tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35616909944944578832024-10-01T23:31:20.204-07:00Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04733016317763563530noreply@blogger.comBlogger42125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3561690994494457883.post-24697261110104678232013-03-03T17:26:00.001-08:002013-03-03T17:26:11.415-08:00

Life simply seems to cease sometimes, turns dark, stands still, stays frozen. We dread these difficult, dire days when our zest for life becomes self-disgust and grabs us by our despised throat, spews spiteful charges against us and God. What miracle, when even then the light of love begins to shine its quiet, tender flame on our dreary path. Without this grace we would be lost

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04733016317763563530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3561690994494457883.post-79797934172143530932013-03-03T09:18:00.002-08:002013-03-03T09:18:55.051-08:00

This day has made me tired. I wish to sleep and welcome this starlight like a child after play. Hands of mine, stop doing. Mind of mine, stop thinking. All my senses are getting ready to sink soon into slumber and sweet sleep. No longer fettered, my soul slips free, ready to soar upward in its infinite flight, to live fully its thousand lives in the magic journeys of the night. By: Hermann

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04733016317763563530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3561690994494457883.post-54292759139385973922013-03-03T09:01:00.001-08:002013-03-03T09:01:01.356-08:00

We evolve from the unconscious to total awareness and spiral once back to our dark source through many paths to what we knew in the beginning. From there we get expelled without mercy into the prison of doubt: philosophy. And slowly make our first steps in the maze of irony. What follows is intense contemplation, through many polished mirrors. We are caught in the cold darkness

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04733016317763563530noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3561690994494457883.post-64613140818147174162013-02-16T11:30:00.001-08:002013-02-16T11:30:48.151-08:00

Tis fine to see the Old World, and travel up and down Among the famous palaces and cities of renown, To admire the crumbly castles and the statues of the Kings, But now I think I've had enough of antiquated things. So it's home again, and home again, America for me! My heart is turning home again, and there I long to be, In the land of youth and freedom beyond the ocean bars, Whee

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04733016317763563530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3561690994494457883.post-4863861087006006672013-02-16T11:14:00.002-08:002013-02-16T11:14:44.723-08:00

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here will we sit, and let the sound of music Creep in our ears: soft stillness, and the night, Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica: look, how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold: There's not the smallest orb which thou behold But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04733016317763563530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3561690994494457883.post-89526631850830798322013-01-05T18:00:00.001-08:002013-01-05T18:00:09.388-08:00

The night has a thousand eyes, And the day but one; Yet the light of the bright world dies With the dying sun. The mind has a thousand eyes, And the heart but one; Yet the light of a whole life dies When love is done. By: Francis William Bourdillon (Born March 22, 1852; died January 13, 1921)

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04733016317763563530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3561690994494457883.post-32573417940281254752013-01-05T17:39:00.000-08:002013-01-05T17:39:24.849-08:00

Laugh, and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone. For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough of its own. Sing, it is lost on the air. The echoes bound to a joyful sound, But shrink from voicing care. Rejoice, and men will seek you; Grieve, and they turn and go. They want full measure of all your pleasure, But they do not need your woe. Be

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04733016317763563530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3561690994494457883.post-64360013409519593032013-01-01T19:19:00.002-08:002013-01-01T19:19:10.614-08:00

I am the new colt. I took the creamery road to the palace. I took the chill-knob to be polished. It was a lonely way. My underside is beige and surprising as the belly of a fire truck. I took the creamery road. I took the palace. Tearing the grass with my black feet I struck at the night with my firetruck neck and found it once, the palace. I am in it now alone. I am precious like rosacea. I

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04733016317763563530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3561690994494457883.post-17113818015800880772013-01-01T18:55:00.001-08:002013-01-01T18:55:34.902-08:00

Of the two spoiled, barn-sour geldings we owned that year, it was Red- skittish and prone to explode even at fourteen years - who'd let me hold to my face his own: the massive labyrinthine caverns of the nostrils, the broad plain  up the head to the eyes. He'd let me stoke his coarse chin whiskers and take  his soft meaty underlip in my hands, press my man's carnivorous

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04733016317763563530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3561690994494457883.post-7520772300636097922012-12-11T20:00:00.002-08:002012-12-11T20:00:49.236-08:00

If it didn't bring you joy just leave it behind Let's ring in the New Year with good things in mind. Let every bad memory  that brought heartache and pain And let's turn a new leaf with the smell of new rain. Let's forget past mistakes making amends for this year Sending you these greetings to bring you hope and cheer! Happy New Year 2013! www.forangelsonly.org

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04733016317763563530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3561690994494457883.post-64602498734223132072012-12-11T19:40:00.001-08:002012-12-11T19:40:51.096-08:00

I have a list of people I know All written in a book And every year at Christmastime I go and take a look And that is when I realise That those names are a part Not of the book they're written in But of my very heart For each name stands for someone Who has crossed my path some time And in that meeting they've become A treasured friend of mine And once you've met some people The

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04733016317763563530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3561690994494457883.post-18222863056670263922012-10-27T16:54:00.000-07:002012-10-27T16:54:28.674-07:00

A women goes out shopping with her husband and spots a pair of boots she loves. The husband says, "No chance love, they're way too expensive." Later on in bed, the wife is just  falling asleep when the husband tries his luck and places his hand on her hip and then lower on to her thigh. She turns to him and say's, " I don't think so mate. If you're not prepared to shoe the

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04733016317763563530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3561690994494457883.post-91240875153517981462012-10-14T08:15:00.002-07:002012-10-14T08:19:52.533-07:00

