I find in your story a longing of a pledge without silence but as you say, a whisper. It contains many invaluable truths that are random, yet needed. How long does a whisper take to understand its formulas? The days are shorter then the Earth takes to circle the sun. Is that a moment to the edge of a whisper also. It must be a shout as the voice of G-d is unrestricted to all who seek the breath of blood in the circles of His Breath.
It allows the moment to be all. Where the Quantum phase is the wall in all.
The rain sends the life its knowledge and these finer yarns without a game in sight.
A map without boundaries or names and endless formations in the UNIVERSE.
Dear Danielle: I enjoyed reading your gracious poem. The stanzas were for me like looking at the statue. It gave me a sense of the quality and focus that the statues form took on. The face and figure were there for all to glance at if not stare.
The line; "Clever hands sculpt a woman devoid of both blemish and purpose." I fiound that "clever", was the key word to your concept of the poem. Both in subject and verse. "Devoid of both blemish and purpose". You gave the statue human qualities. Subjective as that may sound, humans give that impression as well. So, you found the "Clever" qualities both in stone and flesh. The book, "The hunchback of Noter Dame" had a similar ijmpression. The last line in the book, as the Humchback found solace holding on to a gargoyle on the top of the Church said after his many faltering alliances; "why was I not made of stone like thee.?"
His purpose became nothing more then the cold figure of man's idea of an ugly careature carved to banish the evil creatures of the underworld. And who held onto this stature, but the beautiful inner soul of the hunchback. And all he wanted was the "male desire" of a females inner love and someone whom he could with all a human's statue, give.
Your poem gave all this and more. Thank you for a beautiful rendering of the human species. Joel Schafer Garson (jogar)
Dear Seekthe: Your story of the evolved ant society was quite interesting and refreshing. It reminded me of a movie about some ants that had 30 foot unique mounds of some beautiful archetectures. Your ants also had found the laws of physics and science to enable them to explore the stars. Interesting. The dialouge was well established for your species and the last word or "clacking" as it were, came from none other then the Queen. Who else. The point, counter point was well taken by your characters. All the talk of a planet with life forms that had evolved outside the ants idea of evolution was a subject that all can rally around! Evolution or creation. Though you didn't bring up creation, one can only guess at the point at which they might. And the point counter point dialouge was worthy of a society based on Queen entrusted ethics. Though you didn't bring up ethics, the material of the story did.
I found this short story very intrieging. The end was a bit confusing, but then the "shot that changed the earth forever" will always be a shot in the dark.
Dear Lars: In the instance of man whose own creations bring some happiness and more folly; you have shown the landfills that will become the archeologist sites of the future. And I suppose they will have more questions then answers. the heading of each stanza creates a fortune of thoughts to be reckoned with.. I especially liked the last two lines of the last stanza, "ignorant." You said at the point of all the histories that man has fraught with and tried in vanity, not vain, to choose the sense of sight to represent all the others. "Our eyes can see, we choose being blind." That lesson is the total blossom of mans search for meaning. And in the final analysis, the other stanzas tell the story that begins each day and ends with the issue of blindness as a feature that man decides is his lot. To suppose that "Job" in the Bible lost all of his family, his possessions, and all the fortunes that the world and G-D bestowed upon him. Yet in his last remnant of humanity, he responded to G--D and vent his losses towards his Creator, but didn't. He still had one thread of hope. And that hope was that he belonged to the creator. And all that he achieved was due to the creators creation. It is a story that is supposedly the oldest one in the Old testament. I guess it represents the trials of man in a position of seeking and responding to the incomprehensible. Very well done. jogar
Dear Beth: I enjoyed your Poem. It brought up many memories of my own life. The nearness of things so fond of, yet not knowing if they were real or my inner revelation. A thought in bright sincerity is the way we choose the light of things so far away, yet so near to the heart. When we find this affirmation, we may become silent in our soul for a time. Then, review the periods of the knowledge we left behind, to weary shadows away in some illusive corner. It takes but one nerve that a song breaks open the heart to reveal our truth; the soul we vent for others to share with us. A unifying poem and a lasting growth like a garden of healthful colors that rainbows break after a warm rain. Thank you for this. jogar
Dear Ruwth: A beautiful Psalm, A beautiful sense of words that proclaim the Brilliant light of G-D. Here are the forms of the eternal that the Lord has for each of us. Here is the wonderful sense of the abundant life we have beating in our chest. And in all these things that the Lord has given, He asks but one thing. To glorify Him and to give His Son the honor that is His in the sacrifice that gave us the possibility of receiving G-D the Father through His sons death, burial and resurrection.G-D Bless You. jogar.
