My Poetry And Prose-Page 9
Here is a collection of my poetry and prose writings that I have written over the years. Most of my writings were created and composed in my youth.
Creativity is as much a part of our being as the blood that flows in our veins. Most of our waking moments we are engaged in some form of creating. The creativity expressed in someone's occupation or avocation is no less important and worthy of admiration and honor than the creative works of an artist or a writer.
Any work or leisure activity may reflect our creativity. Actually any human endeavor entails some element of creativity. We create by our very thoughts, words, and actions, and the creative process is continuous and unending.
We are happiest when we are in the process of creating. A certain childlike anticipation and enthusiasm takes over us, and even though we might be old in years, we become youthful again in our mind and spirit. In a way creativity is a fountain of youth which inspires and revives even the sick and aged. It is also a wonder cure for depression and apathy.
It think perhaps creativity may be a vital part of our life processes, much like breathing, and that if it doesn't function naturally like it should and was intended to, we may begin to wither away and die.
(424) Star Burst
A star flashing in the night,
Somewhere ages hence,
For what we see in the now,
(425) The Garden at dawn
The garden at dawn,
The birds joyfully sing,
Beauty is all around,
(426) The Blackbirds
In the autumn and spring the blackbirds gather in great flocks. Thousands of them flock together filling the sky like a black cloud, and the sound they make flying overhead is eerie and like the roar of an immense wind.
The flock of blackbirds seem to move as of one mind, thousands of them moving as one, changing direction, swooping and swerving in unison, and then suddenly descending and landing all together in a field or on a hillside. It almost seems supernatural in a way.
After they have alighted on the ground, the sound of their chirpings is almost deafing. They all mill around with great excitement, and then at the slightest noise or movement of an animal or person which startles them, they all burst into flight as one great cloud again and are gone in an instant.
(427) God Cares
When I am sick and old,
When I have no money for heat,
When I have no family or friends,
When my life is drear and dark,
When troubles fall like rain,
I believe God cares for you and I,
(428) Our Special Pet Friends
Our Special pet friends,
They are always there,
They never say hurtful things,
Such special friends are they,
(429) The Golden Dawn
It seemed just another day,
There was a brilliant light,
The great sadness my heart had known,
(430) The Black Of Night
It was the black of night,
The gorgons hissed at me,
One more night alone am I,
(431) The Game Of Life
The game of life I play not so well,
But the clock keeps ticking still,
I hope before the game does end,
(432) Misty Morning
I walked into the misty grove,
Soon I will have to leave,
I am bound for another shore,
Though perhaps after the night is over,
(433) Trust In Jesus
Only Jesus can give such peace,
Dear Jesus, Our Saviour,
With joy I praise His name,
(434) Do Not Despair
Even though the clouds of doubt,
Sometimes when things seem their worst,
So don't give up no matter what,
(435) Jesus Cares
Take His hand,
He died for you,
He will never forsake you,
(436) Honoring and Respecting Yourself
You have to accept the fact that not everybody is going to like you. No matter who you are or what you do, somebody is going to be critical of you, and say disparaging things about you. The important thing is that you at least try to like yourself, and no matter what people say or do still respect and honor yourself.
After all you can't really respect and honor other people if you don't respect and honor yourself. You have to come to terms with the fact that you are not perfect and that you are going to make mistakes, but that does not mean that you are inferior or a badperson. Everybody makes mistakes, and no one is perfect.
The most important thing is not to give up and to keep striving to reach your goals no matter what. Other people's opinion of you doesn't really matter, and cannot prevent you from succeeding. Only your own opinion of yourself matters, and can help or hinder you from reaching for the stars.
(437) Keep Reaching For The Stars
Keep reaching for the stars.
