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Poetry for the soul
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Rose
Posted 5/28/2008 10:19 AM (#6041 - in reply to #5403)
Subject: RE: Poetry for the soul



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Love the poems Paul, hope all is well with you. I saw the names of your two sons.

I've always adored the name Joshua. In parts of California Joshua trees grow prevalently. Don't know quite why but I've always found them both interesting and beautiful. The name seems to suit them fine.
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Tracy Martin
Posted 5/28/2008 10:57 PM (#6060 - in reply to #323)
Subject: RE: Poetry for the soul



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Wonderful poems on here! So, I thought I'd give it a try and wrote this tonight. Just meanderings.


These thoughts i mull over so thoughtlessly
deliciously struggling in a wave of emotion
sometimes get dogmatic
all my questioned and unquestioned beliefs
chatter away endlessly,
another captivating episode.
And there You are!
Talking to me, smiling at me from within my own chest.
Your love and laughter explode in me
You become me.
Expanding and clearing my heart, mind, and body,
freeing me from suffering.
In This Moment
it's alright to love, to have hope and trust
it's alright to be gentle, open, and present
it's alright to be me
it's alright to be You.
Oh, my Ocean of Joy!
Life and death are specks in your hand!
I surrender to my Self smiling.


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instinctual
Posted 5/28/2008 11:11 PM (#6061 - in reply to #323)
Subject: RE: Poetry for the soul



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I love that! It's so permissive and joyous!
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sunflower
Posted 5/29/2008 1:27 AM (#6063 - in reply to #6060)
Subject: RE: Poetry for the soul


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tracey,that is so beutiful,and meaninful,straight from the heart,i love it,please write some more if you may want to,cos i want to hear it,i can connect with it,thankyou,it was the first thing i clicked on,warm thoughts,luv iris xxx
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Paul Joseph
Posted 5/29/2008 4:09 AM (#6064 - in reply to #6041)
Subject: RE: Poetry for the soul



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Rose - isn;t the Joshua Tree one of the oldest in the world ? Thanks & love to you & EVeryone here.

Tracy, Sunflower, Instinctual - quite so, fascinating poem and poems ...

Poetry as a concept is something for me magical because, not least, the origin of the word, poem, is 'to make'; and as i mentioned elsewhere, 'in the beginign was the Word'; so when we poetize, it seems to me, we are 'doing what God does', emulating her/him, which I feel is what S/He wants for us.

xxxx
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Tracy Martin
Posted 5/29/2008 12:22 PM (#6134 - in reply to #323)
Subject: RE: Poetry for the soul



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Thanks everyone. I don't often share these kinds of writings. They are a kind of personal inner dialogue, that rambles and draws me closer to identifying with higher Self. More like a diary or a journal. Last night I felt that inner connection in a vibrant way, so, out popped the dialogue. When the words end, it is even more blissful.
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instinctual
Posted 5/29/2008 12:40 PM (#6135 - in reply to #323)
Subject: RE: Poetry for the soul



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Nicely said Tracy. You and others have inspired me to dabble....I think I will let it flow out of me and hopefully will be brave enough to share it here, just like you all do.

Speaking of Joshua trees- we just bought this old tank of a typical adobe style home in Tucson a few years back, and shading my pool, rumor has it, is a 100 +year old Joshua. This amazing creature, and I call it that because it is so alive, with such a personality has several very thick limbs that are as thick as double the diameter of say, a telephone pole, and they all droop and sway and overlap down and up around each other, like enormous elephant trunks with bursts of fronded tops. I have to get a picture of this amazing gift on here for you all to see what I mean!
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Paul Joseph
Posted 5/30/2008 10:57 AM (#6172 - in reply to #6135)
Subject: RE: Poetry for the soul



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Ahh Lori - another example of those things of magic that reside undiscovered on our own doorsteps ... (until we trip over them - Ha ha!)

