Sunday, July 31, 2011

Six Poems

Success (Haiku Poem)

So many people
Work long hours, even weeks,
Without successes.

Tell me

If I could twist your mind,
If I could change your thoughts
And if I could absorb all your sadness,
Tell me that you would give me a smile,
That smile so disarming,
Tell me that you would give me a first kiss.

Certainly, I would feel an overwhelmed desire,
As our encounter would begin.

Tell me that you would take me
To your heart,
When the gestures would become thrills
And some cries would become symbols of things....

Certainly, I would be yours
And you would be mine.
I would stay perfectly there for sure,
In a moment of self forgetfulness.

And if another one had been
With you
Instead of me,
Tell me that you would have felt so much sorrow that
You would have abandoned her
To be with me....

Tell me that you knew that I had known this.

Even so, I let you go,
Being unable to break that invisible wall
To be together.....

Terminus Sam Shing

When dinning thunder rolled into madness,
Among the flowers and the wind of spring,
Your lost soul was embedded in sadness
To walk right to the Terminus Sam Shing.

With white clothes and lost thoughts, you were alone,
In aftertime, for thinking to your choice.
With dropping tears, I'm much more like a stone.
I would have singing, but I had no voice.

You didn't try to live your dreams with me.
Your agony meant shivers from black hole,
Your sad soul never wanted to be free,
You're the destroyer of your proper soul.

Like a child-Haiku

Carrying on all
The plans for the future self,
Impossible plans.

The baritone singer

The magic.
Across the dreaming sky,

Memories and tears
Hanging down
Magnolias
In crying bouquets,

Illusions
Trying
To please the pleasant sound,

Certainties
Existent inside
Despite an indistinct understanding,

The sky having the same stars
Mixed with
The same dreams,
The stars having the same shine,

The baritone singer
Trying
To sound the pleasantness,
Trying
To please the soundness,

The baritone singer
Trying
To dream his star,
Trying
To star in his own dream.

The dark kinetic love

The dark love,
Grieving my darkness,
The red meat
And the blood of my sadness,
Carving in the sand
Its shadow,

The scissor,
Lurking in grass
Its soft violence
For the kinetic buds
And the returning sap through the
Needles eyes
Of the tree,

The wayward yearning
To share the string waves
Of starting, stopping
And restarting,

Forever kinetic,

Two feelings meeting
For becoming then one,
Like words entwining
To give life unto that is itself.

Dark clouds flushing the wound.


View the original article here

Eventually Fly

"I've waited a long time, to feel a pain that could teach. I've longed for a pain, that would cause me to reach. But not just to stretch my limbs, so that I could say, "I've been touched." But to say that My Life means more than such, more so for me to say, "I've Been Loved so much." But to limp with a crutch, means to go back in a rush, to the safest place I've ever known, to be released from this clutch.

Entry, will be the least of my worries. I've got a job to do and I'm late for work, so that means, I'd better hurry. But the exit to peace is in the place that I'll meet, a brand new day, from the one that I've reached.

A many has witnessed a dedicated cause. I've made the first step of this journey that has earned no applause. I stand frozen in sight, as if sickened by grief, I'd have chosen the fright of being robbed by a thief. No comparison is the lure, of a thing that will trap you. No finding a way to the place to come back to.

A hard-fought struggle, with turmoil, and trouble, is filled with the soothings of a pass, in the last stage, of a hustle. As the blind uses sound, to compensate for sight, the step is used to come back down from height. So back to LIFE, and back to reality, back to the same thing that has not shown partiality. Impartial the judgement as unfair as the sentence, A grimace from pain as I remain a lone witness.

The next breath is a struggle, a test to remain sane, as the last was just juggled but not done so in vain. With the twist of a tongue and a pierce of the lip, a snap of the fingers from a hand that can grip. A wave from the ocean, that can toss a ship, it's been an uncomfortable boat ride that seems longer in trip. But I've made it this far, to turn back would be worst, than the decision to begin when I started at first.

No rehearsal was made, no reversal can be done. There's no bullet to return to the barrel of this gun. POW, is the sound, though no one to witness. The mark has been acquired, there's no way I can miss this. The expectation was too high, the limitation was too low. The situation was sincere but that's weird thing to know. Even a brother is your family as he will only do, the things to his blood that you'd allow no one to do. A friend can do the same as a brother has done, but a friend comes and goes as quickly as he can run.

A companion is yearned for, in this day of the lonely, How amazing the things that an enemy has shown me. This enemy has taught me that I've a weakness to make strong. From mistake to mistake, LIFE is but so long. There's a selflessness, that should be achieved, but not until guilt is heart-felt by the one who's believed. So with the exit of the past into the existence of the present, there's a journey into the future awaiting to teach a lesson

Fear not the path that the foot must travel, confuse not simplicity with the bang of the gavel. A rebel without a cause, A sound without noise, would a child still love Santa without the lie of free toys?

Sometimes it's common to believe in a lie, but if you keep your head to the heavens, "YOU WILL, EVENTUALLY FLY!"

(Highness Shadow)


View the original article here

The Mirror Sestet Poetry

The butterfly (The Mirror Sestet Poetry)

Delight adorns butterfly's fluttering wings in flight,

Flight is his beauty for anemones to delight.

Wing flitters freely and his fragile moods can swing,

Swing dances he teaches the white flowers with his wing.

Breeze finds him out among the blooming buckeye red trees,

Trees push his innocent virgin spirit in the breeze.

Dance nurtures the flower to put her into deep trance,

Trance is his way to gather pollen for her life dance.

Dreams fiery rise in crimson, when the flower gleams,

Gleams of dawn in the east are his love powerful dreams.

Charms are her powers to spread fragrances in his arms

Arms are his wings when he flies to search for other charms.

Love

In the shade of the autumn,

My feelings

Still need the memory of the words,

Under the autumn sun,

Me and your absence

Are like a magnolia tree and its shadow.

In the sunlight,

My loneliness

Is hung in the reality of my illusory dream.

Our time needs the light

As the shadow of our love

Needs The Lord.

In the night of my pain,

The infinity completes your absence.

I search again our love's scream.

My love was coiled inside of you

To search for your wild self,

When you were embracing me.

You took me to become a part of you,

The coastal bone of your soul,

When we were breathing each other in dreams.

You know I loved you the most,

I lost it, my love, I lost myself

In your embrace.

I knew that you had a wish for me.

You wanted to become complete,

When I felt abandoned inside of you.

I gave you everything I am

And you gave me everything you are

To become one being.

And in the shadow of our autumn,

Which is an elongation of our life's shadow,

Our love means the thrill of the eternity.

From the shade trees,

The detached leaves fall to the ground,

Because they can not wait for winter to come.

A New Star Was Born

The infinity of that accurateness,

Which is the color of your eyes,

Met the infinity of that deepness,

Which is the color of my eyes,

Making us to wish

Our time to conceive a new nuance of life,

At the limit between

Our finiteness and our infiniteness.

A new star was born

In the spaceless infinity

Of the Universe

To touch our eternal love

With its rays.

On the internal walls of our temple,

God wrote a new name.

We understood

That we are forgiven.

The silence and the serenity

Fulfilled our spiritual altar.

In front of His eyes,

Our souls fell on their spiritual knees

To pray.

He gave us the power

To stand up and to be awoken

In our verticality.


View the original article here

Haiku and Tanka: Basics and Beyond

The haiku is a popular Japanese poetry form known worldwide. The tanka is an older, closely related poetic form that also has its origin in Japan. A haiku has three lines and a tanka has five lines. As adopted by American poets, these short, non-rhyming poems are written using a set amount of syllables per line.

Counting Syllables in a Haiku

It is common for the haiku to be taught in elementary schools as an early introduction to poetry because of its simple format. As it is usually taught, the first line has five syllables, the second line has seven syllables, and the third line has five syllables, as in these two examples I wrote:

The early spring rain
lingers on the tattered grass;
the earth drinks the rest.
A hot April day,
Sun bribes Rain with the promise
of humidity.

In the Japanese language, syllable sounds are much shorter than they are in English. Therefore, many English language poets try to achieve an effect closer to the Japanese tradition by creating haikus with fewer syllables per line, as in the following example:

A secret smile,
the crescent moon sits
in the daytime sky.

However, there is more to a haiku than the syllable count.

Nature and the Pivot

Although the topic of a haiku can be almost anything, the haiku traditionally mentions a season of the year--winter, spring, summer, fall. Sometimes the season is not mentioned directly. For instance to signify the winter, the haiku could talk about snow or frost. My first example above uses the word "Spring." The second haiku implies that the season is spring through use of the words "hot April day."

Instead of referring to a particular season of the year, a haiku may simply mention any aspect of nature--such as wind, temperature, flowers, ocean, trees, animals, or birds. In the third haiku above, the moon and sky are the references to nature.

Also, in the true tradition, a haiku has a pivot--that is, a pause or a break in meaning after either the first or second line that turns the poem in a different direction. In the first haiku above, the focus on the rain in the first two lines switches to the earth in the last line. In both the second and third haikus, the first line of the poem stands on its own and the second and third lines are a unit forming a complete thought and taking the poem to an unexpected place.

The Tanka

A traditional American tanka follows the 5-7-5-7-7 pattern for the number of syllable in each line. Ideally, each line of a tanka has its own unique imagery that fits together as a whole poem. In some cases, the first three lines function as a complete thought, with the last two lines providing further explanation. Here is an example:

My car, hell on wheels,
Drives me down an empty beach.
Sand performs dervish.
Relentlessly oceanward,
The sound is big, the smell, wide.

On the other hand, it is also common for the first two lines of a tanka to form a complete thought and then the last three lines to form a thought, as is the case in my tanka below:

My nights are dreamless
comas wrapped in blank pages.
My dreams are sleepless,
living as my surrogates,
day-recurring fantasies.