The people who keep their dreams,
If you hang on for one more try,
Our hearts ache with the sorrow,
We look around the home we shared,
Everything seems so changed now,
After the death of a loved one,
We are not whole anymore,
We are but an empty shell,
(440) Nobody Seems To Understand
When our loved one passes away,
Sometimes people laughing we see,
Others don't seem to notice our pain,
(441) Thoughts Of You
Often my thoughts turn to you,
You always knew the words to speak,
But now you are here no more,
(442) The Golden Morn
I look forward to that golden morn,
All the tears will be forgotten then,
Our tears will be tears of joy,
(443) On Angels Wings
Softly and tenderly borne,
For the angels in their flight,
There is no sorrow where they go,
(444) You Are Always With Me
I see you in the morning dew,
I hear you in the warbler's song,
Though you are now on another shore,
(445) Reaching Out With Love
There are many who are in need,
Let us reach out with love,
Just a kind word can ease someone's pain,
(446) Love And Kindness
If we could only be kind everyday,
Incivility can cause much harm,
It is better the hand of friendship to extend,
(447) The Curse of Cruelty
The curse of cruelty the generations span,
So it is we reap what we sow,
The horrid pain inflicted is embedded in time,
(448) The Universal Love
Listen when all is still,
Peace whispers from afar,
Lift your eyes and look above,
(449) Messages Of Hope
Let us convey messages of hope,
Let us dwell upon what is good,
Sometimes the best thing we can do,
(450) "Thinking Of You"
I was just thinking of you,
You are a very special person,
For others you are always there,
(451) Old Age
My sight is growing dim,
My health problems increase,
I have more aches and pains,
(452) Thankful For The Rain
I'm thankful for the rain,
I'm thankful this morning I awoke,
I'm thankful for the glowing sun,
(453) Life Is A Riddle
Life is a riddle,
Life is a circle,
Life is a being,
(454) A Tear In The Fabric Of The Universe
There is a tear in the fabric of the universe,
I guess it all depends on one's perception,
We and the universe are linked by fate,
(455) A Summer Shower
I vividly recall the air after a summer shower. Dare I call it air that so invigorates the being, for it is more like a breath of beauty or a whiff of hope. Standing there as raindrops drip from the trees, watching the patches of blue sky widen as the clouds depart, and basking in the seemingly brighter sun as it returns to produce glorious scintillations all around, on the rocks, the grass, and on the leaves, one feels hope and fresh and pure as the scene around him. Something deep in the heart seems to say, "this is what you were born for, this is your reason for living, to witness scenes such as this."
(456) Happiness Is
Happiness is a bird that flies in the sky. It is a word spoken by someone we love. Happiness is a flower covered with early morning dew. It is a child who says, "I love you." Happiness is a window looking at the sky. It is a place to rest and maybe sigh.
Happiness is loneliness melted by a smile. It is a heart too obdurant and willful grown mellow after a while. Happiness is cold and damp made warm by someone dear. It is the feeling that someone who cares is near. Finally happiness is what we find in ourselves when we seek to give it to others.
The best moments in life are when we believe. When we believe happiness fills our mind, but when we doubt sadness engulfs us. We must believe in life, in the flowers, in people, in the cheerful birds, in God, in the sunlight, in the stars, in the earth, and in ourselves to find happiness.
We must believe in life, in tomorrow, in our actions, in the way of life we are living, in our words and thoughts, in our purpose on this earth if we wish for happiness. We must believe especially when the days are gray and overcast, when the nights are dark, and when the roads are the roughest. We must believe despite the hopelessness of the moment, despite the seemingly impossible dream, despite how much other people and our doubts tell us not to, because believing is our only hope.
And what if men deny the beauty in life? What if our very heart denies it? What if death denies the promise of life? What if the bad denies the good? Does that make these things not so? In moments of despondency we hate others and we hate ourself, and almost we hate life, but does that blot out the fact that at other times we love, and hope, and believe? Does a cloudy, rainy day make void all the sunny days? Do our doubts and fears make less real the moments when we feel wonder and awe for all the world?
(459) World of Love
We are at the threshold of a whole new world, that of love. We have stepped out of that great darkness of insensitivity and savagery. The light is blinding. We fall back frightened and confused, dazzled by that too brilliant light. We relapse into wars and instances of inhuman brutality, but slowly we are becoming accustomed to the glare of that sun.
We are haltingly, and with much hesitation, but perceptively turning our backs on the darkness. There lies before us a world of untold wonders and glories in which the promises are illimitable. The adventures of stepping forth into that world of love, a world abundant with giving, caring, and ministering, are yet to be recorded.
(460) A Garden
I'll keep a garden in my heart. I will fill it with roses and hyacinths. There will be a clear blue pool in the midst of it. Bluebirds will be there and snow white doves. I will line the banks with periwinkle, and around all I will place your love. Time, that great robber will not have the power to purloin one moment there. The killing frost will not touch there, and only gentle showers will fall. When the days grow gray and somber, and I am sick and weary with the desolate years, I will retire into my heart and live there with you.
(461) The Green Things
I love the green things of earth. I love the grass, the trees, the vines, and the tiny plants. I feel for them a sense of attachment which fills my thought with joy each time I see them. Indeed my love for them seems to grow stronger as I grow older. To the plant kingdom I owe the better portion of my life. My happiest moments have been in the woods and fields observing and feeling a part of the wonderful world of green plants.
