greatpoetrymhf:

Great motivational piece in a few words….made my day….enjoy

Originally posted on Lindsaythomas20's Blog:

Think about all the people you know. Not just your close friends; Everyone! They all have a place in this world and a story to tell. Every story is meant to touch others and help them get through their personal struggles. You were born to help people physically, mentally, and emotionally. You hold all this power, can you believe that. You could be the reason someone wakes up in the morning. Maybe why someone goes to the gym, just to see your face and have a little chat. You have so much effect on people and their lives. You probably haven’t thought about that. So take a second to think about your day and what you’ve done. Have you encouraged someone, discouraged someone? What have you done? How have you effected this earth and all the people around you? You do you feel the shame because you said something rude…

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Originally posted on grandfathersky:


By moonlight she wonders
how this came to be
of loving remembered
in places we see

she waits by the window
gold morning sunrise
and shines in the noonday
soft clouds rolling by

when spring she paints
across violet meadows
we dream of new life
in sunsets and shadows

her harvest awaits
rich bounty is given
for all to nourish
the life she has risen

was it a womb
or some sacred place
we all took the step
into time and space

she offered us reason
a place to unfold
a flower becoming
a tale to be told

Dear Goddess I’ve heard
your voice in the dove
can you see that these words
are returning your love

Photo: kosmovidenie.ru/index/0-11

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The Changing Wind Fran Blackwell Guest author….with permission…unedited

  • The Changing Wind

    The eye within hurricane closes,
    in stillness, the wind silent,
    directions change tonal vibration,
    all life caught within the changing wind
    is cleansed of all debris, clean
    as a whistle blowing through the arch angels
    wings molting feathered down sized,

    and what is the lesson of the changing wind
    echo-ing its prayer song, ceaselessly spinning,
    a controlling force, a clean sweeper like none other,
    a pristine eraser of traces left behind by
    those who have gone before after all

    becoming , is only love, love only, let love go
    like the wind, like the rain, the sun, nurturing
    needs of life spanning universal stillness into
    the deep blue sea, see saw the horizon mirroring
    music that in its silence, unheard unnoticed songs
    so deep in the silent refrain, no human ear can hear
    this music of God lullabying souls to sleep so
    they may awaken to see the dreams God

    dreams for Soul on the wind blowing through
    every crack and cevise unfulfilled by the hunger
    never abated, never filled, in its fullness,
    behold a moments notice befitting a kings ransom
    to be paid in full, all charges dropped, for the crime of
    spiritual ignorance, attempted kidnapping of life,

    how can this happen, you say, because life is for living,
    understand this and that, and the only possible reason
    for this treason is one is blinded by the angel of love,
    forgetting He can blind you or make you great,
    sight unseen, greatness escapes the burial plot of death and dying
    for love lives forever in open hearts
    who hear the sound of the changing winds

    with all that is said and done in the name of God,
    in the name of love,
    I say , do away with names, move consciousness into
    the nameless worlds, yes, the no name places
    where there is much ado about nothing
    as Souls go about their lifetime journeys
    figuring out the simplicity of the Divine Plan.
    Plans full blown in the changing wind

    Purity of unconditional love, the one, the only
    currency soul can spend in eternity,
    until one moment out of time, the big BOING,
    it is so much easier to surrender to Gods Will,
    willingly to choose to be an instrument of Divine Grace
    like the reed, blown by the wind to sing the music of God
    hear the sound of a single flute
    in the heart of a morning glory
    in the beating of a heart, of all hearts beating
    at the same time…

    when you walk in purity and love,
    walk with humility also,
    for the wind whispers a secret
    you know, yet forgotten till the wind spoke,
    you have never walked alone….
    the Beloved has been with you
    from forever…..
    Yes beloved one, you are worthy

greatpoetrymhf:

This creative writer….stirs my interests This offering is exceptional. Thank you for your talent.

Originally posted on Poems by Jason Frost:

It is heaven among the trees

Hands in the rich Earth

As the spirit of love guides and gifts me with joy

I return home with hands full

Of natural inspiration

Dirt is in my fingernails now

Mmmmm . . .

The joy of wildness

And the gifts of spirits who love to play

Earth is a teacher

And so is every creature

Guiding me on my way…

Dreams and visions

No need to make decisions

In the space where love guides

It is only a matter of saying yes

Or no

To the flow of the river before you…

My dirty hands

My sticks and rocks

Are with me for a reason

Now it is the season

For art inspired by nature…

I am an artist forever!

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greatpoetrymhf:

For Mother, on the occasion of her fourth anniversary…..translated (died) April 11, 2008. Here is a poem my brother wrote for her celebration of life. Thank you beloved brother. Thank you Mother.

Originally posted on Greatpoetrymhf's Weblog:

Healing Roses

But no newspaper headline will say

No copy will read

Of her Life full of Deeds

Of her five children that lived

Of her son that did not

But as she believed

Today she will see that little tot!

Each child that lived reflects a portion of this woman.

Each one knew and remembers

Isolated, private and individual

Snap-shots-in-time.

Some sad—some happy–some divine.

Mine are mine. I speak from them.

A Mother died to-day.

Funerals are for the living.

This one to tell of a Mother’s giving.

Funerals in our clan are not an opportunity

To wash another’s hands

But to speak true and honest

About a mother we lay to rest.

About a woman who knit our mittens

Mittens with a string from one to another

So as not to confuse mine with my brother’s.

About oatmeal for breakfast,

And how it would last.

What was good…

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