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Tracy Martin
Posted 5/30/2008 10:59 AM (#6173 - in reply to #323)
Subject: RE: Poetry for the soul



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Please do post a picture Lori. It sounds like a poem!
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sunflower
Posted 6/3/2008 9:39 AM (#6304 - in reply to #6064)
Subject: RE: Poetry for the soul


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hi all,tracey,i wish you,d write somemore poems,they come straight from your soul,and are beutiful.Pj,i think poetry says whats inside us,at that time,through the many stages of life we go through,it shows our innermost soul,and is cleansing,almost a self healing if you like,Its as though through the words we write,when we look back,we see the progress we have made,and how we have healed,or where we need to concentrate on next,spirit wise,mind,body,spirit soul,i beleive we have help,our guradian angel perhaps,at our side,when the words or thoughts come into our minds,to help us on our journey.I wrote a poem years ago,at a time in my life when things were going wild for me,and i had lost my way,my son too was in a dark place in his mind,so i wrote it for the both of us,i hope you would like to share,love and hugs,iris xxx

THE JIGSAW PUZZLE OF LIFE
life,s a jigsaw puzzle
with peices hard to find
we go through many troubled times
we sometimes lose our mind
for every door that closes
there,s always one ajar
through every troubled journey
you,ll see the light not far
just remember one thing
we,re never on our own
each time we find a jigsaw piece
a part of us has grown
we each have our own journey
to complete it as we may
but there,s always a tomorrow
what you can,t solve today
its not a race we,re running
to see who gets there first
its trials and tribulations
its hunger and its thirst
its about the loved ones round us
whom we forget when times are low
its the loving outstreched hand of hope
from a stranger we don,t know
but one thing is for certain
don,t bow down in defeat
as when we join in love and peace
the jigsaw is complete.

love to all,hi marty,love your cats,theyre so huggable,iris,love and hugs xxx
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instinctual
Posted 6/3/2008 9:57 AM (#6305 - in reply to #323)
Subject: RE: Poetry for the soul



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Good morning Iris (Or afternoon, as the case may be)-
That poem is so beautiful. It is so beautiful....You have a gift...you tune into the space between your thoughts as I refer to in my work and hence my website...and you have the ability to stay in that space with light, your own Light, and as scary as things become, you just seem to beam your love into it- I admire that, and I admire you..
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sunflower
Posted 6/3/2008 10:26 AM (#6308 - in reply to #323)
Subject: RE: Poetry for the soul


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hi lori,good afternoon here,thankyou,you no,i feel a very strong connection with you,its good.I,d love to hear some poetry of yours,i just know it will be full of meaning,i look forward to it,love and hugs to you,iris xxx
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Paul Joseph
Posted 7/7/2008 7:55 AM (#6910 - in reply to #323)
Subject: RE: Poetry for the soul



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Location: United Kingdom
For the poetry afficianados, happened upon a site that can be subscribed to, called 'Poem of the Day'; subscribe and each day you get a wonderful poem sent to your inbox, most with spiritual meaning (not sure of the exact web-address, but I guess one just Google's it).
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sunflower
Posted 7/8/2008 2:33 AM (#6924 - in reply to #323)
Subject: RE: Poetry for the soul


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bit like the history books you are so fond of mmm,all in the past,most made uup,and with justa grain of truth etc,ec etc.i would love to hear a poem from you,from your heart,like what is in it today,this moment of time,i,m sure there is great love and much insight there,please do so,i look forward.
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searching
Posted 7/9/2008 11:53 AM (#6948 - in reply to #323)
Subject: RE: Poetry for the soul



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i cant recall where i heard this but it has always stuck with me..
True love is not loveing something or someone that is perfect...
But loveing something or someone that is imperfect, perfectly...
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Tracy Martin
Posted 7/9/2008 12:17 PM (#6950 - in reply to #323)
Subject: RE: Poetry for the soul



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For Marty with appreciation for his heart felt encouragement and enthusiasm.         

                                                Old Woman of Mad River Road

The old woman chose to name herself Dreamer in order to tie herself to dreams for a time. Dreamer went deep into the darkness of her own mind, leaving behind the cottage on the shore, the garden, and the cries in the starry night. She stared past spirits swirling relentlessly in her thoughts. She watched stars fall from heaven. She watched many lifetimes dance their stories and adventures. She felt despair like a thick smothering place in impenetrable blackness. She felt passion, power, and joy like lightning bolts which she hurled into the dark. She spread herself out around the world, and in her belly and heart: suffering and joy, life and death, pain and pleasure melted.

Until she felt nothing, saw nothing, and sank into the deepest darkest ocean of nothing, where she remained silent and still for a long, long time.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the morning 15 year old Blue woke startled by the sound of crows outside the window. She lay still, listening hard past the low rhythmic hum of the surf in the distance, hoping that she would not be discovered. She held her breath listening. She had been walking for a long time in a fierce wind and thickly pounding rain and found the cottage after sunset. The door was open slightly and inside it was warm and dry. She had carefully watched and listened long enough. The cottage was empty. She looked around briefly, but her need for sleep in that thick quilted bed could not be denied. She slept like a log. Now she relaxed again, feeling that she was still alone and safe, and began looking around the room.

