Sunday, May 31, 2009
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Friday, May 29, 2009
Keep your thoughts positive because your thoughts become your words. Keep your words positive because your words become your behaviors. Keep your behaviors positive because your behaviors become your habits. Keep your habits positive because your habits become your values. Keep your values positive because your values become your destiny.
By Gandhi
By Gandhi
On Angel's Wings(Patriotic too...)
Today I pray for Angels,
To Keep Watch over all of you,
The ones fighting for the Red, White, and Blue;
To guard and protect in everything you do,
When I whipered to our Father,
I asked for him to bring a touch of love and goodness,
Sent forth on angel's wings;
I ask them to lay whisper,
of peace and joy upon your ear;
That thoughts of happiness and laughter,
would be all you hear,
Then I asked of him,
to shine upon your faces;
An extra special blessing of his mercy and his grace,
Tonight I shall ask him,
to grant another request...
That angels stand watch over you all,
and for one night have a peaceful rest,
So, if you feel a brush of wings,
or a soft breeze that fills the air,
Just know an angel is watching over you,
because of a whispering prayer...
Dedicated to all in War adn Over Seas Away from Home
Susan I. Smith
To Keep Watch over all of you,
The ones fighting for the Red, White, and Blue;
To guard and protect in everything you do,
When I whipered to our Father,
I asked for him to bring a touch of love and goodness,
Sent forth on angel's wings;
I ask them to lay whisper,
of peace and joy upon your ear;
That thoughts of happiness and laughter,
would be all you hear,
Then I asked of him,
to shine upon your faces;
An extra special blessing of his mercy and his grace,
Tonight I shall ask him,
to grant another request...
That angels stand watch over you all,
and for one night have a peaceful rest,
So, if you feel a brush of wings,
or a soft breeze that fills the air,
Just know an angel is watching over you,
because of a whispering prayer...
Dedicated to all in War adn Over Seas Away from Home
Susan I. Smith
It's amazing how one part of the worlld could be so calm and still, and the other filled with horror and fear. not understanding...http://ping.fm/G6CA2
Patriotic (Voices that Should Be Heard!)
Dedicated to the U.S.Armed Forces fighting in Iraq
(Always in our Memories, this day & age! God Bless)
It's amazing how one part of the worlld could be so calm and still, and the other filled with horror and fear. not understanding how one could fear life itself? In order to have peace is to have war. The faces of these boys and firls who fight for the freedom of others, has yet his adolescense and others...well have so much to risk. Families who mourn for the loss of their loved ones. Some not even old enough to consume alcohol, but yet old enough to fight and die for their country. The weight of the world lies on their shoulders. How can one deal with pressure as this? The things they've see, others could only imagine and dream of in their nightmares! The colors of the flag runs through their veins, with passion and rage. Not only does the flag stand for what they believe in, but they live by it, and stand by it! The flag bleeds through their veins. They do what they have to at any cost. They are scared as we, but show no fear. They cry, but shed no tear. We weep for their pain, fears, and misery. They might not feel it, because its their duty; but they are true heros, like any other who puts their life for others!!! Whom we are proud of, and thank God every day that we're free!!! To all of you out their, we honor and hold dearest to our hearts, soul, and mind. THANK YOU!!! Susan S.
(Always in our Memories, this day & age! God Bless)
It's amazing how one part of the worlld could be so calm and still, and the other filled with horror and fear. not understanding how one could fear life itself? In order to have peace is to have war. The faces of these boys and firls who fight for the freedom of others, has yet his adolescense and others...well have so much to risk. Families who mourn for the loss of their loved ones. Some not even old enough to consume alcohol, but yet old enough to fight and die for their country. The weight of the world lies on their shoulders. How can one deal with pressure as this? The things they've see, others could only imagine and dream of in their nightmares! The colors of the flag runs through their veins, with passion and rage. Not only does the flag stand for what they believe in, but they live by it, and stand by it! The flag bleeds through their veins. They do what they have to at any cost. They are scared as we, but show no fear. They cry, but shed no tear. We weep for their pain, fears, and misery. They might not feel it, because its their duty; but they are true heros, like any other who puts their life for others!!! Whom we are proud of, and thank God every day that we're free!!! To all of you out their, we honor and hold dearest to our hearts, soul, and mind. THANK YOU!!! Susan S.
