"Longfellow was himself a beautiful poem, more beautiful than anything he had ever written." ~Oscar Wilde March 24, 1863, Craigie House, Cambridge, Mass. Like all days in his life, it had been a busy one for Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, the most popular poet of the 19th century. He had likely answered correspondence from his many admirers, pruned lilacs in his yard, and sketched amusing caricatures for the two youngest of his five children. Perhaps he had also devoted time to editing one of the early cantos of his translation of Dante's "Divine Comedy." Nothing, however, could have prepared the famous poet that day for a knock on the door and the delivery of a letter from his 18 year-old son, Charley, informing him that he had joined the Union Army.
Israel and I have one thing surely in common, I am 60, and so is Israel, sort of. I also have a signed copy of the book "Israel a Personal History, " 1971, by David Ben-Gurion; one of 2000 copies printed, by "Funk & Wagnalls, Inc., New York. He was the granddaddy of all the leaders that would follow him to this day, so I believe. He was even born in the same month I was, October 16, 1886, I was born October 7, 1947, in Plonsk, Russian Poland, my grandfather was Russian, and grandmother Polish, and I was born an America. Perhaps he like I had a life time of studies; and I know he, like I traveled a lot, Mr. Ben-Gurion to most of Europe, and North and South America, as I have, also Africa.
1) Enchanted Christmas Eve! It was in St. Paul, Minnesota, the conservative city... Do you remember, oh, brother, of the Christmas Eve Nights? so magical, and eager we were? I can still see the ornaments dangling on the tree. Tranquility was in the house the great sidekick of God and happiness. #2382 5-10-2008 (a poem out of the 50s) of all the holidays in the year mother loved xmas the best, and she'd buy a huge tree each year at the market, and me and my brother would hall it home, and she would put all her ornaments on it, I am still surprised the tree could stand with all the weight hanging down from it. 2) Written to Mother With simple wings, of magic and music, I entered into life.
Now Annanias and Saphirah sold a possession And took up the money without confession. They were taking up offerings at the temple that day, So getting their money they went their own way. "Lets only give part of it, " one of them said, Smiling proudly at the idea in their head. "Lets lie and say this is all that we own, I bet they'll believe us, they'll never have known." "We'll still get to keep some, " they said very coldly. Then they walked towards the temple, a little to boldly. "Lets separate it will be easy to focus, They'll think were truthful, not talking bogus." So Saphirah obeyed, and stood by the door, As Annanias departed, set his foot on the floor.
Remarkable aha moments! We all desperately need them Times of divine inspiration Motivation and revelation, Invigoration and alleviation Of stress, strain, and confusion As the spirit within does blossom Break forth through irritation Shine beyond all personal frustration Move mightily through what wants to Undue and devilishly destroy you Transcending all futile limitations Miniscule mentalities and infuriation Taking you above into new perspectives Lifting you with love to be more effective Compelling and persuading you within Empowering you supernaturally to win Victoriously arise and no longer despise Yourself, your gifts, talents, and abilities Soothing and comforting you with tranquility Stopping every hindrance boldly and immediately Silencing every foe, adversary, and foul enemy Removing turmoil, turbulence, and proud falsity Directing you ahead as you navigate through Illuminating and revealing profound truth to you Imparting hidden insight beyond what you know Taking you beyond the superficial vain show Causing you to dynamically expand and grow Evolve within as you dare to think beyond spin Examine an issue more thoughtfully, not react hastily Refrain from responding angrily or presumptuously Halting all arrogant behavior and mindsets gently Nourishing you within tenderly and graciously Giving you the same disposition and personality To so comfort and care for those who are hurting Moving you beyond distractions that are diverting People that are condescending tending toward thwarting Discriminating, diminishing, and your potential dwarfing Change your circle of friends and fly with the eagles Leave the ugly buzzards and the scared chickens behind Pick up this revelation, its riches, wealth, treasure and find That this now is your awakening, aha moment, this time.
"I, Wisdom, dwell together with prudence; I help you find knowledge and acquire discretion. The fear the LORD means hating evil; I hate pride and arrogance, any evil behaviour and certainly perverted, unjust speech. Counsel and sound judgment are mine; I have understanding and power. I am both Insight and Virtue. With my help, leaders rule, and lawmakers legislate fairly; with my help, governors govern well, and all in legitimate authority. I love those who love me, and those who seek me diligently, and while they can, find me. My followers get what I've got. Riches and a good reputation belong with me; enduring prosperity and right standing also.
A poem on gratitude and lack thereof. The folly of complaint is juxtaposed with the wisdom of being thankful. "You ungrateful 'so and so'" I thought as I mused to myself, You've got everything to be thankful for, But you can't see it yourself. For the complaints that fog your mind, Are yours and yours alone, They'd be less a distraction, If you'd only choose to be kind. You're missing the point altogether in life, It's not just about you, For there are times when others count, And you'd see it if you weren't so blue. What can I say to cheer you, That might make the slightest difference? Tell me the magic thing to say, That might make you feel less resistant.
How loud is your I Yes, that's a question? In other words, how loud Do you defend yourself? How loud do you uplift self? How loud and long do you Assert and exert yourself In an effort to lord yourself Over others, sisters, and brothers? Acquaintances, any and all people Within close proximity of proud you Coercing, telling people what to do Pushing, shoving, and rarely loving Faintly yielding, never simply letting People be happy, nor live authentically On the contrary, do you seek to control? Dictate your will and contaminate the soul? If so, then you and the devil has often stole Time, talents, energy, resources, and life From precious people created in God's image Brutal and belligerent, you're marred visage Insecure and ignanimous bearing reproach As you try to live with yourself and cope Playing superior and pontificating royally It is you my dear who are actually the dope Perhaps you need to cleanse your heart Also your abrasive mouth with some soap Reckon your impolite attitude perilous Warm others and harness yourself before You try to intrude, invade, and collude To usurp authority to make decisions For others for whom you truly have no say Arrogant one your stubborness is in the way Just die to your pride, ego, and almighty I Cut the emotional attachment and tendency Tendency to continually control and maneuver This habitual manner smells like the worst maneur What a foul odor it emits.
God doesn't care if you believe he exists, he doesn't need to, never has had to, and even if he didn't exist, you would hope he did. On the other hand, why do you think he needs to impress you with saying here I am? Your mind has said he is, and thus he does. You possess him, because you need him, not he you. He has given you the pleasures of being one of his many creations, and he happened to put you on earth, through a process of delivery; we have of course made a decision along this course of his action, to survive, and maintain a line of existence within our race, or species. Repugnant as we may be to him, and we surely are, he puts up with us, either for a laugh, or to shake his head at 90% of us and say: "Unbelievable" (and in shock continues to watch in astonishment at our behavior).
A flutter of eyelids, ah, a quick path to sleep. How long until, if at all, to dreams and cosmic flows? (Does one have the soul of an artist?) - The canvas of night unravels in less than predicable or perfect forms. - Dreams. - Cosmic flows. What is the answer to my -? I forget the questions. - Oh boy, here comes the ride. The flow of brushstrokes and sculpture's clay shape a new beauty. - Faces of people are seen and unseen. - Past residents of earth depart while future friends assemble. Memory is a tricky thing in sorting out which is which. - Familiar faces blend with faces masked. Do I, did I, know, this, these other people? - While a favorite time can paint a backdrop of night or day, nothing seems focused or even noticed.