A generous supply of luscious, green, growing plants would be to me a paradise. I am never so at ease as I am when a vernal setting surrounds me, when grass is at my feet and the treetops above my head, and when birds are singing cheerful songs in my ear. Then, if at anytime, I feel free and at peace. At such times my darker thoughts, if not fully put from my mind, are at least so submerged they can do me no harm. I feel a music within not unlike I think what the gentle songbird feels or the beautiful flower. That such moments are rare makes one treasure them even more. All our life is vanity and vexation except for those few moments when we are filled with quietness.
(462) Life Is Infinitely Worth The Living
Life is infinitely worth the living, even though we fowl up at every turn, even though it seems we are always out in the rain, and our heart is always torn up. Life is infinitely worth the living even though we are all mixed up, even though we cannot see the stars for the clouds, and night stays on way too long.
Life is infinitely worth the living, because people do sometimes seem to care, because there are flowers and rainbows, blue skies and whip-poor-wills, because on the other side of every trouble there is a quietness. Life is infinitely worth the living because our pains and pleasures are as those of all people, because the best days are those after hardship, and God has placed within us more strength than we suspected. And most of all because we share a wondrous universe and have an opportunity to reach paradise.
Kindness is a sign of progress. Kindness is an indicator of how civilized a community really is. It is perhaps the only true indicator. The hope of the human race exists in kindness, for it is protector of dignity, freedom, and life. It has been an uphill struggle toward kindness, compassion, and understanding.
There have been dark ages in the history of humanity which were almost devoid of kindness, but not quite. Always there has been that little ray of kindness that has inspired humanity to overcome the darkness, and to forsake the ways of cruelty and inhumanity, and seek the peace and harmony that surrounds people who care for one another.
To acquire kindness is the highest attainment a person may boast of achieving, for it is the perfection of the human soul. Cruelty is a step backward as is callous disregard for life. The future of human beings depends on their ability to preserve and cultivate kindness, to let kindness predominate all their decisions, and be the guiding power for all they do.
In a world were dependence on one another is essential kindness is all important, for without it there is no assurance of safety or co-operation between people. To discard kindness even momentarily can be disasterous. Any meaningful existence or true relationship with other people demands kindness. A world without kindness would not be a world desirable in which to live.
(464) Concern For Other People
Concern for other people should be our prime motive in life. If we deny the rights of one person then we endanger the rights of all people. If we maltreat one person and permit that person's abuse to go unnoticed and unpunished then we jeopardize the safety of us all, and initiate the unravelment of the very fabric of our society.
If we allow someone to starve when it is in our power to feed them, or allow someone to suffer when we have the means to aid them, then we commit against that person and society a heinous crime. Each person is born with certain rights which are sacred and inalienable. It should be our lifelong task to preserve, dignify, and uphold the rights of the individual, for once concern for the individual and the individual's rights are lost humanity faces a bleak future.
A concerned society is a productive, healthy, and growing group of people, whereas an unconcerned society is sick and destroying itself, while neglecting its people. The future of mankind, if there is to be a future, depends on the concern one person shows for another, and whether in the end selfishness or brotherly love wins out.
Frogs are one of nature's major gifts to children. Those somewhat slimy, green, knob-eyed monstrosities are a never ending source of novelty to youngsters. Sitting beside a pool of water in a seemingly half dreaming mood, a frog enchants the passerby. How they love to dive into the water with one magnificent leap. The expression of a frog is one of great contentment. A huge smile is constantly on their face. Trying to catch a frog is a difficult matter, for they dart and maneuver with the utmost alacrity, and in addition to all that, they are exceedingly slick.
Frogs prefer cool watery envorinments. Puddles, little rills, and creeks all shaded with weeds and grass growing right up to the edge of the water, suit them fine. I remember them from my childhood, and little did I know then that some of my fondest memories would be about them. Not about frogs in particular perhaps, but about places where they were about and mingled in the scenes. I remember the little ones no bigger than my thumb which I tried to catch, and I remember the big old green bullfrogs bigger than my fist. I recall them in the spring of the year especially when they sang loudly and seemed to be everywhere. In the heat of summer they are quiet except after a rain.
(466) I Hope
I walk out among the trees and I hear sounds as old as life itself. I hear the wind and birds, bees and insects. I hear the rustling leaves. It's all old, and yet it is ever new. New people are always listening and hearing much the same thing as those of old. The sun shines, the flowers bloom, and the stream is cold and clear for each new generation.
