High In His Chariot

High in his chariot glow'd the lamp of day.

~© William Falconer~

All Woods Must Fail

O! Wanderers in the shadowed land
Despair not! For though dark they stand,
All woods there be must end at last,
And see the open sun go past:
The setting sun, the rising sun,
The day's end, or the day begun.
For east or west all woods must fail.

~© JRR Tolkien~

When The Clouds Are Crying

When the clouds are crying,
We feel like crying too,
For when it rains, the heavy drops,
Obscure the distant view.

The darkness crowds around us,
The gloom is oh so drear,
It seems to stay for an eternity,
It gives us little cheer.

We want to push it all away,
And give the sun some space,
To wallow in the warmth exposed,
And see that sunshine's face.

To feel the heat upon our backs,
And close our eyes in bliss,
Observe the shimmering heat haze,
And taste the bright sun's kiss.

So when the clouds are crying,
There's nothing we can do,
Except to wait and hope, then watch,
The sun come smiling through.

~© Ernestine Northover~

Giving & Taking

If you give what can be taken, you are not really giving. Take what you are given, not what you want to be given. Give what cannot be taken.

~© Idries Shah~

Bittersweet

Bittersweet October: The mellow, messy, leaf-kicking, perfect pause between the opposing miseries of Summer and Winter.

~© Carol Bishop Hipps~

October's Party

October gave a party;
The leaves by hundreds came -
The Chestnuts, Oaks, and Maples,
And leaves of every name.
The Sunshine spread a carpet,
And everything was grand,
Miss Weather led the dancing,
Professor Wind the band.

~© George Cooper~

Gather Ye Rosebuds

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Times is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles today,
Tomorrow will be dying.

~© Robert Herrick~

Know'st Thou?

Know'st thou the land where the lemon-trees bloom,
Where the gold orange glows in the deep thicket's gloom,
Where a wind ever soft from the blue heaven blows,
And the groves are of laurel and myrtle and rose!

~© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe~

Silence

See how nature - trees, flowers, grass - grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence...we need silence to be able to touch souls.

~© Mother Teresa~

Beneath The Sun

i think of many things when i'm alone beneath the sun.
it's warmth in sinew and in bone,
it's fiery touch upon my flesh,
a ravage on my skin.

i soar, my mind a pair of hawks, their spiral dance entwined;
two pair of wings that share the sky
observing heaven and the earth;
their infinite design.

and when my blythe repast has ended, sudden as begun,
my mind, my heart and thoughts return
infuse my burning soul with bliss,
and freedom of beyond.

~© moon batchelder~

Because All Poets Must One Day Consider Flowers

goddamn them's some orange
flowers poppin' through
the soil like original thought

the sun, the seeds, the rain
a sloppy wet kiss
a sun kiss

marigolds

~© Kurt Sobolik~

Before The Snake

Sitting, facing the sun, eyes closed. I can hear the
sun. I can hear the bird life all around for miles.
It flies through us and around us, it takes up all
space, as if we were not there, as if we had never
interrupted this place. The birds move diorami-
cally through our heads, from ear to ear. What
are they doing, singing in this luminous fall. It is
marvelous to be so alone, the two of us, in this
garden desert. Forgotten, but remembering
ourselves as no one will ever remember us. The
space between the trees, the bare ground-sand
between them, you can see the land's skin which
is so much home. We cannot buy or sell this
marvelous day. I can hear the sun and, within
the sun, the wind which comes out of the world's
lungs from immeasurable depth; we catch only
a distant echo. Beyond the birds there are per-
sons carrying their names like great weights.
Just think: carrying X your whole life, or Y, or Z.
Carrying all that A and B and C around with you,
having to be A all the time, B, or C. Here you can
be the sun, the pine, the bird. You can be the
breathing. I can tell you, I think this may be
Eden. I think it is.

~© Nathaniel Tarn~

My Future

My future starts when I wake up every morning... Every day I find something creative to do with my life.

~© Miles Davis~

Autumn Day

Lord: it is time. The huge summer has gone by.
Now overlap the sundials with your shadows,
and on the meadows let the wind go free.

Command the fruits to swell on tree and vine;
grant them a few more warm transparent days,
urge them on to fulfillment then, and press
the final sweetness into the heavy wine.

Whoever has no house now, will never have one.
Whoever is alone will stay alone,
will sit, read, write long letters through the
evening,
and wander the boulevards, up and down,
restlessly, while the dry leaves are blowing.

~© Rainer Maria Rilke-Translated by Stephen Mitchell~

Beautiful Words

See the gold sunshine patching,
And streaming and streaking across
The gray-green oaks; and catching,
By its soft brown beard, the moss.

~© Philip James Bailey~

Joy

A leaf fluttered in through the window this morning, as if supported by the rays of the sun, a bird settled on the fire escape, joy in the task of coffee, joy accompanied me as I walked...

~© Anais Nin~

Someday

Someday the sun is going to shine down on me in some faraway place.

~© Mahalia Jackson~

Friday The 13th

Depend on the rabbit's foot if you will, but remember it didn't work for the rabbit.

