Melba Christie at Poemattic

Poetry and Art for the Soul

Ideas Not!


“Don’t think!

Thinking is the enemy of creativity. It is self-conscious

and anything self-conscious is lousy

you can’t try to do things; you simply must do them.”

– Ray Bradbury

 

Imagine no ideas

Distinguished thinking not allowed

divergent thoughts detoured

Euridites not accepted

Audacity destroyed

sublime connections disconnected

 

imagine no ideas

discussions void of mindfulness

Einstein who?

The Theory of Everything,

What on earth does that mean?

words ambushed by stupidity,

Epitaphs blank, bleached

 

Imagine no ideas

no logical steps

no reasoning,

naked moments,

empty poems,

censure,

real fake news.

I cannot imagine.

 

Oh my, I must have dozed off.

I just thought of this great idea!

 

 

A Poem A Day #5


What is your Love Philosophy? I will share my poem later this month.

Love’s Philosophy

The fountains mingle with the river

And the rivers with the Ocean,

The winds of Heaven mix for ever

With a sweet emotion;

Nothing in the world is single;

All things by a law divine

In one spirit meet and mingle,

Why not I with thine?-

 

See the mountains kiss high Heaven

and the waves clasp one another;

No sister-flower would be forgiven

If it disdained its brother;

And the sunlight clasps the earth

and the moonbeams kiss the sea:

What is all this sweet work worth

if thou kiss not me?

 

Persey Bysshe Shelley, Romantic Poet

 

Percy Bysshe Shelley was born 4 August 1792 at Field Place, near Horsham, Sussex, England. The eldest son of Timothy and Elizabeth Shelley, he stood in line to inherit his grandfather’s considerable estate and a seat in Parilament. He attended Eton College, where he began writing poetry, and went on to Oxford University. His first publication was a Gothic novel, Zastrozzi (1810), in which he voiced his own heretical and atheistic opinions through the villain Zastrozzi. After less than a year at Oxford, he was expelled for writing and circulating a pamphlet promoting atheism.

“In the slightly more than four years before his death in a boat accident, Shelley published seven further volumes of poetry: Rosalind and Helen (which included “Julian and Maddalo” and “Lines Written among the Euganean Hills“) (1819); The CenciPrometheus Unbound; with Other Poems (which included “The Cloud” and his “Ode to the West Wind”); and Oedipus Tyrannus; or, Swellfoot the Tyrant, a satirical drama on the trial for adultery of Queen Caroline which was quickly suppressed (1820); Epipsychidion and Adonais: subtitled “An Elegy on the Death of John Keats” (1821); and Hellas (1822). Many other poems were left in notebooks, some (like the “Letter to Maria Gisborne” and “The Witch of Atlas,” both dating from 1820, and “The Triumph of Life,” left unfinished in 1822, were published among the Posthumous Poems put together by Mary in 1824. Still others (like the satire on Wordsworth, Peter Bell the Third) were held back, only to appear in her full-scale edition of her husband’s poetry published in 1839. His numerous prose works, such as the “Defence of Poetry” and his translation of Plato’s Symposium were brought out a year later, in 1840.

Shelley drowned in the Mediterranean Sea on 8 July 1822. After his body washed ashore near Viareggio, it was cremated according to the dictates of Italian law. His ashes were buried in the Protestant Cemetery (actually, Cimitero Acattolico or non-Catholic Cemetery) in Rome. In 1854, three years after Mary’s death a monument was erected in memory of both the Shelleys.”

*http://knarf.english.upenn.edu/PShelley/bio.html

 

When We Listen


When We listen

When we listen
we can hear the unspoken words
of the sages of the future

when we listen
the songs of the crickets
are meant to heal our souls

when we listen
we can decipher
the secret whispers
of the butterflies

DSC_1090

Photo by Melba Christie

When we listen
we can hear
the heart strings of a young lover
strumming like an acoustic guitar

when we listen
we can hear
the harp of our soul
playing an opus
to help us become
more aware of who we are

when we listen
there’s no telling
what sounds will resonate
to help us appreciate
the life we take for granted
all the more.

