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| The Age Of Innocence
Posted: 5/9/2009 9:18:07 AM |  Happy Mothers Day my friend! 
~To Lead a Girl to Womanhood~
Open her eyes
to the blessings around her
Show her that beauty and
goodness surround her.
Help her to trust in the future,
not fear it.
Teach her that dreams are the winds of the spirit,
Guide her with wisdom and
gentle persuasion
For she is God's pleasure
-His flower of creation.
- Author Unknown
jules :) | |
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| The Age Of Innocence
Posted: 5/9/2009 11:01:16 PM | | That was truly beautiful Hummingbird and thank you so much for leaving the poem on my thread. I too wish to acknowledge all Mother's for their never ending love and endurance. Happy Mother's Day Hummingbird and everyone. Thank you Blitz that was so kind of you to say - you are one very special person! | |
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| The Age Of Innocence
Posted: 5/9/2009 11:04:31 PM | Empty Nest Revisited
My home has opened its doors
it sighs the quiet calm
of a winter retreat
gulping and hiccupping hoards of children
set free pillaging and plundering the communal kitchen
lithe bodies scattered about blanketing my sanctuary
a tonic of smell and sound
recesses in tolerance
torn or even ripped open
the diverse element between mother and self
child verses adult
as the sun filters in on
the remains of a midnight gathering
fledglings, no academic protégés home forcing the rafters to wake up
and polish off the tarnish of patience and diversity
we all need change
perhaps in its wisdom this home has recognized its very lack there of
a purpose to be challenged and pushed to an unlimited conclusion
shaking the secret womb hidden inside a peace keepers awareness
as lights flicker on and off to paint the cobwebs out of obscurity
and relish an all too fleeting glimpse into young minds
dancing on an invisible stage
virtual rationality
an inevitable reunion of mother and child.
Bringing this home from Brizo's thread. | |
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| The Age Of Innocence
Posted: 5/9/2009 11:11:14 PM | The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Mikhaylovich Dostoyevsky
My interpretation
The book is old
covered in that musty scent
of obligatory obscurity
has anyone stopped to stare at
this classic relic of organized stature on the third shelf down
and processed the thought of scooping it up for a reflection on utopian socialistic mortality
expulsion of etiquette
upon visiting the reclusive
sanctuary of a mind still freshly coated in circus paint and dalliance
the octagonal library
where all sides are extensively
woven around many characters dressed in false garb sometimes remaining faceless as they speak
myriad names hatched out of other names
sometimes confusingly so
in Russian dialect
how many have diligently toured
beyond the monetary walls, the weeping garden
and into the hearts or lack there of
flippant old men with pompous masks
youth flaunting pragmatic narcissism
introspective brothers who have sequestered
themselves into years of wasted dreaming
with microscopic pedantic pleasures
dramatic outbursts
and unyielding opinions
on just about anything society had to offer at that time
page 120 out of 700 or so, I pause, in dire need to refresh
the correlation between names
and relationships and yes
sporadic reading has taken its toll
this isn’t a book for the garden
or a room full of voices
you have to imagine your place as observer, it’s not given to you freely
neither judging nor condemning
the scholar, the saint or the fool
I think I have only just begun
to watch the bees let out of their hives.
[First Posted in Lord of the Imaginary Penguin] | |
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| The Age Of Innocence
Posted: 5/11/2009 9:56:18 PM | Is there a pattern men follow in choosing their mate?
