Category Archives: Reposted from elsewhere
Reposted from https://goj913.wordpress.com/2017/11/17/cryptic-search/
clues to use
on a double
shield family force.
left and right,
on warning signs
seated in flight,
flock starling in
inside and out,
for gardener to
to trash pile,
on birch trees
empty nested birds
chirping pleas for
to rusty cages
More dirt to dig
he was convinced
using a shovel
in a chemical landfill
family maneuvers above soaring.
Tonight, as you lay in bed ready to sleep,
think of the people in your life that you care about.
One by one, whisper their names, picture them smiling
and then offer them your blessings.
It beats counting sheep, puts good energy out into the cosmos,
and may very well have you drifting off with a smile on your face.
Photo by Benjamin M Williamson
Text & image source: Begin with Yes https://web.facebook.com/beginwithyes/
For some background go to http://www.bbc.com/news/uk-wales-mid-wales-41809852
There now, lay it all down,
The soft memory and the memory of hard bone.
After the year’s first true frost
A dead sheep lies in the field becoming a dance of hawks and ravens.
And on a lonely hillside unremarked
A blaze has born the babies away.
A smudge of smoke and the light of morning
Is no prayer of peace to ones who wait
Empty-hearted for better news.
The village, warm now in sun, silent.
Thoughts unthought of before – friends vanished,
Those known, now unplaced, a hollowness
Around memory clung to.
It is an uncertain anchor to hold on to –
This world that blinks apart from day to day.
Should we rise and flow like the oak leaves
On the cold dark currents of the Irfon?
Or wrap around like ivy, cling like lichen bloom
To this weathered stone.
We are a thin soil…
View original post 129 more words
In memoriam Kimberly Wilhelmina Floria.
(Fly With The Wind KIM)
Yesterday, I found out about the passing of my friend, a prolific writer, and a wonderful poet, Kimberly Wilhelmina Floria https://silentlyheardonce.wordpress.com/ and my heart broke into a million pieces. Kim fought a brave battle but has decided to rest. However, she has left us with several words of wisdom. While reading her poignant poem below, I felt a searing pain in my chest thinking of all the times I’ve wasted fighting needless battles, blocking the sun and escaping the breeze.
Three weeks ago I was wheeled out of the operating theatre after an emergency surgery, for a fleeting moment, the thought passed through my mind, ‘what if this is the end?’
All that’s going to change now. To celebrate her life, we need to ponder on now, this moment, we should imprint every memories so that when our time comes, we would have lived!
I think what Kim was trying to say is…
View original post 417 more words
When we taste something, what is the ‘realness’ of it? We can say, ‘It tastes nice’ but this is what we think about it, not what the taste is. We can say, ‘It’s a grape’, but that’s a designation, a perception, isn’t it? What is the actual taste? We say, ‘It’s sweet’, but ‘sweet’ is a judgment, isn’t it? We come to understand that the reality of it is indefinable, and that for most of our life we are operating at the level of interpretations and classifications, of secondary experiences, rather than living the actuality of it. We never even know who we really are, because everything is constantly changing; the reference points are changing so although we feel we’re something, nothing quite fits. So as long as we identify with the world of change and appearance, this is all we shall ever feel ourselves to be, just an appearance…
View original post 15 more words
“How will I say where I end
Or where you begin” – Robin Williamson.
I’m calling in my marker
You have the wrong stiff, I replied
I’ve been scared stiff too long
Turned into crystal
Split apart under armadillo sun
Melted and became a resin lingua, beneath surface, hearing murmur
Of half forgotten plea
Smoke me if you must
You’ve got the flame
Though displeased not to gain my soul, ponder this …
What you cannot snap in two
Will one day be called beautiful
And all that pain it took
Just to keep walking
When the sun burned you to clay and turned you finally to river mud
When the last ounce of yes I can
Si su puede
Became Holy Lord I cannot endure
When you felt yourself
Wilt like wax candle of the saints, in midday sun
From alive, to oil, to fire and back again to blood
View original post 192 more words