Last entry

Thank you all for reading this blog over the last two years. 

Today will be the last entry. 
It was a fun experiment for me. 
Time simply prevents me from continuing. 
So with a heavy sigh I say good-bye.


Thank you.  Good-bye.

The Rain-bow by Thomas Love Peacock

The Rain-bow

By Thomas Love Peacock

 

The day has pass’d in storms, though not unmix’d
With transitory calm.   The western clouds,
Dissolving slow, unveil the glorious sun,
Majestic in decline.   The wat’ry east
Glows with the many-tinted arch of Heav’n.
We hail it as a pledge that brighter skies
Shall bless the coming morn.   Thus rolls the day,
The short dark day of life;   with tempests thus,
And fleeting sun-shine chequer’d.   At its close,
When the dread hour draws near, that bursts all ties,
All commerce with the world, Religion pours
Hope’s fairy-colors on the virtuous mind,
And, like the rain-bow on the ev’ning clouds,
Gives the bright promise that a happier dawn
Shall chase the night and silence of the grave.

The Pulley by George Herbert

The Pulley

By George Herbert

 

  When God at first made man,

Having a glass of blessings standing by,

"Let us,” said he, “pour on him all we can.
Let the world’s riches, which dispersèd lie,
   Contract into a span.”
 
   So strength first made a way;
Then beauty flowed, then wisdom, honour, pleasure.
When almost all was out, God made a stay,
Perceiving that, alone of all his treasure,
   Rest in the bottom lay.
 
   “For if I should,” said he,
“Bestow this jewel also on my creature,
He would adore my gifts instead of me,
And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature;
   So both should losers be.

 

   “Yet let him keep the rest,

But keep them with repining restlessness;

Let him be rich and weary, that at least,

If goodness lead him not, yet weariness

   May toss him to my breast.”

Cycles by Annella Grayce

Cycles

By Annella Grayce

 

                    Spring

Winter                            Summer

                   Autumn

 

                   Sunrise

Midnight                         Noon

                   Sunset

 

Light            Dark

Hot              Cold

Life             Death

 

Cycles go round and round

Life goes up and down

It’s all just waiting to . . . lived            enjoyed        discovered

                                      squandered   wasted         ignored

The choice is yours.  Choose wisely

Born Like the Pines by: James Ephrain McGirt

Born Like the Pines

By:  James Ephrain McGirt

 

Born like the pines to sing,

   The harp and song in m’ breast,

Though far and near,

There’s none to hear,

I’ll sing as th’ winds request.

 

To tell the trend of m’ lay,

   Is not for th’ harp or me;

I’m only to know,

From the winds that blow,

What th’ theme of m’ song shall be.

 

Born like the pines to sing,

   The harp and th’ song in m’ breast,

As th’ winds sweep by,

I’ll laugh or cry,

In th’ winds I cannot rest.

 

The Tree by Anne Finch

The Tree

By:  Anne Finch, Countess of Winchilsea

 

Fair tree! for thy delightful shade

'Tis just that some return be made;

Sure some return is due from me

To thy cool shadows, and to thee.

When thou to birds dost shelter give,

Thou music dost from them receive;

If travellers beneath thee stay

Till storms have worn themselves away,

That time in praising thee they spend

And thy protecting pow'r commend.

The shepherd here, from scorching freed,

Tunes to thy dancing leaves his reed;

Whilst his lov'd nymph, in thanks, bestows

Her flow'ry chaplets on thy boughs.

Shall I then only silent be,

And no return be made by me?

No; let this wish upon thee wait,

And still to flourish be thy fate.

To future ages may'st thou stand

Untouch'd by the rash workman's hand,

Till that large stock of sap is spent,

Which gives thy summer's ornament;

Till the fierce winds, that vainly strive

To shock thy greatness whilst alive,

Shall on thy lifeless hour attend,

Prevent the axe, and grace thy end;

Their scatter'd strength together call

And to the clouds proclaim thy fall;

Who then their ev'ning dews may spare

When thou no longer art their care,

But shalt, like ancient heroes, burn,

And some bright hearth be made thy urn.