Even after a failed marriage you have to wonder why
They still look for the same things in a woman over and over again
I met my ex’s new girlfriend
And she has so many similarities
We both went to the same universities
Have similar likes and dislikes with food
She is as shy as I once was years ago
And loves children
He is dating me all over again
But in a much younger version by 20 years
Perhaps he is stuck in time
I just hope he doesn’t make the same mistakes again
In a way I feel sorry for him
And for our kids who also see
The follies of their father. | |
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| The Age Of Innocence
Posted: 5/21/2009 9:51:20 PM | Why does it take the abduction of an eight year old child
For people to realize that this world is not a safe place for our children
In towns and cities across this great country of ours
Insanity rears its ugly head waiting to strike
In the worse nightmare possible
To a parent, a neighbour, a teacher, or just a friend
We are the nurturers who tuck our babies in their beds at night
And heave a sigh of relief that this precious joy keeps on giving
Unimaginable love and pride infinitely, continuously in the name of goodness
Cherubs softly sleeping under blue quilts with painted ponies
Music boxes eliciting a soothing melody as round and round
The mobile spins weaving security and blessings upon
The soft pink cheeks and golden curls in gentle breathing
Then one day you wake up to the news
An eight year old little girl has walked off with a stranger
On her way home from school
And disappears without comprehension of how or why this madness occured
What beast lays wait to pray on the innocence of a child
Fear, guilt, a community in grief, anger and some who
Turn off their TV’s and hope this is a mistake and only happens
Far away on the other side of the world
Where sickness and depravity hide in waiting
Innocence burning in the graveyards of silent prayer
Her name is Tori and she is lost
And somewhere out on this pond
A murderer waited with the kiss of death
To starve society, question our morals
And ask ourselves why do we continue to allow this to happen. | |
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| The Age Of Innocence
Posted: 5/25/2009 10:41:11 PM | Chiselled bookmarks holding emptiness in the palm of a weathered hand
Wild and free the unspoken thoughts that soar
Above the sycamore, the elm, the lilac, a profusion of colour in this symphony
As each breath becomes the heartbeat, the pulse of everything that echoes off ancient walls
And finally to the creation of man bowing down, as is his calling, to the earth worm
To be cradled, coddled in the magnificent womb of an all encompassing nature
Some sit cross-legged around the gardens to hear pantomimes romanced by Roman numerals and composed by daisies, chrysanthemum and forget-me-nots
Graveyards once revered now a sacred green space that germinates against the
Challenges and growth of skyscrapers near the pedantic exhaustion
Of city planners trying to pay for their own destruction
Each tree says a prayer for transition, fruition as the eagle circles over head and
The doves last flight towards the curtains of the suns eternal playground
Then to darkness they turn chanting their mantras to the crickets and fireflies
Switching on stars one at a time in the night sky - Capella or Polaris watching thoughtfully
The street lamps magically appear to bathe the winding paths in shadow
Mazes of myriad years where moss once grew
Around a name giving it the greening of perception
And yes a place to go to find peace and quiet when all else fails
The rolling waves behind the branches of yesterdays and tomorrows
You sit and contemplate how you got here parade or the haunting melody of time.
[Bringing it home from the barn] | |
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| The Age Of Innocence
Posted: 5/25/2009 10:44:25 PM | The only pearl that I dawn in the night
Is the translucent rapture of the moon
As she peeks unabashed into my window
Her fingers entwined in my hair
As a loving mother
Or guardian of all that rests secretly
Inside my mind
Her key alone unlocks the parables
Of a curious heart
She demands nothing of the restless tides
Flowing through my veins
For she is the pantomime
Painting the pictures of freedom of thought
A pale gentle flower
A gardenia blooming in a sea of stars
She will never be alone in the vastness
Of nature’s garden
As long as I live and breathe
She alone will guide my spirit
Unto infinity.
[First posed on the Moon thread] | |
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| The Age Of Innocence
Posted: 5/25/2009 10:46:31 PM | The Brother's K
The book is old
covered in that musty scent
of obligatory obscurity
has anyone stopped to stare at
this classic relic of organized stature on the third shelf down
and processed the thought of scooping it up for a reflection on utopian socialistic mortality
expulsion of etiquette
upon visiting the reclusive
sanctuary of a mind still freshly coated in circus paint and dalliance
the octagonal library
where all sides are extensively
woven around many characters dressed in false garb sometimes remaining faceless as they speak
myriad names hatched out of other names
sometimes confusingly so
in Russian dialect
how many have diligently toured
beyond the monetary walls, the weeping garden
and into the hearts or lack there of
flippant old men with pompous masks
youth flaunting pragmatic narcissism
introspective brothers who have sequestered
themselves into years of wasted dreaming
with microscopic pedantic pleasures
dramatic outbursts
and unyielding opinions
on just about anything society had to offer at that time
page 120 out of 700 or so, I pause, in dire need to refresh
the correlation between names
and relationships and yes
sporadic reading has taken its toll
this isn’t a book for the garden
or a room full of voices
you have to imagine your place as observer, it’s not given to you freely
neither judging nor condemning
the scholar, the saint or the fool
I think I have only just begun
to watch the bees let out of their hives.
[Bringing it home] | |
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| The Age Of Innocence
Posted: 5/27/2009 10:07:02 PM | An Unexpected Confession from an Angel
An arrow went straight through my heart
And I could feel life ripping open an old wound
As this young woman/child poured out her thoughts
Cautiously one tiny tear at a time flowing into my inbox
Until the dam broke and she became a little girl again
Seeking answers to difficult questions about life
Her mother has cancer and she has become her caregiver
And as each lock of hair has fallen on the bathroom floor
This child has lifted it up and said a prayer for strength
Staying home when she should be out with her friends
I could see her beautiful face
Those sparkling blue eyes and long dark hair
As she got ready for the prom
The giggles coming from upstairs and down the hall
Talking about boys until the wee hours of dawn
And then she spoke of her Grandpa whose cancer has spread
And this brave little thing told me that God only gives
What you can handle
My faith in miracles waned a long time ago
It’s your faith in yourself that keeps you strong
I wish I could have given her a hug and told her
Everything will be alright
But I couldn’t make promises that I couldn’t keep
At eighteen she would see right through them
So I gave her the best advice I could muster up from inside me
Don’t give up your friends (including my daughters)
Let their caring wings sweep you away from your fear
Even for a night – a time to do normal things
Keep believing that the sun will shine again
Although the clouds are thick with doubt right now
It’s not forever
And write your heart out in your poetry
Tuck it away in a drawer
Where no one needs to see it
And last but not least know that
You are loved and not alone. | |
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| The Age Of Innocence
Posted: 5/28/2009 5:30:31 AM | Oh...Autumn, what wise and good advice! My heart feels for her wherever she is.