There were many jars of herbs, flowers, vegetables, and liquids of many colors and hues. There were bundles of herbs hanging from the roof beams. Blue had never seen so many jars and bottles and containers in one place and yet it felt familiar and comforting. Her nose filled with the aroma of a small bundle of lavender lying next to her pillow. She let it fill her mind and body and felt her aching muscles relax a bit. She was sore, figuring she had walked at least ten hours yesterday. She dreaded looking at her feet.

Hunger finally caused her to drag herself out of bed and put her feet gingerly on the floor. Not too bad! She headed for a bowl of apples and picked one. There was a sudden shuffling noise from the floor at the end of the wooden counter. She froze. Out stepped a funny looking bird, with brown and white tail feathers that pointed straight up. It was not the kind of bird one would find on the Coast, looking more like a giant quail. It shuffled in a little circle and made a cooing sound.

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searching
Posted 7/9/2008 12:44 PM (#6952 - in reply to #323)
Subject: RE: Poetry for the soul



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i sit here alone with many hours behind and many more ahead...
i dont do as i should, but belive in my dream instead...

many times have i dreamt it, the life i so desire...
but i sit here with a heavy heart, knowing ill be burned by the fire...

i'm a dreamer, a searcher, and i dare to belive...
but this dream i chase i have yet to achieve...

a dream is an image of what we want to own...
i sit here with its pain, it chills to the bone...

if we are ever to have this dream we must chance all and allow it to fly...
but i am afraid, i fear it will pass me by...

if my dream was before me and had fleash for me to touch...
i would touch it ever so gently, and hold it oh so much...

but it is a dream, it hides only in my mind...
is it real, is it even mine to find???

A dreamers poem.
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sunflower
Posted 7/11/2008 3:19 AM (#7001 - in reply to #6952)
Subject: RE: Poetry for the soul


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hi all,searching,i love your words,it speaks of what is in your heart.We are all searchers,we all have dreams,i think you are further along the path than you beleive yourself to be,but fear is holding you back,don,t let it.just be you,your perfect as you are,love and hugs,irisxxx
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Paul Joseph
Posted 7/11/2008 6:35 AM (#7010 - in reply to #7001)
Subject: RE: Poetry for the soul



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Location: United Kingdom
THE SEEKERS

John Masefield

Friends and loves we have none, nor wealth nor blessed abode,
But the hope of the City of God at the other end of the road.

Not for us are content, and quiet, and peace of mind,
For we go seeking a city that we shall never find.

There is no solace on earth for us--for such as we--
Who search for a hidden city that we shall never see.

Only the road and the dawn, the sun, the wind, and the rain,
And the watch-fire under stars, and sleep, and the road again.

We seek the City of God, and the haunt where beauty dwells,
And we find the noisy mart and the sound of burial bells.

Never the golden city, where radiant people meet,
But the dolorous town where mourners are going about the street.

We travel the dusty road till the light of the day is dim,
And sunset shows us spires away on the world’s rim.

We travel from dawn to dusk, till the day is past and by,
Seeking the Holy City beyond the rim of the sky.

Friends and loves we have none, nor wealth nor blest abode,
But the hope of the City of God at the other end of the road.


(sorry - way back on this thread I see that I had posted If not realizing it had been posted much earlier .... just shows what happens when we don;t check pervious threads/posts before opsting - as I did here, to make sure I hadn't put this on already; the memory of it has been evoked by recent threads elsewhere)
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Paul Joseph
Posted 7/11/2008 6:35 AM (#7011 - in reply to #7001)
Subject: RE: Poetry for the soul



PhD Alumni

20002000100100
Location: United Kingdom
THE SEEKERS

John Masefield

Friends and loves we have none, nor wealth nor blessed abode,
But the hope of the City of God at the other end of the road.

Not for us are content, and quiet, and peace of mind,
For we go seeking a city that we shall never find.

There is no solace on earth for us--for such as we--
Who search for a hidden city that we shall never see.

Only the road and the dawn, the sun, the wind, and the rain,
And the watch-fire under stars, and sleep, and the road again.

We seek the City of God, and the haunt where beauty dwells,
And we find the noisy mart and the sound of burial bells.

Never the golden city, where radiant people meet,
But the dolorous town where mourners are going about the street.

We travel the dusty road till the light of the day is dim,
And sunset shows us spires away on the world’s rim.

