Thursday, December 22, 2011

Quote for the Day

"The world is a comedy to those who think, a tragedy to those who feel."

Horace Walpole

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Miles Between Love

We're so close together
Yet so far away
And I miss you more and more
With the passing of each day
I know that you love me
I love you too
And I can't wait for the day
I'll finally be with you
We are forever united
Never to be apart
Your love for me is eternal
And treasured in my heart
I await the day
I'll be in your arms
Sure of myself
And safe from all harm
But until that day comes
No matter where you are
I will forever remain true
Loving you from afar.

I Love You :)

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Happy Thanksgiving

The Old-Fashioned Thanksgiving
by Edgar Albert Guest (1881-1959)
It may be I am getting old and like too much to dwell
Upon the days of bygone years, the days I loved so well;
But thinking of them now I wish somehow that I could know
A simple old Thanksgiving Day, like those of long ago,
When all the family gathered round a table richly spread,
With little Jamie at the foot and grandpa at the head,
The youngest of us all to greet the oldest with a smile,
With mother running in and out and laughing all the while.

It may be I'm old-fashioned, but it seems to me to-day
We're too much bent on having fun to take the time to pray;
Each little family grows up with fashions of its own;
It lives within a world itself and wants to be alone.
It has its special pleasures, its circle, too, of friends;
There are no get-together days; each one his journey wends,
Pursuing what he likes the best in his particular way,
Letting the others do the same upon Thanksgiving Day.

I like the olden way the best, when relatives were glad
To meet the way they used to do when I was but a lad;
The old home was a rendezvous for all our kith and kin,
And whether living far or near they all came trooping in
With shouts of "Hello, daddy!" as they fairly stormed the place
And made a rush for mother, who would stop to wipe her face
Upon her gingham apron before she kissed them all,
Hugging them proudly to her breast, the grownups and the small.

Then laughter rang throughout the home, and, Oh, the jokes they told;
From Boston, Frank brought new ones, but father sprang the old;
All afternoon we chatted, telling what we hoped to do,
The struggles we were making and the hardships we'd gone through;
We gathered round the fireside. How fast the hours would fly--
It seemed before we'd settled down 'twas time to say good-bye.
Those were the glad Thanksgivings, the old-time families knew
When relatives could still be friends and every heart was true.

Monday, November 14, 2011

Good-bye

by Ralph Waldo Emerson

Good-bye, proud world! I’m going home:
Thou art not my friend, and I’m not thine.
Long through thy weary crowds I roam;
A river-ark on the ocean brine,
Long I’ve been tossed like the driven foam;
But now, proud world! I’m going home.


Good-bye to Flattery’s fawning face;
To Grandeur with his wise grimace;
To upstart Wealth’s averted eye;
To supple Office, low and high;
To crowded halls, to court and street;
To frozen hearts and hasting feet;
To those who go, and those who come;
Good-bye, proud world! I’m going home.


I am going to my own hearth-stone,
Bosomed in yon green hills alone,—
A secret nook in a pleasant land,
Whose groves the frolic fairies planned;
Where arches green, the livelong day,
Echo the blackbird’s roundelay,
And vulgar feet have never trod
A spot that is sacred to thought and God.


O, when I am safe in my sylvan home,
I tread on the pride of Greece and Rome;
And when I am stretched beneath the pines,
Where the evening star so holy shines,
I laugh at the lore and the pride of man,
At the sophist schools and the learned clan;
For what are they all, in their high conceit,
When man in the bush with God may meet?

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Pics

From my walk this morning.


This is my favorite "Think Spot".  Looks out over Vineyard Sound.

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

from Pantisocracy

by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Eyes that have ach'd with Sorrow! Ye shall weep
Tears of doubt-mingled joy, like theirs who start
From Precipices of distemper'd sleep,
(On which the fierce-eyed Fiends their revels keep),
And see the rising Sun, and feel it dart
New rays of pleasance trembling to the heart.

(see, so it's really like waking from a nightmare -- from "Precipices of distemper'd sleep" -- and seeing a brand new day bringing "new rays of pleasance trembling to the heart.").

Friday, October 28, 2011

The Chances of Rhyme

The Chances of Rhyme
by Charles Tomlinson

[opening couplet]

The chances of rhyme are like the chances of meeting.
In the finding fortuitous, but once found, binding.

