The Birds Still Migrate in Formation. {poetry}
If fed and nourished, some birds stay in place. Even the small hummingbird can face the cold when fed and welcomed, avoiding the costs of exhaustion.
Browsing Category:
poetry
War-Words: Picture Frame in My Mind’s Eye. {poetry}
The war is over or is it? Do I know you as a dirty innocent thing yet? A discarded soft child forgotten by your god? A picture frame made of wilted flowers?
We’ve Become Crude: Our Common Tale of Woe. {poetry}
We’ve become boxers who bite opponents. We’ve become women who fail to report rape. We’ve become men who piss themselves. This is our common tale of woe.
I Am Learning to Hold All Things Gently. {poetry}
Loss and death just make room for fresh things, things that sometimes we understand and sometimes we don’t. Darling, stay open, let your heart grow.
Nanny State Blues: A Dystopian Fantasy. {poetry}
Nathan dumped his state-dispensed 4 oz. Jolly cup designed for kale and fish egg smoothies and guzzled home brew instead.
It Is That Time of the Year Again. {prose poetry}
It is the end of the year in which you were reminded of what it was, how it was, how it felt, how it shaped your understanding of today.
The Miscarriage: Ebba’s Woe Is in Us All. {Poetry}
Ebba looked into the white ground, gleaming back at her like a dish of salt, the only reflection she saw being her sorrow.
Celestial Eyes: Memory of Encounters Past. {poetry}
I’ve always believed in some sort of ‘meant to be’, and by that, I mean that there is more to our encounters than meets the eye.
For Idoru: The Turquoise City Girl. {poetry}
I raise my head and I meet the most beautiful turquoise color there is in the Universe, spread throughout the skies above my city.
Coincidences Are Not Coincidences: My Shadow and I. {poetry}
I must face my shadow side if I am to evolve into what the Bodhisattva poet-warrior of loving kindness 7th-century Buddhist monk Shantideva describes below.
!["You must have a room, or a certain hour or so a day, where you don’t know what was in the newspapers that morning, you don’t know who your friends are, you don’t know what you owe anybody, you don’t know what anybody owes to you. This is a place where you can simply experience and bring forth what you are and what you might be. This is the place of creative incubation. At first you may find that nothing happens there. But if you have a sacred place and use it, something eventually will happen. […]
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Our life has become so economic and practical in its orientation that, as you get older, the claims of the moment upon you are so great, you hardly know where the hell you are, or what it is you intended. You are always doing something that is required of you. Where is your bliss station? You have to try to find it." #JosephCampbell #RebelleSociety
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Happy Monday, Rebel! What's your bliss station today? ❤](http://scontent-dfw5-1.cdninstagram.com/v/t51.2885-15/sh0.08/e35/s640x640/80006255_3335064936520499_8943008855071934994_n.jpg?_nc_ht=scontent-dfw5-1.cdninstagram.com&_nc_cat=111&_nc_ohc=umoLYSkrrvgAX_--6em&oh=e218663f0cd24fc9587068cea7433832&oe=5EA27128 "\"You must have a room, or a certain hour or so a day, where you don’t know what was in the newspapers that morning, you don’t know who your friends are, you don’t know what you owe anybody, you don’t know what anybody owes to you. This is a place where you can simply experience and bring forth what you are and what you might be. This is the place of creative incubation. At first you may find that nothing happens there. But if you have a sacred place and use it, something eventually will happen. […]
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Our life has become so economic and practical in its orientation that, as you get older, the claims of the moment upon you are so great, you hardly know where the hell you are, or what it is you intended. You are always doing something that is required of you. Where is your bliss station? You have to try to find it.\" #JosephCampbell #RebelleSociety
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Happy Monday, Rebel! What's your bliss station today? ❤")
