My brain went bungee jumping the other day
It bounced me up and down
until it finally allowed
one of my deep thoughts
to rise along with it
the thought penetrated a cloud
and it rained love
All this because my brain
went bungee jumping.
Photo by Melba Christie (c) 2012
Learn to get in touch with the silence within yourself and know that everything in this life has a purpose.”
“I merely took the energy it takes to pout and wrote some blues.”
– Duke Ellington
“If you are yourself at peace, then there is at least some peace in the world. Then share your peace with everyone, and everyone will be at peace.” –Thomas Merton
“I am very happy, very enchanted … for I am surrounded here by everything I love… My desire would be to stay just like this forever, in a quiet corner of nature. –Claude Monet
“Just living is not enough,” said the butterfly. “One must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower.” –Hans Christian Anderson
- A Poem in Your Pocket Day (poemattic.wordpress.com)
- Beautiful people do not just happen (themovingbookshelf.wordpress.com)
- A poem as message in a bottle (objetsdevertu.wordpress.com)
- Integrity- A poem (timebush.com)
What happened to good?
I would like to know.
All you hear lately is negativity
our economy: no good
our hope: not there
our respect: gone
that’s not good.
That’s not good either.
our dignity: not present
not good at all!
our ability to care for one another
going, going gone
This cannot be good.
What happened to for the good of the order?
What happened to our humanity?
What happened to good?
Oh wait. I think I see it crossing the street.
Sometimes a feeling invades the senses
all at once
overwhelming the heart and soul
tickles you first
to get your attention
sometimes it injects you with energy
so powerful you cannot sleep
sometimes it tiptoes into your dreams
and allows you to slumber
but the feeling lingers for days
and you just can’t remember
why or what it is you should
Sometimes it smacks you across the face
and when you look at yourself in the mirror
you see a hand imprinted in deep red
and sometimes instead
it just walks up to you
and shakes your hand
and you suddenly understand
what you need to do
Your intuition knows how
to make this a better world
to value what matters most
to love life
to be still
and watch patiently
as a flower blooms in spring.
Youth is sometimes wasted on the young; they do not realize that too soon youth fades with the sunset. Mae West once said, “You are never too old to become younger.” Feeling youthful may be a state of mind. Some people never grow old; their attitude is that of Ms.West exactly. I guess one can argue that it depends on how one feels physically as well. We are all vulnerable to the onset of the ailments that are associated with growing older. But maybe it is about acquiring the Peter Pan attitude of not wanting to grow old and more importantly not bothering with the concept of growing up either.
These concepts are unrealistic of course but intriguing and inviting. An important factor of Peter’s existence is that “without a memory, he cannot gain knowledge from his experiences and therefore cannot grow up.”
As we grow older though we tend to cling to the memory of youth. We want to restore those memories in scrap books and go back to old journal entries just to try to remember. The “way we were” is most times the best of who we are now or who we long to be perhaps.
I always wonder about what age I would be if I did not know exactly what age I am. Imagine not being able to look at yourself in the mirror to gauge your age. Imagine not having any frame of reference at all in order to estimate your chronological age. Personally, I would be stuck on one and twenty. A special age to be in life. I speak from experience of course. I remember a poem by Housman that goes like this:
WHEN I was one-and-twenty
I heard a wise man say,
‘Give crowns and pounds and guineas
But not your heart away;
Give pearls away and rubies
But keep your fancy free.’
But I was one-and-twenty,
No use to talk to me.
When I was one-and-twenty
I heard him say again,
‘The heart out of the bosom
Was never given in vain;
‘Tis paid with sighs a plenty
And sold for endless rue.’
And I am two-and-twenty,
And oh, ‘tis true, ‘tis true.
Sometimes youth is wasted on the young. I need to explore what I really mean by this. But in the meantime I invite you to help me explore the idea. And no I am not a bitter old woman trying to be young again nor am I seeking the truth in my middle age. I simply feel that sometimes youth is wasted on the young. That is all.