparks of grinding stone Leather bound and stretched tight upon the neck And skin removed and etched to the sharp chisel Yet out of this torture is shaped the strong blade Shining steel beauty to carry and cleave conflict http://i68.tinypic.com/rm7hx0.jpg Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
[Be...] Posted March 3, 2018 Author Share Posted March 3, 2018 I won’t be going to school tomorrow My favorite white dress stained so red And all these holes torn in the fabric ... I won’t be going to school tomorrow Sarah, that boy with the long eye lashes Curtains around sunshine. I like him ... I won’t be going to school tomorrow Julia, save me a seat on the patio I want to hear again what you just said ... I won’t be going to school tomorrow Mr. Adder, I know I have homework due Can it wait until Monday? I can’t think ... I won’t be going to school tomorrow Mom, Dad, don’t be angry with me I don’t say it, but I love you both ... I won’t be going to school tomorrow ... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
[Be...] Posted March 16, 2018 Author Share Posted March 16, 2018 Walking up and out from the deep ravine The forceful sound of steps grinding granite Not far removed from night’s clenched teeth Or from twisting grips upon the walking stick The path adorned with cacti and lechuguilla And in the shadow of time grown to mountains Yet across there is sun on the youthful slope The desert flowers in yellow, red, and purple I remember the ease and beauty of leisure The multitude of crushed stone walkways Leading freely wherever, for I had many hours But turning, the light is but a line along the ridge I must climb, I must be careful but deliberate I must rest and catch my breath when needed I must remember broken rocks hide footsteps That travelers with no greater constitutions Scaled the summit, even if they slid at times And the desert flower colors were in their skies But mostly I know that you are there waiting In a tent with the aroma of your life’s perfume That the hard and piercing ground at my back Will be lost to the loving softness of your flesh And words will fall upon me like rain on the roof And kisses will settle gently on my lips like snow Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
[be...] Posted March 16, 2018 Share Posted March 16, 2018 B3, this is so beautiful, you are so talented and thank you for sharing your Gift with us. May your Dreams all come true one day. 🕊 Peace. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
[Be...] Posted March 17, 2018 Author Share Posted March 17, 2018 B3, this is so beautiful, you are so talented and thank you for sharing your Gift with us. May your Dreams all come true one day. 🕊 Peace. You are too kind. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
[Be...] Posted April 20, 2018 Author Share Posted April 20, 2018 What can I say of that minute, that singular Fire? How to tell of everything but Love burned away? Of the oneness of time and space with the Soul? And of ashes of universes breathed into a Soul? And melded with the Soul and exhaled into place? Something unbroken exists, but senses deceive My contracting and expanding chest chants Sings that I am a process of air, not a part within My stature, a child and tree of sun, soil, and water The Fire may not visit again, but I remember A spinning circle of children singing and laughing But the clasped hands detach and they gently fall And in time the innocence breaks into individuals Who forget the ring’s tight grip in favor of illusion That there is a self in this world, alone and apart We became me and roundness became angles And each learned to think in fragmented thought Shards of an abstraction that can only separate Division being the mother of conflict and hatred Birthing cries of war’s dying and famine’s hunger The unification of the Fire will not fall upon us all But eyes can open and ears can begin to hear That Mother Earth is being crucified by the ego That spikes can be removed and wounds tended And that hands can join and circles be reconnected Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
[be...] Posted April 20, 2018 Share Posted April 20, 2018 What can I say of that minute, that singular Fire? How to tell of everything but Love burned away? Of the oneness of time and space with the Soul? And of ashes of universes breathed into a Soul? And melded with the Soul and exhaled into place? Something unbroken exists, but senses deceive My contracting and expanding chest chants Sings that I am a process of air, not a part within My stature, a child and tree of sun, soil, and water The Fire may not visit again, but I remember A spinning circle of children singing and laughing But the clasped hands detach and they gently fall And in time the innocence breaks into individuals Who forget the ring’s tight grip in favor of illusion That there is a self in this world, alone and apart We became me and roundness became angles And each learned to think in fragmented thought Shards of an abstraction that can only separate Division being the mother of conflict and hatred Birthing cries of war’s dying and famine’s hunger The unification of the Fire will not fall upon us all But eyes can open and ears can begin to hear That Mother Earth is being crucified by the ego That spikes can be removed and wounds tended And that hands can join and circles be reconnected Love reading your poems. 💖 Peace and Hugs. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
[Be...] Posted April 21, 2018 Author Share Posted April 21, 2018 Thanks! Thought I should update this. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