Like the beat beat beat of the tom-tom When the jungle shadows fall, Like the tick tick tock of the stately clock As it stands against the wall, Like the drip drip drip of the raindrops When the summer shower is through, So a voice within me keeps repeating You - You - You. Night and day you are the one, Only you beneath the moon and under the sun. Whether near to me or far

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04733016317763563530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3561690994494457883.post-15876933549292485492012-10-14T07:56:00.001-07:002012-10-14T07:56:09.231-07:00

 Home work, home work, Every night there's home work, While Elsie practises the gas goes pop, I wish, I wish she'd stop, Oh dear, oh dear, You can't go out again, you must stay home, You waste your money on that common Picturedrome, Don't shirk - stay here and do your work. Yearning, yearning, How my heart is burning. I'll see him Saturday in Strong Man's Pain And then on

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04733016317763563530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3561690994494457883.post-64560478259850555062012-10-08T16:47:00.001-07:002012-10-08T16:48:28.100-07:00

Over the river and through the wood, To grandfather's house we go; The horse knows the way To carry the sleigh Through the white and drifted snow. Over the river and through the wood Oh, how the wind does blow! It stings the toes And bites the nose, As over the ground we go. Over the river and through the wood, To have first rate play. Hear the bells ring, "Ting-a-ling-ding

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04733016317763563530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3561690994494457883.post-17202755336620920442012-10-08T16:30:00.000-07:002012-10-08T16:30:45.550-07:00

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why, I have forgotten, and what arms have lain Under my head till morning; but the rain Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh Upon the glass and listen for reply, And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain For unremembered lads that not again Will turn to me at midnight with a cry. Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree, Nor knows what

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04733016317763563530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3561690994494457883.post-32680459399127380272012-08-21T15:37:00.000-07:002012-08-21T15:37:24.031-07:00

Don't talk to me of love. I've had an earful And I get tearful when I've downed a drink or two. I'm one of your talking wounded. I'm a hostage. I'm maroonded. But I'm in Paris with you. Yes I'm angry at the way I've been bamboozled And resentful at the mess that I've been through. I admit I'm on the rebound And I don't care where are we bound. I'm in Paris with you.

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04733016317763563530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3561690994494457883.post-36497882671059498582012-06-15T18:54:00.002-07:002012-06-15T18:54:20.539-07:00

A little girl needs Daddy For many, many things: Like holding her high off the ground Where the sunlight sings! Like being the deep music That tells her all is right When she awakens frantic with The terrors of the night. Like being the great mountain That rises in her heart And shows her

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04733016317763563530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3561690994494457883.post-72563274445031612982012-06-12T11:41:00.003-07:002012-06-12T11:45:21.350-07:00

Right under their noses, the green Of the field is paling away Because of something fallen from the sky. They see this, and put down Their long heads deeper in grass That only just escapes reflecting them As the dream of a millpond would. The color green flies over the grass Like an insect, following the red sun over The next hill. The grass is white. There is no cloud so

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04733016317763563530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3561690994494457883.post-24482838192677506662012-05-30T17:14:00.001-07:002012-05-30T17:14:29.010-07:00

   As long as you can chase happiness, you are not ready to be happy, even if you owned everything. As long as you lament a loss, run after prizes in restless races, you have not yet known peace. But when you have moved beyond desire, become a stranger to your goals and longings and call no longer on happiness by name, then your heart rises calmly above the ebb and

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04733016317763563530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3561690994494457883.post-32123063490087601022012-05-13T09:13:00.000-07:002012-05-13T09:13:29.428-07:00

 All blossoms will wilt, each youth fold into the mold of age. Wisdom and virtue never last forever. Your heart must always be ready to leave and ready to begin again, must form new bonds with courage and without regret. Every beginning offers a magic power that protects us and helps us to endure. This journey through the realms of life was not meant to end in one home only.

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04733016317763563530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3561690994494457883.post-53968649173119280732012-05-12T06:25:00.003-07:002012-05-12T06:25:53.338-07:00

  A single flow'r he sent me, since we met. All tenderly his messenger he chose; Deep hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet One perfect rose. I knew the language of the floweret; My fragile leaves, it said, his heart enclose. Love long has taken for his amulet One perfect rose. Why is it no one ever sent me yet One perfect limousine, do you suppose? Ah no, it's always

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04733016317763563530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3561690994494457883.post-58678177489145078672012-05-05T19:58:00.000-07:002012-05-05T19:58:31.361-07:00

At lunchtime I bought a huge orange The size of it made us all laugh. I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave They got quarters and I had a half. And that orange, it made me so happy, As ordinary things often do Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park. This is peace and contentment. It's new. The rest of the day was quite easy. I did all the jobs on my list And

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04733016317763563530noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3561690994494457883.post-57171112450883711532012-05-04T18:39:00.001-07:002012-05-04T18:39:58.266-07:00

What would my life mean, if it ended today? Was it wasted, adrift in dreams? No, it was a circle of inner joys I gathered to me with both hands and passed on and received again and again. It was a union of passion with the earth, whose fervor drenched happiness on me and always furthered my goals with glowing gestures toward eternal life. It was a lifelong brotherly union with

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04733016317763563530noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3561690994494457883.post-58307745045261312552012-05-02T20:23:00.003-07:002012-05-02T20:23:38.103-07:00

Oh, when I was in love with you, Then I was clean and brave, And miles around the wonder grew How well did I behave. And now the fancy passes by, And nothing will remain, And miles around they'll say that I Am quite myself again.

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04733016317763563530noreply@blogger.com0