Dear Ruwth: I really enjoyed your words. It was different then some of your other thoughts and prayers. It was entirely positive and gifted. I believe that when we come to a point in our life, there comes a time to leave the negatives behind and even when the hurts are overwhelming, we must ask G-D for the help He is always willing to give and to share. The idea of embracing those who love you and those you love is wonderful, however if you only love those who love you and vice-versa, what happens to the people you don't know? I believe Jesus said, love the Sinner, not their sins. Love the stranger, get to know your neighbors. Love comes in all forms. Sometimes there is dissapointments, but saving one soul it is said is better then the souls you know are saved. Isn't that the story of the lost lamb. Finding the one because the others are already there. The story of the prodigal son. The older brother was jealous. He didn't realize that all the wealth of his fathers was his. He just saw the younger brother getting his portion of his inheritance before the older brother. And the younger one spent it all. He finally came home and was welcomed as the son who was dead and now came back to life. For the father loved him as much as the older son, but when the younger one left, his father felt him dead to him. If we only love those who love us, what good is that. We must go out and reach out to all the creatures of the world. To bring them the good news of Life, and the Love of G-D. Your comments were a great change in your mind. And that is of the Holy Spirit who brings us the wealth of our gifts and the Love of the Father and the sacrifice of the Son of G-D. Jesus. G-D Bless You. jogar
Dear Fun2write: I enjoyed your poem for a few reasons. You said what we all would like to say at our own Fathers's death. Although in some cases, there are those who do not have those very intimate feelings.. Apparently you did. It's a shame you were not there when he died. I remember when my Mother died. I got at the hospital about 20 minutes after she passed on. The night before I visited her and left at 11 p.m. I kissed her and said I'll be back in the morning. I could hear the "death rattle". My Mother was the most beautiful and strong woman I ever met. Yet when I was young, we used to argue. When I realized she got cancer, it was difficult. She hit the "Golden five year cure"!? Not true. We can have ONE cancer molecule and that may cause the disease to come back. Well, she hit the golden year and a few months later got a report that she had developed bone cancer. Originally she had Breast cancer. Our family was very confused. Doctors said she would be all right after five years of remission and cured. The bone cancer came five years after. She lived for eight more years. Bone cancer is very destructive. It takes the bone down to the nerve endings. A terrible illness. I cried at the hospital for twenty minutes I guess. My Father said You can't imagine the pain she was in. My Mother didn't use many pain killers, till the very end. The reason was because she wanted to be able to BE with us. Of course at the end, she had to have the narcotics. Her bones were disintegrating. And when she died and I cried, I curled up on the hospital bed next to her and felt like a young child. I was sobbing. My father then said she's out of pain now.
I guess your poem brought back those very heavy memories of my own trama with death. For that reason it worked not only as a poem but as a catharsis of self. When you said in the last stanza. "Spread your wings and fly as high as you like/as you are the wings beneath my wings..." said to me that His Spirit is still with you always and will be guiding you till you meet again. What a beautiful line and sentiment. It was so much the opposite of the first stanzas. I suppose we all react to the feelings of "if only," and " I should have said that." Yet when we realize the tempest of the lives we lived with all the goodness and all the inadequacies and the differences that are between every human, we feel the loss even more. Yet your third stanza,"My life will not be the same as/ will miss you with every breath I take..." Those few words gave your grieving process time to deal with the closeness you had with your Father.
