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I Saw the Universe
I can see the cerulean blue of the skies
Or the indigo of the night
I can see the stars wink, the grin of the moon
During the changes of it's monthly face
I am in awe
I see the sun on it's annual trek
Alternately awakening the life in the earth
And then fading away to allow it to sleep
Until the next spring
I am told the Universe is "out there"
Beyond those stars, moon and sun,
Yet the power of what I can see
Is a fathoming beyond my comprehension
I am in awe
"Out there" no time, no seasons pass
No sense of age, hatred or loss exist
Only the infinity
0f the Universe
What IS "out there"?
What IS the Universe that has no end?
What IS the power that creates all this?
I want to see it too
And then I remember.....
I saw it once, this gift of glimpse
In the eyes of a granddaughter five minutes old
As I held her to my heart and gazed
Into the depths of eternal wisdom and love
It was but a moment
Before the bonds of her earthly body
Began to pull her
To her purpose of this lifetime
But from that instant I knew
The Universe is everywhere Love exists
Each one of us carries
The Universe in our soul
It is not "out there, but "in here"
And can be glimpsed in the
Eyes of a newly born child
As she shares the messsage she brings
of Universal Love.
I am in awe
Lynn Moore is a Life Coach specializing in personal empowerment. Her Life Purpose is: "To lead people to discover their true value." As she wears the hats of woman, wife, mother, grandmother, daughter, aunt, sister and Life Coach (among many other "headdresses"), she provides "Heavenly Hugs or a Toe to the Tush inspiring you to create change." You can access much more information/inspiration by visiting her Angel in Army Boots website at http://www.CoachAngelBoots.com
Learn About Love From Poet Rumi
Learn about love by reading poetry by a long dead poet named Rumi. No need to look for ancient texts hidden in caves.
Farewell to Lester Graybill
I never met a man, who could shake my hand, and make my heart feel like a hearth afire.I never met a man, who could smile so easy, real honest.
Ambiguity and Abstraction in Bob Dylan's Lyrics
To many people contemporary poetry is a turn-off. The reason for this is that the majority of these poems are boring.
The Power of Eating Disorders
I want to get closeI am afraid.Afraid of what you might see.
There are many times I set up barriers and walls, invisible unless you come too close, And then you hit them.You wonder what happened.
In The Midst Of All
In the midst of darkness, there is light. In the midst of evil, there is virtue.
Black Blood, in Jeremiahs Vines - A Poem and an Article
Black Blood, in Jeremiah's Vines [A Dream Poem]And I heard the crackling of wood, and I noticed the Lord God had made men of wood, and fire came from his mouth.Then the wind poured its grief upon us-over our sins; and I heard the words for the seventh time, "Go to the mountains!"Foolish people of this land pray and understand-for He cometh! Thereof, toss yourself to thy knees, for the roar of rebellious men will bleed: black blood, through the vines of Jeremiah.
"I heard what you said, Red. Yet, I have to disagree.
THe Monster Mash, A Graveyard SMASH (short story I wrote when I was 11)
The Monster Mash The Graveyard SmashHave you heard of the Monster Mash? I suppose you know the story of how it came to be, right? Well, I'm here to tell the TRUE story to you.It sarted out late one night, when all monsters where out of human sight.
San Francisco [Almost a Sonnet]
(The city by the bay of Northern California, near which the Pacific Ocean resides; the year is 1967)Mid October seemed like some spring day,When through the poised waters, dry as lead, The ferry, like vague shadows that stand the dead,Slipped down the curved coast of Frisco bay, Rounded the Golden Gate,-and San Francisco lay, Before me, that gay city, pink and red, Hippies covered Haigh Asbury's homeless head,-My home, to be, I found stirring and grey.The waves busted on the wooden-sides; fishermenNearby with long necks, looked and cast again.
