Life, Prose, Poetry, Philosophy, Opinion, Faith |
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Thanks Tornado Day for sponsoring me in the "Rising Star Group" and being my friend. |
.... Let the sunshine dwell upon you, Let your life be scored. Breath deep that well of homage, To show your beauty form. Do not let the ills of life draw tears, Cry only for others misinformed. The tears that well, drop from your eyes to see. What love had lit, flushed in light. In brave manor inching forward; Past thoughts help intercede. Love and light, and kind felt hurry, Without ease, sucked into the story. Breath, breath, outwaked glory, Gentle will softly concede. |
... Change your thoughts and you change your world. Norman Vincent Peale |
... Edge The force that's upon me, Comes from where I was bred. Throwing me into the rocks Surviving the struggle, In search of the edge. The tip of the wave fades to nothing, Who I thought I was, needs building again. The Tempest, the torment, My Newfoundland scenery, There I was born, and one day I will end. The edge of the wave pushes upon me, To make strong my will to live. Violent force, throwing, tossing, smashing Against the rocky cliff shore, Where I live. |
... "Love is the only wealth that man absolutely needs. Love is the only wealth that God precisely is. Hate is an obverse form of love. You hate someone whom you really wish to love, but whom you cannot love. Perhaps he himself prevents you. That is a disguised form of love. You can only hate someone whom you have the capacity to love, because if you are really indifferent, you cannot even get up the enough energy to hate him. Hatred is the frustration or blockage of normal, free-flowing love." Sri Chinmoy |
... By all means, marry. If you get a good wife, you'll become happy; if you get a bad one, you'll become a philosopher. Socrates |
... "Guns are a barbarous relic that should have been done away with long ago." That was a quote I just heard...well it's a para- phrase but that's the gist of it. Machines build to kill, certainly are barbarous relics that show our inhumanity. With that said I have hunted, killed, and eaten the game I've shot. THE FOOD I SHOT |
... That's when I played my whistle dear I played that song for you. I rang the notes to sound as crisp as the dawn of a country day anew. To glimps the gleam of golden hearth two schillings bobbed for you. A copper cleared for every turn in wagering births truth! |
... Wish I wish that I could tell you Of words I never said, Passages of love to soothe a wakeful anxious dread. Days and nights of loneliness, Lost in absence too; Sight and sound, Darkness cloaks a life denied of you. I've never loved myself, So how could you love me? A living formed by sadness, Tears you could not see. Given now to anguish, So much more I could have done. Were not for fear I held within - The man I had become. Seeking solace for who I was, And where it was I'd been. Knowing not of roads ahead, Or miles between each bend. Dare I dream - From sleep returned, Fading darkness yielding sun. Another night Another dawn Another life begun. Loving thoughts of days swept past Would turn to look no more, But walk in faith for what might come Was you I waited for. What pennies I was spending But for this my sure reward; Light to beam across my waves, Love to calm my storm. |
... "To feel and imagine may not sound like much. But in care of the soul there is trust that nature heals, that much can be accomplished by not-doing. The assumption is that being follows imagination. If we can see the story we are in when we fall into our compulsive behaviors, and moods, then we might know how to move through them more freely with less distress." Thomas Moore |