I believe that in the first stanza and the first line," Dad I wish I could have shared your fear/at your last moments of your life...' the fear was there only you would know. However I sense that perhaps he may have held some deep spiritual feelings that at the very end, one becomes (at peace) with their maker. Not only that "grace", but of "His Loved ones". YOU being the loved one that he may have held till the last breath. And then the last stanza where he holds your wings up with his, tells me you always were in his thoughts and in his beautiful heart that you knew of. All in all, you gave a very descriptive view of how we as humans are animals as well as spiritual beings. The Human Being is a creation of our maker and his love so conceived as to allow HIs Son to die for all mankind. For the Father of us all gives each one of us a piece of His spirit. And your Father certainly had His creators Love to give to his own children. Thank you for the beautiful poem. jogar
Dear Kiely: I was very interested in your letter to Santa. The idea of your letter and some of your other poems I looked up; the Haiku were quite wonderful. I noticed that you stated that your a very young person. If it wouldn't be to personal to ask, someone that has the ability to create Haiku poems and set them in the settings and forms that you did seem to be of a high literate and considerable nature. I was very alerted to that fact. However, the letter you wrote to Santa seemed to be almost at odds with the other quality of your writing. It seems to be that of a young child; the way you spoke of your "Mommy and Daddy and Kaylie." Yet, I enjoyed your writing and found all that I read to be very energetic, mature and senseable. Thank you for the writings. jogar
in the way on the road, I found a man lying sick and tired. I spoke with him. He said, "Can you help me sir?" I asked, "what's wrong?" He said, "I'm dying." I gave him a bit of water and he smiled ; looked at me with blue-gray eyes , smiled again and touched my face. He then passed on. I took him off the road and since we were in the wilderness, and no one was around I buried him with the utmost care. I then walked away and after a few miles, I thought about it. I shouldn't have buried him. Perhaps his family might be looking for him.
I went back and took the many rocks off of him I had placed. I saw his cloak, and it was folded beneath the many heavy stones and tree limbs I placed over him. I wondered what happened. I was only gone a few minutes. No one passed me on the road and no dust on the road was disturbed.
I looked up at the sun and blue sky and saw a face of the old man in the clouds. He was smiling at me. I heard a voice that sounded like his. He said,"good and faithful servant, you helped that old man , and now you have helped me. God bless you my son."
Hello Darkflame8: I like the hook you used in getting the readers attention right off. "The two missiles screamed through the heavens, both loaded with 6 550Kt nuclear warheads." The rest of the prologue, as I see it, could be a beginning for a further story, asking why Imran Zakhaev was so wanton in his ruthless struggle for a holocaust. As for the 6 550 Kt. or 3.3 Mg tonne yield, the ( Hydrogen bombs)? I assume would hardly be seen from the moon, or heard half-way round the world. The Russians exploded a 50 Mg. tonne hydrogen bomb, the largest nuclear device ever exploded. It was dropped somewhere in northern Russia, with a hoped yield of 100Mg. tonnes. However there was a discrepancy and it "ONLY"yielded 50 Mg tonnes. Yet, it wasn't heard for more then 200 miles, I believe. You can get the exact results by goggling the ten largest nuclear bombs. I think the name of their bomb was called "Tsar". The rest of your story,nice rendering of a hellish end to civilization. There is a movie "The Day After" with Jason Robards. You may have seen it. It takes place when the American and Russians go to war. It is in Kansas city and the University of Kansas that the action happens. It shows what numerous 20 Mg.tonne devices would do. And at the end of the movie, it says the effects the bombs had were "underestimated. Just pray that this situation never happens. A total nuclear exchange would be total. A good use of language in describing the end of the world as we know it. Jogar.
