That time of day where words are not required…silence carries a life of its own. The homeless man whose weary feet, too heavy to continue, marks a spot to rest an hour or five. The rush hour street car groans its morning tune…his lullaby.
Heros of the night who keep watch for those where pain and suffering visit at two in the morning..nursing homes, hospitals, police stations, helplines…winding down their long day seeing flashes of their comfy bed mingled with the trauma they just witnessed. No words…just thoughts, visions…turning into a steady hum.
Stray cats seek a dry abode, giving chirping critters the eye that says it all. Birds chant their morning praise, feeling lucky to be alive… singing melodies of joy, hoping to see that worm raise its lovely head…
Bakeries and coffee shops are already ready to help mankind jump-start the day.
Mornings are such a foreign thing to her. So, this is how the other half lives …some starting their day and others winding down. She, falls in between …feels as if she is always trying to catch up…
April showers seem so adorable in children’s books with poems and chants that rhyme as children skip to school. In the city, it means cleansing of streets, playgrounds and lawns. However, some may look at their back yard with dismay
Tossing and turning her thoughts kept her up. She finally gave in and started writing her thoughts. Today was International Women’s Day and although she often jokes that it is the world getting prepared to wish her Happy Birthday the following day, it means a lot to her. She thought of her mother, her grandmother, her teachers and amazing women who taught her so much. And started writing this…
SHE taught me so much and more…
SHE taught me so much!
she taught me that crying for help
someone would be there always
she taught me touching and hugging
makes it [almost] all go away
she taught me a smile
will get me so much more
and a polite thank you too
she taught me fashion
from head to toe, and that
beauty at any age
must never be rationed
she taught me to read and write
and with so much patience
to read the words ever slowly
that told so many stories
she encouraged me to tell
the stories of those who could not speak
to trust in my pen
and write forgotten tales
she taught me to laugh out loud
flaunt my senseless essence
but also to know when to be quiet
when conflict was present
she taught me to believe
in myself and that would take me far
she taught me love can be beautiful
if only I loved myself more by far
she taught me the gift of giving
and how it returned with so much more
she taught me that killing one with kindness
was better than fighting any day
she taught me to see those who suffer
but not with my eyes
to hear with my heart
and care with my soul
she taught me to be strong
because women
have always carried burdens
for eons of time
she taught me the shadow
at times is a safer place to lead
to model what most speak
is learned so much more
she taught me never to give up
to learn each and every day
was like prevention
chasing the demons away
she taught me chubby or skinny
are women’s distinct beauty
in all different shapes
she taught me to pray
and believe
and never lose hope
if ever I went astray
the Great Spirit was there
she taught me diligence
and hard work
the fuel in meeting my goals
that the journey takes paths
different for each and everyone
she taught me the darkness
was a sign to stop and rest
to lick my old wounds
and heal in good time
the sun would appear
when my scars would form
each and every one
who have touched me
along the way have taught me!
that I am woman, and yes,
I am different than man
and so very much more
and proud to be woman!
(c) Clr ‘157Amma, Mom, GrandMaman
not a day goes by
looking up at the sky – without
thanking her
I have also been watching old war movies where masses revolt in the name of solidarity and fairness. This makes me think of my encounters with workplace disputes in the past 30 years…yes, a little more than 30 but let’s leave it at that out of vanity. [snickers]
behind their masks
pretense of brotherhood
hidden agendas
behind their masks
screaming justice for all
texture of envy
pretense of brotherhood
renouncing authority
all for one, one for all
hidden agendas
lusting for power
polarity rules
Are there ever winners in workplace disputes? What does management seek? What does staff want? Are there a few isolated incidents or has it become an unhealthy workplace environment? There are never any easy answers. Each side holds his cards closely to the chest and the games ensue.
I don’t think things have changed that much since the ‘70’s. Well, yes, for women they have…indeed they certainly have even if there is still room to improve but that is life is it not?
Is it not our goal to always push ourselves to be the best person that we are? Is it not a desire to personally reach some form of clarity, enlightenment…nirvana? Well, okay, that is a bit much but older readers will certainly be bobbing their heads and agree that that is really all one can do…the best that you can. Ultimately, ask yourself, really, are you doing the best that you feel you really can? If someone would offer you a 40% increase in salary to do better, what would you change? That answer will say a lot…
This morning I read this prompt hoping to have inspiration for the entire day. My intention was to write something later in the week after my work shift late in the night. But, the words of our host, Chèvrefeuille already teased my muse that I had to write something before I left for work.
[“What has this to do with the poem for today? Well … what can I say? In the peom of today Rumi is speaking about “existence” and with that came my “revalation” to tell you a little bit about existentialism, because that was the first thing I thought about. Maybe that’s just a coincedence, because I am reading Nietzsche’s “Also Sprach Zarathustra” at the moment, one of Nietzsche’s most famous works. And existence triggered me to look at existentialism …¸”
our host has written a beautiful haiku in response to this theme:
a game of chess played in the shadow of lion banners – the wind unseen
This reminded me when I chant in the spring, summer and autumn, I seem to see the trees, flowers and grass responding to my words as I walk. Here is my contribution to this post:
Being a water sign she has always felt closely related to the water. As a teenager, she remembers writing an essay about swimming on Lake Champlain where she spent many summers in Vermont. But this time, she did not swim across to the point of the island to rest on the floating pier. This time, she just swam until she could no longer keep her head above water and her favourite mode of swimming was under water. In her essay, she writes how she gets close to the fish, the rocks the discarded bottle at the bottom of the lake. The fish swim past her but some swim along her and she becomes one with the water.
The naïve part of the essay was that she let herself drown. She was too young to realize that she didn’t have to drown to be part of the water and nature. She knows now when she is sailing on a catamaran, she is part of the wind with her jib, with the hull, part of the swell of the water.
Just as when she swam underwater, she is part of more than the water, even when she is sitting on a rock by the riverside she is part of the trees and the sun that dries her cheeks…
by the riverside water splashes on her feet minnows delight
rumble of rapids gulls’ screaming – emotions freed to her heartbeat cascading with intention spilling over dams
Tournesol dans un Jardin 