Lovely poem!
Something one never ever really gets over ; it will change her...forever. | |
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| The Age Of Innocence
Posted: 5/28/2009 11:50:16 PM | Thank you Hummingbird for reading my story. The young lady is a good friend of the twins and at 18 she has the world on her shoulders right now. I give her a big hug every time she comes over to the house.
Bringing it home...
For several days now
We have watched as a brightly dressed cardinal
In full military attire
Advances full speed at our kitchen window
Almost knocking himself out
In the old days this would have driven our cat insane
A territorial issue of the utmost concern
Lately she just sits sprawled in the sunshine
Aloofly glancing at the perpetrator
As if it is a boring game of tennis
Perhaps in her wisdom
She understands the outcome
And is biding her time
When dinner will be served on a silver platter | |
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| The Age Of Innocence
Posted: 5/28/2009 11:52:37 PM | Bringing this home already posted. I did do some research on the Mayfly for this one and found it facinating.
Mayfly being metaphor for _____________
what is the metaphor for mayfly?
I wouldn’t cut it as a monk(ess)
In the rudimentary beginnings of mayfly
Whose dreams of sky
Survive in an aquatic dance
Of underwater extinction
If only . . .
With paired genitalia and
Incomplete metamorphosis
The awakening would last
Beyond the dance
Where the skies are filled with birth
Transparent wings - the fire
Spinning circles around creation
Jewels of springtime
Each nymph-like link in the food chain beckons
Dares their flame
To be snuffed out
Of existence
Their day-pass expires. | |
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| The Age Of Innocence
Posted: 6/3/2009 11:03:04 PM | I’m glad I’m not a twin
I am sorry little one
Life sometimes flows with the call of freedom and dreams
Growing roots in far off places
Wings poised to open fertile minds
You are not being discarded
Once your hearts beat in unison inside the womb
A tangible reminder
That love grows together
Two branches of the same tree
Reaching out for sunlight
From east to west
I am sorry little one
That you cannot see the wisdom
Of it now
With tears in your eyes
You hang on determined to find
Shelter from this madness
Inconceivable forces ripping limb from limb
Twin from twin
Your flower will open
Just as brilliantly as your sister's and
You will grow more beautiful
But on your own path
Without the shadows of your twinning as an obstacle
Please don’t worry she is always there
When the need arises
The wind will blow you back again
Intuitively your thoughts will always know
When it’s time to feed off each others strengths again. | |
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| The Age Of Innocence
Posted: 6/4/2009 12:17:36 AM | they are mine lips i press it too you
mi velveeta cheecleta
i asked that you take an imprint of them
so that i can remember the sensation
and the up winds above
since it was a summer's day
a dervish arose
pirouetted
up
or dust devil
the simple slip arose
out of reach
with my scrawl
or fantasy
only words
but it was tethered sweetly
and jointly with the thing itself
now
this was secure
only
our kiss
Trulio | |
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| The Age Of Innocence
Posted: 6/9/2009 9:54:39 PM | For Chris my children's friend
Each day a new flower blooms in our gardens
A caterpillar spins its cocoon
And enters into sleep
That resting time before the journey
That stretches through the boundaries of eternity
Nature – the one little word that means so much
The cycle of the spirit
Painlessly the soul dances with
The celebration of freedom
Don’t ever let this memory become just a date on a calendar
The end of a run of victories
The last period of the game, before the lights went out
The moon is high above and lighting the way
There is no darkness in love
The stepping stones are fading off into the distance
Of the unconscious mind
Deliverance into the loving hands of the universe
Home again
Home again
He was only 18 but truly loved what life represented
Respectfully and honestly
With sunshine and those oh so curious dark eyes
Smiling even on the darkest days
A loving child
He showed the others how to be true to themselves
And never stray from the true meaning of friendship
In his own quiet way patiently accepting
In your mind you will bend down and kiss
Those rosy cheeks goodnight
Sweet dreams my child
The war is over and only peace shall guide you through
Think about the happy times
His cradle is your gift
The birth of your joy that
His heart still beats in you
Mother, father, brother
Each time a flower grows in the garden
And spring lifts up your heart in prayer
Watch for the butterflies, the stars that shine
His smile is everywhere, everywhere. | |
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| The Age Of Innocence
Posted: 6/9/2009 9:58:58 PM |
it seems I can't post a message this short....so I'm sorry your daughters have lost a friend, and that anyone so young is lost to the world..... | |
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| The Age Of Innocence
Posted: 6/9/2009 10:06:47 PM | | Thanks Brizo - it was rough on the twins today going to see an open casket. Of all the kids they grew up with in school from kidergarten to the end of high school this is the first who has died and they are handling it with dignity and going to the funeral tomorrow. Another cruel twist of cancer. | |
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| The Age Of Innocence
Posted: 6/9/2009 10:36:06 PM | [quoteEach time a flower grows in the garden
And spring lifts up your heart in prayer
Watch for the butterflies, the stars that shine
His smile is everywhere, everywhere
So touching! A beautiful tribute to a young life Autumm. Sincere condolences to all.