Cold v Warm by Annella Grayce

Cold v Warm

By Annella Grayce

 

Cold is harsh

Warm is inviting

Cold is penetrating

Warm is welcome

Cold is hard

Warm is comforting

Cold is unwanted

Warm is enveloping

Cold is only one season

Warm is the rest of the year

The Sound of Trees by Robert Frost

The Sound of Trees
By Robert Frost

I wonder about the trees.

Why do we wish to bear
Forever the noise of these
More than another noise
So close to our dwelling place?
We suffer them by the day
Till we lose all measure of pace,
And fixity in our joys,
And acquire a listening air.
They are that that talks of going
But never gets away;
And that talks no less for knowing,
As it grows wiser and older,
That now it means to stay.
My feet tug at the floor
And my head sways to my shoulder
Sometimes when I watch trees sway,
From the window or the door.
I shall set forth for somewhere,
I shall make the reckless choice
Some day when they are in voice
And tossing so as to scare
The white clouds over them on.
I shall have less to say,
But I shall be gone.

Dust of Snow by Robert Frost

Dust of Snow
By Robert Frost

The way a crow

Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart

A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.

 

Bright Star by John Keats

Bright Star
By John Keats

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art—

         Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
         Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
         Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
         Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—
No—yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
         Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
         Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever—or else swoon to death.

Rain by Annella Grayce

Rain
By Annella Grayce

Soaking

Steady
Downpour
Sheets
Horizontal
Buckets
Torrential
Flooding
 
Rain falls in many ways
          but up

Light Shining out of Darkness by William Cowper

Light Shining out of Darkness
By William Cowper

1

God moves in a mysterious way,
      His wonders to perform;
He plants his footsteps in the sea,
      And rides upon the storm.

2

Deep in unfathomable mines
      Of never-failing skill,
He treasures up his bright designs,
      And works his sov'reign will.

3

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take,
      The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
      In blessings on your head.

4

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
      But trust him for his grace;
Behind a frowning providence
      He hides a smiling face.

5

His purposes will ripen fast,
      Unfolding ev'ry hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
      But sweet will be the flow'r.

6

Blind unbelief is sure to err,
      And scan his work in vain;
God is his own interpreter,
      And he will make it plain. 1

God moves in a mysterious way,       His wonders to perform; He plants his footsteps in the sea,       And rides upon the storm.  2 Deep in unfathomable mines       Of never-failing skill, He treasures up his bright designs,       And works his sov'reign will.  3 Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take,       The clouds ye so much dread Are big with mercy, and shall break       In blessings on your head.  4 Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,       But trust him for his grace; Behind a frowning providence       He hides a smiling face.  5 His purposes will ripen fast,       Unfolding ev'ry hour; The bud may have a bitter taste,       But sweet will be the flow'r.  6 Blind unbelief is sure to err,       And scan his work in vain; God is his own interpreter,       And he will make it plain.

The Human Seasons by John Keats

The Human Seasons
By John Keats

Four Seasons fill the measure of the year;

     There are four seasons in the mind of man:
He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear
     Takes in all beauty with an easy span:
He has his Summer, when luxuriously
     Spring's honied cud of youthful thought he loves
To ruminate, and by such dreaming high
     Is nearest unto heaven: quiet coves
His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings
     He furleth close; contented so to look
On mists in idleness—to let fair things
     Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook.
He has his Winter too of pale misfeature,
Or else he would forego his mortal nature.

October by Robert Frost

October
By Robert Frost

O hushed October morning mild,

Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;
Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild,
Should waste them all.
The crows above the forest call;
Tomorrow they may form and go.
O hushed October morning mild,
Begin the hours of this day slow.
Make the day seem to us less brief.
Hearts not averse to being beguiled,
Beguile us in the way you know.
Release one leaf at break of day;
At noon release another leaf;
One from our trees, one far away.
Retard the sun with gentle mist;
Enchant the land with amethyst.
Slow, slow!
For the grapes’ sake, if they were all,
Whose leaves already are burnt with frost,

Whose clustered fruit must else be lost—
For the grapes’ sake along the wall.