Sometimes storm clouds gather, and sometimes it is bright and clear, the evening shadows obscure, and the morning rays illumine, and the seasons come and go. The sounds of June are different from the sounds of December. The stillness blankets the winter, except for the wailing wind. What I hear all mankind hears, for it is a worldwide message that has been noted in every land since the birth of men and words.
I hope there will always be these wondrous things in the natural world about us. I hope there will always be sunsets, and apple pies, and ribbons in the hair of little girls. I hope the stars will always shine, and flowers will always bloom. I hope there will always be springtime, and cats to meow and dogs to bark, and roosters to crow.
I hope there will always be clouds and blue skies, and fishing worms for little boys. I hope there will always be games and laughter. I hope that people will always have a sense of history, and a great hope for the future.
(467) Loving Someone
Loving someone enhances our own human worth. Love is the only true wealth. It enriches our heart, and all those whom it touches. When loving we forget for a time to be selfish, we forget to fear and doubt, we forget our grievances against others.
Something happens to a human being that cannot happen otherwise when he loves. Doors open for him that would have otherwise forever remained shut. He is spectator of new worlds, worlds he never dreamed existed. More than anything else love purges the brute from him, and instills a recognition of what is most beautiful and pure.
(468) What Is A Kitten?
What is a kitten? A kitten is a little bundle of fun, a fluffy, lively, happy ball of fur that makes us laugh in spite of ourself. With antics and games the kitten entertains us for hours. The games include chasing butterflies, trying to pounce on grasshoppers, wrestling with brother, climbing fence posts, or just racing across the yard with abandon. With tail up, back raised in a bow, and the hair on its neck standing on end, the kitten takes his stance when the dog comes near. Kittens are blessed by nature with a carefree attitude, and just like children one moment they are perturbed, but the next they are up and playing again as if nothing ever happened.
From the first when he wobbles out on shaky legs a kitten is curious as he seems fascinated by the world. Every little thing attracts his attention. A kitten is one of the most playful of creatures. His day is filled with play, and his young life is a continuous holiday.
Though the older a cat grows the less inclined is he to play as his games are of a more serious kind, that of stalking his prey and making trips in search of food. Little kittens are not concerned about such grownup matters however, as it is run, jump, and play in youthful jubilance for that all too brief period of time in life. A six week old kitten whose eyes have just opened to the world is a never ceasing source of enjoyment to those of us who watch.
Deep in a field of clover there dwells the meadowlark. His is the world of open fields and silent dells. The meadowlark is a gift to the quiet places. He is a pleasant member of a pleasant realm. His music sweetens the summer air hallowing the world of butterflies and bumblebees, and making the clover blossoms to dance.
He dispels our loneliness with his song of delight as he lifts us to those heights he enjoys, reviving our sense of what is beautiful and good in life. Walking on the ground the meadowlark resembles the quail, though somewhat smaller, with a V for victory on his yellow chest. His brown-streaked back, black cross bars over the eyes, and white tail feathers distiguish him.
He never seems a part of hurry or confusion. He frequents not the haunts of people, but spends his hours in harmonious and secluded habitats. If we would see him we must climb the hill, go through the woods, and enter a sequestered valley where sunlight and shade abound, where trees and grass mingle in tenderness, and each being exhibits a zest for life.
Each of us hopes for something good along the way. We hope for something good, or true, or beautiful. We hope for something lasting, and for something that means something. We hope for rainbows, springtime, bright stars, sparkling waters, and happy sounds.
We hope for little yellow flowers, great blue skies, and gentle breezes to cool our brow. We hope for bright eyes, tender smiles, and kind touches. We hope for fair weather, smooth sailing, and easy going. But most of all we hope for hope. We hope that whatever condition life throws us into that we will be able to summon up enough of that precious article called hope to go on living.
Our true being consists of thought. Our flesh and bones merely support our thoughts. Our only true possessions are our thoughts, and they don't have any weight, or form, or existence outside of us. A thought cannot be seen or felt, and it can't be known by anyone else if we don't want them to know. A thought is as linked with the past in memory as with the present, can conceive of a mountain on one hand and a housefly on the other, and can relate to the stars above or the dust at our feet.
I like best that time of day when the last birds are seen hastening their way to their nights abode as the sun sets. It is very still, and the air has a hint of coolness, while across the far horizon a few red strips of clouds lie suspended. Behind my shoulder a bright yellow half-moon stands out in the clear blue sky.
For a few moments time seems to stop as nothing moves, and then suddenly it becomes dark. It is those few moments just before dark that I prefer. It is then that I wish to be out so that I can put the finishing touches on my day, and so that I can recover my lost dreams.