Before You (My Original Work)
My world use to never make sense,
Always confused...
My future a Blurr...
Never content just sitting at home;
Always on the Go,
Than you...entered my life...
My domain upside down...
What was empty inside is now fullfilled...
Contentment surrounds my atmosphere.
The air I breathe is feeling free!
My future no longer do I fear,
no longer a blurr;
You is all I want!
No urge to go anywhere...Relaxed!
Home finally feels like home to me...
You are my other half who fills that void to make me whole,
With you my World Finally makes Sense!
Always confused...
My future a Blurr...
Never content just sitting at home;
Always on the Go,
Than you...entered my life...
My domain upside down...
What was empty inside is now fullfilled...
Contentment surrounds my atmosphere.
The air I breathe is feeling free!
My future no longer do I fear,
no longer a blurr;
You is all I want!
No urge to go anywhere...Relaxed!
Home finally feels like home to me...
You are my other half who fills that void to make me whole,
With you my World Finally makes Sense!
Poetry is in Everybody!!!
I copied this from the poets blog to share with you...I enjoyed it!
Friday, 29 May 2009
A Spring
evening stills;
trees - wetted with rain -
stand and face a purple sun.
Listen to calls
pulse - a swell of birds
flickering nuances
cooing, echoing
beating little hearts
(inside my skull
I also am wittering and twittering)
Overhead; leaves lurch
wave on turning ocean wave
beckoning light: moving church,
urging Nature, lusting life.
Posted by John Lavan at 05:44 0 comments
if (window['tickAboveFold']) {window['tickAboveFold'](document.getElementById("latency-7576827424819865526")); }
Thursday, 28 May 2009
In between us
it starts with a tickle;
in the belly,
nebula.
It ends with a poke
between two ribs
and a husky giggle.
It starts with a flash
of a sideways eye;
a tiny smile.
It ends with a lean;
the slightest fall
and a body-check.
Its starts with a pulse
through a softer drum;
an urge to move.
It ends in a leap
to a standing pose
and a crazy dance.
It starts with heat
in a burgeoning core
rising, rising.
It ends with a word,
soft clear magma,
melting eyes.
Posted by John Lavan at 06:49 0 comments
if (window['tickAboveFold']) {window['tickAboveFold'](document.getElementById("latency-5753725964790210496")); }
Wednesday, 27 May 2009
In the front seat
first thing:
sing Hickory Dickory Dock
and find shock words to rhyme
with 1 2 3
like bum, poo, pee.
Second thing:
wind down a window,
laugh shoulders
at brothers getting cold
and wet with rain.
Third thing:
thump me on the arm,
and warm with a smile
‘You OK Dad?’ and I reply ‘Yes, you OK?’
face ahead, say ‘Fine’.
Fourth thing:
look sidelong from a knowing eye
as if you clock what’s going on;
that you know I know when I nod back,
that, yes, I get it, this lifetime,
your Work.
Posted by John Lavan at 05:52 1 comments
if (window['tickAboveFold']) {window['tickAboveFold'](document.getElementById("latency-2571484088762786698")); }
Tuesday, 26 May 2009
An Eden Conception
A raindrop, unaccountably round,
plunges into Mallerstang;
Eden valley, Victorian dark,
the last great wilderness in England.
People come here briefly;
a monarch, a highwayman,
a thief, an earl, a tramp to see
rivers rise – the Ouse and Eden -
and if this raindrop falls an atom’s width
to the East, it runs to York;
a molecule West, Carlisle.
On and on, the future forks
and this drop will not travel both.
Race into a great valley;
ginger gorse: an undomesticated,
wild, wet second world, happy
when earth and wind decide
what’s right and left, that it’s worth
a surging newborn driving to
a source, a smash, a violent birth.
