Thursday, August 18, 2011
Question
The question that I posed on a warm summers evening as I was waiting for the latest round of insomnia to fade away was this:
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Poem
One of my favourite poems.
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and is tune his heard
on the distant hill for the caged bird
sings of freedom
The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
Whether it's a friend, a child or a loved one, it's never easy to "open the cage", but a funny thing happens when birds are set free. After soaring high, and dancing with the clouds, Sometimes..... They come home.
Peace Kiddies
Another Very Cool Poem
It's been a while since I've written anything here.. However even though at present I may lack my own words, I thought that I would share those of someone else. A friend recently shared this poem with me, and in turn, I share it with you....
Wild Geese, By; Mary Oliver
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting--
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
There is always Hope....
Peace Kiddies
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