| On seeing Emily Bear on Youtube
Posted: 7/28/2009 11:59:15 PM | | Aloysha....your words reach beyond Youtube. What a positive and wonderful poem you have written. A beacon to the unchosen. Wonderful and what one needs to hear. | |
|
| Brain-scans: II
Posted: 7/29/2009 12:33:23 PM | The ghost of myself
I wander through the ghost of myself
and recognize my daughter
and sons as they were at earlier ages
already aimed to become
the astonishing people they are,
parents of their own children.
But branches, of course,
can sprout other branches
and even ghosts
must wonder, at times,
what has become of themselves. | |
|
| Brain-scans: II
Posted: 7/30/2009 11:14:14 PM | Before you leave... thoughts suggest fatalism.
There was nothing fatal including you
Zachary, Emery, Emily, Yosh
and on and on and on.
footprints replace other footprints
smiles become foreign smiles
a whisper becomes the world.
Ghosts are only reminders.
That possibly and naturally...
you will return. | |
|
| Buy a ticket!
Posted: 8/4/2009 7:39:45 AM | Goldberg, a pious Jew, had been hoping to win the lottery for years. Finally, exasperated, he went to the synagogue:
“God," he prayed, "I've been a faithful Jew all my life. I've never asked anything of you in return. For years now I've been hoping to win the lottery. Would it be so bad if just this once you arranged for me to win?"
After a while he heard the voice of God boom out:
“Goldberg, do me a favour - buy a ticket."
You’ve been hoping for love,
extending your peripheral vision
until you can practically see the back of your head.
Buy a ticket
You’ve been walking through the garden
longing for beauty. Stop
and study just one flower,
stamen, pistil, leaf and petal.
You’ve been wishing for universal peace.
Extend your hand
to any one stranger
and offer him or her
the prospect of unconditional love. | |
|
| Buy a ticket!
Posted: 8/7/2009 12:18:49 AM | | Loved the Goldberg story. Is unconditional love possible? Aaah. | |
|
| Buy a ticket!
Posted: 8/7/2009 11:16:59 AM |
Is unconditional love possible?
or, may I ask, would one want it for oneself? On the other hand there's which my grandson said, at age 4, to his father:
"I love you more than I love you!" | |
|
| Buy a ticket!
Posted: 8/8/2009 7:26:12 PM | I had a very difficult argument with my father when I was just a young upstart. I yelled at him..."love counts a whole lot." He collapsed for a moment and then said to me..."love is not enough." Who the heck was right? I, myself, think that we both were.
Unconditional love exists in the minds of those living in ivory towers but in essence, unconditional love has merit. | |
|
| Buy a ticket!
Posted: 8/8/2009 10:27:13 PM | Paul Tillich coined the phrase "unconditional love" in his "Systematic Theology" which was required reading for ministers of the church. To put this in context one needs to realize that the "opposite" of 'unconditional love' is "preferential love".
SK would agree with Tillich. But Tillich also wrote and published his short discussion in "The Courage to Be" which separates love into 'preferential and unconditional', and since love is an act, no love is lacking in motivation and works that are completed. | |
|
| Buy a ticket!
Posted: 8/9/2009 7:37:50 AM |
Paul Tillich coined the phrase "unconditional love" in his "Systematic Theology" which was required reading for ministers of the church. To put this in context one needs to realize that the "opposite" of 'unconditional love' is "preferential love".
SK would agree with Tillich. But Tillich also wrote and published his short discussion in "The Courage to Be" which separates love into 'preferential and unconditional', and since love is an act, no love is lacking in motivation and works that are completed.
But once we have grown taller than our parents' knees, should we still be longing for "unconditional love"? I want deep love, wide love, open-eyed insightful love but do I want to be loved when I allow myself to be mean, self-centered or insensitive to the needs of the loving other? | |
|
| Buy a ticket!
Posted: 8/9/2009 7:44:21 AM | I agree...love should have some conditions. If someone is being cruel to others, or completely self centered etc....they are not being at all loveable.
Sometimes the threat of losing love could be a catalyst for needed change. | |
|
| That's Amore
Posted: 8/9/2009 7:56:36 PM |
I want deep love, wide love, open-eyed insightful love
Oh my dearest friend......don't we all, don't we all?
I remember those days
times where we lay together
watching your eyes
which said so much more
than mere words
your pupils so dark
dilating with that first cry
reflecting my own pleasure
as we both died
a little
love, deep, wide, open eyed. | |
|
| Buy a ticket!
Posted: 8/9/2009 8:02:42 PM | Who decides?
What came first?
Your cruelty or mine?
Love is simple.
Too simple too understand.
Therefore, the scholar,the philosopher
gain some advantage like any ordinary weed.
Stand back, on the street you were born
I heard your story.
But I saw a photo.
You were so very young.
How could anybody have denied you?
Moments lost stretch into the centuries. | |
|
| Buy a ticket!
Posted: 8/9/2009 9:54:41 PM | there will be moments
of clarity
grace | |
|
| Buy a ticket!
Posted: 8/9/2009 9:59:23 PM | Seven months, you were seven months old
but you said kitty and you would not stop
until, draped in what I chose for you, you collapsed.
oh, little king,I stood silent at your fallen pose.
Now I see the saw that is your words.
I see that nothing can correct
what is your burden to actually bear.
Hi, ya, I love, love ya.
Fly with this knowledge. | |
|
| Buy a ticket!