~© R.E. Shay~

We Grow Great By Dreams

We grow great by dreams. All big men are dreamers. They see things in the soft haze of a spring day or in the red fire of a long winter's evening. Some of us let these great dreams die, but others nourish and protect them; nurse them through bad days till they bring them to the sunshine and light which comes always to those who sincerely hope that their dreams will come true.

~© Woodrow Wilson~

We Are

We are, each of us angels with only one wing;
and we can only fly by embracing one another.

~© Luciano De Crescenzo~

Humor Is The Great Thing...

Humor is the great thing, the saving thing. The minute it crops up, all our irritations and resentments slip away and a sunny spirit takes their place.

~© Mark Twain~

Have You Ever Tried To Enter The Long Black Branches?

Have you ever tried to enter the long black branches
of other lives --
tried to imagine what the crisp fringes, full of honey,
hanging
from the branches of the young locust trees, in early morning,
feel like?

Do you think this world was only an entertainment for you?

Never to enter the sea and notice how the water divides
with perfect courtesy, to let you in!
Never to lie down on the grass, as though you were the grass!
Never to leap to the air as you open your wings over
the dark acorn of your heart!

No wonder we hear, in your mournful voice, the complaint
that something is missing from your life!


Who can open the door who does not reach for the latch?
Who can travel the miles who does not put one foot
in front of the other, all attentive to what presents itself
continually?
Who will behold the inner chamber who has not observed
with admiration, even with rapture, the outer stone?


Well, there is time left --
fields everywhere invite you into them.

And who will care, who will chide you if you wander away
from wherever you are, to look for your soul?

Quickly, then, get up, put on your coat, leave your desk!


To put one's foot into the door of the grass, which is
the mystery, which is death as well as life, and
not be afraid!

To set one's foot in the door of death, and be overcome
with amazement!

To sit down in front of the weeds, and imagine
god the ten-fingered, sailing out of his house of straw,
nodding this way and that way, to the flowers of the
present hour,
to the song falling out of the mockingbird's pink mouth,
to the tippets of the honeysuckle, that have opened

in the night

To sit down, like a weed among weeds, and rustle in the wind!



Listen, are you breathing just a little, and calling it a life?

While the soul, after all, is only a window,

and the opening of the window no more difficult
than the wakening from a little sleep.



Only last week I went out among the thorns and said
to the wild roses:
deny me not,
but suffer my devotion.
Then, all afternoon, I sat among them. Maybe

I even heard a curl or tow of music, damp and rouge red,
hurrying from their stubby buds, from their delicate watery bodies.

For how long will you continue to listen to those dark shouters,
caution and prudence?
Fall in! Fall in!



A woman standing in the weeds.
A small boat flounders in the deep waves, and what's coming next
is coming with its own heave and grace.



Meanwhile, once in a while, I have chanced, among the quick things,
upon the immutable.
What more could one ask?

And I would touch the faces of the daises,
and I would bow down
to think about it.

That was then, which hasn't ended yet.

Now the sun begins to swing down. Under the peach-light,
I cross the fields and the dunes, I follow the ocean's edge.

I climb, I backtrack.
I float.
I ramble my way home.

~© Mary Oliver ~

The Art of Being Happy

The art of being happy lies in the power of extracting happiness from common things.

~© Henry Ward Beecher~

Anytime, Anywhere

My point of view is expanding everyday
and I feel with clarity my vision sway.
Your private access takes me all the way.

I am amplified by what's inside of you.
I feel your energy is something I can't lose.
I'm a pressure cooker, I'm about to blow.

I love the way that you move me,
It's never enough, I've got to have you,
anytime, anywhere that's all.

My sweet addiction I pray will never end.
Well-trained and suffering my heat for you
depends on love, like the flood,
when I go down.

I love the way that you move me,
It's never enough, I've got to have you,
anytime, anywhere that's all.

Anytime, anywhere
I've got to have you,
I've got to have you.

~© Queensryche~

Dream Weaving

We all have our own life to pursue,
Our own kind of dream to be weaving...

And we all have the power
To make wishes come true,
As long as we keep believing.

~© Louisa May Alcott~

Sit Smiling

I boasted among men that I had known you.
They see your pictures in all works of mine.
They come and ask me, `Who is he?'
I know not how to answer them. I say, `Indeed, I cannot tell.'
They blame me and they go away in scorn.
And you sit there smiling.

I put my tales of you into lasting songs.
The secret gushes out from my heart.
They come and ask me, `Tell me all your meanings.'
I know not how to answer them.
I say, `Ah, who knows what they mean!'
They smile and go away in utter scorn.
And you sit there smiling.

~© Rabindranath Tagore~

Like A Ritual

Love you
Like a ritual
Fill you with the spirit
Spread the magic dust
Love you
Like a ritual
Let me be the stranger
I'll watch you do
your dance

~© Winger-Excerpted lyrics~

Common Sense and a Sense of Humor...

Common sense and a sense of humor are the same thing, moving at different speeds. A sense of humor is just common sense, dancing.

~© William James~

Resting Place

Each and every one of us, dear Mary, must have a resting place somewhere. The resting place of my soul is a beautiful grove where my knowledge of you lives.

~© Kahlil Gibran~