Markers and crayons Pencils and erasers Ink pens and charcoal Lots of colored papers: Tracing and transparent Posterboard and cardboard Matboard, scrap, construction Lots of supplies to hoard! The materials for sculpture Wire, newspapers, wood and clay Papier-mache and ceramics To be done another day Staples, glue and masking tape And a little duct tape ...
Punctuation, Take a vacation. I’m tired of the commas. The periods make me confused. The exclamation points drive me wild. The apostrophes are yesterday’s news. Punctuation, Good vibrations. I question their use. But I’m tired of looking at them, Oops, quotations, let em’ all loose.
I have a Mom who never will grow old —-The mask of age your sweet face will not wear,For your capacity for love untold,The poets know that only Buddhas share.And by your wondrous gifts that I have known,You’ve nursed me, cried when I have met with harm,So undeserving, near to manhood grown,No other human knows ...
There are some days that I feel like I’ve lost something. Perhaps I might have misplaced it… But in the end, it turned out that it was something that I never even had. Not for long anyhow. It was there... for a small time anyhow… not even a minute. Just a few seconds. There’s times ...
Soon we’ll search for the Leaven, A candle and a feather, we’ll use. First though the blessing we’ll do. Searching soon will end, as we nullify our burdens. Fasting, but for one day, sunrise until sunset one day before Passover. ‘˜Commemorating the tenth plague of Egypt, when our G-d slew the first born in all ...
…at last I knew Porphyria worshipp’d me; surprise Made my heart swell, and still it grew While I debated what to do. That moment she was mine, mine, fair, Perfectly pure and good: I found A thing to do, and all her hair In one long yellow string I wound Three times her little throat ...
Jalāl ad-Dīn Mu ḥ ammad Rūmī was a Persian poet and Sufi Mystic. He shared many gifts through the vehicle of his poetry, including passionate love of the Divine, a deep empathy for the human condition, and a profound ability to use external imagery from the ordinary world to open the heart and elevate consciousness ...
Of writing many books there is no end; And I who have written much in prose and verse For others’ uses, will write now for mine,– Will write my story for my better self As when you paint your portrait for a friend, Who keeps it in a drawer and looks at it Long after ...
I was born with you and white hair, sitting in that chair. Worrying, wondering, planning. How will it be for us, for me, for our family ? Can we make it, will we need your help, are we safe ? Your daughter, son, becoming a real family, tangible. Inseparable, impenetrable, solid, and for this moment, ...
“O never star” a poem of hope Robert Browning lived in a time of great poets. He was a poet since childhood and studied at home, speaking four languages by twelve years of age. Later in life, he married the poet Elizabeth Barrett Browning and encouraged her to publish her now famous love sonnets. He ...
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