As with haikus, many poets write tankas with fewer syllables per line. Unlike a haiku, a tanka does not have to refer to a season or to nature. A tanka traditionally does not use violent imagery.

Adriene Joyce--a poet and editor living in New Jersey--has a BA in English Literature from Rutgers University. Her blog, Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World, discusses the writing life, women's issues, and personal observations. Visit Adriene at http://sweepyjean.wordpress.com/poems to sample some of her poetry.


View the original article here

Spenserian Sonnet, Double Rondelet Triolet - Love Poems

Spenserian Sonnet

I wait the ocean waves to wash my soul
My heart races touching your deep Spirit's kiss,
My tear's curb crumbles greening my shrink cry.
The softness of your voice soothes my abyss.
My soul torn apart wondering to know why.
Wrong thoughts and so cruel wait my tears and cry
The terrors of love just give them a black yard
And my loneliness makes my sad soul to die,
When to sink my reality it's very hard.
I wait my hope, which will never come to guard
This hope hunger squeezes tighter my soul's knee.
I'm clinging to the past which is like a shard,
That part which is still alive inside of me.
Much more confused on how to think or feel,
I talk, I dream and I am your balance wheel.
Spring (Double Rondelet Triolet)
With a deep touch,
The red poppy awakes the grass.
With a deep touch,
Red wants green's vibration so much,
The sun awakes the sky's watch glass.
The sky vibrates like a string bass,
With a deep touch.
The red flowers bloom in the Spring
When the time of the green grass comes.
The sky vibrates like a bass string.
The red flowers bloom in the Spring.
I see the nature's purest swing.
The wind searches his bongo drums,
The red flowers bloom in the Spring
When the time of the green grass comes.
I see His love
Like a white lily among thorns.
I see His love
Like in clefts of the rock, a dove.
When red flower its grass adorns
And her dead Winter, Spring mourns,
I see His love.
Shadows are inlaid in color
When red poppy awakes the grass.
When the land is multicolor,
Shadows are inlaid in color.
When the cuckoo is a caller,
The sun awakes the sky's watch glass.
Shadows are inlaid in color
When red poppy awakes the grass
State of wakefulness
When you look at me,
My painful thinking stops and turns into tears.
Your unsaid words are still waiting,
Uttered to be expressed,
By cramming into palate.
I know them all,
As you know your fingers,
Which, apparently, touch me tenderly,
While they send me the thrill of separation.
Stone statue
I am like a stone statue,
In a sitting position,
I'm your throne,
On which you nicely
Take place
From time to time.
In order to kiss me
With the kiss of death,
You nicely take your place
Inside of me
From time to time.


View the original article here

Saturday, July 23, 2011

Poetic Proverbs No 3

Love's Freedom

Love speaks a language,
Beyond the spoken word,
It flies above our baggage,
The freedom of a bird.

***

Courage in Trial and Relationships

Courage: the flight adorning faith,
Not just to stand up and fight,
Characterising the 'bear and grin',
Every human being's plight.

Courage: the boat floating grace,
The energy stifling resentment,
Beyond the pride saving face,
The vehicle to godly contentment.

***

Tree of Life

Hid from view; a solemn night,
The morn taken from evil intending,
Goodness, eternal, takes holy flight,
The Tree of Life unending.

Holy tree of God's true light,
Given with tremulous accord,
Innocence is our only delight,
Obedience to the LORD.

The morn, dazzling in its God-light, is revealed only to those humbly obedient, innocent ones - innocent only by the works of their Saviour. All others: a solemn night. To them, the morn is hid; and so, the Tree of Life.

***

Good Samaritan's Love

Tight as a glove,
Is the passers-by concern,
Neighbourly is the kind of love,
That gives without thought of return.
(Luke 10:25-37)

***

God's Creative Purpose

God's creative purpose:
Dynamic expression of love,
Active in grace to redeem,
Eternal in peace from above.

God's creative purpose:
Making wisdom known,
Truth from above the witness,
The Saviour, his Son, has shown.

God's creative purpose:
The pursuit of interminable justice,
Arriving in an age to come,
Finally an end to darkness.

God's creative purpose:
Reconciling a people in grace,
Love and wisdom and justice,
Worship is the final embrace.

***

No matter the anguish, guilt, shame or torment, there is an answer; a unique God-designed answer to each of our problems and for each of our lives. Mostly that answer is a process.

***

Jesus, the 'The'

Jesus said, "I am the way, and the truth, and the life..." ~John 14:6a. The operative word: "the".

Follow Jesus everywhere: The Way.

Seek Jesus always: The Truth.

Experience Jesus now: The Life.

***

Colours of Love

Love in motion,
Fear demotion,
A kindness potion,
A patience lotion,
So much more than emotion.

Love:
Truth embraced,
Humility encased,
Reality faced,
Simply chaste;
Never in haste,
Or self-abased,
Or given to distaste;
Just God-spaced.

Love:
Bears iniquity everywhere,
Believes in ways to dare,
Hopes enough to care,
Endures always through prayer.

***

Tricks of thinking,
Devil's in the detail,
Occurs when we're blinking,
Converting 'negative' to retail.

***

One glorious future,
There for one to master,
If hope provides the detour,
Through the maze of disaster.

© 2011 S. J. Wickham.

Steve Wickham is a Registered Safety Practitioner (BSc, FSIA, RSP[Australia]) and a qualified, unordained Christian minister (GradDipBib&Min). His blogs are at: http://epitemnein-epitomic.blogspot.com/ and http://inspiringbetterlife.blogspot.com/


View the original article here

Hide and Seek Paradise The Wedding Festival

Grace to faith and faith to Grace

How I long to see Your face

To feel the warmth of Your embrace

When I'm finished with this race

We'll all come knocking at Your door

Looking for Your love some more

And when You answer what we'll see

Will melt our hearts eternally

Your smile builds a better me

It fills my soul and sets me free

I'm filled with joy of Your goodwill

Your breathless bride is standing still

We all can't wait to hear Your speech

You take a seat and start to teach

I see a child in Your hands

Representing all of man

You call Your bride to gather round

For what was lost has now been found

I rush to get a closer look

And find my name is in Your book

I find myself upon my knees

Soaked with tears for You are pleased

(Revelation 19:9)

Suddenly I'm in the midst of His bride.

We are outdoors, we are in Paradise, and it's festival time.

All my happy brothers and sisters are sharing a big secret in hushed tones... I join the throng.

Apparently a game akin to hide & seek is to be played, wherein a small animal is hidden.

The One who is to find it is Jesus Christ.

This year is very special, for a lamb has been chosen.

Now the second challenge is in convincing Wonderful Counselor that a lamb is missing.

It's more of ruse to get Him to answer the door, for everyone knows God sees all.

Mary plays the distraught shepherdess who has lost her lamb.

Everyone is very excited as we eagerly anticipate the return of The King.

After He enters His House, we gather round out front.

Mary knocks, and when Messiah answers, she plays her role perfectly.

"Excuse me Lord; have You seen my Little Lamb?"

"For You see, He has disappeared, and we know not where!"

Now, the Prince of Peace is truly beautiful in all His splendid Glory, happy is He in us.

He is humbly dressed in a robe of many colors with leather sandals on His feet.

But it's His smile that's most inviting, as it envelopes our entire existence.

There is a supremely divine nature about Him that words of this world fail to describe.

He is tall, elegant, strikingly handsome, pure spiritual warmth.

Immediately He is sitting down, motioning for us to come closer.

As we gather to Him, I notice He is holding a small child in His arms... Mankind.

One moment I'm running towards Him, the next moment I'm on my knees.

I am crying uncontrollably, big blubbering unchecked crocodile tears of sheer joy.

We are all overwhelmed with an exceedingly goodwill feeling we are experiencing.

We have been blessed with His acceptance, to join Him in His Love & Presence.

My vision is blurred, never before in my life have I felt so incredibly happy.

Relieved, wanted, and forgiven.

I awake in my prison cell, still balling like the babes we truly are.

I don't know how long I've been crying, but my pillow is soaked with tears.

I proceed to give thanks and praises for His kind visit to me in my dreams.

What a powerful, powerful night, I LOVE YOU... Bright & Morning Star.


View the original article here

Poetry in Contemporary Society

In this ever-changing 21st century, with all its rapid technological advances, we tend to take in information in short blasts. We read emails and text messages quickly, surf the web, often in haste, flitting from page to page via links. We also tend to read fewer newspapers, magazines and longer articles of substance.

We're a society of channel surfers, with hundreds upon hundreds of diverse specialty channels beamed into our living rooms via cable and satellite. We watch a little of this, a little of that, all the while having our thought processes interrupted by often inane commercials designed to convince us to buy something we may or may not need.

When it comes to outright reading and critical thinking for any extended period of time, we seem to be moving away from that more and more as well. When's the last time you really sat down to enjoy a well-written novel of literary substance?

Have you recently taken the time to read a quality book of short stories from an insightful writer? In addition, when is the last time you read a book of poetry, whether a classic anthology or a more modern tome by a contemporary poet or a compilation of poets?

Consider poetry - it is concise writing meant to enlighten, entertain, and provoke deep thought. Poetry is meant to be read - then reread, then reread again. When done well, a poem can resonate for years with a person, something they turn to again and again for comfort, pleasure, knowledge, and inspiration.

It was eminent poet Robert Frost (1874-1963) who said, "A poem begins in delight and ends in wisdom." The beauty of the words and the order of the words lead to discovery, which makes the reading of poetry truly a worthwhile endeavour.

Here are five reasons why poetry matters:

We Strengthen Our Reading, Speaking, and Writing Skills

First off, reading good poetry rubs off on us, usually without us even realizing it. Reading it causes us to absorb the rhythms, cadences, and nuances of words, phrases, and sentences. The more we read quality poetry the more we develop an elegant way with words, along with a storehouse of words.

This manifests itself in the quality of our own reading, speaking, and writing. The more we read fine poetry, the more adept we become with using language.

