Friday 30 January 2015
Thursday 29 January 2015
The Thursday Poem
Potted Flowers with Books IV Eric Barjot Long-Legged Fly That civilisation may not sink, Its great battle lost, Quiet the dog, tether the pony To a distant post; Our master Caesar is in the tent Where the maps are spread, His eyes fixed upon nothing, A hand under his head. Like a long-legged fly upon the stream His mind moves upon silence. That the topless towers be burnt And men recall that face, Move most gently if move you must In this lonely place. She thinks, part woman, three parts a child, That nobody looks; her feet Practise a tinker shuffle Picked up on a street.Like a long-legged fly upon the stream Her mind moves upon silence. That girls at puberty may find The first Adam in their thought, Shut the door of the Pope's chapel, Keep those children out. There on that scaffolding reclines Michael Angelo. With no more sound than mice make His hand moves too and fro.Like a long-legged fly upon the stream His mind moves upon silence. William Butler Yeats (13th June 1865 - 28th January 1939) |
Wednesday 28 January 2015
Sunday 25 January 2015
The Sunday Prayer
|
Father, Mother, God,
Thank you for your presence during the hard and mean days.
For then we have you to lean upon.
Thank you for your presence during the bright and sunny days.
For then we can share that which we have with those who have less.
And thank you for your presence during the Holy Days.
For then we are able to celebrate you and our families and our friends
For those who have no voice, we ask you to speak.
For those who feel unworthy, we ask you to pour your love out in waterfalls of tenderness.
For those who live in pain, we ask you to bathe them in the river of your healing.
For those who are lonely, we ask you to keep them company.
For those who are depressed, we ask you to shower upon them the light of hope.
Dear Creator, You, the borderless sea of substance, we ask you to give to all the world that which we need most.....PEACE.
Maya Angelou
(4th April 1928 - 28th May 2014)
Friday 23 January 2015
Thursday 22 January 2015
The Thursday Poem
Potted Flowers with Books IV Eric Barjot Up-Hill Does the road wind up-hill all the way? Yes, to the very end. Will the day's journey take the whole long day? From morn to night, my friend. But is there for the night a resting-place? A roof for when the slow dark hours begin. May not the darkness hide it from my face? You cannot miss that inn. Shall I meet other wayfarers at night? Those who have gone before. Then must I knock, or call when just in sight? They will not keep you standing at that door. Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak? Of labour you shall find the sum. Will there be beds for me and all who seek? Yea, beds for all who come. Christina Rosetti (5th December 1830 - 29th December 1894) |
Wednesday 21 January 2015
Sunday 18 January 2015
The Sunday Prayer
|
Father, Mother, God,
Thank you for your presence during the hard and mean days.
For then we have you to lean upon.
Thank you for your presence during the bright and sunny days.
For then we can share that which we have with those who have less.
And thank you for your presence during the Holy Days.
For then we are able to celebrate you and our families and our friends
For those who have no voice, we ask you to speak.
For those who feel unworthy, we ask you to pour your love out in waterfalls of tenderness.
For those who live in pain, we ask you to bathe them in the river of your healing.
For those who are lonely, we ask you to keep them company.
For those who are depressed, we ask you to shower upon them the light of hope.
Dear Creator, You, the borderless sea of substance, we ask you to give to all the world that which we need most.....PEACE.
Maya Angelou
Friday 16 January 2015
Thursday 15 January 2015
The Thursday Poem
Potted Flowers with Books IV Eric Barjot |
Love's Philosophy
The fountain mingles with the river
And the rivers with the Ocean,
The winds of Heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In one spirit meet and mingle.
Why not I with thine? -
See the montains kiss high Heaven
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdained its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth
And the moonbeams kiss the sea:
What is all this sweet work worth
If though kiss not me?
Percy Bysshe Shelley
(4th August 1792 - 8th July 1822)
Wednesday 14 January 2015
Sunday 11 January 2015
The Sunday Prayer
|
Father, Mother, God,
Thank you for your presence during the hard and mean days.
For then we have you to lean upon.
Thank you for your presence during the bright and sunny days.
For then we can share that which we have with those who have less.
And thank you for your presence during the Holy Days.
For then we are able to celebrate you and our families and our friends
For those who have no voice, we ask you to speak.
For those who feel unworthy, we ask you to pour your love out in waterfalls of tenderness.
For those who live in pain, we ask you to bathe them in the river of your healing.
For those who are lonely, we ask you to keep them company.
For those who are depressed, we ask you to shower upon them the light of hope.
Dear Creator, You, the borderless sea of substance, we ask you to give to all the world that which we need most.....PEACE.
Maya Angelou
Friday 9 January 2015
Thursday 8 January 2015
The Thursday Poem
Potted Flowers with Books IV Eric Barjot |
Harp Song of the Dane Women
What is a woman that you forsake her,
And the hearth-fire and the home-acre,
To go with the old grey Widow-maker?
She has no house to lay a guest in -
But one chill bed for all to rest in,
That the pale suns and the stray bergs nest in.
She has no strong white arms to fold you,
But the ten-time-fingering weed to hold you -
Out on the rocks where the tide has rolled you.
Yet, when the signs of summer thicken,
And the ice breaks, and the birch-buds quicken,
Yearly you turn from our side, and sicken -
Sicken again for the shouts and the slaughters.
You steal away to the lapping waters,
And look at your ship in her winter-quarters.
You forget our mirth, and talk at the tables,
The kine in the shed and the horse in the stables -
To pitch her sides and go over her cables.
Then you drive out where the storm-clouds swallow,
And the sound of your oar-blades, falling hollow,
Is all we have left through the months to follow.
Ah, what is Woman that you forsake her,
And the hearth-fire and the home-acre,
To go with the old grey Widow-maker?
Rudyard Kipling
(30th December 1865 - 18th January 1936)
Wednesday 7 January 2015
Sunday 4 January 2015
The Sunday Prayer
|
Father, Mother, God,
Thank you for your presence during the hard and mean days.
For then we have you to lean upon.
Thank you for your presence during the bright and sunny days.
For then we can share that which we have with those who have less.
And thank you for your presence during the Holy Days.
For then we are able to celebrate you and our families and our friends
For those who have no voice, we ask you to speak.
For those who feel unworthy, we ask you to pour your love out in waterfalls of tenderness.
For those who live in pain, we ask you to bathe them in the river of your healing.
For those who are lonely, we ask you to keep them company.
For those who are depressed, we ask you to shower upon them the light of hope.
Dear Creator, You, the borderless sea of substance, we ask you to give to all the world that which we need most.....PEACE.
Maya Angelou
Friday 2 January 2015
Thursday 1 January 2015
The Thursday Poem
Potted Flowers with Books IV Eric Barjot |
Auld Lang Syne
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind ?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and old lang syne ?
For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we'll take a cup of kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
And surely youll buy your pint cup !
and surely Ill buy mine !
And we'll take a cup o kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
We two have run about the slopes,
and picked the daisies fine ;
But weve wandered many a weary foot,
since auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we'll take a cup of kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
And surely youll buy your pint cup !
and surely Ill buy mine !
And we'll take a cup o kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
We two have paddled in the stream,
from morning sun till dine ;
But seas between us broad have roared
since auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we'll take a cup of kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
And surely youll buy your pint cup !
and surely Ill buy mine !
And we'll take a cup o kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
And theres a hand my trusty friend !
And give us a hand o thine !
And well take a right good-will draught,
for auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we'll take a cup of kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
And surely youll buy your pint cup !
and surely Ill buy mine !
And we'll take a cup o kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
Robert Burns
(25th January 1759 - 21st July 1796)
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