A mixture of art in all its forms and random grabs from life and whatever else bubbles up….

Poetry

Burning….

When all is lost and hope has fled
When fear is strong and strength is dead
When love and joy abandon you
When mental anguish grows in you

When the last of efforts fail to save
When your fate is ill, your mind enslaved
And when your head hangs low in misery
This is when you’ll find the key

A single ember from deep within
Burns hotter and hotter, as flames begin
The fire of truth will light the way
And help you fight, this lonely day

The battle is long, the struggle is rough
Never regret not giving enough
For when we offer our very best,
Our very soul is put to the test

Stand tall and true and you’ll prevail
Just hold on tight and never bail
You will survive if you don’t quit
Victory is there, if you reach for it

One day in the future, you will look to the past,
And know you had what it takes to last
So never give up and good things will come,
Not just honor and pride, but a job well done.

Anom

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Color in my life…

I Will Colour My Life

I’ll colour my life in sunny hues
Vibrant violets velvety blues
Ones to energies passing hours
Yellow sunlight of spring flowers

Calming colours those vividly bright
Colours that inspire and excite
Colours to invoke joy and delight
And the randomness of delicate white

An uncharted life an unbroken blaze –
Where in the midst of a dismal maze
Sparkling tints happily surprise
Meteor shower splash night skies

Red is for the heart love life of the soul
A powerful force that controls the whole
Green as soothing as an emerald sea,
To bask in peace and tranquility.

I’ll colour my life in tenderest blue
Shots of silver and gold all through
Colours fading change as new
Colours enrich a love that’s true

As silver streaked hours flit by
Savour each moment as they fly
Soon we are what our fathers shall be
Grey shadowy shapes of memory!

Beyond sunsets glorious haze
Afire sets the sea ablaze
Life ebbing away my eyelids close
Fall the petal hours the rose!

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FLOWER OF LIFE…

FLOWER OF LIFE

A Poem by Eileen Finch Cain

F eel the goodness in all forms of life
L ove all things; let go of strife
O pen your petals; let love flow in
W iden the gap; let love grow within
E rase the scars of the past
R est in the assurance that only love lasts

O wn your self-worth in spite of what others may say
F ind again the peace in your day

L ive your potential; let the world know
I nto yourself let a new energy flow
F ind out you have so much to give
E mbrace love; laugh and life

Be joyous and free
Be all that you are and ever could be!

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The dance of light….

In the twilight the fireflies dance,
Her lips so close to mine…
The shy moon behind the clouds
My heart beating in sync with the twinkling stars
In my heart, in my brain
She’s in my soul, blood and grain
The breeze is cool, heavy and deep
Blowing hair on her face
She moves so gracefully, smiles with ease
This moment forever I seek to freeze

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People are made of places…

People are made of places. They carry with them
hints of jungles or mountains, a tropic grace
or the cool eyes of sea gazers. Atmosphere of cities
how different drops from them, like the smell of smog
or the almost-not-smell of tulips in the spring,
nature tidily plotted with a guidebook;
or the smell of work, glue factories maybe,
chromium-plated offices; smell of subways
crowded at rush hours.

Where I come from, people
carry woods in their minds, acres of pine woods;
blueberry patches in the burned-out bush;
wooden farmhouses, old, in need of paint,
with yards where hens and chickens circle about,
clucking aimlessly; battered schoolhouses
behind which violets grow. Spring and winter
are the mind’s chief seasons: ice and the breaking of ice.

A door in the mind blows open, and there blows
a frosty wind from fields of snow.

Elizabeth Brewster

SOURCE

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And there was light…

Both light and shadow are the dance of Love.

Love has no cause, it is the astrolabe of God’s secrets.

Lover and loving are inseparable and timeless.

Although I may try to describe love,

when I experience it, I am speechless.

Although I may try to write about love, I am rendered helpless.

My pen breaks, and the paper slips away

at the ineffable place where lover loving and loved are one.

Every moment is made glorious by the light of Love .

RUMI

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SPEAK TO ME…

. . . SPEAK TO ME . . .

Speak to me of tenderness,
That lingers in your hands;
Reflecting there the beauty,
That lies deep within the man.
Speak to me of passion,
In a lover’s soft caress;
Like dancing springtime breezes,
Filled with gentleness.

Speak to me of longing,
Planted deep within a soul;
The aching need for ecstasy,
That a lover’s touch makes whole.
Speak to me of whispers,
Falling on a lover’s ear;
Words that fill the emptiness,
Of a heart that longed to hear.

Speak to me of blossoms,
That are kissed by morning dew;
And I will show you beauty,
That is seen, my love, in you.

Allison Chambers Coxsey

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Written in stone….

I found that love, provides
The key-unlocks, the heart and souls, of you and me-
Love will learn to sing your song,
Love is written in the stone

Every man, I meet is walking time-
Free to wander, past his conscious mind,
Love will come, and take you home-
Love is written, in the stone
Do you believe, my friend, in what you claim, people of the world,
All doubt the same-bringing questions
Of their own-truth is written,
In the stone

In the stone, you’ll find the meaning
Why you’re not standing tall
In the stone
The light is shining, forever touching all-

Life experience a passing day
Time will witness, what the ole
Folks say-getting stronger every day
-Strenght is written in the stone-
Deep inside, our hearts for us
To keep-lies a spark of light that
Never sleeps
The greatest, you’ve ever known-
Yea is written-
In the stone

In the stone, you’ll find the meaning
Why you’re not standing tall
In the stone
The light is shining, forever touching all
Never, never my darling, never you’ll
Be alone-Forever, ever my darling
True love is written in the stone

SOURCE

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Spirits rising…..

Don’t be afraid your life will end; be afraid that it will never begin

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To a butterfly….

To A Butterfly

I’ve watched you now a full half-hour,
Self-poised upon that yellow flower;
And, little Butterfly! indeed
I know not if you sleep or feed.
How motionless! – not frozen seas
More motionless! and then
What joy awaits you, when the breeze
Hath found you out among the trees,
And calls you forth again!

This plot of orchard-ground is ours;
My trees they are, my Sister’s flowers;
Here rest your wing when they are weary;
Here lodge as in a sanctuary!
Come often to us, fear no wrong;
Sit near us on the bough!
We’ll talk of sunshine and of song,
And summer days, when we were young;
Sweet childish days, that were as long
As twenty days are now.

Stay near me–do not take thy flight!
A little longer stay in sight!
Much converse do I find in thee,
Historian of my infancy!
Float near me; do not yet depart!
Dead times revive in thee:
Thou bring’st, gay creature as thou art!
A solemn image to my heart,
My father’s family!

Oh! pleasant, pleasant were the days,
The time, when, in our childish plays,
My sister Emmeline and I
Together chased the butterfly!
A very hunter did I rush
Upon the prey:–with leaps and springs
I followed on from brake to bush;
But she, God love her, feared to brush
The dust from off its wings.

William Wordsworth

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