We Learn to See Life through the Eyes of Others

Sometimes it's nice to get another perspective on a subject. Reading well-ordered words by a poet lets us into their world. We learn to consider other viewpoints, opinions and arguments, all the while getting these in the form of stylish writings. It's a way to experience different trains of thought, while enjoying the creative work on its own merit at the same time.

We Gain an Appreciation of Language and How it Works

Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849) said, "Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words." A poem, of course, reads different than an article, a story, or a newspaper piece. While those kinds of writings can flow and have a grace and beauty of their own, according to their structure, a poem is different. Samuel Taylor Coleridge said, "Poetry: the best words in the best order." A poem is truly that - a concise and precise way of presenting intellectual and heartfelt thought in its essence.

We Learn to Take Time

Poetry, like all good literary writing demands our attention. It demands we sit down and invest time in the act of reading, and then in the act of meditating on and pondering what we have just read. Again, it demands rereading as well, so we are certain to glean the intended meaning of the poem more fully.

We do quality writing no justice when we treat it like the "fast food" type of information we're bombarded with each day. That's why poetry should be read in a quiet room with no distractions, in book form, words on paper that we can touch and feel as we read.

We Awaken the Creativity within Ourselves

Reading a poem can often inspire one to try his or her hand at writing one themselves. This starts the creative process rolling where the individual begins to put his or her thoughts and feelings into words, organized logically. This creativity spurs critical thinking and helps us understand ourselves and the world around us better as we explore a topic in-depth.

A poem can also inspire one towards other creative tasks. A person may not write a poem, but the poem they read may inspire them to indulge in a craft, painting, to pick up a musical instrument, sculpt, or pursue photography or some other creative activity. Appreciating creative poetry can spur other fine creative activities.

Make the reading of poetry a part of your life. It is a soothing respite from our often chaotic and hurried lifestyles. Set aside a time each week in a quiet room - just you and that book of verse, formal or free, and indulge. You will find you unwind gracefully as the words, rhymes, and meter, rhythm, and flow of phrases combine to tell a story or highlight an aspect of life. Poetry makes us slow down and think, and that can only contribute to our growth as reasoning individuals.

Moira G. Gallaga, recently resigned civil servant from the Foreign Service. Specialized in Protocol and served 3 Philippine Presidents as Presidential Protocol Officer. Had the opportunity to travel extensively as part of her work and the privilege of discovering and exploring new places, cultures and peoples. Also assigned along with her diplomat husband and son in Phil Consulate General in Los Angeles and Philippine Embassy in Washington DC. for 3 years and 3 and a half years, respectively.

Enjoys reading books, trying out new cuisines, fashion, yoga, scuba diving (PADI Rescue diver), football (soccer), biking in the countryside, and the beach, among other things.


View the original article here

Puppet to the Little Gods and Poems on Huancayo

Poetry

El Tambo Spiders

(Inspired by living in El Tambo for eight years)

When it's cold in Huancayo

The spiders know

They crawl on the walls...

Along my window sills

(in El Tambo);

Along the seams within my rooms

Under my bed,

Making cobwebs...! (and when)

I'm asleep they swing on hinges

Fall and crawl on my brow,

And bite me somehow,

Especially on rainy nights...

You'd be surprised how much

They know-

About my apartment, and its

Few rooms...:

Looking and prancing about,

As if they owned the house-

Bodies brown, black and gray...!

Wish they'd leave me alone

At least on the weekdays...

No: 1845 (5-26-2007)

(Dedicated to the dwellings in El Tambo)

The Great Wings of the Condor

(Poetic Prose)

The Condor looked straight into my eyes (three feet away);speed out its gothic like wings, that stretched from heal to brow and beyond me...and said to my brain, with those deep piercing eyes: "What winged creature is greater than I?" And I knew of none-then he lowered his head to embrace his breast-as if to say: "Go one now" -then lifted his brow, tall he stood, and proud.

No: 2946 (6-5-2011)

Old Man and the Lion Cubs

(Poetic Prose)

A quiet morning, dim light (sublime, with the sun breaking through the chill),and then not even that-

He stood with two lion cubs round him (three-months old) at a loss(at first) and having sacred feelings under his breast...!

The old man scared the cubs a bit (unintentionally, with his slight movements) which produced deep-rooted sounds, familiar sounds, like a common roar from a jungle-that in time these two lion cubs, would crack branches with.

Now the old man held the cubs (first the female, than the male);undisturbed, and it eased their heavy breathing.

"One aged old man-and two new born lion cubs can fill three restless hearts-" the old man whispered to himself, holding one of the two fluffy little lions, that was exploring its new world.

It's so; they did it on a cool summer's morning, once upon a time, in Huancayo, Peru.

Note: Written eighty hours after visiting the Huancayo, Zoo, on a Saturday morning-the author, Dennis L. Siluk, held, played, and familiarized himself with the two lion cubs, three months old: written at 4:30 p.m., no: 2945, 6-4-2011...

Puppet to the Little Gods

((Poetic Prose)(The Case of Clinton Alexander Hamilton))

Clinton Alexander Hamilton, in his mid-twenties started to read books of all kinds, hundreds and hundreds of books. First historical, and then he became absorbed in anthropology, psychology, zoology, archeology, biology, sociology, the cosmos, philosophy, theology, military science. You name, he probably read on it-each decade he read more and more books.

Then he got into studying and reading and contemplating the great figures those who he figured were great figures, of what he considered were great men and women, certain men that applied to his character, like: soldiers, leaders, artists, all who appeared to stalk across the pages of books, newspapers, television, radio, talk shows, heroic figures-such as: Ernest Hemingway, William Faulkner, Sherwood Anderson, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Sylvia Plath, Emily Dickenson, Robert Frost, Robert Bly, General Pershing (WWI), General Ariel Sharon (Israel), Alexander the Great, Napoleon, even devilish figures, like: Hitler, and Stalin, Caesar and Pompeii.

As for the actors, it was a flash, he couldn't think of any that were great, perhaps Humpty Bogart who might live on in history, other than that, it was no more than a passing thought for him, but he got thinking of singers and artists such as might fit the bill: Elvis Presley, the Beatles, Johnny Cash, Rick Nelson, Nat King Cole. Even Picasso, Dali and Rembrandt fit his bill for heroes in the art area, and Yang Yang; they all seemed to stand out, even Hitler, whom was a great artist besides his dementia. They all seemed to stand out among the following flock, a little taller than the average goat; they all seemed to stack starkly up among the other figures in books, even in reality or at least stand out. Even Bin Laden, Saddan Hussein, Poll Pot, heroes of the damned, like Nero, Timberline and Ganges Kong.

And then into the embellished sciences, books written by Darwin, Carl Sagan, and Stephen Hawking, until his mind went in circles, as their theories did-so he felt.

He read books on all these figures, men of their times, of his time, devoted himself to studying them, their personalities. What made them tick, who they were; most human beings live and die, and that is that, no one ever knowing they had existed, but these few, these few people would be remember for awhile, like Honor and Plato, Aristotle, Einstein, thinkers, and his kind, and those we just mentioned. What made them godlike? Why were they hungry to become little gods among men? They, like him all had committed the seven deadly sins. Was it better to be plain, or was it better to be remembered as a little god among men, not a question, just a thought he felt seeping out of his characters like osmoses.

There was something beautiful and ugly about all this, about him, he lived in his own state, he had to-who could live in peace inside such a mind, and he had a furnace burring inside that head of his, burning stronger than the sun. Perhaps better trained minds could have answered his questions outright-if indeed he had them, but he was looking for answers, not knowing the questions, just a pure task of thinking over and over, endlessly, trying to dot all the i's in all the books he was reading, trying to put all those thoughts into cages if indeed they'd fit.

"It is a troublesome thing" he deliberated out loud, not talking to anyone in particular, just mumbling to himself, standing on the street corner of Real and Puno Streets, across the street from the Plaza de Arms, in an Andean City. "It is troublesome," he repeated, adding "on how man works against himself, defeating the great bear for his hide, something he no longer needs, and perhaps never did need. Walking about with certain nobility for himself, as if he himself is the God of the earth, it's all garrulousness..." so he told himself, "one half of us are leaning over the edge of the world laughing at the other half below, marked for their barrenness; just a hubbub of voices."

Verily within himself, he told his second self: "It might have been better had I never read a book," thinking of the thoughts of other men. It all became too toiling-too word consuming; hence, a puppet to the little gods.

Perhaps the best ending I can think of for this prose ditty, is this: if we have contempt for mankind, we must also have it for ourselves, otherwise it's all futile pride. He, Mr. Clinton Alexander Hamilton, never read about that.

No: 2954 (story: 816) 6-10-2011


View the original article here

History Mystery Prophecy

We have to believe in Adam and Eve

For they were the first ones the devil deceived

We have to believe we've fallen in sin

For it crouches in doorways and wants to get in

We have to believe that Cain hated Abel

He was jealous, vengeful, and a little unstable

We have to believe because this is His plan

The greatest love story

The redemption of man

We have to believe that we live in the dark

And God told Noah to build an ark

We have to believe he was saved by grace

Plucked from destruction to start a new race

We have to believe He cannot make a mistake

We are all pieces in His greatest mosaic

We have believe that Abraham was called out from his land

To travel on a promise made he could not understand

God commanded Abraham to sacrifice his son

Even with a heavy heart Gods will must be done

In the end God did send a ram to take his place

His faith accounted righteousness

His son was saved by grace

We have to believe he built this altar right where Christ would die

To satisfy the wrath of God He died for you and I

These are all foreshadows of His great redemption plan

To purchase mankind back from death the life blood of the Lamb

We have to believe in Joseph how his brothers sold him out

God turned evil into good and saved the world from drought

We have to believe in Exodus, Moses, and the law

For it's only through the law that man can see his deadly flaws

Once your eyes are open, you can recognize your sin

Repent and be forgiven your spirits rebirth will begin

We have to believe that Joshua conquered Jericho

He marched around it seven times and let the trumpets blow

We have to believe that God can crush the strongholds in our way

He did it then

He'll do it now

He does it everyday

We have to believe in David a man after Gods own heart

Through his seed Messiah came

Son of David set apart

We have to believe that Solomon was wisest in the land

Every book inspired by the Holy Spirits hand

We have to believe the judges, the prophets, and the kings

Every story for His glory and wondrous things He brings

We have to believe these prophecies for God fulfills them all

His sheep will always answer every time their Shepherd calls

So we fix our eyes on Paradise and raise our standards for the King

Holy, Holy, Holy, praising saints and angels sing


View the original article here

Sunday, July 17, 2011

The Primordial One (Triquatrain Poem)

The Primordial One is immanent,while He's never transcendent
And this existent world, at the beginning, was only His vision.
The Lord has Being to create his vision-world without lightweight
For this real world of Becoming, with His meticulous precision.