(Two acquaintances of mine died in the last 8 days. Though they were not close friends, it is a lot to absorb. ) I can only imagine how you and the girls feel right now.
Hugs | |
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| The Age Of Innocence
Posted: 6/10/2009 7:36:53 PM | Thank you Sophia for your kind words. I revised and revised before I posted on his memorial wall. Since his family are very religious I did edit a little to reflect their beliefs. I could have used some help with this one it's too close for comfort.
For Chris
Each day new flowers bloom in our gardens
A caterpillar spins its cocoon into sleep
A pause before the journey
That stretches across eternity
Nature – that one special word meaning everything
The cycle of the spirit where
Painlessly the soul dances with
The celebration of freedom, renewal of all wisdom
Don’t ever let this memory become another day on a calendar
The end of a run of victories
The last inning of the game, before the lights flicker and dim
The moon is high lighting the way
There is no darkness in the truth of love
Stepping stones preparing for the future
Of the subconscious mind
Delivering all into the loving hands of the universe
Home again, home again, child of God
He was only 18, loved life
Respectfully and honestly
With sunshine and those oh so curious dark eyes
Smiling even on the bleakest days
A loving child
He showed others how to be true to themselves
Never strayed from the real meaning of friendship
In his own quiet way, patiently accepting
Everything delivered to his plate
In your mind you will bend down and kiss
Those rosy cheeks goodnight
“Sweet dreams my child
The war is over and peace shall guide you into light”
Think about the happy times
His cradle - your gift
The birth of your joy in knowing that
His heart still beats in you
Mother, Father, Brother
Each time a flower grows in the garden
And spring lifts up your heart in prayer
Watch for the butterflies, the stars that shine
His smile is everywhere, everywhere. | |
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| The Age Of Innocence
Posted: 6/11/2009 11:08:44 PM | Words on leaves
Upon a bed of leaves there calls
The sounds of far off passion
Rapture sipped without guilt
The resurrection of the spirit’s ache
Two souls entwined in
Willow whispers or maple’s strong desire to be
The body of communion knocking on nature’s floor
Together minds sweep off the
Tops of trees, trails of light
Desires to be reborn again to
Glisten under the heat
The waterfall silences
These hidden messages
Drawn by the artists knowing touch
Yes or no?
Be here in the moment or go on wondering
Epitaphs with
Declarations of love
Service in honesty
And tear stained moments
Where we sense our fragility
And let it grow
Soft bodies craving abandonment
Nuzzled into
The soft sweet scent of
Fertile minds cradling all
That remains unspoken
The leaves speak for us
They tell our story in their genetic code
Our imagination traced upon the intricate veins
As pleas rise with the passion of a dream
To be one with the leaves. | |
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aka,om
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Joined: 12/6/2008
Msg: 2423 | |
| The Age Of Innocence
Posted: 6/12/2009 11:23:46 PM | ^ah, you ran with it, cool!
delightful reading -the cardinal and cat! | |
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| The Age Of Innocence
Posted: 6/13/2009 12:19:30 AM | it is almost a whisper...but I agree the sun is our god, the sun is the only source of light over the last several billions of years.....
But how do we know that for sure?
We don't need to know that for sure. We, as we age, experience one winter after another, as sure as the wind blows.
There are certain phenomenon in nature which re-occur and we are certain of in a predicable way: rain, snow, ice, heat, cold, wind, dust, and other meteorlogical events such as hurricanes, tornadoes, et cetera.
Few things in nature are experienced as initiations, or first occurences.
But the only true god is rised anew each day making each day a unique one for all.
yes there is only one god by consensus
let it shine
well there is not much we can do to stop it, it shines on everyone, except those stored in solitary places beneath it. | |
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| The Age Of Innocence
Posted: 6/13/2009 9:04:11 AM | | It is so nice to see you back om. We have all missed you. The words on leaves was not a very good attempt to express where I wanted to go with. I will do it again when my mind is clearer. Hey I loved your last poem over on om's psalms - that motorcycle of yours must be good on your creativity *grin* | |
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