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Live Abundantly

Climb the world and keep your eyes wide.

Parade the peaks and secure the seas

Open your mouth to wow

And your hands to understand

Even the pastures and ponds

Are made from the grandest matter

That form those far off lands

Taste the delight of here and there

Flat soil, tall rocks

Walking and hiking

Working and playing

Everywhere

Joy is in the earth

And in the earth

Abundantly

Live

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Ghosts

Ghosts make life hardly living, and it’s not easy, hardly living,

With ghosts,

Life is hard, like living hardly, inside my home.

Ghost sit, stand, run, and roam inside my home, inside my head, inside my bed.

Always here, always there like a hollow and a soulless friend.

No heart to wish me well and send me on my way;

No way to send me and well wish me.

Only they find me and bind me in their presence where life is not,

And there I must to think of whence they came,

To think of whence they’ll go

And leave me in peace, alone.

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The Twenty-Ninth Dream

There was a boy who had a dream

For every year his heart still beat,

And every year another dream

He added to his chest to keep.

In his chest his dreams did swim

With hopes or satisfactory grins.

Every dream could make amends

For doubts that tried to creep within.

A new, strong, and handsome dream

Was outside, waiting for the key;

To be let in, to dive its depths,

To give the boy another year’s breath.

Anticipation flooded his chest,

Beating and dreaming the days till best,

Until best came—which is today—

When on this day the grant was made.

Dream twenty-nine took its place

As twenty-eight others bowed in grace.

The newest nine moved in proud,

The twenty-ninth dream had left the ground.

Happy Birthday to my husband.

January 22, 2015

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With each grave of death, I felt alive with more breath.

Their graves I saw with my own eyes

And touched with my own hands

Yet still my mind does doubt the truth

That beside them I did stand.

St. Paul's Grave

St. Paul’s Grave

John Keats' Grave

John Keats’ Grave

P1150760

Percy Shelley's Grave

Percy Shelley’s Grave

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About A Mother

A little girl of thirteen years came in the court unto the King. She boldly walked before the throne to ask him of a need.

“My mother is the kindest soul that you should ever meet. She lives in virtue like a Saint though she would never say. She knows her weakness and her need and reminds me everyday. But that’s what makes my mother strong, and no one could oppose. Her humble heart, it leads us on and teaches us to grow.”

The King looked down upon the girl and shared a tender smile, but doubt arose within his voice as he responded to the child. “What is left, then, that you could need? Is your heart that full of greed? You say your mother none can compare, so what of life is still not fair?

The King knew well but set to test the truth within her heart. He watched her bow her sighing eyes and open mouth to start.

“That I should ask of something more for all my mother is, would deem me base and shame my heart, and call my life amiss. I come to you with a greater need that goes beyond myself. Please hear my words and when I’m done then you will see yourself. I seek not riches or material goods, for all too soon they fade. Nor do I want in all the town, men to know my name. I stand before you because I need the wisdom of my King. So, tell me Sir, what can I do, to show my mother thanks, to celebrate her love and life, what to her, can I take?”

The King was silent, deep in thought, wringing her words anew. How glad he was to hear her speak, a daughter honest and true. He said, “A mother’s love is like the sea, it rocks you where you need to be. And wide and vast its unknown depths, boundless cares to love you best. Do you pet the sea or wrap it gifts? Do you take one day to praises lift? Never the sea disappears, or drain its heart, it’s always there…even when you’re nowhere near. So heed her well and return her love, have kind a spirit like a dove. There is no one thing you can do, to match your mother’s love for you. But every minute, day to day, live your life in peace and thanks. Bestow on her a hug and kiss, write her words of beauty’s bliss. All of this will bless her great and show her how you celebrate. For mother’s cherish greatly when, their children grow in love not sin. So take these words and go your way, remember always live in grace.”

The young girl hugged the King and left, went to her mother and both were blest.

 

Happy Mother’s Day to an amazing mother, Andrea Ripple!

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Stars (cover)

Stars by Grace Potter & the Nocturnals.

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April 29, 2014 · 10:50 pm

53

Death for Life

The numbers brand your flesh in the glory of the earthly. Another year perished and a new one was born; a year born in Love. Love that leaves its marks by the lines on your face and on your hands. Love to proudly bear for eyes to read. 

Since where the natural body dwells so dwells the spiritual.

The flesh grows weak but the spirit grows strong.

This mystery of Love is Life not Death, the imperishable not the perishable, the immortal not the mortal, for its mystery is victory. The natural matters not, but only that the spiritual may live, even ever after the after.   

And so, a curious Beauty passes before your eyes, she stands and winks and waves. You wave back and follow her steps when she walks on. She is the hope that leads you, the hope that means death for life. She holds your gaze, unyielding. Her kisses beckon you, for they dance upon her lips, which are the grave and the resurrection. They come together to form the kiss of death and life bestowed upon your face. Drink in her sweet aroma with arms wide open. Breathe well this life.

Rejoice!

Bodies thrive to perish, but Spirits hold life and life everlasting.

 

Happy 53rd Birthday, Ada.

I love you!

1 Corinthians 15 

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