At the beginning, we were His imagination; we were a reason for creation
And, only for being with Him, He made us, in time, to become so real.
Tower of Babel wasn't an illusion, when people suffered tongues confusion,
God isn't an illusion in our perfection, when His plans He wants to reveal.

We are in our Apollinian illusion, when we think that God means confusion
And our own perfectionism we try to reach in the mean time.
But in the reality of our Apollinian confusion, God is no longer an illusion.
In this ache of Being and in this agony of Becoming, He's sublime.

To reach our perfection we sing a hymn, we need to be with Him,
Because when we are not with Him, we are in the illusion of Being.
Without transmogrifying us, to transfigure Him, sometimes, we have a whim,
Because we need to understand our illusory own perfection in wellbeing.

We try to put ourselves in His place, in order to understand His grace
We need the Dionysian illusion of Being to experience the world we know.
In both Dionysian and Apolllinian illusions, we jump to our conclusions.
We are illusory Primordial Beings creating our Apollinian powerful show.

I am this person staring back from His mirror at me, I want existent to be.
I want to identify this image with myself and to realize who I really am.
Because of my sins I lost my serenity, I have a sense of my mistaken identity.
I was His dream, I am His child and for saving me He sent me His lamb.

Everyone is dreaming, but it seems that no one really believes in dreams.
One by one we need to wake up out of our own illusions of self.
The world of minds is the God's mental projection, it has interconnection.
Without this major pervasive reality, the world is not existent in itself.

The sufferings of people can be for some an illusory space, having no grace,
And they live in their own world of solely material realities without restricts.
Others believe in the world, which is non-physical and it's essentially spiritual,
They need a mental, spiritual and moral dimension to life, without conflicts.


View the original article here

The First Congo War

Perhaps it is only a function of a weak and feeble mind
that we may often attempt to integrate a single horrific event
into a historical mishmash of individual tales of epic proportion.

And deep in the heart of the Congo,
we might find the greatest example.
It is Hundu against Tutsi, Nande against Hutu,
and Hundu, Nande and Nyange against the Banyamelenge

But what is the cause of such horror and strife?

Historical animosities, bad blood and ethnic hatred, no doubt.

In fact, the combined estimates of the total number of casualties
from the conflicts that came before, during and after the First Congo War
may have approached the ten million mark. This is for a conflict that was conducted
with weaponry that was comparatively underdeveloped by modern-day standards.
But perhaps more alarming were the ghastly episodes of sexual assault
that were perpetrated upon countless defenseless women and children. These assaults
have left an indelible image upon a huge number of people around the globe and only seem to
have added to an embarrassing list of highly atrocious acts that continue to desecrate the
great sanctity of the human soul.

Mind boggling you might say?

But it may be equally disturbing to learn that the First Congo
War was precipitated by the great Rwandan Genocide. In response
to the widespread killing, a mass migration of Rwandan Tutsi's and Tutsi sympathizers
were slaughtered by the neighboring Hutu as they crossed the neighboring border. The genocide was finally ended as the government in eastern Zaire was overthrown by the Rwandan Patriotic Front.
In total, the Rwandan genocide led to the deaths of 500,000 to 1,000,000 Tutsi's in a brief one hundred day period.

In response to these bloodcurdling deaths, a destabilized region set the stage for the Banyamelenge Rebellion, a major source of conflict in the hostilities. This rebellion was sparked by an initial outbreak in gunfire between Rwandan Tutsi's who had fled their homes and the Zairian Green Berets. As former victims
of the Rwandan genocide, the Tutsi's attempted to establish a safe haven just across the Rwandan border.
Their efforts were thwarted however, as battles with the rival Hutus were supported by Zairian's who
had been dissatisfied with dictatorial elements in the chaotic eastern front region. In the end, deposed
Rawandan Tutsi's, Zairian Tutsi's and the Rwandan Patriotic Front combined forces to overthrow the East Zairian regional government.

Quite tragically however, the nature and significance of the First Congo War may only be understood in relation to the horrid violence that occurred
in what has typically been called, the Second Congo War. Estimates of the total number of casualties are generally believed to be around 5.4 million people.
Some people claim that the calamities generated by this war may be equal to or may even surpass the legacy
of horror that was caused by the Two Great World Wars of the 20th century. In total eight African countries were combatants in the Second Congo War.

Gerald Marchewka is an American freelance writer currently visiting Budapest, Hungary. Gerald''s recent book "Straight from the Heaven's: Li Bai's Poetry in Retrospect" featuring the Illustrations of Seb Fowler is now available at Lulu.com Questions about Gerald's projects may be referred to geraldmarchewka@yahoo.com


View the original article here

Know All About All Time Famous William Wordsworth

Who can forget the beautiful words of his evergreen poems? Whether it be The Prelude or To my Sister, each of his poems leave an everlasting impression on readers. Yes, he was the man of words and often played with them beautifully-William Wordsworth is the poet we are talking about. Although he requires not much introduction, it is relevant to share it right here.

William Wordsworth was among the most famous poets in the 19th century. Belonged to England, Wordsworth's life has so many interested features to be shared here.

His Personal Life

Wordsworth was born in the Lake District of northwestern England on April 7, 1770 and died on April 23, 1850. Though he was orphaned at early age, he managed to complete his studies from Saint John's College, University of Cambridge. He married Mary Hutchinson in 1802 and had five children.

His Hidden Love

While Wordsworth was on his tour to Revolutionary France in November 1791 and joined Republican movement, he fell deeply in love with a charming French woman, a French woman, Annette Vallon, who gave birth to his child the very next year. However, as Wordsworth was short of money and there was huge tension between Britishers and French people, he has to leave the place alone the next year. But he never stayed back from his responsibility towards Annette and the child and did all he could for them throughout his life. Even after getting married to his childhood friend, Mary; he was never flipped from his duties towards these two people.

His Unmatchable Talent

Wordsworth was a pioneer of Romanticism with introduction of creative and unique novel poetic theories and practices.

Although the list of his popular works is endless, we mention some of his evergreen works here:

· The Excursion in 1814

· Ecclesiastical Sketches in 1822

· The Prelude in 1850

Did You Know About All this?

· Wordsworth suffered from a diseases called anosmia where a person losing his ability to smell.

· Although Wordsworth initiated writing when he was in school, no single work of his was published till 1793.

· He could feel the popularity and fame of his most famous work "The Prelude" in his life. It was actually published after his death.

Finally, we close this Man's commendable story by saying his famous quote, "Nature never did betray the heart that loved her." Truly, the essence of Wordsworth could still be felt in nature.

Career Groomer Consulting (CGC) is a content writing firm over last five years. Megha Batra is a proficient writer working in the organization since its start. CGC has expertise in writing articles, blog postings, press releases, website content writing and so on in bulk. Try the services and you'll have the right content in your bag.


View the original article here

Potluck (Short Stories and Poetry)

Short Stories and Poetry

Jade and Ebony Days

Blow, wind blow! Strip the years from my youth; I will keep a few, made of jade, and ebony. Blow, wind blow! Pile the clouds on top of me, lash out with earth and rain, roar all you want sway the branches from the trees-at me, I will still sing, of those far-off days of Jade and Ebony, days-that my eyes saw the stars. I will catch the old and now gray leaves laughingly. Blow, wind blow, blow my last days to the green twilight, surging towards the moon, scatter my bones where you may, men have been slain for less, I will keep those few years within my breast, those Jade and Ebony days.

No: 2882/12-19-2010

Dedicated to those years 1974-1981

?

The Great Dark Abode

(If there were no God?)

What would I do (you do, we do) if there was no God?

Perhaps kill at will like Saddam Hussein,

Pol Pot, or Bin Laden-who's to say? What could I lose?

What did these killers know that I didn't know, don't know?

((What were they told by the unknown, unresisting, mind?

We may call the devil.)(If indeed, there is no God,

Therefore, there is no Devil. Someone made it all up!))

I could kill, in the name of God, at will, to justify my evil,

Of cause; nothing new for humans-

It's silly of course, to think its God's will-

Be it Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu or Jew

Killing at will for no reason is a human trait

Animals don't even(think of) or do such things,

Unless they are cornered or hungry,

But never when they are full and complete...

So, if there was (or is)no God, and death is final-

(As Carl Sagan and Stephen Hawking would

Have us all believe-and we can add Darwin to the list,

And perhaps several others if you wish...)

There'll be no resurrection, no drunken parties with whores

In Paradise or in Heaven (or Purgatory; as some religions

Have glorified and sanctified for peace of mind and soul.)

Perhaps you'd knock on your neighbor's door, next store,

Take at will another man's wife,

Do as you please-even kill the husband if he

Showed up, if need be!

Be like Napoleon, Hitler, and Stalin; perchance, like

The heroes of old: Alexander the Great, Attila, Hannibal:

Or the Heroes at Troy ((fighting for blood and guts and

Everlasting fame...in the name of the many gods...)