Dear Jace: Your poem, "Poetry Is A Calling" is what I try and submit myself to. In the short lines are like a beautiful vine that grows up a a structure that before was perhaps an archectures foundation or the finished form of the buildings beautiful trim. Then a vine, perhaps a flowered vine starts by a chance seed that takes root and slowly and with sure attachments thrives to the heights that a vine may do. In a vine that has flowered placements, it is noticed and admired. Yet with all vines they must be pruned at times and given thought as to their characters A well placed vine is a thing of quality and care. Like your poem, you described the inner desire and benifits it self serves the poet. In the truth it is not just your poem anymore, it belongs to all eyes who cross the "flowers and vine it's attached to. Nature as well as the "Higher authority" give answers what poets hope, I submit to, the character that the "Grand Designer" welled up in each of us. However the world being as it is has many calls but few are disciplined to give their love that our spirt yields. I enjoyed your poem. Jogar...
We always seem to be looking at the things that have gotten out of hand. Then the honorable thing to do is give the Lord His due. What you say is like a confession of sorts. It hurts to realize the pain we've encountered along the path. It is always the other person who must be helped. What is the expression doctors are supposed to say? Physician heal thyself. We are all doctors aren't we. Doctors of our mind. And we surely must pray for the entire world of ours. Aren't we? I believe the Lord expresses all along what is most favorable for each one of us. That is to help knowing how He offered up His Son for all. Isn't that something we look at and admire. Or is it more incomprehensible then the event Yet the blessing is that He was raised. So, our lives each can be raised to another height and understand what and why we were given that choice of repentance. And the wetness of blood isn't forsaken. It is the life in each of us. That is the breath that seems to be sounding throughout your article. I enjoyed your article very much. jogar...
In your writing I encountered all the feelings, moments, memories and love being of one and the same. Does that sound at all what you were searching for? The love in oneself, the pain, the future of each persons end is sometimes difficult to accept. Yet as we pass each section of our life we see others who embody us somehow. We assemble those encounters as possible reflections of self encountered by a force of love begotten. That LOVE I believe is the creator. All things understood and studied bring impossible things to light. New inventions, new medicines, new concepts and so on. How wonderful life is. The pain is the reality that I believe is the sacrifice we must take to realize patience and love for others. We just aren't set apart from all the purpose that life shares. If it is the sadness of knowing a lonely position when one of our friends die: Though matter never is gone it changes into the beautiful coronation of the Earths begotten and resolves their experiences into our self. This whole connection of life settles with time. The beauty of gathering potentials enter our spirit and glow with the creators knowledge.
What you have done is what a writer strives for. You gave the childhood diction of closeness with your closest friend and love: your Mother. Sometimes it takes pages to describe what you have done in seven graphs I believe. The early lessons we find continue on into our life. For we find that if we don't recall we are bound to repeat. It is a beautiful form you've chosen to detail your words regardless if they are all fiction or perhaps some truth. In any case, I felt the beat of it caught me at once and drew me to read with alertness and fondness. A journalistic form; with the beginning hook and the desire to continue on. I felt all the impressions were well thought out, however when we are in the passion of the Muse, the writing seems to leap out as a life of its own.. Of course that's nothing you haven't heard before. The promise I believe writers have is to be as real as their characters take you. We just fill in the blanks , you might say. That of course is too easy. It usually is a lot of thought and inner honesty. To write a few paragraphs and allow the reader into a world filled with truths is the notch in the writers pencil...jogar
When we travel along roads that seem to be answers or perhaps questions; we are bound up with excitement or impatience. So far we wonder about those unique boundaries that may hold the ageless key we delight for. The travel and quest is the real source we hold dear. It is more then questions or answers that sparkle or design the wonderment that geometry or brillance offer. All those things, concerts, and particulates define. In the very grasp we determine is the black holes quantum reflection is but the event horizon;likened to the point before "The Big Bang." These concepts or words that yield various projections, false or true is the question you asked. "What I Am." The only combination I profess is "The Search For Truth."