One Thought


One thought dripped down reluctantly,

into the vast and lonely

sea of forgotten thoughts.

As it sank into oblivion

and fused with notions unconfined,

it believed it would be accepted at last,

but it was not.

It succumbed along with deep thinking,

proposed in silence, stillness and solidarity.

Philosophies never noted nor known

by great thinkers.

One thought that could have been

a contender, comprehended by the

masses of non thinkers,

with open hearts

to a lonely thought of peace.

 

Listen to my recording

 

-Melba Christie 2015

One Thought

I do not know why


DSC_1805

I do not know why
I do not know when
but my heart needs to be at peace
it beats like a normal one
I know it loves like a normal one
but it seems that it has broken beyond repair
the bits spread throughout my chest
hoping to find the glue that will make it whole again

I do not know why
I do not know when it was broken
into such tiny pieces

They tell me God will mend it
They tell me I need to mend it myself
but I do not know how
All I know is that
what is, is what it is

I do not know why
I do not know when
but peace will be someday

Melba Christie 2014

What is inspiration anyway?


Poemattic was recently nominated for the Very Inspiring Blogger Award.  Inspiring blogger LOgo

It made feel my blog had a purpose. I started thinking about the concept of inspiration and asked myself a very simple question:

What is inspiration anyway? Where does it come from? Is it a process or a random spark of something that fires up the heart and brain simultaneously? I wonder. Many things inspire me. I am inspired by acts of unconditional love. It is not an easy thing to love unconditionally. Most of us believe that parents are probably the only people capable or specifically wired to give unconditional love. So when I see evidence of it, I am inspired. People who won’t give up no matter how difficult life’s challenges may be inspire me. We see this all the time on television morning shows. People who find strength and move forward even though horrific things have happened to them.

Children are always a source of inspiration. As Bill Cosby or Art Linkletter would say, “Kids say the darndest things.” They blow you away with their maturity and sometimes their wisdom. They inspire me to become curious about things. They inspire me not to be afraid to ask questions.

I want to learn more about how to develop strategies to keep me inspired. I want to be able to draw from a bank of inspiration every day. I hope to be able to inspire others to do the same. I believe that we can be inspired with a purpose in mind.

Dictionaries have varying definitions for inspiration, here are a few:

  1. “The process of being mentally stimulated to do or feel something, esp. to do something creative: “flashes of inspiration”.”
  2. “Stimulation of the mind or emotions to a high level of feeling or activity.”
  3. ” Somebody or something that inspires somebody to creative thought or to the making of art.”

Whatever definition suits you the important thing to remember is that inspiration is also inside us somewhere. We will never know how many people we end up inspiring in our lifetime. But we will take notice when inspiration is present. It will speak to you. It will give you goose bumps. It will come by way of an act of kindness. It will manifest itself in sometimes very unusual ways. You may not get it at first. But when you are inspired there are no boundaries. You will dare to do the things you never thought possible. The mind will transcend the limitations you once anticipated. You will discover a new you. Every morning when I wake I think about the opportunities that will greet me during the day. I am grateful to be alive and that I will have the opportunity to live my life for at least one more day with purpose.

The following is one of my favorite  quotes about inspiration:

“When you are inspired dormant forces, faculties, and talents become alive, and you discover yourself to be the greatest person by far than you ever dreamed yourself to be.” – Patanjali 

What inspires you?  Share your ideas in the comments section. I will look forward to reading them. 

Will We Be Ready?


the falls

Essential question:

Will we be ready?

Ready for what?

To be who we are supposed to be.

Response:

What do you mean?

I am who I am.

I am who I am supposed to be.

Rationale?

We are suppose to be

a seed,

to breed love

unconditionally.