(Create a war for power and control, for: land

And oil-for gold and glory and much, much more!))

Or just be among the many that don't have plenty,

Who may feel they have been scorned,

Who may feel a prayer for a sin cleans the soul-

Thus, they can kill and steal, at will before

Their story is dead and nil- (never to be told).

Who's to say what you'd do, if there was no

God (and let's add the Devil too)over the next hill...

But whatever you'd do, be no fool, -if there is a God,

May His graces and glory, nullify this poetic story

And help us all, before we fall, into the great dark abode!

No: 2959; 6-23-2011 (10:30 a.m.)


View the original article here

Poetic Proverbs No 1

Forgiveness is freedom,
Choice not to run,
Welcome greets wisdom,
Better's the deed once done.

Time to be still,
Opportune frame,
Busyness I must kill,
Putting slavery to shame.

The 'how' of faith is the way it's lived,
challenge tradition using a revelatory sieve.
Faith authentic is Spirit-aligned,
really no way life's better designed.

Truth bestows power,
Trust in it; it's clean,
Beauty like a flower,
Best way to lean.

Love at hand,
Magnanimously so,
Grace is grand,
Peace and joy glow.

Blessed to be just,
Right to be fair,
God's will is a must,
For those with courage and compassion to care.

We, as persons:
As good as anyone living,
Or as bad,
What separates: our attitude to giving,
The only gauge making us eternally glad.

Forever love sustains,
For those loving God,
Always grace remains,
For those devoted to God.

The depths of hurt,
The heights of grace,
Vastness of the life alert,
Holds the heavenly ace.

***

God Speaks to Me
People may think,
Us crazy and weak,
They tend to wink,
When they hear us speak.

Something we can say,
When they disagree,
"How can I disobey,
When God speaks to me?"

***

We can feel another's pain only through our own eyes; their heartache or impairment only through our own experience. We do well to remember this when offering our empathy.

Recovery is like ascending through murky clouds; in faith we climb and recovery is borne on the lighted rays of the looming sun as it appears. The secret: keep climbing.

We cannot coexist in successful harmony in a spirit of innate competition. Like all rock fights someone inevitably loses an eye.

In a world seeking signs,
Evidence of the physical,
Hope otherwise shines,
In the shape of 'the miracle'.

The instinct is right,
When we're caused to think,
In ways not to fight,
Halting conflict in a blink.

Little by little the frustrations of life mount; then, suddenly, anger. Resolution requires patience - to attend to frustrations as they arise.

Think: "What I have,"
Not: "What I've not,"
For life's in the thanks,
Or all turns to rot.

A gently wafting morning breeze,
Was what it took to bend my knees,
The Spirit's voice sent to apprehend,
Spiritual ease God did send.

The word, "Contract": legal and binding - often the bane of human existence. The cause? Our lacking situational wisdom in failing to underwrite with insight.

Time with God,
Winds of change,
Turning the sod,
Finds us our range.

© 2011 S. J. Wickham.

Steve Wickham is a Registered Safety Practitioner (BSc, FSIA, RSP[Australia]) and a qualified, unordained Christian minister (GradDipBib&Min). His blogs are at: http://epitemnein-epitomic.blogspot.com/ and http://inspiringbetterlife.blogspot.com/


View the original article here

Sister's Poem

Quixotic Princess:

My eyes close firmly,
Sleep comes softly
Dulling my senses
Brushing the corners of subconscious mind

Weary of balancing
Toppling boxes I stacked to the sky
Vainly reaching for order
Reason in my days

Sleep is toppling struggle
Respite from order
Reason gives way to relaxation
As darkness paints the palate of dreams

Dancing through the shadow is a woman
Pain fills her eyes
But her movements are graceful
Leaping and laughing

Transference of emotion tugs my heart
The Pain a living Love
Refused her for higher purposes
But wrapped in her soul's song

Grace in the dance
Leaping with knowledge gained
Laughter scatters love-stars into her path
Closer, she dances, closer

Dream within a dream
Her dream fills in the edges of mine
Shading the shadows with layers
A negative of life's photograph

My eyes saw dreams, hers, reality.
Which is the right path to seek?
A dreaming reality or a reality carved from dreams?
Dismissed as a mental issue, I turn to run

A tree stops me short
Skinny and twisted to odd proportions
Her laugh rings out
"Welcome to my castle!"
A fence fades into view
Gleaming, white-washed
She leaps up, crying aloud
"Come one, come all, see the artist on a tightrope!"

Hummingbirds appear, turn to dragonflies
Before my eyes the flowers turn to gems
I'm walking on the clouds now, desperate for the drop surely coming
She dances on the treetops... on the trees?

My mind begins to bend into understanding
An understanding bred of fearful symmetry.
"The world has an opposite," she giggles
"A mirror image only I can see!"

Possibility becomes reality
Wishing on a star catapults me to a galaxy
I'm finding pillars to be little stepping-stones
The ant has transformed to my snow-white steed

"Now you are here to dance through dust motes
To slay the dragons guarding dripping caves
You are shown the path to fairy kingdoms
To hear their laughter, wind chimes, in a glen."

On an impulse, my eyelids flutter
A four-post, down spread, pillow heaped, huge bed
My limbs weighed down by gravity again
The light now pierces, blinking in a new day

An odd occurrence, surely imagined
Swiftly passes through my sluggish brain
Dismissed on whim of moment, dreams behind me
I swing my feet o'er the edge, and to my feet

A wobbling stand, and shaky walk
Make my way to warm up in the sunshine
I lift my head to smell the breeze
Close my eyes...

I see you, Princess.

Of a sudden, I hear wind-chimes.


View the original article here

Warrior King

David was a man after Gods own heart

David played it close to God

David played it smart

David was a shepherd boy anointed to be king

The youngest in his family yet deadly with a sling

The Spirit of the Lord was with him from the very start

He put his trust in God alone a man of Gods own heart

Because he put his trust in God he never fought alone

Even as a small boy he killed a giant with a stone

Psalmist and musician, prophet and a king

Sending evil spirits away when his harp would sing

David was a warrior who fought his battles hard

He always prayed to God for strength his main offensive guard

David sought the will of God in everything he did

Written on his heart is where the Word of God was hid

What a mighty man of valor, what a mighty man of God

Because he put his trust in God he beat allot of odds

But David wasn't perfect there was drama in his court

He fell in love with Sheba in a soap opera of sorts

This was a married woman, but David didn't care

He used his power as the king to have a love affair

He tried to cover up his sin and killed an innocent man

God sent the prophet Nathan to lay bare this evil plan

David was so sorry he laid down on the floor

He fasted and he prayed and poured his heart out to the Lord

In all His infinite wisdom and all His bountiful grace

God forgave His servant, but He put him in his place

By taking his son and removing his throne, David was reaping all he had sown

David repented and confessed his sins; this is where true revival begins

Sweetest healing is complete, deep in the heart on the mercy seat

A humble leader's set apart; we must be men after Gods own heart

David had desired to build a house unto the Lord

But God told David he had killed too many with his sword

His said His temple would be built, but built by David's son

As for David God had everlasting plans He wanted done

It's through your seed I will build My house an everlasting throne

Speechless David struggled with the honor God had shown

Giving thanks and praises praying to His Holy Name

This prophesy fulfilled the day the Son of David came


View the original article here

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

I Love You Most For Being Just You

As you grow up and begin having interest in dating, never forget to be proud of 'you' and never once sell yourself short. Remember the old saying that birds of a feather flock together.

If you don't enjoy the company of friends that smoke, hang out in loud-music-bars, frequently use bad language, and feel it's fashionable to have an odor of yesterday's sweat; then avoid this environment.

No one can successfully argue with human nature. What children learn from their families at home will greatly influence their desires and actions when they become teens and adults. They will likely associate with groups with similar upbringing, because they feel most comfortable.

Life is a gamble. Learn to play the odds. People normally don't change instilled attitudes. Those who enjoy bad language, smoking, and loud music bars; will likely never feel comfortable in groups with qualities, abilities, and achievements that causes them to feel threatened. People normally don't like to change.

If you have, goals, expectations, and pride in yourself; then think first of your self and plan your moves. Be determined to associate with friends and groups that have similar goals, qualities, abilities, achievements, and desires. Just never argue with human nature and think you can change another person.

You don't owe any person anything ever. If you have confidence and pride in yourself; you never have to lower your goals or standards to find a special friend; girl or boy.

However, it is important from day one to advertise your goals and expectations, so that others clearly know what you want and demand. Never lower your goals or expectations for anyone.

People seldom ever change. What you see today is what you will see in six months or twenty years. Philosophers have written this from the beginning of recorded history. Please accept this advice as fact.

There is no shortage of boys or girls that are seeking the same things in life that you want. If you don't find your dream date the first time around, just move on. Dating is the time to experiment and learn. Consider making a commitment to date fifty different people before you ever get serious. Allow dating to be your learning experiences. There are plenty of fish in the sea. Go fishing!

MY LITTLE POEM

"I Love You Most For Being Just You"

It's true that I likely overlooked an orchid while searching for a rose;
Inexperience left me blind to the true beauty of substance as I followed my nose.

Excitement, smoking, drinking, late nights, parties, fast friends and useless fun;
For years seemed to be the only life for me under the sun.

Then one day I rested on a far away beach under the bright sun;
Observing others doing many things as they too had their fun.

For the first time ever, I spent time analyzing others and their joy;
Just enjoying each other without a single alcoholic drink, fuss, or toy.

The men were gentlemen, not show-offs, dirty, or mean;
The women were special; with pride, self-confidence, poise, and very clean.

These ladies knew well what they possessed, not needing to prove they were the best;
They had learned human nature well; if others can't tell let them guess.

One of these ladies stood out like a queen among the many enjoying the sand;
To me she was certainly the most lovely in all of the land.

All day I constantly watched as she sunned or sipped a drink or walked with a friend;
She seemed always welcome with everyone she joined and she had the cutest grin.

