When that ancient, battered plane takes off, I will be on it...
Beside me are my treasured bags of trinkets and memories,
Odd assortment from an ill-timed journey ended too soon.
Never wanting to leave, bittersweet time still away has flit.
For all the years I lived in a sea of happy dreams
You would think I had more souvenirs and treasures!
Boxes of sweet words, jeweled bags of love secrets,
Yards of lace with stories woven snug in all the seams.
Yet I carry dried roses whose thorns prick me with anguish,
They rest on silken cushions that once smooth are now torn.
My things are thrown together, hurts mixed among happiness,
Jumbled need and disappointment, tossed about as in a storm.
I no longer have need for glittr'ing dreams and hopes,
For a future among warm and silvered sands.
All I have left are these tattered, old suitcases,
For better or for worse, I must learn to cope.
When that sad and battered plane takes off, I will be on it...
I can no more return to my loved resting place to sit.
Daily Quote: Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night.
~Edna St. Vincent Millay
** Be careful not to use the word embarazada as a translation for embarrassed, or you probably will end up even more embarrassed than you were to begin with. If you want to say I’m embarrassed, you should use the phrase me da vergüenza, or me da pena in most of Latin America. Compare these examples.
- Estaba embarazada de cuatro meses.
She was four months pregnant.
“PAINLESS TO JUDGE”
Why Judge Before I Even Know???
I’ll just Chill and Go with the Flow.
It’s Not What I Imagine.
Why Let My Thoughts Control My Reaction.
Real in My Face...
Betraying ME in Every Other Place.
What I Don’t Know Can’t and Won’t Hurt.
Take Your Secrets and Be Sure to Burry Them Deep in Dirt.
Isolated and Left Alone.
Once Again My Insecurities have Grown.
It’s Hard for ME to Forgive.
I Even Now Let the Past Live.
I Wish It Would Die.
Forget It… I Often Try.
All the Effort has Left ME Strained.
And often Wondering What have I Gained???.
Constantly it Burdens ME…
You are Hard to Trust Perpetually.
All the Deceit is Motivation.
For ME to Redirect My Passion and Emotion.
Step Back …Examine…and Reflect…
Maybe Even Cure Some of These Issues I Detect.
What More can I Say???
It’s Easy to Hate…. but Hard to Love…
Painless to Judge but Complex to Comprehend…
Sometimes it’s Hard for You to See Yourself…
But I See Just Who You Are….
An Individual with an Identity Unknown to You or ME…
When You Look in the Mirror…..Honestly Who and What Do You See???
Courtney Griggs
Daily Quote: The greatest crimes are caused by surfeit, not by want. ~Aristotle, Politics
Linguist Corner-SPANISH: contar, verb / to tell; to count
-Cuéntame lo que pasó.
Tell me what happened.
-¿Quieres que te cuente cómo fue?
Shall I tell you what it was like?
I liken my dreams to a filarial wonder
sucking life's hope, what gruesome plunder.
Revealing to me what I could be
but ending it with lonesome reality.
I liken my heart to a pitiless sore
wanting of love and feeling for more.
Trying to be carelessly free
but bound by a hateful society.
Iiken my faith to a heartfelt dream
a marvelous cross my guide it would seem.
The marvel, a wonder,
the cross, a sore
but alas Hell's shame if I pray not for.
I liken my life as a battle inside
living a dream in hearty stride
but faith, my Heaven, is driving away
this heart with it's dreams so God will stay.
Take me dear God,
let me lay
on your Throne by your heart
and in faith
dream away.
Daily Quote: "In the sweet territory of silence we touch the mystery. It’s the place of reflection and contemplation, and it’s the place where we can connect with the deep knowing, to the deep wisdom way."
-- Angeles Arrien
Linguist Corner-SPANISH: tapete/ noun /tablecloth; rug
-Tenemos un tapete de encaje precioso.
We have a beautiful lace tablecloth.
-sobre los tapete persas
on the Persian rugs
Grey curtains of rain were not enough,
To hide the tears on a bleakened field
And howling wind could not snatch away,
The angry shout to imagined heaven.
A cold sunny day could not quench,
A fired ego dwarfed by a small hillside.
Stumbling half-fallen over blades of grass,
Puffing arrogantly into a deflating self.
A sterile room turned sheet to shroud,
Could not perfect a lifeless death mask.
Stood, stared, in conflicted company
And re-wrote, edited, a total confusion.
Hands robotically offered amidst the incense,
Scribbled formulas, unfolded from memory, mumbled.
When hands were better clasped in silence,
Solace derived from the background murmur.
No wringer existed to squeeze the moisture,
From impervious pillow case covers.
The yellowing ledger cannot discount,
The one to whose name never answered.
Why do I now take these slim volumes from the shelf?
To proof read passages all out of print?
Why do I now leaf through dog eared pages?
When there is a mirror in the hall in which to view myself…
Fergus Carty
"We can let circumstances rule us, or we can take charge and rule our lives from within."
-Earl Nightingale
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