[be...] Posted April 22, 2018 Share Posted April 22, 2018 I like this quote. “Real generosity is doing something nice for someone who will never find out.” ― Frank A. Clark Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
[Be...] Posted April 26, 2018 Author Share Posted April 26, 2018 I like this quote. “Real generosity is doing something nice for someone who will never find out.” ― Frank A. Clark Yes, very nice - sort of practicing random acts of kindness. 🙂 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
[re...] Posted April 27, 2018 Share Posted April 27, 2018 Change ~ I have resisted change with all my will, cried out to life, "Pass by and leave me still." But I have found as I have trudged time's track that all my wishing will not hold life back. All finite things must go their finite way; I cannot bid the merest moment, "Stay." So finding that I have no power to change change, I have changed myself. And this is strange, but I have found out when I let change come, the very change that I was fleeing from has often held the good I had prayed for, and I was not the less for change, but more. Once I accepted life and was not loath to change, I found change was the seed of growth. ~ Anonymous Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
[be...] Posted April 27, 2018 Share Posted April 27, 2018 Change ~ I have resisted change with all my will, cried out to life, "Pass by and leave me still." But I have found as I have trudged time's track that all my wishing will not hold life back. All finite things must go their finite way; I cannot bid the merest moment, "Stay." So finding that I have no power to change change, I have changed myself. And this is strange, but I have found out when I let change come, the very change that I was fleeing from has often held the good I had prayed for, and I was not the less for change, but more. Once I accepted life and was not loath to change, I found change was the seed of growth. ~ Anonymous Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
[Be...] Posted April 29, 2018 Author Share Posted April 29, 2018 Change ~ I have resisted change with all my will, cried out to life, "Pass by and leave me still." But I have found as I have trudged time's track that all my wishing will not hold life back. All finite things must go their finite way; I cannot bid the merest moment, "Stay." So finding that I have no power to change change, I have changed myself. And this is strange, but I have found out when I let change come, the very change that I was fleeing from has often held the good I had prayed for, and I was not the less for change, but more. Once I accepted life and was not loath to change, I found change was the seed of growth. ~ Anonymous Touching, Redwoods. Thanks! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
[be...] Posted April 29, 2018 Share Posted April 29, 2018 Who can not like Frost. “The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost (1874-1963) Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
[az...] Posted April 29, 2018 Share Posted April 29, 2018 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
[be...] Posted April 30, 2018 Share Posted April 30, 2018 “Hope” is the thing with feathers" By 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 - And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard - And sore must be the storm - That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm - I’ve heard it in the chillest land - And on the strangest Sea - Yet - never - in Extremity, It asked a crumb - of me. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
[Be...] Posted June 2, 2018 Author Share Posted June 2, 2018 “Hope” is the thing with feathers" By 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 - And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard - And sore must be the storm - That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm - I’ve heard it in the chillest land - And on the strangest Sea - Yet - never - in Extremity, It asked a crumb - of me. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
[Be...] Posted June 2, 2018 Author Share Posted June 2, 2018 Change ~ I have resisted change with all my will, cried out to life, "Pass by and leave me still." But I have found as I have trudged time's track that all my wishing will not hold life back. All finite things must go their finite way; I cannot bid the merest moment, "Stay." So finding that I have no power to change change, I have changed myself. And this is strange, but I have found out when I let change come, the very change that I was fleeing from has often held the good I had prayed for, and I was not the less for change, but more. Once I accepted life and was not loath to change, I found change was the seed of growth. ~ Anonymous Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
[An...] Posted March 11, 2019 Share Posted March 11, 2019 Hello, dear Joe I thought to post a beautiful poem, by my favorite Ancient Poet Rumi It clearly speaks of the trials and tribulations we encounter each day, while trying to survive this benzo suffering. It suggests, to not fight anything that comes our way, and accept, as all symptoms have a purpose. I hope that it resonates with us all, and that it helps in some way Rumi..❤️ The Guest House ..❤️ This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes, as an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they are a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house, empty it of its furniture, still treat each guest honorably. He may be clearing you out for some new delight. The dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in. Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a Guide from Beyond...❤️ Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
