“When it is dark enough you can see the stars”
Ralph Waldo Emerson
“When it is dark enough you can see the stars”
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Isn’t it so clear
Nature knows the connection
Why can’t we see it?
I join the world in mourning the senseless deaths of so many in Paris, France yesterday. If we truly understand that we are interconnected in every way then we will heal together but we must not allow violence and terrorism to win. Vive La France!
I know exactly what you mean!
Originally posted on Stories that Must Not Die:
For a while, Helena Hann-Basquiat was everywhere on the blogosphere. She was posting regularly. She had full-length novels she was working on. She was reading and leaving insightful comments on more blogs than seemed possible at times, given there are only 24 hours in a day, and some of those have to be spent eating and sleeping. Her voice was unique and dominating. And then, one day, the truth came out: Helena was a pseudonym being used by a male writer. I invited H.K. Abell to share a bit of his story with our community because it is certainly one that should not die:
1 – Helena
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again – I never wanted to be a blogger.
What I wanted – what I have come to understand is impossible – was just to write, and to have that writing stand alone, on…
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Today was a gloomy day and most of the trees are bare. A little melancholy perhaps.
Originally posted on Melba Christie at Poemattic:
“Aloneness and all-oneness is our authentic nature. We are always alone and all-one. We came into this planet alone and all-one. We will leave alone and all-one. And also during our whole staying in this world, no matter how we engage in relationships, we continue to be alone and all-one, though we may forget about it or pretend it is not the case.”
Even a flower can count on the company among other flowers. It can see the blades of grass and the earth that sustains it. No company needed I do not think. Or at least we do not know for sure because we cannot hear them speak or complain of loneliness. It may wither or wilt, maybe from lack of water or nourishment or even love. My mother believed flowers did listen when spoken to and grew and blossomed fuller and more beautiful. Nature is fickle though.
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“I must have flowers, always, and always.”
– Claude Monet
Bare trees pray silently
as night falls slowly.
For all they know
Tomorrow might be
“The creative mind plays with the objects it loves”
– Carl Jung
I recently visited the exhibit of Frida Kahlo at the New York Botanical Gardens. I took this picture of the desk where she painted. I imagined her sitting there looking around at her beautiful garden. I have many of her biographies and books that illustrate her work. The complexity and depth of her soul is in her work. I have different storage places for my paints, pens, pencils and brushes. These are among some of the objects I love. I see them as extensions of my mind and a creative source. All I need to do is walk by a vase full of paint brushes (the older the better) and I cannot resist the urge to create something. Sometimes I fall in love with what I have done and other times I put it away to look at again at a later time. It is my way of looking at things from a different perspective.
I took the picture but I also examined each piece very carefully. Each object had a spirit. Each has a purpose. Creativeness has a purpose. It was an amazing experience, almost surreal.
there are two schools of thought
either you believe in ghosts or you don’t
some say it’s a holiday derived from the devil
others feel it is simply a time to revel
Candy corn and snickers bars
is all I care about
simple fun and dressing up
like a coffee cup.
whatever it is that you believe
one thing is for certain
if you happen to bump into a ghoul
run as fast as you can
and do not be a fool.
Be safe! Check all candy before you eat.
Happiness went walking one day
And caught up with me
It asked me to give it all my sadness
It bundled all my fears
And soaked up all my tears
Happiness knew exactly what to do
To put a smile on my face
It reminded me of my blessings
They outweigh the bad
So there is really no good reason
To be ever sad
Happiness is a choice we make;
it waits for you the minute you wake.
Always look on the sunny side
It’s a rule you must abide
What good is it to dwell on the negative
When you can choose to be happy
Keep your life in check
and keep in sight the positive.
Pink means many things
It is quintessentially the color of serenity
and unfortunately the color creating awareness
for that horrible disease I rather not pronounce today.
It is the Rock Star;
the sexy secrets,
only Victoria knows for sure.
It is the color of a Rose
and other delicate flowers
like the ones in Frida’s garden.
Pink is the color of my granddaughter’s cheeks
it illuminates her smile
and fills my heart with joy.
The simplicity of pink is not so simple after all.
My mind drifts often
Like snow does in a winter storm
It takes short walks to get energized
When it returns
It reminds me of the sweet things in life
It does not allow me to think about the
Times of strife and suffering and of when
Sometimes my soul was not a soul
My mind escapes me occasionally;
It takes vacations to exotic places,
Where everyone is so relaxed,
They forget they exist.
What a wonderful feeling that can be sometimes.
My mind fills with imagination;
It questions the questionable;
It rejects the rejection;
My mind builds mountains
On the dessert.
Makes the moon smile sometimes,
And grows tiger lilies on the side
Of a lonely road to keep it company
Yes, it is quite unique
Inventive, and sometimes absent
From reality and the truth.
Josephina sees herself in the mirror for the very first time
her baby blues open wide
in awe of the image
she does not know yet
belongs to her
for she is only seven months old
Josephina examines the face carefully
moves in closer
looks straight into her own eyes
Wrinkles her tiny nose
in approval of the beautiful little girl
probably thinking they will be the best of friends
her mother watches proudly in the background
takes a short vídeo of the memorable encounter
and emails it to abuela.
And of course as all abuelas do
she is so proud
all she can think of to say
deja vous all over again
Josephina’s mom did the same thing
Thanks for the memories!
Here, we commemorate survival.
A blog about the Global Archipelago
where observation and imagination meet nature in poetry
Living the life of the common people.
Artwork By ISD
I am an illustrator living in beautiful Canada.
A journey through history via forgotten books, by Roger Pocock.
Yours to discover
My daily quest for One Beautiful Thing (OBT)
the impressions are nonverbatim and are not to be taken literally, chew it thoroughly to avoid indigestion.
Original poems for the young at heart