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

On Having A Sense of Place

One wants to have formed one’s value system not just in a place but partly because of it.  One wants to have engaged in romantic play in a landscape that is so essential that it is virtually a character in the drama.  One wants one’s religion to be centered not merely in a text, a doctrine, a creed, or a chapel, but in a locale, a sacred precinct, a circle of land and sky, a place where the wind bloweth where it listeth.  One wants one’s firstborn beloved child to have been born not merely in a hospital in Reno or on an air force base near Munich or Stuttgart, but in the place that matters most of all the places that mean something in one’s life.  One wants a true, deep, rooted home, a refuge to return to – to seek clarity and unconditional love.  One wants landscape in one’s soul, and one’s soul to dwell in a landscape somewhere.

Where would you go if you were diagnosed with cancer or the AIDS virus, if your whole world collapsed around you and only one point on the planet could help to heal? Where would you take the significant other who was hopelessly, boundlessly, endlessly, head-over-heels in love with you and she asked, take me to the place that means more to you than any other place in the cosmos?  There, if anywhere, you will find spirit of place.

from Message on the Wind: A Spiritual Odyssey on the Northern Plains
by Clay Straus Jenkinson

A Good Fine Wine


 Seghesio Old Vine Zinfandel perfectly embodies our familys goal of Sharing Uncommon Ground as only the finest lots from our oldest vineyards are selected for this composite blend. These vineyards are rare treasures we have farmed over the course of our familys century as grape growers. Although Old Vine is often loosely interpreted in the wine industry, our benchmark is fifty years. The average age of the vines producing this wine nears 90 years


Saturday, October 22, 2011

A Better Tomorrow

Author: Yvonne Warren

I never knew there would be a better tomorrow
But you've come into my life and taken away all my sorrow

My days of sadness are a thing of the past
Because I have found true love at last

My days of emptiness are gone for good
Because you fill a void in my heart that you should

You've opened a window
You've shown me the light
And my love for you will continue to burn bright.

Friday, September 23, 2011

September

September
by John Updike

The breezes taste
Of apple peel.
The air is full
Of smells to feel--

Ripe fruit, old footballs,
Drying grass,
New books and blackboards
Chalk in class.

The bee, his hive
Well-honey, hums
While Mother cuts
Chrysanthemums.

Like plates washed clean
With suds, the days
Are polished with
A morning haze.

Merry Autumn Days

Merry Autumn Days
By Charles Dickens

‘Tis pleasant on a fine spring morn
To see the buds expand,.
‘Tis pleasant in the summer time
To see the fruitful land;
‘Tis pleasant on a winter’s night
To sit around the blaze,
But what are joys like these, my boys,
To merry autumn days!

We hail the merry Autumn days,
When leaves are turning red;
Because they’re far more beautiful
Than anyone has said,
We hail the merry harvest time,
The gayest of the year;
The time of rich and bounteous crops,
Rejoicing and good cheer.


Wednesday, September 14, 2011

She Was A Phantom Of Delight

She Was A Phantom of Delight

by William Wordsworth

She was a phantom of delight
When first she gleamed upon my sight;
A lovely Apparition, sent
To be a moment's ornament;
Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair;
Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair;
But all things else about her drawn
From May-time and the cheerful Dawn;
A dancing Shape, an Image gay,
To haunt, to startle, and way-lay.

I saw her upon a nearer view,
A Spirit, yet a Woman too!
Her household motions light and free,
And steps of virgin liberty;
A countenance in which did meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet;
A Creature not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food;
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears and smiles.

And now I see with eye serene
The very pulse of the machine;
A Being breathing thoughtful breath,
A Traveler between life and death;
The reason firm, the temperate will,
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;
A perfect Woman, nobly planned,
To warm, to comfort, and command;
And yet a Spirit still, and bright,
With something of angelic light.

Monday, September 12, 2011

Birthday Sonnet

I tried to write some lines for you today
To celebrate another year of you,
And maybe in my grasping, fumbling way
Depict the highest ideal I pursue.

But one needs Shakespeare, Wordsworth or a Browning
To capture perfect beauty with just words.
I start the task, abandon it, with frowning
At my conceit (it's utterly absurd).

