Determination, energy, and courage appear spontaneously when we care deeply about something. We take risks that are unimaginable in any other context.
Margaret J. Wheatley
When dad did not speak
Of where he came out
(A womb with Native
American markings)
We ventured
Like a tribe marched
Into silence.
He tended the land
A garden in each yard,
Worked for the Steel
Horse people.
You could see the native
In his mother yet she
Spoke French, and broken
English.
When he was ill
His mind gone
He said something
To mom, very native
But too late.
“He wanted to die
At home,” she blurted
Through sobs.
“With my people”
Is what any elder
Of the Iroquois
Would have requested.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Friday, June 20, 2008
Quote by Deepak Chopra & Poem by TA Delmore
On uncertainty: “The known is our past. The known is nothing other than the prison of past conditioning.” - Deepak Chopra
ANOTHER EYE POEM
I would open a window
and let bee's trickle in
to be closer to you.
I would hum in the midst
of being stung to smell
what the wind honors
of you.
I would bend to lift
you up just to touch you
now and then.
But I am
where I began,
catching bees in a blue jar.
ANOTHER EYE POEM
I would open a window
and let bee's trickle in
to be closer to you.
I would hum in the midst
of being stung to smell
what the wind honors
of you.
I would bend to lift
you up just to touch you
now and then.
But I am
where I began,
catching bees in a blue jar.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Quote by: Francine Prose Poem by: TA Delmore
Francine Prose said, "For now, books are still the best way of taking great art and its consolations along with us on the bus."
Bird of Prayer
The crows are gardening again.
Up with the sun they peck
the earth.
On some occasions
they bring their young crying
to the land; morsels are stuffed
down tender throats, raw
from cawing.
In Summer they solo and caw
to God, pause, caw again, move,
and caw once more. A trinity
of praise.
In that joy, hopping,
flying; movement in prayer,
crow recreates a dance of thanks,
never seen by Noah.
Bird of Prayer
The crows are gardening again.
Up with the sun they peck
the earth.
On some occasions
they bring their young crying
to the land; morsels are stuffed
down tender throats, raw
from cawing.
In Summer they solo and caw
to God, pause, caw again, move,
and caw once more. A trinity
of praise.
In that joy, hopping,
flying; movement in prayer,
crow recreates a dance of thanks,
never seen by Noah.
Friday, June 6, 2008
Poem TA Delmore Quote Iris Murdoch
Prometheus Father
He did not create
the Frisbee but brought it
to the family as a means
of sport and exercise. He
was the master of the flicked wrist
and cutting air. He made
his children wanting-
but not wanting enough.
Always control
and accuracy of the disc.
When he noticed his tykes
becoming his equal with the disc
Prometheus went out, purchased
a ping pong table and started the cycle
all over again.
Murdoch said, "Writing is like getting married. One should never commit oneself until one is amazed at one's luck."
He did not create
the Frisbee but brought it
to the family as a means
of sport and exercise. He
was the master of the flicked wrist
and cutting air. He made
his children wanting-
but not wanting enough.
Always control
and accuracy of the disc.
When he noticed his tykes
becoming his equal with the disc
Prometheus went out, purchased
a ping pong table and started the cycle
all over again.
Murdoch said, "Writing is like getting married. One should never commit oneself until one is amazed at one's luck."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)