Category Archives: Reposted from elsewhere
Reposted from https://goj913.wordpress.com/2017/11/17/cryptic-search/
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…
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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…
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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…
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“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
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However dire the situation there will always be art, poetry, resistance.
Ben Naga has lived in England all his life, apart from brief periods in France, India and Scotland. Music is probably his greatest love, with England’s Lake District not far behind. He has privately published “Northern Limericks” and is working on two other collections. His poems have been published in several online magazines.
Blood spurts drip
from arterial subways
Fresh twists thrown
against grimy walls
Iconic artful signatures
styled on the fly
down dreary afternoons
By fancy tattooed pagan avatars
Far out at sea
bathed in a bronze light
Not one of even
the voiceless ninety-nine
Not waving, not drowning
profit’s stark jetsam
the outcoming downpour
About the Author
Ben Nagahas lived in England all his life, apart from brief periods in France, India and Scotland. Music is probably…
View original post 129 more words
Waving to readers
While weaving while wondering
Why weaving and why
There is no death, and there is no birth. They do not really exist because you are never non-existent. On Earth, there is nothing more than appearance. You might call yourself a chrysalis. On Earth, you trade in costumes. Today you wear one outfit, and tomorrow another. Outfits are interchangeable. Today you wear pink, tomorrow yellow, or green, or blue or gray. Infinite are the colors you wear. Infinite are you.
You manifest yourself in various ways. Just as your dreams at night shift or even disappear, you are, nevertheless, the Dreamer who dreams, or who had a dream, and then your dream went walking and then new and old dreams come back, and you slip back into them. Sooner or later, all dreams come true somewhere somehow.
Only on Earth is there a then or a now whereas Eternal is entirely a horse of another…
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