You voice puts me in such a pleasant spell
From heart to pen the words won't make a start.
I curse these meager lines of doggerel
And pray instead you'll hear what's in my heart.

    And so I'll not attempt a birthday rhyme.
    Your sonnet must await some other time.

Friday, August 12, 2011

I Could Give All To Time

I Could Give All To Time
by Robert Frost

To Time it never seems that he is brave
To set himself against the peaks of snow
To lay them level with the running wave,
Nor is he overjoyed when they lie low,
But only grave, contemplative and grave.

What now is inland shall be ocean isle,
Then eddies playing round a sunken reef
Like the curl at the corner of a smile;
And I could share Time's lack of joy or grief
At such a planetary change of style.

I could give all to Time except - except
What I myself have held. But why declare
The things forbidden that while the Customs slept
I have crossed to Safety with? For I am There,
And what I would not part with I have kept.

Monday, August 1, 2011

Happy Birthday

May the day bring promise for the days to come,
And revive sweet memories of those already done;
May it bring happy tidings from far and near,
And bring you close to all you hold dear.
May you remember it every day till the next one arrives,
In a rush of color and confectionery, cheers and smiles!
      - Ray Stagg
Have a great day.

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

If Once You Have Slept On An Island

If Once You Have Slept On An Island
by Rachel Lyman Field
If once you have slept on an island
You'll never be quite the same;
You may look as you looked the day before
And go by the same old name,
You may bustle about in street and shop
You may sit at home and sew,
But you'll see blue water and wheeling gulls
Wherever your feet may go.
You may chat with the neighbors of this and that
And close to your fire keep,
But you'll hear ship whistle and lighthouse bell
And tides beat through your sleep.
Oh! you won't know why and you can't say how
Such a change upon you came,
But once you have slept on an island,
You'll never be quite the same.

Friday, June 24, 2011

Night On The Great Beach

Our fantastic civilization has fallen out of touch with many aspects of nature, and with none more completely than with night.  Primitive folk, gathered at a cave mouth round a fire, do not fear night; they fear, rather, the energies and creatures to whom night gives power; we of the age of the machine, having delivered ourselves of nocturnal enemies, now have a dislike of night itself.  With lights and ever more lights, we drive the holiness and beauty of night back to the forests and the sea; the little villages, the crossroads even, will have none of it.  Are modern folk, perhaps, afraid of night?  Do they fear that vast serenity, the mystery of infinite space, the austerity of stars?  Having made themselves at home in a civilization obsessed with power, which explains its whole world in terms of energy, do they fear at night for their dull acquiescence and the pattern of their beliefs?  Be the answer what it will, to-day’s civilization is full of people who have not the slightest notion of the character or the poetry of night, who have never even seen night.  Yet to live thus, to know only artificial night, is as absurd and evil as to know only artificial day.

Night is very beautiful on this great beach [and in these Rocky Mountain forests].  It is the true other half of the day’s tremendous wheel; no lights without meaning stab or trouble it; it is beauty, it is fulfillment, it is rest.

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Sonnet 21

Say Over Again (Sonnet 21)
by Elilzabeth Barrett Browning

Say over again, and yet once over again,
That thou dost love me. Though the word repeated
Should seem a “cuckoo-song,” as thou dost treat it.
Remember, never to the hill or plain,
Valley and wood, without her cuckoo-strain
Comes the fresh Spring in all her green completed.
Belovèd, I, amid the darkness greeted
By a doubtful spirit-voice, in that doubt’s pain
Cry, “Speak once more—thou lovest!” Who can fear
Too many stars, though each in heaven shall roll,
Too many flowers, though each shall crown the year?
Say thou dost love me, love me, love me—toll
The silver iterance!—only minding, Dear,
To love me also in silence with thy soul.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Sonnet 43

How Do I Love Thee? (Sonnet 43)
by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

------

I figured this website was long overdue for another poem!

