Now

Love when things happen
when one hour is not like another;
when without conscious effort
you immerse yourself in the passing of time;
when what you do
matters and not just for you;
when you add value to the minute you live
by being there, in the NOW simply active

selma

http://news.duke.edu/2008/10/harvestofblossoms.html

selma was herself a flower
about to bloom like any other
but in her times the lives of many men
were rather short
and not all had
the chance to bloom
as nature meant.
she planned her blooming
with a pen on paper
writing what life would be like
what it was like, and where
her dreams would take her
if they could grow wings;
and very far indeed they took her.
today we've learned abut her joyful soul
selma's who would have been a grandma now
is young, and fresh as her poems' lines
have kept her
flying brave on the wings
of her very own dreams.

(Selma was born in the city where one of the greatest romanian poets Mihai Eminescu went to School - Cernauti)

mind

mind your own business
and mind the presence of others
be a part of their day
and guide them if they go astray

take care of the youngsters
and steer them to the straight old paths
or let them walk on a new one
but warn them if they risk to get bitten

talk to your friends
and talk to your neighbors
be aware that you are not really alone
but part of the whole

if the hand hurts, the arm suffers
if the foot it strong, the leg follows
we all are at times parts of one mechanism
we want rolling wholesome

when lonely times come think
about good deeds others have done onto us,
and how we touched -carefully,
the life of others - near us and strangers

quote of the day

and in the silent, sometimes hardly moving times
when something is coming near,
I want to be with those who know secret things
or else alone.
. . .
. . . I want to unfold.
I don't want to stay folded anywhere,
because where I am folded, there I am a lie.

- Rainer Maria Rilke

gray

love old people who have good memories of the past
even if it simply because they tender to you filtered events
they preserved in their memory's sieve
as the few golden sand grains of their times

love their gray hairs for it means wisdom earned hardly
under many sunshined and an equal number of rainy days;
loved their tired legs for they have walked up and down many paths
and many a days they held their children lovingly by their hands

without their images they bring to us from the past
how would we now know where today stands;
how would we trust that tomorrow will come for most of us
no matter what were the events we've seen on the news

no matter how many mistakes, no matter how many victories
there are things that can tip the balance
and we have to accept them and start walking right
towards the future they have promised to us, most of us

so better hold hands, better make friends
and kiss the old man sweetly and ask for their stories
get better for the sake of tomorrow
when you will be the gray haired ones.

quote of the day

"when hatred with its package comes
you forbid delivery!"
L Cohen

orange

image from altese.blogspot.com, courtesy of chickpea

I am gonna wear a happy color today
it may be orange
I am gonna sing
a cheerful song as if it always were spring

I am gonna climb like a monkey
on the highest tree
I am gonna be
as happy as an orange dressed woman can be

I am gonna give thanks for all presents
life gave me
for the chance I can take
and dance till I get out of my limited self
(and dance till I am free of my limited self)

growing up

how comes the older I get
the smaller I feel?
as fast and as strong as I am
I cannot get faster than light?

and what would happen
if however I could
run as fast as light does
can you please explain?

the more I think the less I seem to know
but my brain does grow
in every possible way
if I train it well everyday

perhaps it is since I've learned
that the world is so big
we don't know its limit
that I want to be able to push it.

One thing or two
I still want from you
and eternal supply of hugs
and kiss when you tuck me in bed

blogs

blogs are like houses
with open windows;
some let you look out
and open your eyes to the world;
and some have you whirled
into a self centered hangout

somebody asked

image from ToniGCappel.com
somebody asked
how can so much love
live in such a little room
clean and airy as it is?

and he moved in
a bigger house, accompanied
by the aroma of red flowers
from the little house's windows

stormy questions to Tilly Ipswitch

how does it feel?
to storm over the seas
tormenting the waves
who sing to the moon

how does it feel riding a broom
with a cat behind your back
shrieking a tune
at Halloween?

how would it feel pumpkin
to share your light in the night
sweeten your mind
cause it's all right

ascent

(this one to CTB and AAI)

this mountain I climbed
with no horizon in sight
under a ceiling of clouds
just because you held my hand

one step after another
on a path none that I know
ever tried - being afraid it was
to steep to enjoy - so why bother

little leaps we took
on white rocks
humid with sweat
while we were burning with thirst

I was getting ready
to complain about the pain
building in my body
as it was growing stronger

when we started to see flowers
confronting the wind
with a giggle; tiny shrubs
creeping close and stable to the ground

little creatures we did see
living their live joyfully
under a sky with brave vultures
waiting for pray

if this is the way they live;
we might as well
allow ourselves all the elation
brought by thin air

once we get above the clouds
we'll calmly breath and take in
the view of the sky, and the valley,
and wondrous things the trip has taught us

bitter sea

and why should I
love you bitter sea
when all you give back
in return for the memory
I slowly build in the sand
at your feet is a quick wash
with the wave of your hand;

perhaps you stay
beautiful always
cause you have no memory
no passion, but just enough salt
to keep the rest of us thirsty
and forgive you for the days
when you are angry and mad

heroic waltz

to my many boo booed heroes
a boo boo, a bruise and a scratch
on my leg, on my hand
on my head which looks like
and egg ready to hatch

a booo boo, a bruise and a scratch
have found their way on my tummy,
the only place I though safe
from their horrible army

the hands ..it must be the trees
I was climbing with my friend Elise
the legs ... the balls I was trying to get
from under the car of our vet

but the tummy?
mine was dedicated to things that are yummy
and now it displays
the wounds from mysterious falls

there is no place on my body
without a sign to show
what a brave child I am
there's no soap to erase them

no matter how hard I try
the heroic marks are here to stay
with me for the week so I better learn how to dance
with a boo boo, a bruise and a scratch

hey mom I have found
(and I am happy to say)
there a clean spot on my back
now can I go out and play?