(473) After A Rain
How glossy the leaves are after a rain. They shine and seem to emit a coolness. It simply does not seem like the same world after a rain. Luscious scenes replace dry, parched scenes. Particularly a spring or summer rain produces spectacular changes. The mist fills the valleys after a rain, and the green is so much brighter and the air so much fresher. It is like being witness to a miracle everytime it rains. Right after a rain when the water is still dripping from the trees is a good time to step out and breathe deeply.
(474) The Bad Days
There are days that paralyze us with their venom. There are days that take all the heart out of us. There are days that strike us down like a fallen bird, and it seems for all the world like we are down there to stay.
There are days that slash us to the bone and pain us long after they are gone. There are days that tear down all the dreams that we have ever piled up, and leave us standing there bewildered without anything, anything at all.
(475) A Quiet Place
Our only way to recover from the bad days is to find a quiet place. Finding that quiet place is not always easy. It might be a retreat, our favorite nook, or a place of beauty and serenity in Nature. It might not really be a place at all, but somewhere deep inside us, or maybe even another form of being, kind of like out of the body so to speak, like the other side of the looking glass. So much of what we see and hear, the here and now, drowns and suffocates us with it's noise and furor. If we can't escape it then we will go under the waves.
(476) A Hummingbird
That there exists in our world a hummingbird is ample proof of God's loving spirit. Here is a little bundle of cheerfulness, a tiny ray of beauty, dipped from the finger of the Creator. The little hummingbird with his green back and ruby throat is truly a beautiful sight--that is if we ever get to see him.
Generally we just get a glance of him because he moves too fast and is so tiny. Often our first intimation of the hummingbird is to hear that peculiar whirring noise his wings make. In contrast to other birds, the hummingbird has the knack for standing in mid-air and thrusting his long thin beak into flowers. The wings move so fast that we can't really see them.
Aided by those wings the hummingbird darts about with lightening speed, starts and stops in mid-air, and literally performs unbelievable feats. The hummingbird has two very small specks, black and luminous, for eyes, which see exceedingly well, since it is nearly impossible to sneak up on him as he gives a shrill whistle of fright and flies off to visit another flower.
(477) The Whippoorwill
It has been my pleasure often in the cool of the evening to listen to the whippoorwill. He fairly shatters the stillness with his beautiful song, and yet he not so much interrupts the peace of the evening as he adds to the seeming tranquillity. The whippoorwill seems so much apart of the night and the sounds that are prevalent then, that we often are unconscious of his singing as he blends in with all the other nighttime sounds.
He is a part of the summer night. The night would not be the same without him. The whippoorwill seems to call the darkness as his voice echoes across the countryside and the night slowly descends. Our cares seem lessened as we listen to him, and his song impresses peace to our hearts, the peace of the eternal, omnipresent harmony of the universe.
We expect to hear the whippoorwill as shadows lengthen and the twilight of the evening slowly drapes the land. On a distant hill he begins his serenade, soon to be followed by others until the night is alive with their delightful songs. All winter we miss his song, and find ourselves lonely, oppressed without the hope and joy he gives. His is the song of happiness, divine acceptance, and understanding of life.
We are made to feel at the sound of the whippoorwill a sense of well being, and that the world is yet on an even keel. Perhaps what strikes us so mysterious about the whippoorwill is the fact he sings only at night after all the other songbirds have gone to sleep.
The song of the whippoorwill is unique as there is nothing else like it, a plaintive, sad, yet strangely peaceful song. The whippoorwill sings us to sleep at night as with his rich mellow tones we are lulled to sweet, peaceful dreams. The world is a better place because of the whippoorwill.
(479) The New Generation
To the youth we must yield the scepter. The babe in arms will be our captain tomorrow. Our knowledge, our possessions, our grasp of truth and beauty all goes to them at last. They inherit the best and worst of us. We leave them our wars, our prejudices, our vanities, and our mistakes.
We hand them the world with all that is good and all that is bad. They will tear down much of what we have built to build their own projects. They will forget about us all too soon, and the lessons we have taught, and the maxims we have proved. It is always a new world to the new generation.
All things stand ready to glorify the youth. Nature unfolds before the youth to reveal secrets we oldsters have forgotten. Youth is wrapped in the magical world of make-believe, and their senses are all alive and attuned to what is fair. Their vision is more perceptive, and their minds more supple than ours.
Beauty that is lost to us is beheld clearly by them. It is that insatiable enthusiasm and curiousity of youth that carries each new generation into the mainstream of life with something extra to give. They bring with them a whole new cargo of dreams and ideas, whereas we have discarded many of ours. Youth is blessed with unlimited promise, and their potential is boundless. Time and destiny await youth ever, await their strength and determination, and await their boundless energy and hope.