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Courage

Courage is the strength to stand up
When it's easier to fall down and lose hold.
It is the conviction to explore new horizons
When it's easier to believe what we've been told.
Courage is the desire to maintain our integrity
When it's easier to look the other way.
It is feeling happy and alive, and moving forward
When it's easier to feel sorry for ourselves and stay.
Courage is the will to shape our world
When it's easier to let someone else do it for us.
It is the recognition that none of us are perfect
When it's easier to criticize others and fuss.
Courage is the power to step forward and lead
When it's easier to follow the crowd; their pleas resound.
It is the spirit that places you on top of the mountain
When it's easier to never leave the ground.
The foundation of courage is solid,
The rock that doesn't roll.
Courage is the freedom
Of our mind, body, and soul!
~~ Author Unknown ~~

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Time Machines

"We all have our time machines.  Some take us back, they're called memories.  Some take us forward, they're called dreams."
-   Jeremy Irons 

Monday, April 4, 2011

A Red, Red Rose

A Red, Red Rose
by Robert Burns

O my Luve's like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Luve's like the melodie
That’s sweetly play'd in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I:
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry:

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun:
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.

And fare thee well, my only Luve
And fare thee well, a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho’ it were ten thousand mile.

Sunday, April 3, 2011

The World Is Too Much With Us

The World Is Too Much With Us
by William Wordsworth (1807)

The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not.—Great God!  I’d rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.

Friday, March 18, 2011

Song For Spring

SONG FOR SPRING
It's almost here - It's safe to say
I saw a Crocus yesterday
Its' colors bright - A lovely thing
My heart Rejoiced! 'Twil soon be Spring!
The winter blues will soon be gone
And birds will soon burst forth in song
The coral bells will gently ring
The Daphne yells "It's almost Spring!"
It's neary here! It's coming fast!
The Robins will appear at last
Oh Wonderous Joy! I too shall sing!
And join in Nature's "Song for Spring"

M.Garren

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Unforgotten

Unforgotten
by Robert Service

I know a garden where the lilies gleam,
   And one who lingers in the sunshine there;
   She is than white-clothed lily far more fair,
And, oh, her eyes are heaven-lit with dream!

I know a garret, cold and dark and drear,
   And one who toils and toils with tireless pen,
   Until his brave, sad eyes grow weary – then
He seeks the stars pale, silent as a seer.

And, ah, it’s strange; for, desolate and dim,
   Between these two there rolls a country wide;
   Yet he is in the garden by her side
And she is in garret there with him.

Monday, February 14, 2011

Acrostic Valentine Poem

H appiness is not a tended rose
A mid the prescient beauty of a garden:
P erhaps one senses soon some gate may close;
P erhaps one senses soon the earth will harden.
Y ears come and go like waves upon a shore,

V iolent or peaceful with the wind.
A fter one has given up on more,
L ove waits within the heart, its passion thinned.
E ven in a passage void of light,
N ether windings black with rage and grief,
T here are waters sweet with lost delight
I n which one finds a strong, serene belief.
N o happiness can overcome life's pain
E xcept one love, and love give life again.

Friday, February 11, 2011

You've Touched My Heart

You've Touched My Heart
Author Unknown

You've given me a reason
For smiling once again,
You've filled my life with peaceful dreams
and you've become my closest friend.
You've shared your heartfelt secrets
And your trust you've given me,
You showed me how to feel again
To laugh, and love, and see.
If life should end tomorrow
And from this world I should part,
I shall be forever young
For you have touched my heart

Thursday, February 10, 2011

You Must Believe In Spring

You Must Believe In Spring
(lyrics by Alan & Marilyn Bergman)

When lonely feelings chill
The meadows of your mind,
Just think if Winter comes,
Can Spring be far behind?

Beneath the deepest snows,
The secret of a rose
Is merely that it knows
You must believe in Spring!

Just as a tree is sure
Its leaves will reappear;
It knows its emptiness
Is just the time of year.

The frozen mountain dreams
Of April’s melting streams,
How crystal clear it seems,
You must believe in Spring!

You must believe in love
And trust it’s on its way,
Just as the sleeping rose
Awaits the kiss of May.

So in a world of snow
Of things that come and go,
Where what you think you know,
You can’t be certain of,
You must believe in Spring and love.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Thursday, February 3, 2011

The Evening Sky

"If I could reach up and hold a star for every time you've made me smile, the entire evening sky would be in the palm of my hand."
- Unknown

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Beethoven on Friendship

"Never forget the days I spent with you. Continue to be my friend, as you will always find me yours."
---Ludwig Van Beethoven