Posted by John Lavan at 07:06 1 comments
if (window['tickAboveFold']) {window['tickAboveFold'](document.getElementById("latency-5075702656649090003")); }
Monday, 25 May 2009
I Love you
and your perfect ask
‘Would you scratch my back?’ is enough
to stretch out hands because folk who love
happily scratch backs where a person can’t reach
and the perfect one
is the kind without give and take
repercussion; like a given scrape
of skin without expectation of return.
No; it’s not for gain;
no transacting for dividend,
economics, or seeking a friend,
but a reaching act of warmth and fingernails;
like a one way kiss,
my itch stopping behaviour
-simpler than poetry can carry-
back scratching seems, in love, all there really is.
Posted by John Lavan at 06:48 0 comments
if (window['tickAboveFold']) {window['tickAboveFold'](document.getElementById("latency-1292003468498504295")); }
Sunday, 24 May 2009
A Birth
I’m painting windows
listening to noise outside;
teenagers shouting above an autumn wind.
Normal teenage girls, I guess.
Normal?
Back to Andrew’s birth and a room
- sky blue and white – high on a hill
in Yorkshire. For 40 minutes in a life
he seemed normal. Then
they said I should hold him
and so I did
as any firstborn father cradles – clumsily -
and he transformed:
‘Down’s Syndrome probably’ they said.
Shock. Grievous. Tears soaked
through family. Loss
of expectation flowed.
We couldn’t see! Embarrassing now, unaware,
as I clumsily drip paint onto cold pink hands,
that a teacher had been born.
Posted by John Lavan at 06:56 1 comments
if (window['tickAboveFold']) {window['tickAboveFold'](document.getElementById("latency-4953843313550181096")); }
Saturday, 23 May 2009
Early Morning
ice, hard as stone
- standing – in the North –
bring it South, to home,
the hearth, the heart, the home.
Sons radiate upstairs
- I sit in new light
reading Emily Dickinson –
voices vibrate, doors
slam, open and re-slam.
The house cracks and a clock
ticks second by second.
Ice, hard as stone
- standing – in the North –
bring it South, to home,
the hearth, the heart, the home
and I feel a moment
(relax)
before slow steps
onto stairs;
an engagement
for needs,
hugs
Ice, hard as stone
- standing – in the North –
bring it South, to home,
the hearth, the heart, the home.
Posted by John Lavan at 06:42 1 comments
Friday, 29 May 2009
A Spring
evening stills;
trees - wetted with rain -
stand and face a purple sun.
Listen to calls
pulse - a swell of birds
flickering nuances
cooing, echoing
beating little hearts
(inside my skull
I also am wittering and twittering)
Overhead; leaves lurch
wave on turning ocean wave
beckoning light: moving church,
urging Nature, lusting life.
Posted by John Lavan at 05:44 0 comments
if (window['tickAboveFold']) {window['tickAboveFold'](document.getElementById("latency-7576827424819865526")); }
Thursday, 28 May 2009
In between us
it starts with a tickle;
in the belly,
nebula.
It ends with a poke
between two ribs
and a husky giggle.
It starts with a flash
of a sideways eye;
a tiny smile.
It ends with a lean;
the slightest fall
and a body-check.
Its starts with a pulse
through a softer drum;
an urge to move.
It ends in a leap
to a standing pose
and a crazy dance.
It starts with heat
in a burgeoning core
rising, rising.
It ends with a word,
soft clear magma,
melting eyes.
Posted by John Lavan at 06:49 0 comments
if (window['tickAboveFold']) {window['tickAboveFold'](document.getElementById("latency-5753725964790210496")); }
Wednesday, 27 May 2009
In the front seat
first thing:
sing Hickory Dickory Dock
and find shock words to rhyme
with 1 2 3
like bum, poo, pee.
Second thing:
wind down a window,
laugh shoulders
at brothers getting cold
and wet with rain.
Third thing:
thump me on the arm,
and warm with a smile
‘You OK Dad?’ and I reply ‘Yes, you OK?’
face ahead, say ‘Fine’.