Herein exists our unease, the thought that we are between two eternities, the past and the future, the thought that we the simple and weak, flesh and blood, man and mortal, are so precariously lodged. Our position lends itself to untold peril and vulnerability.
We are pivoted by a mere heartbeat, a breath of air. Regardless of our turns in life the thought hangs over us that our lifetime is only a speck in infinity, a flicker in the darkness of eternity. The immortal dreams are locked in the mortal brain.
One day the blood that rushes through our body like some subterranean river will cease to flow. The flesh which covers our bones will one day dry up like an October leaf, the thoughts that are formed somehow, I know not how, out of this conglomeration of flesh, and blood, and bone will stop forever, and the being, the I, will lose itself and all contact with conscienceness on this earthly plane. One day the life force, that impulse which sparked the infant, will have gone out leaving only the inanimate ashes.
(482) A little flower
I beheld a little flower nestled among a host of leaves, as tiny a flower as I have ever seen. It was just a lttle gleam of clear blue, a little pinpoint of blue in a world of dreary brown. Chill was still in the air, and life in winter's cruel grasp still was held, yet here a herald of spring bravely dared to shine like a bright star amidst all that austerity.
Could I behold that little flower bearing its tender petals to a cold, cruel world to proclaim life's glory, and not feel a gladness, yea, a sense of awe? When life becomes burdensome, and I think the world is more than I can bear, then my thoughts harken back to that humble little flower in that dark and lonely forest with all around alien and austere, yet who courageously chose to dwell in beauty, simple and free.
(483) My Favorite Things
Some of my favorite things are: maple trees all aflame in autumn, the bay of a hound in the night, grasshoppers bounding in a field, bees hovering over clover blossoms, forked lightning in the June sky, frogs peeking from a waterhole, wild geese honking overhead in their familiar pattern, an insect scaling a blade of grass at my feet, rain water dripping from the eaves, mayapple patches in the spring, those little gray lizards that hang around on old gates, a preying mantis on a tree trunk, a willow bending in the wind, the smell of dogwoods and redbuds when in bloom, the smell of plowed earth, the green grass stretching over the top of a hill or filling a valley, quacking ducks and cackling chickens, old houses with great big trees around them, children with a fishing pole over their shoulder, and windows with the sun shining in them.
(484) Summer Evenings
As a child on summer evenings I loved to climb the hill above the house and sit and watch the darkness come. If there were clouds I would watch them drift and gradually change colors as the sun slowly slipped behind the trees on yonder hill. Then, if at any time, I felt happiness. I felt it was a good world after all, and that life was good too.
I felt I was being honored, and that the magnificent spectacle was being displayed for my benefit as a form of welcome to me as a member of the universe. The heavens seemed truly to smile at me, and I smiled back at that expansive view contentedly.
(485) Life Without Her
Life without her is like a day without sunshine, like a morning without dew, like a rose bush without a bloom, like a butterfly without wings, like a bird without song, like a storm without rain, like a night without the stars.
Life without her is like a tree without leaves, like a house without people, like an ring without a finger, like a river without water, like a yard without grass, like a winter without snow, like a lake without fish.
Life without her is like a marriage without children, like a field without grain, like a life without dreams, like a man without hope.
Life, how wonderful to be alive. Nothing can equal the miracle of being alive. Nothing can compare with waking up in the morning and being alive. I feel glad not because of anything I have done, but because I am still alive, because the sun still shines down on me, because I am still able to view the flowers and birds flying in the sky.
I feel fortunate because life still throbs away in my veins, and because life is still enjoyable to me. I still wonder at the world like a child. It still moves me. Curiousity has not yet abandoned me, and the gift of laughter has not yet departed. Those same old longings are with me yet, though perhaps less intent. My trust has not yet abated, though a trifle tattered. Most important of all I still look forward to tomorrow.
(487) You Remind Me
You remind me of flowers in May, and of stars in a summer night's sky. You remind me of the eyes of baby calves, of sprightly fledgelings about to abandon the nest, and of fireflies in the first warm nights of the year.
You remind me of all the things I love, and I seem to love them more because of you. You remind me of frosty mornings sparkling in the sun, of snow covered hills in their robe of white, and of full moons and lightning storms. You remind me of the tranquil forest, of leaves and vines and crystalline stones, and of the infinite in repose.
(488) A Dog
Once a dog becomes your friend he always seems to like you. It don't matter what you have done or whether anybody else likes you or not, he likes you. He comes over to you and you pat his head, and think "I wonder what he sees in me worth liking?"
