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."
Monday, May 19, 2008
Quote by: David Deida Poem by: TA Delmore
Right now, and in every now-moment, you are either closing or opening.
You are either stressfully waiting for something—more money, security, affection—or you are living from your deep heart, opening as the entire moment, and giving what you most deeply desire to give, without waiting.
If you are waiting for anything in order to live and love without holding back, then you suffer.
Every moment is the most important moment of your life.
No future time is better than now to let down your guard and love.
Everything you do right now ripples outward and affects everyone.
Your posture can shine your heart or transmit anxiety.
Your breath can radiate love or muddy the room in depression.
Your glance can awaken joy.
Your words can inspire freedom.
Your every act can open hearts and minds.
Opening from heart to all, you live as a gift to all.
In every moment, you are either opening or closing.
Right now, you are choosing to open and give fully or you are waiting.
How does your choice feel?
David Deida, from 365 Nirvana, Here and Now by Josh Baran (as quoted on Tricycle)
All will be Revealed
Take my fathers rhymes
Add my mother’s gifts,
Give it to me, fresh
As home baked bread Strong
As an oak tree. Stiff
As carded wool.
My time, aging and moving
Carrying bits of memory;
When trolleys sparked
And asphalt was agitating.
Bend my days and cure
My soul
Let me lean into it.
Lend me clues, a green leaf
Into tomorrows yellow.
A cracked chestnut
A caressed nipple.
Take a son’s conversation
That leaves a line
Hung with wet laundry.
A missing button on a sun dress
Revealing. The crow on the wire
Waiting. Life in domino zags.
A sticker bush of yesterdays-
Rose full today.
The trees, yellow like
Lamp light before dark.
Cut grass with its smell
Windows that shine an autumn
Collage, reflecting moments
In a harvest moon.
You are either stressfully waiting for something—more money, security, affection—or you are living from your deep heart, opening as the entire moment, and giving what you most deeply desire to give, without waiting.
If you are waiting for anything in order to live and love without holding back, then you suffer.
Every moment is the most important moment of your life.
No future time is better than now to let down your guard and love.
Everything you do right now ripples outward and affects everyone.
Your posture can shine your heart or transmit anxiety.
Your breath can radiate love or muddy the room in depression.
Your glance can awaken joy.
Your words can inspire freedom.
Your every act can open hearts and minds.
Opening from heart to all, you live as a gift to all.
In every moment, you are either opening or closing.
Right now, you are choosing to open and give fully or you are waiting.
How does your choice feel?
David Deida, from 365 Nirvana, Here and Now by Josh Baran (as quoted on Tricycle)
All will be Revealed
Take my fathers rhymes
Add my mother’s gifts,
Give it to me, fresh
As home baked bread Strong
As an oak tree. Stiff
As carded wool.
My time, aging and moving
Carrying bits of memory;
When trolleys sparked
And asphalt was agitating.
Bend my days and cure
My soul
Let me lean into it.
Lend me clues, a green leaf
Into tomorrows yellow.
A cracked chestnut
A caressed nipple.
Take a son’s conversation
That leaves a line
Hung with wet laundry.
A missing button on a sun dress
Revealing. The crow on the wire
Waiting. Life in domino zags.
A sticker bush of yesterdays-
Rose full today.
The trees, yellow like
Lamp light before dark.
Cut grass with its smell
Windows that shine an autumn
Collage, reflecting moments
In a harvest moon.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Quote : Fred Astaire Poem TA Delmore
Fred Astaire said, "The higher up you go, the more mistakes you are allowed. Right at the top, if you make enough of them, it's considered to be your style."
Nesting Crow
The crow
through my window
only goes
left to right
south to north-
beak breaded with bits
of nest.
This is the season
of one direction
of erect
and earnest constitution.
the void of right
to left, north
to south is something
undiscovered-
maybe sensual.
Nesting Crow
The crow
through my window
only goes
left to right
south to north-
beak breaded with bits
of nest.
This is the season
of one direction
of erect
and earnest constitution.
the void of right
to left, north
to south is something
undiscovered-
maybe sensual.
Friday, May 2, 2008
Quote by: Tennessee Williams Poem by: TA Delmore
Tennessee Williams said, "I have found it easier to identify with the characters who verge upon hysteria, who were frightened of life, who were desperate to reach out to another person. But these seemingly fragile people are the strong people really."
55 Ford with Heavy Doors
I miss supermarket music
The ones absent of lyrics.
Elevator ditties
That hid my crying
Among carrots and beets.
Holding my thumb
As it throbbed to purple
Parents shopping
And talking. Dad’s hanky
On my wound. There was no
Move to the isle with Bactine
Or iodine.
Just another wound on the boy
That festers years later.
55 Ford with Heavy Doors
I miss supermarket music
The ones absent of lyrics.
Elevator ditties
That hid my crying
Among carrots and beets.
Holding my thumb
As it throbbed to purple
Parents shopping
And talking. Dad’s hanky
On my wound. There was no
Move to the isle with Bactine
Or iodine.
Just another wound on the boy
That festers years later.
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