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The Layers
by Stanley Kunitz I have walked through many lives, some of them my own, and I am not who I was, though some principle of being abides, from which I struggle not to stray. When I look behind, as I am compelled to look before I can gather strength to proceed on my journey, I see the milestones dwindling toward the horizon and the slow fires trailing from the abandoned camp-sites, over which scavenger angels wheel on heavy wings. Oh, I have made myself a tribe out of my true affections, and my tribe is scattered! How shall the heart be reconciled to its feast of losses? In a rising wind the manic dust of my friends, those who fell along the way, bitterly stings my face. Yet I turn, I turn, exulting somewhat, with my will intact to go wherever I need to go, and every stone on the road precious to me. In my darkest night, when the moon was covered and I roamed through wreckage, a nimbus-clouded voice directed me: "Live in the layers, not on the litter." Though I lack the art to decipher it, no doubt the next chapter in my book of transformations is already written. I am not done with my changes. |
Borrowed from DM....*grin
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Remnants…
Remnants of you I find everywhere When I least expect to find them…they’re there. A whistle, a song, a picture I see… A smell…can bring back such strong memories. Remnants of you come sneaking through Unsuspected…the times and places we knew. An integral part of my life you have been, And I find you continue to creep back in. Though the end was not what I wished it would be, There have been such sweet times I can look back and see. Those remnants of you, like a patch work quilt Keep piecing together the life we had built. Now I have had to say goodbye… But forever, no matter how hard I try, The remnants of you will always appear… The bad I’ll let go…the sweet, I’ll hold dear. To Tim.... |
who am I? lyrical poetry
Who am I, that the Lord of all the earth
Would care to know my name Would care to feel my hurt Who am I, that the Bright & Morning Star Would choose to light the way For my ever wandering heart Not because of who I´m But because of what You have done Not because of what I have done But because of who You´re I´m a flower quickly fading Here today & gone tomorrow A wave tossed in the ocean Vapor in the wind Still You hear me when I am calling Lord, You catch me when I am falling And You have told me who I´m I´m Yours, I´m Yours Who am I, that the eyes that see my sin Would look on me with love & watch me rise again Who am I, that the voice that calmed the sea Would call out through the rain And calm the storm in me Not because of who I´m But because of what You have done Not because of what I have done But because of who You´re I´m a flower quickly fading Here today & gone tomorrow A wave tossed in the ocean Vapor in the wind Still You hear me when I am calling Lord, You catch me when I am falling And You have told me who I´m I´m Yours I´m Yours Whom shall I fear Whom shall I fear ´Cause I´m Yours I´m Yours Casting Crowns if you would like to hear this it is sung beautifully and is in my signature... :hug::hug::hug: |
Today is the anniversary of...
The last time I heard your voice The last time I looked into your eyes The last time I said "I love you" The last time I felt your arms around me The last time I saw you smile The last time I saw you cry The last time we had a chance to make it better The last time you could have asked for help Tomorrow is the anniversary of.... Your last and forever choice |
the inner soul
The Inner soul ~
copyrighted by tena the man of flesh to some perceive is all that we are or will ever be to see the soul you must remove the fraudulent veil of servitude for within the human heart there beats the sound for all in voice decree where do I belong where is my place for which I was born to openly embrace lost am I in a forest of questions wandering am I lost -for where do I feel belonging where is happiness to feel secure where was the love when I a boy was growing up I never felt bereft of yet now I shout in angry tone, why am left alone A boy when young a man doth stand cut to core a young man - cries dear God take control disheartened and whispering of hope for inner soul |
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hope -emily dickinson
"Hope" is the thing with feathers
254 "Hope" is the thing with feathers— That perches in the soul— And sings the tune without the words— And never stops—at all— And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard— And sore must be the storm— That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm— I've heard it in the chillest land— And on the strangest Sea— Yet, never, in Extremity, It asked a crumb—of Me. Emily Dickinson |
What We Might Be, What We Are
by X. J. Kennedy If you were a scoop of vanilla And I were the cone where you sat, If you were a slowly pitched baseball And I were the swing of a bat, If you were a shiny new fishhook And I were a bucket of worms, If we were a pin and a pincushion, We might be on intimate terms. If you were a plate of spaghetti And I were your piping-hot sauce, We'd not even need to write letters To put our affection across, But you're just a piece of red ribbon In the beard of a Balinese goat And I'm a New Jersey mosquito. I guess we'll stay slightly remote. |
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