You get down on your luck, and you don't seem to have many friends, then you step out the gate your heart rather low, and that bright-eyed, happy old dog comes bouncing up to meet you somehow making the day seem brighter. You can even call him names and mistreat him, and he will come back in a little while trying to make up, and begging your forgiveness.
(489) Planting A Tree
One of life's most rewarding tasks is planting a tree, and particularly the planting of a fruit tree. There is this fascination at its yearly growth. We often walk about the yard and note its progression.
We anxiously await the spring blossoms, and on the first warm days are out inspecting its boughs. Because we planted it we feel a certain greater attachment to it than otherwise. When it thrives and prospers we are elated as at the prosperity of a dear friend. Few actions in life give more pure pleasure and simple joy than planting a tree.
(490) The Little Things
Commonly the things we look forward to are not very important as the world goes. They are little uncomplicated things that fill our days and thoughts.They are simple, innocent things that make life worth living. We look forward to the spring blossoms and the greening of the grass. We look forward to our eggs getting hatched, and our pigs and calves getting born.
We look forward to big juicy tomatoes and big cabbage heads, to green beans and roasting ears from our garden. We look forward to autumn's leaves, and to winter's first snow. We look forward to moments alone on a hill, and nights reading a book. We look forward to taking walks and looking at the stars. We look forward to spending time with our family, and enjoying our precious time with each other.
Prayer does much to reconcile. Prayer takes away anger and hatred as a stream takes away mud and silt after it has been stirred up. As a stream prayer also takes away our sorrow, our fear, and our despair. What prayer does not take away, it makes it easier to live with.
Though many are not aware of the power of prayer, and the miraculous rewards to be derived from it. The full resources of prayer have never truly been tapped. Few have but barely delved into the manifold blessings of prayer.
Prayer opens the eyes to new good and to new truth. It clears up the shadows which cloud one's faith and reveals the heavens. It lifts the heart of one above this world of strife, and lets one view in part the beauty of God.
Prayer is a supplication that need not be spoken, but it must be heartfelt. As the Bible says; "The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much." To pray is to communicate with God. In prayer as in no other thing, the soul reaches out toward the higher heights and the inner courts. When the soul is in prayer it is in its profoundest hour. In prayer the soul cultivates its highest nature, its spiritual nature. The true nobility of the soul is recovered and experienced only in prayer.
(492) The Empty Chair
A chair empty where before a person had sat seems not the same. The very room seems not the same as when the person's presence permeated all. Not an object moved, not a picture from the wall, and not an article of furniture moved, but the room seems vastly different. Indeed the world seems different.
Time passes over and leaves the impressions, and leaves the memories, while often leaving the same sights and sounds, while stealing the person away. After a while we have trouble recalling the sound of their voice, and even their face, though they were most dear to us.
The wind blows the leaves, and a fragrance greets us, and we recall memories, though we cannot return. Nothing is ever the same again. Time changes after its subtile fashion. What was yesterday can never quite be again, no matter how much we wish it.
(493) The Future
Surely stars will endure, and trees to look at. Surely raindrops will always fall, and rivers running to the sea. I cannot imagine a world without children playing games, and mothers watching over them. The light I am certain will ever reveal the colors of the rainbow.
I cannot help believing puppies and kittens will live on until the end of time nuzzling at the hand of some child in search of love. If anything is bound to last it is music, and if nothing else the music of the wind.
Who can say what will remain ages hence, and in what changed and strange forms? But it is hoped it will be gentle and innocent, and far less of what is cruel and harsh. It is hoped that kindness will rule in beauty the world of the future.
(494) All Is For The Best
In quiet moments some voice within us seems to say, "all is for the best; trust in God." The One who set the stars in place also notes the falling of a sparrow. We can rely that the rains will come in due course, and that at the end of the darkest hour comes the dawn.
In a world in which there is the wonder of birth, the magic of growth, and the marvel that is youth, can we doubt it is all for the best? Can we watch a creature struggle for life in those initial hours, and not feel an awe and admiration? Can we behold the sprouting of a seed as those first tender leaves of a plant burst through the clods to sunlight, and not sense that in such a world there is a merciful Power directing the proceedings?
(495) We Never Repent Of Our Kindness
We never repent of our kindness, only our harshness. Offending someone hurts us more than it does them. We are buffeted by bad memories years after an outburst of temper. We recall our own acts of meanness and incivility, and view them with more remorse than we do the times we were mistreated by someone else.
