Monday, January 23, 2012

Truth

Mind and spirit together make up that which separates us from the rest of the animal world, that which enables a man to know the truth and that which enables him to die for the truth.-EdithHamilton




What you (really) need to know...is that I miss you.
What I (sort-of) want to say....is that I'll wait.
What you (absolutely) need to learn...is that I love you.
What I (kind of) want to do....is say I'm sorry.


No.


In fact,


I positively pine.
I will surely stay.
I actually adore you and truly, I apologize.





submitting at Jingle Poetry

Sunday, January 22, 2012

What one will and won't accept

Maturity involves being honest and true to oneself, making decisions based on a conscious internal process, assuming responsibility for one's decisions, having healthy relationships with others and developing one's own true gifts. It involves thinking about one's environment and deciding what one will and won't accept.
-mary pipher






Source: flickr.com via Nicole on Pinterest

Saturday, January 21, 2012

holiness

To desire and expect nothing for oneself—and to have profound sympathy for others—is genuine holiness.


-IvanTurganev


Source: piccsy.com via Nicole on Pinterest

Friday, January 20, 2012

At thirty years a woman asks her lover to give her back the esteem she has forfeited for his sake; she lives only for him, her thoughts are full of his future, he must have a great career, she bids him make it glorious; she can obey, entreat, command, humble herself, or rise in pride; times without number she brings comfort when a young girl can only make moan.
-Honore de Balzac



Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Monday, January 16, 2012

Seen from

Last night felt new, somehow.
  As though, emerging – a form of life, yet, before unseen.
Could it be?
Can I believe the power of your embrace, the truth
         I thought I saw reflected back at me?
                               Repetitive.  Déjà vu.
                                       It seemed.  But it was not. 
                                       It was new.
Parallel with counterpart,
brotherhood and metaphor
for……
what?
    A movement so combined, so intertwined, a waltz, memorized
but new,
delineating
         a memoir,
the story of
         our history, the future,
new and old.
Invisible yet palpable and seen from eyes that know, that want, that feel, that are   their own and yet a pair.
Sway.
Stay.
Receive anew.





submitting at Jingle Poetry

Sunday, January 15, 2012

That which is not

But a compassion for that which is not and cannot be useful and lovely, is degrading and futile.  - Ralph Waldo Emerson


Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Only Choice

That would be waving and that would be crying,
Crying and shouting and meaning farewell,
Farewell in the eyes and farewell at the centre,
Just to stand still without moving a hand.

-Wallace Stevens



Tuesday, January 10, 2012

"... Farewell then,
Until, under a better sky
We may meet expended, for just doing it
Is only an excuse. We need the tether
Of entering each other's lives, eyes wide apart, crying."


-John Ashbery

Monday, January 2, 2012

The Hope I Have

I don’t believe in fairytales anymore. 
I no longer see you as my savior and I can’t excogitate some story where you’re a hero.
         So take your knight-errantry, your white horse and find 
                                                    another damsel in distress.
Because the saga’s ending here. 
                  This year.
                            And the hope I have, now rests inside of me. 






"It was one of those evenings where men feel that truth, goodness and beauty are one. In the morning, when they commit their discovery to paper,when others read it written there, it looks wholly ridiculous."-Aldous Huxley


submitting at Gooseberry Garden

Sunday, January 1, 2012

vain

It is vain to expect virtue from women till they are, in some degree, independent of men ... Whilst they are absolutely dependent on their husbands they will be cunning, mean, and selfish, and the men who can be gratified by the fawning fondness of spaniel-like affection, have not much delicacy, for love is not to be bought, in any sense of the words, its silken wings are instantly shriveled up when any thing beside a return in kind is sought.
–Mary Wollstonecraft