Fourth thing:
look sidelong from a knowing eye
as if you clock what’s going on;
that you know I know when I nod back,
that, yes, I get it, this lifetime,
your Work.
Posted by John Lavan at 05:52 1 comments
if (window['tickAboveFold']) {window['tickAboveFold'](document.getElementById("latency-2571484088762786698")); }
Tuesday, 26 May 2009
An Eden Conception
A raindrop, unaccountably round,
plunges into Mallerstang;
Eden valley, Victorian dark,
the last great wilderness in England.
People come here briefly;
a monarch, a highwayman,
a thief, an earl, a tramp to see
rivers rise – the Ouse and Eden -
and if this raindrop falls an atom’s width
to the East, it runs to York;
a molecule West, Carlisle.
On and on, the future forks
and this drop will not travel both.
Race into a great valley;
ginger gorse: an undomesticated,
wild, wet second world, happy
when earth and wind decide
what’s right and left, that it’s worth
a surging newborn driving to
a source, a smash, a violent birth.
Posted by John Lavan at 07:06 1 comments
if (window['tickAboveFold']) {window['tickAboveFold'](document.getElementById("latency-5075702656649090003")); }
Monday, 25 May 2009
I Love you
and your perfect ask
‘Would you scratch my back?’ is enough
to stretch out hands because folk who love
happily scratch backs where a person can’t reach
and the perfect one
is the kind without give and take
repercussion; like a given scrape
of skin without expectation of return.
No; it’s not for gain;
no transacting for dividend,
economics, or seeking a friend,
but a reaching act of warmth and fingernails;
like a one way kiss,
my itch stopping behaviour
-simpler than poetry can carry-
back scratching seems, in love, all there really is.
Posted by John Lavan at 06:48 0 comments
if (window['tickAboveFold']) {window['tickAboveFold'](document.getElementById("latency-1292003468498504295")); }
Sunday, 24 May 2009
A Birth
I’m painting windows
listening to noise outside;
teenagers shouting above an autumn wind.
Normal teenage girls, I guess.
Normal?
Back to Andrew’s birth and a room
- sky blue and white – high on a hill
in Yorkshire. For 40 minutes in a life
he seemed normal. Then
they said I should hold him
and so I did
as any firstborn father cradles – clumsily -
and he transformed:
‘Down’s Syndrome probably’ they said.
Shock. Grievous. Tears soaked
through family. Loss
of expectation flowed.
We couldn’t see! Embarrassing now, unaware,
as I clumsily drip paint onto cold pink hands,
that a teacher had been born.
Posted by John Lavan at 06:56 1 comments
if (window['tickAboveFold']) {window['tickAboveFold'](document.getElementById("latency-4953843313550181096")); }
Saturday, 23 May 2009
Early Morning
ice, hard as stone
- standing – in the North –
bring it South, to home,
the hearth, the heart, the home.
Sons radiate upstairs
- I sit in new light
reading Emily Dickinson –
voices vibrate, doors
slam, open and re-slam.
The house cracks and a clock
ticks second by second.
Ice, hard as stone
- standing – in the North –
bring it South, to home,
the hearth, the heart, the home
and I feel a moment
(relax)
before slow steps
onto stairs;
an engagement
for needs,
hugs
Ice, hard as stone
- standing – in the North –
bring it South, to home,
the hearth, the heart, the home.
Posted by John Lavan at 06:42 1 comments
Loose Weight In a Month
Killeen Mom Lost 47 lbs Following 1 rule! 1 Month By Obeying This 1 Old Rule www.RachelRayBlogs.com Killeen Mom Lost 52Lbs Following
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Passion of Writine
I always felt when I didn't have a lending ear to listen, I can always count on my pen and peice of paper.
The paper, so simple, yet so powerful...it takes in all you want it to; and has nothing to say...
It is my rock, where I vent and share my most intimate thoughts.
The paper, so simple, yet so powerful...it takes in all you want it to; and has nothing to say...
It is my rock, where I vent and share my most intimate thoughts.
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