We travel from dawn to dusk, till the day is past and by,
Seeking the Holy City beyond the rim of the sky.

Friends and loves we have none, nor wealth nor blest abode,
But the hope of the City of God at the other end of the road.


(sorry - way back on this thread I see that I had posted If not realizing it had been posted much earlier .... just shows what happens when we don;t check pervious threads/posts before opsting - as I did here, to make sure I hadn't put this on already; the memory of it has been evoked by recent threads elsewhere)
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Paul Joseph
Posted 7/11/2008 6:36 AM (#7013 - in reply to #7001)
Subject: RE: Poetry for the soul



PhD Alumni

20002000100100
Location: United Kingdom
THE SEEKERS

John Masefield

Friends and loves we have none, nor wealth nor blessed abode,
But the hope of the City of God at the other end of the road.

Not for us are content, and quiet, and peace of mind,
For we go seeking a city that we shall never find.

There is no solace on earth for us--for such as we--
Who search for a hidden city that we shall never see.

Only the road and the dawn, the sun, the wind, and the rain,
And the watch-fire under stars, and sleep, and the road again.

We seek the City of God, and the haunt where beauty dwells,
And we find the noisy mart and the sound of burial bells.

Never the golden city, where radiant people meet,
But the dolorous town where mourners are going about the street.

We travel the dusty road till the light of the day is dim,
And sunset shows us spires away on the world’s rim.

We travel from dawn to dusk, till the day is past and by,
Seeking the Holy City beyond the rim of the sky.

Friends and loves we have none, nor wealth nor blest abode,
But the hope of the City of God at the other end of the road.


(sorry - way back on this thread I see that I had posted If, by Rudyard Kipling, not realizing it had been posted much earlier .... just shows what happens when we don;t check pervious threads/posts before posting - as I did here, to make sure I hadn't put this on already; the memory of it has been evoked by recent threads elsewhere)
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Paul Joseph
Posted 7/11/2008 6:37 AM (#7014 - in reply to #7001)
Subject: RE: Poetry for the soul



PhD Alumni

20002000100100
Location: United Kingdom
THE SEEKERS

John Masefield

Friends and loves we have none, nor wealth nor blessed abode,
But the hope of the City of God at the other end of the road.

Not for us are content, and quiet, and peace of mind,
For we go seeking a city that we shall never find.

There is no solace on earth for us--for such as we--
Who search for a hidden city that we shall never see.

Only the road and the dawn, the sun, the wind, and the rain,
And the watch-fire under stars, and sleep, and the road again.

We seek the City of God, and the haunt where beauty dwells,
And we find the noisy mart and the sound of burial bells.

Never the golden city, where radiant people meet,
But the dolorous town where mourners are going about the street.

We travel the dusty road till the light of the day is dim,
And sunset shows us spires away on the world’s rim.

We travel from dawn to dusk, till the day is past and by,
Seeking the Holy City beyond the rim of the sky.

Friends and loves we have none, nor wealth nor blest abode,
But the hope of the City of God at the other end of the road.


(sorry - way back on this thread I see that I had posted If, by Rudyard Kipling, not realizing it had been posted much earlier .... just shows what happens when we don;t check pervious threads/posts before posting - as I did here, to make sure I hadn't put this on already; the memory of it has been evoked by recent threads elsewhere)
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Tracy Ann
Posted 7/11/2008 10:27 AM (#7055 - in reply to #323)
Subject: RE: Poetry for the soul



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Posts: 48
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Joy and Sorrow chapter VIII


Then a woman said, "Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow."

And he answered:

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.

And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.

And how else can it be?

The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.

Is not the cup that hold your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?

And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."

But I say unto you, they are inseparable.

Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.

Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.

When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

Khalil Gibran

Im kinda into this guy at the moment. Bear with me. Tis a phase Im going through
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Paul Joseph
Posted 7/11/2008 10:39 AM (#7060 - in reply to #323)
Subject: RE: Poetry for the soul



PhD Alumni

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Location: United Kingdom
No need to apologise. It's beautiful. Timeless and good to be reminded of.

Joy and Sorrow about in the poem If

'if you can meet with triumph and disaster and treat those two imposters just the same'
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instinctual
Posted 7/11/2008 11:17 AM (#7068 - in reply to #323)
Subject: RE: Poetry for the soul



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Tracy Ann, thx for turning me onto this guy...I have only ever heard of him, never really did much of the readings, so lovely-In fact I have a book of his work on my book shelf, and never even cracked it open, it is begging me to do so now.

Have a lovely day down there!

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