Before the evening meal I assured that the waiter would seat me at her table;
Then my mission was to be sure she knew my name without wearing a label.

I quickly learned from the conversation that most had only today first met;
And it seemed certain that among these strangers none had yet a special pet.

The music was soft, the dance floor was near and dancing was certainly in the air;
I pushed aside my shyness and forced myself to act fast as if on a dare

"I'd be greatly honored if you would share a dance with me," I politely said.
With the absolutely cutest smile I ever saw, she replied, "You may find my dancing bad."

I pulled her chair back and we found ourselves chatting before reaching the dance floor.
With the ease as if we known each other for years, I sensed I would her forever adore.

As we began to dance she remarked that she was glad the music was slow;
And as we danced I felt so proud, as she continued to look into my eyes with a glow.

Time passed so quickly and I securely felt that she too was having an evening of fun;
Just as I had noticed her enjoyment with friends as she played in the sun.

I felt certain that she too was sincerely enjoying her vacation trip;
And I certainly hoped that she too wanted to extend our relationship.

We both were surprised and pleased that we lived and worked in the same town;
Within three days we agreed that it was God's gift that this friendship we'd found.

My new friend was childlike honest as she often explained that though she liked me;
She will, however, never change and must always be independently free.

And that she enjoys strong discussions, but will not tolerate even a verbal fight;
Because life is too short to waste hours in the day and especially at night.

Time passed so quickly and I securely felt that she too was having an evening of fun;
Just as I had noticed her enjoyment with friends as she played in the sun.

I felt certain that she too was sincerely enjoying her vacation trip;
And I certainly hoped that she too wanted to extend our relationship.

We both were surprised and pleased that we lived and worked in the same town;
Within three days we agreed that it was God's gift that this friendship we'd found.

My new friend was childlike honest as she often explained that though she liked me;
She will, however, never change and must always be independently free.

And that she enjoys strong discussions, but will not tolerate even a verbal fight;
Because life is too short to waste hours in the day and especially at night.

It is unbelievable how strangers can feel that they've been family since age seven;
And grow closer each day and within months feel their love was made in heaven.

To luckily find a lover that is a true partner is to a wise person evidence;
That each man owes his Creator the very most sincere reverence.

Love without friendship' is like a house built of sand;
It can be eliminated so quickly with just a slap of a hand

But if partners hold hands over the years as they work on their plans;
They will see love grow daily as strong as a rock and not crumble as the sands.

So my friends, if your darling always proves that her love is as strong as the old oak tree;
Then you'll know that you're lucky like me.

My Darling I must say again, "My heart and love for you is true";
I Love You Most For Your Being just You!

It is unbelievable how strangers can feel that they've been family since age seven;
And grow closer each day and within months feel their love was made in heaven.

To luckily find a lover that is a true partner is to a wise person evidence;
That each man owes his Creator the very most sincere reverence.

Love without friendship' is like a house built of sand;
It can be eliminated so quickly with just a slap of a hand

But if partners hold hands over the years as they work on their plans;
They will see love grow daily as strong as a rock and not crumble as the sands.

So my friends, if your darling always proves that her love is as strong as the old oak tree;
Then you'll know that you're lucky like me.

My Darling I must say again, "My heart and love for you is true";
I Love You Most For Being just You!

To luckily find a lover that is a true partner is to a wise person evidence;
That each man owes his Creator the very most sincere reverence.

Love without friendship' is like a house built of sand;
It can be eliminated so quickly with just a slap of a hand

But if partners hold hands over the years as they work on their plans;
They will see love grow daily as strong as a rock and not crumble as the sands.

So my friends, if your darling always proves that her love is as strong as the old oak tree;
Then you'll know that you're lucky like me.

"My Darling I must say again, My heart and love for you is true;
I Love You Most For Being Just You!"

I feel Christians have a responsibility to help all humans on earth. I enjoy addressing controversial areas that aid in this goal. I'm a male over fifty, retired Army, married, living in Stuttgart, German with my family. My son is an American and a commercial pilot with German airline. My completed manuscripts are in need of an agent and publishing. These manuscripts are: "Effective Sex Ed, The New Millennium's Answer to Earth's Cry for Help"; "The Lady is a Killer" (about a female serial killer); "Vietnam Memories Fond" (the lighter side of the war); "The Logical Alternative to Sexual Intercourse"; "Survival...Life 101" (advice for teens); "A Psychopath Smiles, The Devil Grins, Another Girl Vanishes" (the Mafia's international sex slave trade); "Quietly Making a Difference" (review of a 28 year military career); and "Adventures of Ron Huckleberry" (a youth's daily adventures). I'm a member of Faith Writers, my blog is: "Tips for a Happy, Healthy Life" (Teen Sex Ed Tips), http://www.genehudgens.com/


View the original article here

6 Steps to Writing a Poem

Over the years, I have heard many people, especially students, say that they are unable to write poetry. Poetry is actually one of the easiest forms of writing once you know how to start since the structure, grammar, and even word order can be freely manipulated by a poet. Below is a list of things to do when you start writing a poem.

The first thing to do is think of a subject. If you are a student, the subject is often given to you. Once you have a subject, think of how you view that subject - does it make you feel happy, bored, scared, nervous, excited? This is important since it guides the words you will use once you start writing.
Write the first line. This might sound dumb, but it's important. Do not start with a title. A title summarizes the poem and says its most important message. A title should be made after you have written the poem so the title doesn't shape the poem and limit your creativity.
Now it is time to think about the structure of the poem. Do you want to use a rhyme scheme? What about the meter (the syllables in a line)? Look at the first line, that should be used to establish the meter. Count the number of syllables in the first line and try to keep the other lines to a similar length, that makes the poem seem more professional. You should strongly consider a rhyme scheme - they make the poem have a better flow and makes it more interesting; in my opinion, rhyming pairs of lines is the easiest. The last structure piece is the stanza; a stanza is like the paragraph of poems. A good stanza length for beginners is 4 lines since it allows for two sets of rhymed lines.
Now you need to write the rest of the poem. Don't worry - it's not going to be bad. To make rhyming easier, rearrange word order to have lines end with "ay," "oo," or "ie" sounds since many common words end with these. You also want to look at http://www.rhymer.com/ when you are stuck. For the meter, adjectives are your friend. Use appropriate adjectives that match the feelings in Step 1 to set the mood and fill up the unused syllables.
Now is the time to think of a title. A proper title should grab a readers attention and describe the poem in a few words. Often, a line from the poem can be used for the title. Another idea would be to give it a short (1-3 words) name after a certain metaphor or main idea in the poem.
Once you have the title, you should understand the main focus of your poem. Edit your poem and focus on word selection to emphasize certain feelings or thoughts. To emphasize a word, you can place it at the end of a line, use alliteration, or repeat it.

Following these steps will set you on the right course. Once the poem sounds right to you and gives the message you want, you know it is complete. Do not be afraid of change, sometimes the meaning changes from the original thought as you write - embrace this, fighting it will leave you unsatisfied with the final poem.

J. Murphy has been writing poetry for 6 years. He owns the website The Poetry Nook. If you want your poem reviewed and critiqued, submit it for some helpful advice. You can also view some sample poetry there for inspiration.


View the original article here

Friday, July 8, 2011

My Vote, My Vote, Where Are You?

Oh my country!

They have made you a hell

You are not saving

You are not a saved place for people

Hardship is the talk of the day in you

Unemployment is the songs of your people...

Your citizens are running,

To tell you who you are

Why can't you understand?

The elections have come and go

I am crying for my votes

For they did not count

Because of the unpleasant nature of my state;

I am talking of my nation

My state what good can we say about you

Oh my state!

When will you answer your name?

You have accommodate the same people,

Again, I say again...

People have cast their vote in van, in you

Because you have decide to west your people

The same people who refused to educate your citizens

The same people that made our secondary schools a dumping grounds

The same people that denied poor educational right

The same people who closed-up our industries

Oh my God!

They have rendered the people jobless

They appoint advisers based on their evil thoughts,

The people who love money and hate instruction

They have made our road pits and deadly,

Our roads legs overtake cars.

My God we are tired of this state...

For it is same people that do not care

The devil machines

They established a school,

School of kidnappers

They trained useful youths to crime

They employed them,

Kidnapping becomes a lucrative job opportunity,

Only for candidates from schools of kidnapping

They rejected the military pole,

From coming in to save my people,

Hundreds of people killed and wasted

Only, for money;

Their trained boys were are many;

They killed and send them to hell one after the other,

When they demanded for compensation

To stop them revealing their criminal acts

See them again sitting on our Government House...

Desperate politicians

Politicians without quality and standard

They knew they will fail totally

They rigged the election

Oh tell me if a four years is a four days?

Good four-year sleeping in the Government House.

A man who slept by 6pm and wake by 4pm

Did he not wake-up to eat and sleep back?

They paint two streets, black paint

For the election is coming

They claimed to have arouse from sleep

For the election is at hand

They are back to rule.

Black monkeys in a monkey village.

INEC what have you done to me and my people

What do I call this your unprintable character

Why did you spread this wickedness on us?

Mr. President. Do I exempt you in this?

For allowing rigging in state elections;

Oh my God! Take care of your people

Pay them back oh Lord!

For this is their turn to cry

For they have cheated on poor and

Take away what belongs to them

You are the God of vengeance

Avenge for your people are crying

For they have cause and has oiled sorrow.

My Votes where are you

I blame myself for casting you

I have cry for you

For they did not count and work with you

If they counted and worked with you

Joy and smiles would have been my song and of my people...

Uzochukwu N A is living at Umuimo in Aba, Abia state, Nogeria. He is an instructor, a teacher, adviser, upcoming articulate and a brother who Love God. He have works is in progress.
Click here http://uahappiness.wordpress.com/ or write me at uathegodsfriend@gmail.com seek to be God's friend.


