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 15 Sep 2005 @ 04:57, by uncleremus. Ideas, Creativity
Too early for the rainbow, too early for the dove
These are the final days, this is the darkness, this is the flood
And there is no man or woman who can't be touched
Leonard Cohen, The Gypsy's Wife
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 3 Sep 2005 @ 12:36, by silviamar. Ideas, Creativity
This morning I've wakened up with one year more. Is this event so important in my life to celebrate it? My answer it YES! You never know if you're going to have another birthday. Last August 9th could have been my last day in this life, no more birthdays for me. But I'm still here in this world and I would love to celebrate each of those days. But as 365 days of party would be too much, at least I'm going to celebrate this special day with my family and friends.
What else can I wish this day apart from what I have right now: life, a home and people who I love and who love me?. Well, yes, I have another wish, I wish the same that I have for every being in this world. I'm not as happy as I was in my previous birthdays, because tears are coming to me everytime I watch the news about the tragedy left by Katrina. There, many people won't have a birthday anymore, and many more don't have a home, food, water, medicines... they feel lost and hopeless. And I feel helpless. My wish for this year is that they will be able to recover their lives as soon as possible, and that those children will have a much better future than their current present.
Thinking about the hopeless feeling I remembered this poem, that I wrote two years ago for one of my best friends in her birthday, she was suffering a pretty strong depression and was feeling hopeless. Her daughter and her parents were very sad for her, as I was too. Fortunately she's much better now. As always, I'm including also the Spanish original version. More >
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 17 Aug 2005 @ 16:53, by swanny. Ideas, Creativity
Where Have the Roots Gone?
There was a big old tree in the yard of my childhood home.
I watched the many years as it grew in age and splendor.
It gave an "earthy" quality to the home and yard, the home and yard of my youth.
There where other things there too, that seemed to center my universe,
the cracks in the walls, the dirt and dust, the smells of spruce and flowers
and fresh bread.
Gone, they're all gone now, replaced by things seemingly less comforting
but more .....? "new". Have they simply been replaced for the sake of
"newness" and what is the advantage of newness. It is not like a
comforting shoulder to cry on or a dear and old tree or friend to hug.
Where are the roots that have been so systematically erased and
cut from the tree of my being, for without them I seem to float aimlessly
in a groundless Universe, floating, floating, floating and never arriving.
Arriving .... arriving, when will we arrive, when will the world stop spinning
and once again reveal to us our "home."
By A. G. Jonas
(c)2005
Earth More >
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11 Aug 2005 @ 21:37, by swanny. Ideas, Creativity
TIME IS PASSING
Time is passing... the wind chimes sound, touched by a gusty breeze.....
Time is passing... Rain halfheartedly falls sputtering down somewhat undecidedly
glum.....
Time is passing... Two Budgies debate the nature of existence and Einsteins theory of relativity. It is their ongoing and banal way to consume the day.
Time is passing... A knee well seasoned by the falls of life complains of the lack of
any good ointments these days. It grumbles perhaps but sighs good heartedly.
Time is passing... The sun pokes its head from behind the clouds and smiles on a glass of tepid water on the night table, a ready to appease and quench that, if any sudden thirst.
Time is passing......
Yes indeed.....
Time is passing
and then its gone.
A.G. Jonas
(c) 2005 More >
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 7 Aug 2005 @ 05:37, by skookum. Ideas, Creativity
Slumberer
What better thing than the quiet time
There is no need for anything but being
No prayers need to entreaty God More >
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 2 Aug 2005 @ 15:44, by swanny. Ideas, Creativity
THE MEMORY TREE
Like a snowflake, the years would seem to express themselves, each slightly
different, forming a visual potpourri of slowing shifting dunes of sentiments.
It stands there like a tree, in the mists of the hearts and minds eye and one need only summon a vague remembering and pluck the resulting fruit!
Good and bad, happy and sad, bright and dull, these all combined to form a circular symphony of sorts, that dances and sings in some fairy tale castle upon some hill lush and green.
The Memory Tree, like unto the souls own and cherished merry go round.
By A. G. J.
(c) 2005
Canada
_________________
Together We Can More >
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 2 Aug 2005 @ 08:35, by skookum. Ideas, Creativity
Travelers
There is a falling into the night slumbers
The whispers of the day pass into silence More >
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 26 Jul 2005 @ 21:39, by silviamar. Ideas, Creativity
I wonder why children cry at night. My mother told me that I cried almost every night when I was a baby, and my niece did the same in her first years. Babies still don't have to worry about their future, no job to do, no responsabilities... but they cry. Do they have any fear? Do they feel lost?
This simple poem was inspired one night by these thoughts.
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 13 Jul 2005 @ 08:06, by skookum. Ideas, Creativity
Night into the Dream
I used to think I was strong More >
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10 Jul 2005 @ 15:17, by raypows. Ideas, Creativity
Though at times it may feel like we simply blend in and are lost in the machinations of modern culture, we are all Divine sparks of illumination, individuated seeds of potential yearning to be realized. Our innate gifts, our passionate expressions, are a creative force constantly manifesting the world we live in and the future we willl behold. More >
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