We never regret our kindness even though the other person never returned our kindness. We never regret treating the other person with respect, but we do regret our moments of disrespectful behavior toward other people. We never become so callous but what we feel some regret for hateful actions.
(496) Timeless Things
Some things never grow old: a spring day, a thunder shower, the blue sky, the sound of the wind, and the sound of water trickling over the rocks. Bird's singing, bright colored flowers, and the warm sunshine are forever young and filled with hope. It seems as if those things never really began, but that they were always, and will always be.
I cannot imagine the world without them. They are so much a part of our life, and our heart. The years take us swiftly on, but those things change not. They retain that youthful quality, and that same fascination as when first we viewed and became endeared to them.
It seemed only yesterday when we looked up at the clouds with a gleam in our eyes as a child filled with wonder and awe. Time, nothing can take from us the memory and love we have for timeless, eternal things, and the sight and sound of them while we live.
(497) The Light
When I catch a selfish thought stealing in I feel shadows dimming my soul much as clouds produce when obscuring the sun. Therefore I perceive that evil is a great darkness. When I hate I feel myself cast down in a great bottomless gulf with the darkness smothering me, and in the distance what is good and beautiful shines like tiny stars, while I am isolated.
From birth it is a ceaseless battle to preserve the light of life which is love and hope from the darkness of doubt and fear and hate. The warfare is always, because the enemy is within us.
There is a hope in every person that something wonderful will one day dawn in human affairs, that one day nations will cease warfare with one another, that a real brotherhood will exist between all races, creeds, and peoples, that exploitation and profiteering will cease, that privation and neglect will be replaced by caring and genuine concern.
It is hoped that a great interchange between cultures will produce stimulation of a delightfully varied and beneficial kind, that society will become on the whole beautiful and refined, that the spiritual and material needs of the individual will be of utmost importance, and be met as never before in the saga of humanity. This is the future that hopefully awaits some future generation.
(499) We Must Leave
Soon the waters cover our being, and we become the submerged. Behold, are not the stars bright, the flowers lovely, and all the world happy and alive? Youth is jocund with shining eyes, and spring comes with the grass and insects in all their glee. The streams flow, and storms still come in the night. The lightening flashes and the thunder roars, but we must go.
The wind howls and sends breezes all around as it brings winter snow and summer relief. The trees sway all green and radiant in the summer, and filled with color in the fall, while stark in winter. They stand and pose a thousand poses. Kittens trying to catch their mother's tail, and puppy dogs being chased by setting hens are things everlasting. Baby pigs waddling out on shaky legs are things that never change. The sun, the moon, and the blue sky will continue, but we must die.
The bluejay will squawk his delight in the morning air, and the red bird bathe in the little creek, but we must leave them all. Departure will be sad, though it will be good to know all these things will go on. It is good just to be a part of all this.
(500) The Bluebird
It is truly a glorious day when the bluebird comes to call. The first bluebird I see in spring is a source of great inspiration to me. Suddenly on a warm day there he is on a twig as the leaves are just budding, and the grass starting to green.
The bluebird is perhaps our reward for enduring the hardships of life, and a blessing to help make up for the evils that beset us. Upon seeing a bluebird it is difficult not to believe in the goodness of life, and that somewhere, somehow, there exists a divine intelligence who directs the harmonious order of things.
The bluebird seems to have an aura of the divine about him, and gives us a sense of the joy and wonder of life. Where the bluebird goes is holy, and where he alights is sacred, and forever remembered as the domain of the bluebird. Our eyes pursue the bluebird in his course across the sky, and his blue glistens in the sun even more fair than the sky itself.
The bluebird is a perfection of nature. It is a being as pure and beautiful as our concept of it can imagine. The bluebird personifies the touch of a benevolent Creator, One who wishes to portray His love and tenderness in the form of a being as exquisite as a bluebird.
(501) Be Kind To Yourself
Be kind to yourself. Relax, lean back, put your feet up, and close your eyes. Take a walk. Listen to the birds. Feel the warmth of the sun on your face, and the gentle brush of the wind against your cheek. Be kind to yourself. Sure you have made mistakes. We all have made mistakes, but we can't just keep beating ourselves up over them. No one is perfect.
Forgive yourself and forgive others who may have wronged you. Let all your guilt, anger, and fear go. Be kind to yourself. You have worked hard, and you deserve a break. Look at the sky. Watch the clouds go by. Listen to some music. Hum a tune. Breathe in deeply and be at peace. Let the world go by for a little while. Find the time to treat yourself and be good to you.
(502) The Healing Power Of Prayer
The healing power of prayer,
The healing power of prayer,
The healing power of prayer,