I enjoyed the comparisons that alert us at each thought, each moment. The truth is that what we believe is beyond illusion and science. Some may call it faith, others have definitions that have no name as yet. The gentle galactic universe is probing us with mighty surprises and samples that take our mind, our creative foundations and as you say," jumbled together and taken apart." What I realize is that before anything was, IS. You might say the "I AM THAT I AM." However no matter what we may realize is so grand and glorious that to just believe is the purpose that has made our existance the point! joegar...
I find that even a tiny part of God is all and in all. Your poem seems to sense that conclusion. I love to write about my Wonderful Master who created me and all that is. In my experiences I have had a "near death experience." Being About God I can only say that words are somewhat less then the experience conveys. God is spiritual and the Shikana Glory or Cloud that blanketed the Temple in the desert during the Hebrews wandering during the day was what I was lying upon during my Near death experience. It was all existant and aggapi. Bless your poem. jogar...
I really like Haiku as a form of short concise and meaningful poetic ideas and messages that can only come in a form that haiku allows. I've written a number of the 17 syllable poems myself. Rose in a crystal vase brings up a number of ideas about life and its culmination. However in Haiku the facts remain a positive outcome, even when as you said,"Tearful petals fall." The very ideas that contain the knowledge and hope that to die like a seed is a change that keeps the "endless starry lights" coming back. It is a beautiful sense of sensing conformity in a not so conforming universe. jogar...
Jesus is the second union or the Trinity. His eternal sequence surpasses all foundations of the multible dimensions and universes. The Father, The Son, and the Holy Spirit make up the three aspects of God. When it rains , it rains on good and bad people alike. The science of the big bang , the great expansion and the concept of space, time, matter and energy were just another concept untill the scientist think a trillionth of a trillionth of a second after the big pop ,started all the forms of the universe as we know it today. Yet the essiental eternal properties came by The Word, a NOUN. That, that is what we derived from. For in God was Faith, Hope and Love. The gift He gave us, the Son Who gave himself for our salvation and the glory we give God. In This way the universe or universes, and probably dimensions make up the REALITY so little that is known. Though, in each small step and understanding we can begin to love that, that first loved us.
Your approach to self incrimination and the negative formations that we as humans may find ourselves in comes out quite well in this form of "prose" I seem to be very acquainted with your variable subjects that are a sickness throughout a society that approaches a basket of cures and illusions. Though some are quite well thought out with the trials and transgressions that seem to thread throughout our society; I remember the word hope, and change, that do not depend on self loathing and your inspirations that brought you out from your "30 year coma" I thought your successions of human stockyards to finding your inner selves brought forth something worth the effort and absurdity that sometimes we must deal with. You have rendered a battlefield worth fighting for and the "I am rage" the lone echo still at times the reminder of how we get to where we got is our "Red Badge Of Glory."
While reading your writing, I was pleasently favored by the emotions the students shared. Then when you closed the story; poem or prose I was taken aback by the " hypothetical " context in which you took the reader. It was well written, however I felt that reality is far,far closer to the creator when that "finality" comes when we are called back to him. jogar
Some words express in a few moments what pages try. The poem you wrote has these moments I believe. I admire the poet who takes the word at its full and grace. Then placing them together like a new found emotion that was hidden for many years unearths itself to become a passage to heart. As your last stanza states. I always find what I consider true word connections, the inspired link to our creator. " "blessed are these/ little moments/ that seep into/ your heart."
Your ideas and sentiments and words that become the poem always exist. It is the creation you give to the readers that open our memories and synapsess; allowing for the reader time to recognize thair own mortality and purpose. Your poem hovers like the clouds that either are filled with life giving moisture or empty space. I see the moisture that allows the growth that each word carries on to the next. Thanks for the enlightening positions. Joel...
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