A Glue Book for the mewsings of my heart...
Monday, September 23, 2013
Friday, August 9, 2013
SEASONS CHANGE...
When Great Trees Fall
Maya Angelou
When great trees fall,
rocks on distant hills shudder,
lions hunker down
in tall grasses,
and even elephants
lumber after safety.
When great trees fall
in forests,
small things recoil into silence,
their senses
eroded beyond fear.
When great souls die,
the air around us becomes
light, rare, sterile.
We breathe, briefly.
Our eyes, briefly,
see with
a hurtful clarity.
Our memory, suddenly sharpened,
examines,
gnaws on kind words
unsaid,
promised walks
never taken.
Great souls die and
our reality, bound to
them, takes leave of us.
Our souls,
dependent upon their
nurture,
now shrink, wizened.
Our minds, formed
and informed by their
radiance,
fall away.
We are not so much maddened
as reduced to the unutterable ignorance
of dark, cold
caves.
And when great souls die,
after a period peace blooms,
slowly and always
irregularly. Spaces fill
with a kind of
soothing electric vibration.
Our senses, restored, never
to be the same, whisper to us.
They existed. They existed.
We can be. Be and be and be better. For they existed.
Maya Angelou
When great trees fall,
rocks on distant hills shudder,
lions hunker down
in tall grasses,
and even elephants
lumber after safety.
When great trees fall
in forests,
small things recoil into silence,
their senses
eroded beyond fear.
When great souls die,
the air around us becomes
light, rare, sterile.
We breathe, briefly.
Our eyes, briefly,
see with
a hurtful clarity.
Our memory, suddenly sharpened,
examines,
gnaws on kind words
unsaid,
promised walks
never taken.
Great souls die and
our reality, bound to
them, takes leave of us.
Our souls,
dependent upon their
nurture,
now shrink, wizened.
Our minds, formed
and informed by their
radiance,
fall away.
We are not so much maddened
as reduced to the unutterable ignorance
of dark, cold
caves.
And when great souls die,
after a period peace blooms,
slowly and always
irregularly. Spaces fill
with a kind of
soothing electric vibration.
Our senses, restored, never
to be the same, whisper to us.
They existed. They existed.
We can be. Be and be and be better. For they existed.
Thursday, June 13, 2013
Sunday, June 9, 2013
Monday, April 29, 2013
DER MAI IST GEKOMMEN...
"May Is Building Her House"
May is building her house. With apple blooms
She is roofing over the glimmering rooms;
Of the oak and the beech hath she built its beams,
... And, spinning all day at her secret looms,
With arrays of leaves each wind-swayed wall
She pictureth over, and peopleth it all
With echoes and dreams,
And singing of streams.
May is building her house. Of petal and blade,
Of the roots of the oak, is the flooring made,
With a carpet of mosses and lichen and clover,
Each small miracle over and over,
And tender, traveling green things strayed.
Her windows, the morning and evening star,
And her rustling doorways, ever ajar
With the coming and going
Of fair things blowing,
The thresholds of the four winds are.
May is building her house. From the dust of things
She is making the songs and the flowers and the wings;
From October’s tossed and trodden gold
She is making the young year out of the old,
Yea: out of winter’s flying sleet
She is making all the summer sweet,
And the brown leaves spurned of November’s feet
She is changing back again to spring’s.
~ Richard Le Gallienne (1866-1947)
With arrays of leaves each wind-swayed wall
She pictureth over, and peopleth it all
With echoes and dreams,
And singing of streams.
May is building her house. Of petal and blade,
Of the roots of the oak, is the flooring made,
With a carpet of mosses and lichen and clover,
Each small miracle over and over,
And tender, traveling green things strayed.
Her windows, the morning and evening star,
And her rustling doorways, ever ajar
With the coming and going
Of fair things blowing,
The thresholds of the four winds are.
May is building her house. From the dust of things
She is making the songs and the flowers and the wings;
From October’s tossed and trodden gold
She is making the young year out of the old,
Yea: out of winter’s flying sleet
She is making all the summer sweet,
And the brown leaves spurned of November’s feet
She is changing back again to spring’s.
~ Richard Le Gallienne (1866-1947)
Friday, April 19, 2013
GATHER YE ROSEBUD WHILE YE MAY....
The leaves of memory seemed to make A mournful rustling in the dark.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Sunday, March 31, 2013
THE GIFT FROM ABOVE...
The big brave angel cat,
folding a rainbow wing,
stretched out his gentle paw.
I'll find, purred he,
a kitten-- you were kind--
you must not grieve for me.
This one might do,
this timid little stray.
Terrestrial night to my celestial day;
it cannot take my place,
no other could do that.
But though you cannot bring me back,
you might retrace
remembrance
in a kitten's pansy-face.
By Jacintha Buddicom, b. 1901, English Writer
folding a rainbow wing,
stretched out his gentle paw.
I'll find, purred he,
a kitten-- you were kind--
you must not grieve for me.
This one might do,
this timid little stray.
Terrestrial night to my celestial day;
it cannot take my place,
no other could do that.
But though you cannot bring me back,
you might retrace
remembrance
in a kitten's pansy-face.
By Jacintha Buddicom, b. 1901, English Writer
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
REMEMBER ME...
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Sunday, March 10, 2013
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
HOPE IN THE DARKNESS...
Monday, December 10, 2012
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Sunday, November 18, 2012
THE COMFORT OF YESTERYEARS...
Dear Jesus, you prayed to God in agony. Let us never forget that we can come to you with every pain, every burden, every secret angst. We can pour ourselves at your feet and we can be reborn, thank God. Amen.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
DER JAHRESKREIS...
“Der Wind weht rauh, die Blatter fallen,
der Herbst bringt uns die Farbenpracht.
Verweht die Spuren eines Sommers,
der Winter kommt bald, uber Nacht.
Und endlich fallen erste Flocken,
ein Schneegestober, ganz in weiss.
Der Fruhling weckt die Erde wieder,
der Sommer schliesst den Jahreskreis.”
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Sunday, September 30, 2012
SHE IS PURRRRFECTION WITH EMERALD EYES
" My sorrow, when she's with me, thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be; she loves the bare, the withered tree, she walks the sodden pasture lane." by Robert Frost
Friday, September 14, 2012
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
SEASONS OF TIME...
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"There is a time for love and laughter
The days will pass like summer storms
The winter wind will follow after
But there is love and love is warm
There is a time for us to wander
When time is young and so are we
The woods are greener over yonder
The path is new the world is free
There is a time when leaves are fallin'
The woods are gray the paths are old
The snow will come when geese are callin'
You need a fire against the cold
So do your roaming in the springtime
And you'll find your love in the summer sun
The frost will come and bring the harvest
And you can sleep when day is done"
The days will pass like summer storms
The winter wind will follow after
But there is love and love is warm
There is a time for us to wander
When time is young and so are we
The woods are greener over yonder
The path is new the world is free
There is a time when leaves are fallin'
The woods are gray the paths are old
The snow will come when geese are callin'
You need a fire against the cold
So do your roaming in the springtime
And you'll find your love in the summer sun
The frost will come and bring the harvest
And you can sleep when day is done"
Monday, July 23, 2012
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
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