Walking by Thomas Traherne

To walk abroad is, not with eyes,

But thoughts, the fields to see and prize;
         Else may the silent feet,
                Like logs of wood,
Move up and down, and see no good
         Nor joy nor glory meet.
 

Ev’n carts and wheels their place do change,

But cannot see, though very strange
         The glory that is by;
                Dead puppets may
Move in the bright and glorious day,
         Yet not behold the sky.

 

And are not men than they more blind,
Who having eyes yet never find
         The bliss in which they move;
                Like statues dead
They up and down are carried
         Yet never see nor love.

 

To walk is by a thought to go;
To move in spirit to and fro;
         To mind the good we see;
                To taste the sweet;
Observing all the things we meet
         How choice and rich they be.
 

To note the beauty of the day,

And golden fields of corn survey;
         Admire each pretty flow’r
                With its sweet smell;
To praise their Maker, and to tell
         The marks of his great pow’r.

 

To fly abroad like active bees,
Among the hedges and the trees,
         To cull the dew that lies
                On ev’ry blade,
From ev’ry blossom; till we lade
         Our minds, as they their thighs.

 

Observe those rich and glorious things,
The rivers, meadows, woods, and springs,
         The fructifying sun;
                To note from far
The rising of each twinkling star
         For us his race to run.

 

A little child these well perceives,
Who, tumbling in green grass and leaves,
         May rich as kings be thought,
                But there’s a sight
Which perfect manhood may delight,
         To which we shall be brought.

 

While in those pleasant paths we talk,
’Tis that tow’rds which at last we walk;
         For we may by degrees
                Wisely proceed
Pleasures of love and praise to heed,
         From viewing herbs and trees.

Babies by Annella Grayce

Babies always make me smile.

Baby humans learning to walk and talk.
Baby geese hissing just like their mother as I ride my bike past.
Baby birds squawking for food up in the tree.
Baby rabbits enjoying lunch in the yard.
Mamas are never far away.  Always watching for trouble. 
Sometimes you see them and sometimes you don’t.

Everything the Power of the World does is done in a circle

Everything the Power of the World
does is done in a circle
By Black Elk

Everything the power of the world does

is done in a circle.  The sky is round,
and I have heard that the earth is round
like a ball, and so are all the stars.
The wind, in its greatest power, whirls.

Birds make their nests in circles,

for theirs is the same religion as ours.

The sun comes forth and goes down again

in a circle.  The moon does the same,
and both are round.  Even the seasons
form a great circle in their changing,
and always come back again to where they were.

The life of man is a circle from childhood to childhood,

and so it is in everything where power moves.

Reprinted by permission from Black Elk Speaks: Being the Life Story of a Holy Man of the Oglala Sioux, The Premier Edition by John G. Neihardt, the State University of New York Press ©2008, State University of New York.  All rights reserved.

Sun shining by Annella Grayce

Sun shining

Wind rustling
Birds singing
Bunnies eating
Trees shading
Blood pressure lowering
Mind clearing
Heart calming

Shades of Green

Shades of Green

I lay on the grass and look up at a tree.

The dark green shades on the leaves are enlightened by the sun shining down.
All of this is accented perfectly by the deep brown trunk and branches.
I watch robins dance from branch to branch as they decide if I’m friend or foe.
A squirrel races up the opposite side of the tree.
He’s decided I’m a foe.
The alarm on my phone goes off.
Lunch break is over.

The Rain

The Rain
By Robert Creeley

All night the sound had

come back again,
and again falls
this quiet, persistent rain.

What am I to myself

that must be remembered,
insisted upon
so often?  It is

that never the ease,

even the hardness,
of rain falling
will have for me

something other than this

something not so insistent –
am I to be locked in this
final uneasiness.

Love, if you love me,

lie next to me.
be for me, like rain,
the getting out

of the tiredness, the fatuousness, the semi-
lust of intentional indifference.
Be wet
with a decent happiness.

 

Used by permission.  Copyright 1983 by Regents of the University of California. (University of California Press)  From:  Americans’ Favorite Poems by Robert Pinsky and Maggie Dietz; © 2000 by Robert Pinsky; W.W. Norton and Company, New York