November 18th - Perspective
A reminder that it really is all about how you looks something...
11.18.09
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
November 11th - Frost
A Letter From Home
by Mary Oliver
She sends me news of blue jays, frost,
Of stars and now the harvest moon
That rides above the stricken hills.
Lightly, she speaks of cold, of pain,
And lists what is already lost.
Here where my life seems hard and slow,
I read of glowing melons piled
Beside the door, and baskets filled
With fennel, rosemary and dill,
While all she could not gather in
Or hid in leaves, grow black and falls.
Here where my life seems hard and strange,
I read her wild excitement when
Stars climb, frost comes, and blue jays sing.
The broken year will make no change
Upon her wise and whirling heart; -
She knows how people always plan
To live their lives, and never do.
She will not tell me if she cries.
I touch the crosses by her name;
I fold the pages as I rise,
And tip the envelope, from which
Drift scraps of borage, woodbine, rue.
11.11.09
For the always vibrant R who really did live her life.
The world dims at the loss of your beautiful spirit.
A Letter From Home
by Mary Oliver
She sends me news of blue jays, frost,
Of stars and now the harvest moon
That rides above the stricken hills.
Lightly, she speaks of cold, of pain,
And lists what is already lost.
Here where my life seems hard and slow,
I read of glowing melons piled
Beside the door, and baskets filled
With fennel, rosemary and dill,
While all she could not gather in
Or hid in leaves, grow black and falls.
Here where my life seems hard and strange,
I read her wild excitement when
Stars climb, frost comes, and blue jays sing.
The broken year will make no change
Upon her wise and whirling heart; -
She knows how people always plan
To live their lives, and never do.
She will not tell me if she cries.
I touch the crosses by her name;
I fold the pages as I rise,
And tip the envelope, from which
Drift scraps of borage, woodbine, rue.
11.11.09
For the always vibrant R who really did live her life.
The world dims at the loss of your beautiful spirit.
Monday, November 09, 2009
Monday, November 02, 2009
Sunday, November 01, 2009
October 31st - Ghostly
"Nothing beats a haunted moonlit night on All hallows Eve... And on this fatal night, at this witching time, the starless sky laments black and unmoving. The somber hues of an ominous, dark forest are suddenly illuminated under the emerging face of the full moon."
- Kim Elizabeth, Gothic & Vampiric Poet
10.31.09
"Nothing beats a haunted moonlit night on All hallows Eve... And on this fatal night, at this witching time, the starless sky laments black and unmoving. The somber hues of an ominous, dark forest are suddenly illuminated under the emerging face of the full moon."
- Kim Elizabeth, Gothic & Vampiric Poet
10.31.09
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