View the original article here

Radiance - The Poems

RADIANCE

A glaring ray to make the hey
set the fire to daze the dark in its fray
Cooler the nights; warmer the day;
Suffice a cause for the fray;
Until dawn in night's prey; that glaring ray waits the moment to make a hey.
By reaching peak, it starts to bleak;
That blazing ray, till dooms day die-hard to make a hey.

MY PRAYER

The storms that frightened me even when I were on shore,
now surrounds, tries to blow and mingle me through its course;
On the shore, I prayed long and long for a port
to stand against all adversities, whether or not there a storm;

What shall I do struggling with the storms;
but to wait for that moment when can I win over the storm.

FORGIVE ME

Forgive me, I forget;
I forget thee for a while, please forgive me
I forget thy love, thy warmth I received;
Please forgive me

Thou could forgive me nor me;
I love thee for thy love; please forgive me

LORD MOTHER

'O' Lord Mother,
Who am I to you extol as always facing you
with a begging bowl for a handsome dole
Your dole have trumpeted up my soul with a small fraction of affection
Although it is for you; but suffice for me to go through
The ups and downs; when cried you are found

QUALM

Who am I?
A man who toil for personal needs;
A man who toil for others'deeds
Who am I?
Who is mine?
A person who is in need,
A person who has some greed
Who is mine?

What is the truth?
That I like, that I dislike;

Doubts ae there,
but answer is where?

FAITH

Not easy to remain tied
with faith, sincerity & truth, all over in the life:
When feel I should accommodate,the inner self hurts, shocked,
and made me to cry,
Near and dear, when did not oblige,
I went deep into search; come out when found,
everyone there lives in malice.
A hoping ray struck, the darkest night of impatient soul,
eyes can twinkle and heart can blink,
For that ray, which may struck on same day.

BENIGN MOTHER

You live in my soul,
In chase for you, you come very close;
When on the brink, of to sink
You come from the heart, uplift my moral, in an eyes' blink;
I am none, but you everyone,
'A loving mother', 'A great guide',...........
Silly be said, if neglect, this Stone of mile;


View the original article here

Humble Man

Wanted for murder Moses fled, he had a bounty on his head

In the land of Midian he found a wife, and settled down to nomad life

Then God appeared in a burning bush, to give our fugitive a little push

I have come to set My people free, and I have chosen you to speak for Me

Moses cleared his throat and coughed, he doubted he could pull this off

Surely Pharaoh won't listen to me and what of the people when they ask about Thee

Who is this God and what is His name, how do we know He is who you claim?

Thus tell my children I'm breaking their chains, "I AM THAT I AM", forever I reign

So God gave Moses signs to show, show these signs now off you go

Moses protested his speech was weak, so God chose Aaron to help him speak

They found the Pharaoh to plead their case, you should have seen the Pharaohs face

Thus says the LORD My people are mine, let them go to the desert and build Me a shrine

I'm not letting them go and you have no room to barter

As a matter of fact I'm going to make them work harder

So Pharaoh demanded they find their own straw, they had to make bricks for that was his law

Without any straw the quota fell short, and Moses returned to the LORD to report

The people are worse from the wear of their work, the Pharaoh's unfair and he acts like a jerk

I've got something for Pharaoh it's called a strong hand

When I'm done with him he'll want you out of his land

So Moses and Aaron kept doing Gods bidding

Pharaoh laughed with contempt as though they were kidding

It was time for some signs so they threw down the staff, it turned into a serpent but Pharaoh just laughed

Pharaoh's magicians made snakes of their rods; both were consumed by the serpent of Gods

Pharaoh's heart was hard his mind was narrow; he had a stubborn streak running to his marrow

What Pharaoh failed to understand, he played his part in what God planned

His hardened heart was in Gods hand, the Almighty Playwright in command

Tell Pharaoh let My people go, and I will let the Nile flow

If not I'll nip him in the bud, and turn all waters into blood

Pharaohs will refused to bend, billions of frogs God did send

So many frogs they covered the land, they jumped on his bed and on his nightstand

He had frogs on his pillows and frogs in his shoes, he found a frog in his soup and he wasn't amused

He sent for Moses entreat your LORD, I can't stand the sight of this amphibian horde

The frogs all died but Pharaoh lied he wouldn't let them go

He had so much pride he hurt inside reaping what he sowed

Up till now God was nice, the time had come to send the lice

Pharaoh's heart was hard indeed, for even this he would not heed

A swarm of flies God then did send, but the will of Pharaohs wouldn't bend

The flies attacked Egyptian homes, but left the Hebrew homes alone

There were flies in their kitchens and flies in their eyes, Pharaoh found flies in his chicken pot pies

Why can't you just worship your LORD here instead? Pharaoh asked Moses with a fly on his head

If we sacrifice here we will surely be stoned, your people won't tolerate what you have condoned

You may go to the desert but don't go too far, if you have to go worship I want to know where you are

I grant your request the people are freed, now as for these flies please intercede

But Pharaoh was lying he didn't intend to comply, so God sent deceases and many animals died

He sent a plague of boils and a plague of hail, but Pharaohs resolve refused to fail

He let loose the locusts upon the land; no plant was left alive to stand

A heart as hard as his won't budge, Pharaoh held fast to his grudge

So God sent darkness on the land, feel the presence of My hand

Remove the darkness Pharaoh cried, I'll let you worship far and wide

Again he lied and tried to hide, his heart inside was full of pride

The LORD told Moses get prepared, so far Egypt has been spared

Your children's children will be told, today we plunder Egypt's gold

Tomorrow all of Egypt cries, tonight all first born sons will die

To spare My children I adore, put blood of the lamb upon the door

This is where they all should hide, I'm passing over those inside

After all was said and done, the LORD did kill the Pharaohs son

The LORD did humble Pharaohs heart, to allow the Exodus to start


View the original article here

Friday, July 1, 2011

Two Poems

The Era
There's one era in my life that I'll never forget. I tried and hoped to bring it back, but that hasn't happened yet. it's the era of a girl who had the love that I cherished since we met, our love was sweet and fragrant, everyone called her my pet.

but one of those days, when our flow would go bad, we had this fight; I had to ponder and wonder again...... what she did wasn't right. but her love was now hiding, her presence I was missing, I needed them back in my sight; so I ran to her, beggin' to have her back- with all my might. my guys were like- 'what! how could you do that? men you must be weak. you're the man in this game; treat her hard till she's meek. it'll only take a week.'

a long while after that, we had another bitter flow, now I thought I was smarter. I scolded her down and said 'if you don't change, I'll stroke you much harder.' she walked out on me, I thought I had won and so I felt real cool; two weeks went by, she never came back, I knew I'd been a fool. now I'm missin' her crazy, she's my only lady but she won't talk to me.

that's the era in my life, i'm trying to bring back, "I'LL COMPROMISE GIRL, TOTALLY!"

A lil' love from nature

Have you seen an eagle glidin' high in the sky? far above all struggles we'll soar, knowing no high.

Have you seen a swallow make its nest in due season? just what we should do to shelter our love for every reason.

Have you seen a leopard catch and devour its prey? let's not give this opportunity a chance to run away.

Have you seen the ant gather till all its stores are full? that way we'll plan our future, we won't be chained with the fool.

Have you seen a beaver make a dam in running streams? so we'll build our homes, even in hardship's beams.

Have you seen a hen shielding her chics from harm? let's shield the fruits of our love, yet hold on to love's charm.

Have you seen butterflies fluttering in a flower garden? so peaceful and full of grace, as the love in our garden.

Can you see that there's much more to nature? it shows of God's love; let's ride in all its beauty, as it is from above.


View the original article here

Thursday, June 30, 2011

Must Knows for New or Amateur Poetry Writers

As you learn to love poetry as a beginner, and then write as an amateur you soon or later discover that your love for writing might be something more. The feedback from your peers raises questions, should you publish? How do you go about getting noticed on a local, then a global stage? Is there money in it? If so, how much? As you may or may not know, there are thousands of scams out there concerning poetry, more specifically, your work. These sites or individuals tell you exactly what you want to hear, things like; "Your poetry is one of a kind", "You should look into publication" or "If you win this contest, your poetry will appear in a book", something along these lines. So, how do you know who to trust, that's if you could trust any of them. Honestly, I am not published, nor am I looking to publish my work, but I have been asked how to get it done. When I was younger, I also was interested in having my poetry published, so I did do some research; I'll discuss what I found out, pros and cons.

Firstly, if you're an amateur poet, just like I consider myself; you've probably asked, "If i post my work on the internet on a few forums, can someone take it and publish it?". In other words, steal your work. The answer is yes, but the likeliness is not, unless you write like an expert, and it's a born talent; if your work was to be taken for publishing, it would go through some drastic changes, basically, it would be re-written. Real critics are particular when it comes to literary works; it's like being graded on a school paper, did you ever get 100%? If you're just starting out with poetry, you probably just write it, without knowledge of style, form, flow, etc. It sounds like a poem, it is a poem, but it's not 'publication' worthy; grammar and punctuation corrections can probably be made (this is of course including my work, as I learn something almost everyday to improve the quality of my work).

Also, as a warning to everyone that posts in forums, if your work is stolen and you find out you can take legal action, but you will probably lose. The reason behind that is, yes, your work is copy-written when you post, BUT it is not registered under any published author. To win an infringement regarding your poetry, you must be a registered author, to become one is a daunting task on its own.

To become a registered author you must find a publishing company to submit your work to. DO NOT submit one or a few poems, or your work will be ignored. Think of it like an interview, you need to have a portfolio or 'anthology', which will be explained a little later. When submitting your work to these companies, make sure that the one you choose is a trust worthy one, with a good reputation. Searching on the internet will pull up thousands of sites that can promise to publish your work, some will ask for money to just look at your work, I wouldn't bother with these because most of them are scams just to get your money. You might even find sites that offer to proofread your work before your submission to an 'editor' for a small fee, it could sound something like "We only charge 40 cents a line, or 7 cents a word, or $9 per poem, which ever is cheaper for you". Sounds great and cheap doesn't it? Still, a scam, at least in most cases. I find that the best sites to submit your work to are the sites that don't ask for money at all, you still have to do your research, but at least you don't loose anything, at the most, they got your work.