Posted: 8/10/2009 7:57:32 AM |
Seven months, you were seven months old
but you said kitty and you would not stop
until, draped in what I chose for you, you collapsed.
oh, little king,I stood silent at your fallen pose.
Now I see the saw that is your words.
I see that nothing can correct
what is your burden to actually bear.
Hi, ya, I love, love ya.
Fly with this knowledge.
My God, those precious moments! Among hundreds of others I remember the moment when 4-year old Adam referred to seeing his "fallection" in the car window and I held my breath against the time when some dumb adult might correct him! Or the time when 3-year old Zoe was diagnosed with "Meckle's Diverticulum," which she pronounced as "tickle-tickle-tickyouum". | |
|
| Buy a ticket!
Posted: 8/16/2009 3:42:50 PM | I think my fave with J was...
Fraynons
I think Crayola should consider that! | |
|
| Buy a ticket!
Posted: 8/16/2009 4:48:47 PM |
Who decides?
What came first?
Your cruelty or mine?
Love is simple.
Too simple too understand.
Therefore, the scholar,the philosopher
gain some advantage like any ordinary weed.
Stand back, on the street you were born
I heard your story.
But I saw a photo.
You were so very young.
How could anybody have denied you?
Moments lost stretch into the centuries.
How did I ever overlook this one? It is glorious, especially the way it begins with the seemingly most casual questions, then rises in intensity in the next verse, which is also so much more confident and 'adult' a voice and then returns in the last verse to the very personal, the intimate! I love it! | |
|
| Buy a ticket!
Posted: 8/16/2009 6:19:03 PM | there are a few, spasghetti, gril instead of girl, but the funniest was the way Melanie would say "growing hair barbie" which always came out sounding like groin hair barbie and would give me the giggles every time...
yes Jer, I liked that poem too, very much.... | |
|
| Buy a ticket!
Posted: 8/16/2009 10:20:20 PM | She must have had the hidden strength
that is handed to sprites, she had black, crow hair
she wandered her alleys, her country
at this time her teeth smiled prettily
in her sleep, did her dreams include me?
At the same time
forces beyond her
destroyed many.
did she smile then?
when we finally talked
we couldn't, she had lost the flow
She sometimes sparkled with the intent
that informed me that there is more.
I am going back.
I will rescue this fine little baby
even then her hair was black, ay..the crow
I will make her whole.
Now...the crow will caw!!! signaling good intent. | |
|
| Buy a ticket!
Posted: 8/17/2009 6:59:06 AM |
She must have had the hidden strength
that is handed to sprites, she had black, crow hair
she wandered her alleys, her country
at this time her teeth smiled prettily
in her sleep, did her dreams include me?
At the same time
forces beyond her
destroyed many.
did she smile then?
when we finally talked
we couldn't, she had lost the flow
She sometimes sparkled with the intent
that informed me that there is more.
I am going back.
I will rescue this fine little baby
even then her hair was black, ay..the crow
I will make her whole.
Now...the crow will caw!!! signaling good intent.
My God! How did you write this? I mean, how did you write this? It is an act of the most sublime humanity!!!!! | |
|
| Buy a ticket!
Posted: 8/18/2009 8:49:38 PM | | A...when I write in the calm acceptance of your supportive and creative forums it is "easy." regards...a fan. | |
|
| Buy a ticket!
Posted: 8/19/2009 12:55:47 PM |
A...when I write in the calm acceptance of your supportive and creative forums it is "easy." regards...a fan.
I am more than happy to accept, oh, 8% of the credit for your poems by virtue of creating an hospitable and appreciative environment, but you will really have to figure out some other way to account for the remaining 92% of the credit for your poems. | |
|
| Buy a ticket!
Posted: 8/20/2009 11:11:06 AM | Help me be good
Make me be good
if not
Make me be great
There is hesse
There is moses
There are little
paths to trace along
your thighs | |
|
| Buy a ticket!
Posted: 8/24/2009 12:33:08 PM |
Help me be good
Make me be good
if not
Make me be great
There is hesse
There is moses
There are little
paths to trace along
your thighs
O where ha’ you been, Lord Randal my son?
And where ha’ you been, my handsome young man? | |
|
| Buy a ticket!
Posted: 8/25/2009 12:24:43 AM | Art may be found 'wear' you hang your hat, either on your head or where the
peg is situated on the wall.
The quest for the perfect flower.
The odor was a lie. The quest for the perfect flower is all that is true. In
bloom and during the weaving time of ants it is their communion, suggestive,
rhythmic, overtly licking, in various tempii.
This is a system for rising and for falling and for something in between.
This is a life for appearing and separating, for dark and cool outpourings
of thunderstorms from the west. These are the upwellings of brisk side
breezes from inside the dark rising to the west. It boils the clouds, the
sky, and nothing is left unmoved. Even the surface of the water in rapid
descent from canyon to canyon wall is shimmering. It whips the willows in
arcs making them double back down to the earth. They do not snap but whip
about shaking free riders away to the next thicket to the east. They are as
supple as suckers found on sand bars in rivers of June floods
These particles, patterned after sand, resemble oblong shapes, shifting,
ahead of this makeshift, house beneath the dunes. The telegraph poles are
there above the dunes blown away and dispersed from the ancient lake. The
windows and the roof are still green shingles. She lives here again fishing
when the lake is full, even when the winds do not let up. These shores...
Is this her heart, her centre, her frame, her Mount Resplendent?
Now that we have met this time these jaws function to hold together these
kingfisher wings, these lips clenched against mine. Wet against the warmth
of spring sunshine. I am her first visitor.... | |
|
Home
login 