We are suppose to be

a dance,

choreographed with perfect

movements, creating

expressions of

deep empathy, and

the essence of what

life is all about.

We are supposed to be

a soothing song of springtime.

We are supposed to be the composer

who delves deep into our hearts

to help us find our very own arias

and makes us listen closely to the beats

that mark our time on this earth.

Internal Question:

Wow! Will I be ready?

Answer:

You bet!

 

 

Oneness


 

 

Oneness

when I think of oneness

my mind conjures up

all sorts of images and words to describe  it

like:

only one,

not two,

only you,

unique,

individual,

just me,

just you,

one spirit,

the universe,

the whole,

but also a  part of the whole,

all of us somehow connected.

 

Original,

one being,

or even not being,

only one life,

only one death.

 

all things derived from one

1  x 1 equals one

all that is equivalent to one

my spirit

my soul,

my heart,

a single seed,

are all a part of my oneness.

 

Therefore

we must all be

a part of the oneness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When We Listen


When We listen

When we listen
we can hear the unspoken words
of the sages of the future

when we listen
the songs of the crickets
are meant to heal our souls

when we listen
we can decipher
the secret whispers
of the butterflies

DSC_1090

Photo by Melba Christie

When we listen
we can hear
the heart strings of a young lover
strumming like an acoustic guitar

when we listen
we can hear
the harp of our soul
playing an opus
to help us become
more aware of who we are

when we listen
there’s no telling
what sounds will resonate
to help us appreciate
the life we take for granted
all the more.

I thought this was my life


I thought this was my life
but I was so wrong
the pictures on the wall always tell the truth

but the mirror in my hand never lies
we all know how time flies

I thought this was my life
but I was so wrong
it belonged to others all along

I thought this was my life
but I was wrong
As I begin a new journey
I must be strong

I thought this was my life
but I was wrong
I see another me

A future not foretold
life has just begun
A fulfilled destiny
of new memories have sprung

I feel my life’s a world wind
spinning round and round
hoping to stop
where destinations can be found

I thought this was my life
but I was so wrong
a new lease has been issued
with no expiration date
because I finally learned
to live without the threat of fate.

longlife

 

“Occasionally I am reminded that perhaps I should write a poem.”


 

“Occasionally I am reminded that perhaps I should write a poem.” This statement prefaced a poem written by my daughter in an email she sent the other day. She has been writing poems since she was quite young.  I want to share it with you.

 

DSC_2026

 

Words with others like it

to clear the mind and feed the rest.

Words hidden under a cloak of deception

yearning to be misread.

Words as simple as a flower’s petals

which bend over the anxiety of being so beautiful.

Words which help find meaning in the wells of uncertainty

as profound as an older man

delicately unfolding his morning paper.

 

A smile without the effort that stains it.

A poem like so many before it.

Life’s Cycles


Life is a cycle.

The Universe teaches us this fact.

Everything is a measure.

an inch, a foot, a meter,

an acre, a knot, a score, a chain

Everything has a shape, an identity

mostly unique,

Each beautiful in its own way,

specific to the eye of its beholder

subject to change

without prior notice,

We all age

some of us with grace

as we gain a little bit of wisdom

along the way.

 

Life cycles

no matter what we try

no matter what we do

we cannot give up

because we are the only ones who can change

we are the only change

A bite in a crispy apple does not diminish it

It becomes a part of all of us

Leaves change and fall

because the bare tree needs to show off the

complexity of its limbs,

the very ones that become the house,

the love letter,

that pencil that draws the last leaf,

or the orchard of whatever suits your fancy.

 

Life is a cycle:

360 degrees

of hopes

some unfulfilled dreams perhaps

glorious joys

wonderful views

glimpses of clouds

Enjoy all of it

See yourself in all of it.

All of it is you

it is me

It is us.

 

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Masterpiece


Hidden in her tiny mind

a masterpiece is waiting

A crowd yells, “encore!”

 

 

 

BY THE LEFT HAND...

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