[Be...] Posted March 12, 2019 Author Share Posted March 12, 2019 Hello, dear Joe I thought to post a beautiful poem, by my favorite Ancient Poet Rumi It clearly speaks of the trials and tribulations we encounter each day, while trying to survive this benzo suffering. It suggests, to not fight anything that comes our way, and accept, as all symptoms have a purpose. I hope that it resonates with us all, and that it helps in some way Rumi..❤️ The Guest House ..❤️ This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes, as an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they are a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house, empty it of its furniture, still treat each guest honorably. He may be clearing you out for some new delight. The dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in. Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a Guide from Beyond...❤️ Beautiful, Anu. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
[Be...] Posted March 12, 2019 Author Share Posted March 12, 2019 For you, the hope of a dozen long stemmed roses, Not those with petals quickly loosed, But shared flowering moments of my Life, That Love chiseled into my Soul, Long removed, but clear as the present, From when I entered adulthood Like you at this time, Beautiful and Spirited. One rose, tan with droplets of mist and dew, Like earth scoured out by ancient ice flows, A widened and deepened place in my Soul A Gift of so much of Love’s Pain And Tears that filled it to tree-lined shores So that it became Love’s reservoir and resting place. Another rose, the color of new green in Spring, Creative actions and thoughts budding out from me, From roots in soil with Warmth sustained By a Face I saw once and that everyday thereafter Rose like a Sun and fell upon my skin and Spirit, So that Life branched outward and upward toward Her. And one rose apart, distant, and seldom seen Black night in color with flecks of Stars, Lying upon the steps of an old schoolhouse, In the stillness and darkness of a countryside evening, A Word waiting to be Born, to be heard, to be remembered, From a voice buttered and dripping with southern drawl. And now a rose blue at its base, then blending to orange and yellow, A Kiss poured into a throat so that it caught Fire, Spreading to my chest and then to arms and fingers, Hands holding a Face I did not see through closed eyes, But eyes perceiving for a minute something boundless and infinite, God-saturated until the self was burned and sacrificed. This one, a kaleidoscope of color with waving petals, A coral reef, panoramic, with swimming and swaying colors, A snowmelt Colorado valley, with columbines lining a clear stream, A patch of Texas wildflowers emergent after a cold winter, An immersion so Beautiful that you can only pause and appreciate, And in that contemplation only one word emerges, the name of my Love. White with red blotches and unclipped thorns the next one, A rose the fragrance of altruism and deepest Love, The barbs piercing bleeding hands not destined to hold, White petal dove-wings stretching to fly to a remote calling, A time, a place, a person, some differently designed life. Letting go, but still the fragrance wafts and rises on my purest days. A rose grey with windswept edges, tightly enclosed, The light of a fishing pier at night, confined and narrow, All other thoughts lost to darkness beyond the fringes, Wind at my back winnowing away Love’s pain, Rolling waves and tides moving my troubles beyond light, Casting and casting again for Her, ceaselessly, tirelessly. Speckled and marbled with pink and browns and whites, this rose, The effervescent and flowing sands of a spring near the base of a tree, The upwelling along some deep tap root, unseen and of unknown course, But at the surface, cupped hands dipped in thirst, To be ecstatic that you are drinking directly of Her Soul, And to relax in the sound of the splashing water of Her voice. A rose dark red, elongate, with blue along its borders, Love stretched across highways and Time, Sadness painting the absence, the periphery, But to meet at earliest opportunity with the nervousness of arrival, To inhale Her presence as the breeze of a Blue Norther in Autumn, And to burn like tinder from a spark loosed from the greeting of shining eyes. Now a rose of enriched yellow, sturdy upon its stem, Before and after, trusting friends of the highest caliber, Secrets melting before us, but bound again in shared and cooling wax, If a Soulmate, then a friend at first glance and forever gazing, To chuckle, as large an element as romance and never subservient, Laughter and Love, muscles on a sternum, beat the wings of a lifted Spirit. Promises made, a white rose laced with pink edges. The reds of contemplated aged Love and Blood seeping into the days of youth, Staining a reminder that an open Life is an open Heart, Accepting readily all uncertainty and all burdens, Knowing all the while the world is turning, there will be a burning core, And it would be sufficient to spread and subduct all challenges beneath us. And last, an iridescent rose, shimmering and opalescent, The remembrance of certain magic in this world, That a quickening of the Heart does not end in every case, Rather, that Souls may be entwined forever, despite Life, And that the weathered lines cut into our faces by Time do not sever, But, instead, they are river channels for Love to traverse another day. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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