If only I had had a sensibility of the senses gleaned, Tintern-like, from calmer studies,
When - mixed with the conflagrations of my youth, and other youths, I feared - outbursts of
Other fears threatened continuity,
I faltered.
Then - when my gentle heart could only reach out with my eyes, and water betrayed me - perhaps
I could have sought words,
Used words,
Molded words,
Picked up the words like soul-salve, seeking,
Patting the mysterious grief flowing and swirling around my world
Into
Calm.
Today, I will try again,
Accompanied.
AUTHOR/ARTIST/SINGER shares thoughts in print. http://www.reverbnation.com/dawnmnevills ARTIST INFO - http://music.cbc.ca/profile/Dawn-M-Nevills
Tuesday, January 28, 2020
Saturday, January 25, 2020
Sounds of Another Time and Plane Explained
Didjideroo, memory of thunder voices long ago, preserved.
When we draw again with eyes and sticks the trace star maps you showed us long ago,
Recalled to know of care, as you take your birds to the sky Home,
Reveal, at last,
Our Humility in preserving a
Moment.
When we draw again with eyes and sticks the trace star maps you showed us long ago,
Recalled to know of care, as you take your birds to the sky Home,
Reveal, at last,
Our Humility in preserving a
Moment.
Springtime Dream
So quiet and still, in the dark little work winter room where a small lamp is lit;
In quiet conversation the toil is gentle and prodigious, and gentle grey rain upon the
Sturdy roof softens season's reminders of icy Sleep.
I dreamed a springlit, tulip-brightened burst, there, tonight, my Love,
And closed my eyes to lay among it, nestling quietly amongst the perfumed stems:
I, some great bird with gentle tulip eggs, and we two, laughing,
"Springtime snails", you said, "Leaving a beauteous trail" - a gentle, bulb-burst, loving trail -
Of paint-brushed Art with Living things:
First, all curled and golden; scarlet lip and hearted; deep fuschia at days's end, morphed into violet, too;
And as the gleaming rays dipped tiredly, finally
The deepest royal-hued sky - each one -
Blending with the petal hearts, and dropped in an ordered, neat strewn path,
To tell a story of travelled love, inviting -
Breathless, buoyed, and brilliant we's
To relive us, in other Times and
Mad, Moving, More-Love
Moments,
Remembered.
In quiet conversation the toil is gentle and prodigious, and gentle grey rain upon the
Sturdy roof softens season's reminders of icy Sleep.
I dreamed a springlit, tulip-brightened burst, there, tonight, my Love,
And closed my eyes to lay among it, nestling quietly amongst the perfumed stems:
I, some great bird with gentle tulip eggs, and we two, laughing,
"Springtime snails", you said, "Leaving a beauteous trail" - a gentle, bulb-burst, loving trail -
Of paint-brushed Art with Living things:
First, all curled and golden; scarlet lip and hearted; deep fuschia at days's end, morphed into violet, too;
And as the gleaming rays dipped tiredly, finally
The deepest royal-hued sky - each one -
Blending with the petal hearts, and dropped in an ordered, neat strewn path,
To tell a story of travelled love, inviting -
Breathless, buoyed, and brilliant we's
To relive us, in other Times and
Mad, Moving, More-Love
Moments,
Remembered.
Sunday, January 12, 2020
Tuesday, January 7, 2020
Today's Math
Forty times one thousand = forty thousand.
Expressed another way, :
40 X 1 X1,000 = 40,000.
Expressed another way:
40 people at one thousand dollars each, times 1,000 = 40,000.
Or....pie. Which is different.
Expressed another way, :
40 X 1 X1,000 = 40,000.
Expressed another way:
40 people at one thousand dollars each, times 1,000 = 40,000.
Or....pie. Which is different.
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