When you have found the publication company that you would like to submit your work to, make sure to build an anthology; this is a collection of your work, make sure to break it down into themes as well, sad poems, darkness poems, spiritual poems, haiku, sonnet and so on and so forth. It does not have to be all of your work, but make sure to submit enough 'to quench their hunger', so to say. After submitting your work, you will probably find yourself waiting a few weeks maybe even months for a response; and when you finally receive that response, it probably won't be something you will like, you're declined. This maybe frustrating to you, but the things you should take away from it is that 1) you know your work can be improved (they will probably give you feed back as to why your work was not approved for publication and how it can be improved) 2)Before you get praise, you will always receive criticism (it's just how the world works) and 3) at least you were not scammed.

Although I am not looking to publish my work, I am always looking for legitimate criticism to get better, which should always be your first goal ("The day we stop learning, is the day we die" -Anonymous). If you or I get discovered for our work, this is the best way, it may be the long way to getting what you want, but it's also safer; not scam free, but safer.

Now that the publishing portion is out of the way, there are other 'MUST KNOWS' to poetry. Below is a list, and I will discuss each of them:

Rhythm and rhyming; Long and short poetry; Writing in cliches; Titles; Writers biography

Rhythm and rhyming

Typically, writers with an interest in poetry generally start off with a poem that rhymes. Although it seems to be the easiest to write, it can actually turn out to be very difficult; you must find words that rhyme with each other, but also don't stray away from the topic of the poem. Aside from that, the sound of the poem when read needs to have 'flow', in other words, it has to be smoothly read. The syllables in every line is important to help with the flow; for example, you wouldn't write a poem that has line syllables like - 10, 12, 8, 13. There would be no 'smoothness' therefore, it wouldn't sound appealing, no matter how good the topic. Poetry that has line syllables like - 8, 10, 8, 10, 9, 12, 9, 12 will usually get more recognition because it sounds smoother when read. When you get better with rhyme poetry, make sure to expand your talents to other styles, like haiku's or sonnets. Rhyming poetry is taken as outdated and naive, more for new or amateur poets.

Long and short poetry

Longer poetry usually does not have a long-lasting impression on its readers; mainly because its long (longer than a page). Also, for publishing purposes, shorter poems with smaller lines are more likely to be excepted. The most accepted length for poetry is about the length of a page; this leaves enough room to be descriptive and short enough to leave some sort of impression on the reader.

Writing in Cliches

Writing poetry in cliches is a common thing for new writers, money, love and death are said to be the most common topics of poetry. If you choose to write on these topics, it still needs to be original and extraordinary; if you think about it, it's actually a tough task. A way to make sure you are not 'caught' in these cliches, you can read poetry; you will be amazed at how many different things you can related to and write about. It will also widen your 'vocabulary' in poetry so your not re-using the same words in all your poetry.

Titles

The title is just as, if not more important as the poem itself; the title encourages the reader to read your poem, it needs to be 'eye-catching' and intriguing, but of course, still relevant to your work. Publishers say to stay away from one-word titles because it does not give much description of what will be read, unless it is truly a unique title. In other words, stay away from titles like - Friendship, Love, Hate, Death, etc. because they are too simple and spark no interest.

Writers biography

When submitting your work to an editor/publisher or even just a blog/forum on the internet, make sure that your bio is strong. Be descriptive, tell a story as to how you became a fan of poetry; what made you decide to write? Basically, the more information you give about yourself will help the reader understand why you write poetry, and the topics you choose to write about. It almost makes it seem like the reader has a better connection to you and your work.

Lastly, if you are searching for a publisher, or you just write as a hobby; don't forget the reason why you started writing in the first place. It's because you loved it, for whatever reason; poetry should be something that you enjoy to write or read before it becomes anything more.

This article and others can be found at Pomes

"There are millions of writers in this world, all in different languages, but only the one's that truly believe in what they are writing are worth reading."

- J a R -


View the original article here

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

The Little Boys In My Dream

My husband called, "Amour, breakfast is ready",
and my twins shouted, "Come on down mommy!"

"In a minute...'be there with you guys, would I may...?
Mom needs to look nice for you and feel gay!"

Early on, I went to the bathroom
I find it somewhat bigger as before
I thought, "Am I in the same room?"
Then my husband knocked on the door...

I found my husband, a bit uneasy, he kind-a-fret,
"My love I haven't had the time, the room's not prep..."
I looked around and smiled, "No need to be upset..."
"It's okay, I have everything covered now, you bet..."

I told him, we should take our breakfast first
Afterwards we'd take care on things we needed.
He left and had assured me his laughter burst.
I giggled back...so glad with the love mood I created.

At the back of my mind with some questions...
"Am I now at the present moment of my world?"
I closed my eyes to picture my past actions...
But I have got to move fast, I know TIME is gold!

I had wondered what else is there for me to see
If where I am now was a glimpse of tomorrow,
I sure feel excited to discover things with glee
I like what I am feeling... This is heaven I know...

I continued to check on the bathroom cabinet...
I smiled to see that all supplies I left were used.
I replaced them with new staff I used to set,
'though a bit changed... this bathroom now is huge!

I got on our dining table, I knew it was round
I tried to sit beside my husband but he said,
"Over there my love... opposite me, you sit down."
"Oh an oval-shape", I thought as he handed me the bread.

A great Chef as he is, he makes sure I would eat,
He'd always prepare a yummy and healthy breakfast.
In between us, our two boys sit, so comfy and neat...
I thought, "so these are my little boys?" Then I gasped.

I looked on these two beautiful little boys
They have their daddy's pointed nose...
I thought that it was like the fiction I wrote
I'd have two sons...in the story as it would quote...

I smiled, I knew I was only dreaming
I reached on the smaller one... I carried him.
While my other son had stopped eating,
He looked at me, "Mom, where have you been?"

Then my little boy in my arm, "Mom, I miss you so much!"
He is beau gosse like his dad, but a bit more tan.
I hugged him and said to both, "I love you two so much!
Mommy is here now, later, we'd all play under the sun..."

...I woke up... It was just a dream...
Two weeks from now I will travel
To be with my love. But I don't marvel
Because it's not just a whim...
'though it's amazing... kind of magical
To have a glimpse..."A life, I'd have with him..."

I have seen our two sons in my dream...
Wow! I wonder...Would I have them as twin?
So today, I got on-line and have told him
About these little boys in my dream...
Funny, my honey said, "You already have four...
Now, would you want another two more...?'

I choose to pour out the love I have to shine on everyone that I meet and inspire them with my writings and/or short stories of encouragement and enlightenment. We just only started. Journey with me and experience the joy of adventures of giving love unconditionally and enjoying the life we experience in this universe we live in. Your love for fun and for keeps...
Abeille Amore

A day in the life of Me...all my travels, adventures and all kinds of writings... You are all welcome. Feel free to follow me here: http://lovebytesonair.blogspot.com/
http://www.abeilleamore.com/


View the original article here

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

The Unstoppable Woman

SUCCESSFUL WOMEN...

Sweet creatures
Wonderfully made as decorative fixtures
Bright, bold and beautiful
Always serene, calm and resourceful
They are strong-willed, fearless and confident
They neither are careless, lazy nor disobedient
They are the successful women.
Always virtuous, victorious and highly- esteemed
Women who conquer
Yet have hearts aglow with love
They have dreams that are mostly realized
As pure as white lilies
Even in mud-like circumstances
They remain spotless...
Situations don't weigh them down
Because they have realized that she who kneels to God
Can stand up to anything/one...
So they believe strongly in their prayers, potentials and abilities
They enjoy the esteem of their wards,
The love of their men,
And the regard of all
They are the successful women
They are unstoppable and none can successfully delay them
They have total fulfillment at home and abroad
They are princesses of the Most High King
For they have had encounters with God
Their crown is the favour of God for comfort not for discomfort
They are chosen for purity of service,
For attraction not for distraction
They are known for friendships
They can build relationships
They know how to listen to that voice of Divinity
And yield to His will and call for their lives
They are good followers,
Great inventors and imitators
They sure dream big,
They have purpose, visions and raison d'etre
If you are dreamless, you are not in their world
They have a world full of opportunities
They sure make their presence felt and count anywhere they are.
To them age is not a barrier but numbers
Yes, numbers that can be overlooked
Though not ignored.
They love like God,
As soft as fur, as intelligent as the ant...
They are hardworking, efficient, effective and yet unassuming.
They are as flexible as a reed and as faithful as a lioness
They go beyond motherhood and yet remain unstoppable
They are fighters of good course,
Hardly give up on issues they deem fit
They are kind-hearted, trustworthy and reliable
They are honorable, charming and gallant
They are teachable, focused and wise,
They are wives, career women and mothers...
None of these aspects of their lives is wanting
They are their husband's best friends;
Their boss' confidante
And their children's idols
As contenders they fly
But as warriors they stand....
They are not afraid of their tomorrow,
For they have prepared for it.
They act as an house for their kids,
They are warm, sweet and graceful...
You can be one of them...
The successful women...
Yes the unstoppable women.

Agu, Jaachynma N.E is a successful, dynamic and prolific author. She writes poems, prose, articles, Newsletters and speeches. She is a graduate of French Linguistics from the Languages & Linguistics Department of the University of Jos, Plateau State, Nigeria. She is the author of the best-selling knowledge book: THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER published by Enaz publications New York. She is happily married to her heartthrob and best-friend: Dr. Ahamefula Agu and their union is blessed with two lovely boys: King and Edwald


View the original article here