If we were a mountain
it wouldn't matter,
If we were a waterfall,
full, beautiful, rainbow drunk,
the cracks would be irrelevant.
If we were a rock
or a fossil,
the little divisions
would add character,
be magically artistic.
If we had accomplished something
somewhere along the way,
some formation of mending clay
like tenderness, like forgiveness,
these fissures would not have
opened into gaping holes,
earths, dreams, weights of hope.
I just wanted to share a song that always makes me feel happy and energized. I believe in the power of the creative arts to make life better. Every time I hear this song, I want to get up and dance around the room. And why not? Life is too sort to NOT dance around the room every chance you get.
This picture I took on the way to work. I loved how the tulips match the tree. This was outside of a florist called "Bloomers".
This was taken in my town of Vineland this winter.
I just love the way the sky looks through the silhoettes of trees; mystical and magical.
This picture was taken in the town where I grew up.
Trees are truly majestic and beautiful. It is one of the best parts of living in New Jersey. A poet I once knew, Betty Spinner, said that in the Fall, the trees are sometimes so beautiful that it hurts. I was a teenager at the time but I never forgot it. For those of us who live in a place with trees that change in the Fall, we know how true this statement is. The beauty of nature is a gift to all who have the senses to perceive it. Sometimes, we just need to remind ourselves to pay attention to all the beauty that surrounds us. I hope you enjoyed!!
The note was on regular white paper
and I guess I was hoping for something
more fancy, maybe a scroll at the borders
or a tiny purple flower winding its way
through a vine...
Anything to reveal some secret message
beyond your words; all that's left,
your soul's skeleton in black ink.
I will keep this forever,
but you knew that, probably,
as you wrote, providing
me a souvenir or
your death knell.
I suppose I should forgive you
and this blank message on a carelessly ripped
page from a notebook.
I suppose I should.
Since I do not have an ipod or a cd shuffler, I put on "Music Choice" which is basically radio television. I wrote the titles of the first five songs that played on the Adult Alternative channel. The songs were:
"Is it any wonder," "Troubled Land," "The Bringdown," "Thank You", "Trash Day"
Is it any wonder
that my mind wanders
like a stranger in a troubled land,
when all that rage has gone unpronounced,
held inside to protect you
from the Bringdown
that launching anger brings.
I guess I'm supposed to thank you,
for teaching me more self-control,
better anger management,
forced on me by the need for survival.
Be careful, it's a dangerous game
you play, look out to the curb
on trash day.