Blind Designs [a Poem] and a Note by Rosa on The Other Door
Blind DesignsBorn today, gone tomorrow Like a butterfly with no stomach Born n the morning, dead by night Oh-let me whisper Oh-let me cry What man has not learned? What man will not learn! In his pomposity, his rhetoric With his abstract concepts With his intellect With his creativeness He has become enslaved By-them? By them all, he will fall. Ah! Yes-abstract concepts Bombast and rhetoric His intellect His cleverness This he leaves behind To his decedents!.
Poetry "Reborn" Emerges In Thriller Mystery Novel
Since Mohamed Ali-then Cassius Clay-announced that he had written "The world's shortest poem," I have known that I would be a poet. "ME? WHEE!" His triumphant proclamation evoking shivers within my troubled teenaged identity, for I reasoned in rhyme.
Kafka lands resurrected in Crewe deposited by a silvery alien craft, And whilst he is wondering what to do He is asked to show his pass Or pay an instant one off fine At a cash dispenser of his choice And they are checking all the time On his irises face and voice.And of course they find that he is not, They discover he just cannot be there, Although he seems as if he is visible, And has hands and toes and hair, If he is not on the Great Data Bank, He plainly and simply cannot be, He is not listed and he is not ranked He is surely not like you and me.
Shakespeares Sonnet XVIII, Shall I Compare Thee to a Summers Day?
Shakespeare's sonnets require time and effort to appreciate. Understanding the numerous meanings of the lines, the crisply made references, the brilliance of the images, and the complexity of the sound, rhythm and structure of the verse demands attention and experience.
Caught in the Arms of ED
YOU MIGHT THINK I AM STRONGI THINK YOU GOT IT WRONGI LIVE LIFE DAY TO DAYHOPING IT WILL GO MY WAYI HAVE MY FRIENDS AND MY FOOD PLANMY THERAPIST AND MY THOUGHTSMY EXERCISE AND MY EXCITEMENTTHEN SOMETHING HAPPENS AND I GET CAUGHTCAUGHT IN THE ARMS OF EDTURNING MY EYES AWAYFROM MY FOCUS TO WIN THE FIGHTTHAT I THOUGHT WAS GOING TO STAY.HE TELLS ME THAT I AM SELFISHTHAT I SHOULD DOUBT MY EVERY MOVEONE MINUTE I AM HAPPYDO I HAVE A RIGHT TO FEEL THIS GOOD?DOUBTING MY STRENGTH AND CONFIDENCEAS ED ALWAYS KNEW I WOULDI AM LOSING INCHES AROUND MY WAISTAND MY PANTS ARE FALLING OFFI SEE THE FACE OF ED IN MY HEADAS HE BEGINS TO LAUGH AND SCOFFYOU THINK YOU ARE GOING STRONGYOU THINK YOU GOT ME BEATLET ME SEE YOU LOSE EVEN MOREYOU WILL SEE THAT YOU WERE WRONG.
Tale of the Brick Maker, of San Jeronimo, Peru [In English and Spanish]
Tale of the Brick Maker, Of San Jerónimo, Peru [A Cup of Sorrow]-1In the Andean mountains, within theMantaro Valley region of Peru, Isolated, secluded, tranquil, is the littlevillage of San Jerónimo. Near the village, here lay the fertile valleywith bent-grass, and huge Mountains stretching northbound,And heading towards the ocean's coast.
Growing hurts sometimes; saying goodbye to friends, to things you've known and done to things you wanted to do. Growing heals sometimes the shattered dreams and hopes of a life you once knew leading you to a new knowledge of yourself.
Opposites Do Attract Quite Well
When I am climbing up, you are stepping down. When I wear a smile, you wear a frown.
Grandpas House & From Iraq with Love [Two Poems]
Grandpa's House [The ole Real House]The house needed painting Sun-blistered and flaking Grandpa started to have us Boys-Mike and I- start Doing some scraping-While he, pealed off the ole Paint, and started painting?Just a humble wooden house With several rooms, but Strong enough to keep the Winds and winter snows out, How he loved that ole house!..
Do not be afraid to shine. This world needs what you have to give.
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