I fight to no end
I kill mercilessly
To eternity I send
I failed but I won
My life I devour.
The book was written by Voltaire, and his character named Zadig, got it in one scope.
“What, of all things in the world,
is the longest and the shortest,
the swiftest and the slowest,
the most divisible and the most extended,
the most neglected and the most regretted,
without which nothing can be done,
which devours all that is little and enlivens all that is great?”
Nothing is longer, since it is the measure of eternity.
Nothing is shorter, since it is insufficient for the accomplishment of our projects.
Nothing is more slow to him that expects; nothing more rapid to him that enjoys.
In greatness, it extends to infinity; in smallness, it is infinitely divisible.
All men neglect it; all regret the loss of it; nothing can be done without it.
It consigns to oblivion whatever is unworthy of being transmitted to posterity,
and it immortalizes such actions as are truly great.
It’s the challenges that makes one grow.
It’s the adversities that expands one’s horizon.
It’s the hurdles that makes one push past boundaries and comforts.
So face them.
Bravely if you must.
You will never know what you are capable of being inside your comfort zone.
When one writes a list, what comes to mind? Does it always start with likes and dislikes?
Mine’s a mixture of wants and to-dos, of chores and priorities in listed queues.
Those that I needed to finish today, and ones that are bound to be listed come what may.
Like the laundry that seems to be never ending, and the kitchen that I use for family feeding.
Then there are some that I can cross out my list, for once they are done they cease to exist.
Like calling to cancel a reservation, or taking an exam for certification.
And then there’s a list of the things that I want, and some that’s exclusively all about rants!
One list includes all my favorite shows, the other one lists all quotable quotes.
See my list is mundane, accounts of my chores. There’s nothing special, it’s a little bit bore.
Yet it helps me a lot when crossing a task, a sense of relief when I finish at dusk.
Do you list down your to-dos, too?
Christmas is upon us, I can feel it in the air. When it does, I’m filled with sadness and joy, both something I do bear. The music that Christmas plays, touch my heart deeply. With something that turns me back to my past ever gently. I don’t know why Christmas season do that to me. All I know is that I love it, with delight and melancholy.
So today for Writing 201: Poetry, Ben asked us to share a poem that we love written by somebody else. And, I have several! As I’ve said, I’ve been writing poems for years, and in so doing, I’ve also collected a few that I truly need to keep. I have this folder in my files that’s dedicated to poems, and I’ll gladly share some of the poems (note: PLURAL, so brace yourselves!) that I truly love.
A computer was something on TV in a science fiction show
A window was something you hated to clean,
and ram was the cousin of a goat.
Meg was the name of your girlfriend and
gig was your job that night.
Now they all mean different things
And that mega bytes.
An application was for employment
A program was a TV show
A cursor used profanity
A keyboard was a piano.
Compress was something you did to the garbage,
not something you did to a file
And if you unzipped anything in public,
you’d be in jail for awhile.
Log on was adding wood to the fire
Hard drive was a long trip on the road
A mouse pad was where a mouse lived
And a backup happened to your commode.
Cut you did with a pocket knife
Paste you did with glue
A web was a spider’s home and
a virus was the flu.
I guess I’ll stick to my pad and paper
and the memory in my head
I hear nobody’s been killed
in a computer crash
But, when it happens…
they wish they were dead.
I haven’t noted who wrote this but I had fun reading how this poem was spot on to how I felt when the world wide web emerged, computers have upgraded to Office, and Wordstar became obsolete.
Alone in the dark as their broken hearts mended
They silently spoke with their eyes – it had ended
His soul he had bore but to hopeless avail
For the damage has done with all the times she had failed
For the years she put forth her heart openly
There was nothing returned but his dark misery
And through it all she had tried so hard to be strong
But her pain can only be endured so long
Perhaps not the words he wanted to hear
As he’d grown to discover what had now disappeared
His love had revealed him as never before
And he sat there before her begging one chance more
And perhaps not the words he expected she’d say
She looked at him softly before turning away
“You left me alone as I watched from my world,
Nursing and raising our boys and our girl,”
“As rivers of tears I shed night after night,
You never stopped once to see my fierce fight,”
“To help me to love you – to know you loved me,
To find the child in you and set your dreams free,”
“To have and to hold until death did us part,
But alas you have killed my once passionate heart,”
“‘Tis not for a lack of my love I must go,
But because I cannot love a man I don’t know,”
And she turned away softly from the man who just died
For the man she had longed for, and she silently cried.
For all that was in her was now deep within,
In a darkness so dense as to let never a light in
To herself she was true and turned to leave
To find somehow, some way, another something to believe.
This was a sad story of letting go.
I did not comprehend it when the words first came to me,
It startled me at first, I didn’t know who it could be.
My son was having problems, with the vices of the day.
He had started down the road of life, but heading the wrong way.
I warned him time and time again. I hope it’s not too late.
And now it’s time to punish him but as I hesitate,
I’m so confused and don’t know how to punish my young son.
I only knew I must act then, and something must be done.
Then as I walked down to his room trying to decide,
I heard a voice that startled me, “Ground him by your side.”
The voice was strong and deep and it appeared to be a man.
I guess when angels first appear, you do not understand.
I knew it must be spiritual, for I was all alone.
And I could sense the difference, just listening to the tone.
As I pondered on the words, and what they really meant.
I could not grasp the meaning, or the reason they were sent.
Just how was I to use those words with meanings that were hid?
And in my mind those words echoed so this is what I did.
I told my son, “You’re out of line, and troubles on the way.
So this is how it’s going to be, and it will start today.”
“I want to know from here on out, exactly where you’re at.
Until you prove yourself to me, it’s going to be like that.”
“When you’re at school you’ll telephone, so I’ll know you’re all right.
And when I’m working you will do, the same thing here at night.”
“Then when we’re home, and even if you may think this is wrong,
When I go shopping or go out, you’ll also come along.”
He did not like the punishment, I saw it in his eyes.
And how I used the words I heard was even a surprise.
I wondered as I left his room, had I done right or wrong?
Will he rebel against me now or will he go along?
The weeks turned into months, with how our lives were rearranged.
And then one day, I noticed that our lives had really changed.
No longer was it punishment and no more did he dread.
The time we spent together, it was bonding time instead.
What started as a punishment that made me agonize.
Turned out to be a blessing, standing right before my eyes.
My son and I had grown so close, with love we had to find.
And always I could hear those words that whispered in my mind.
I never really understood the words when they first came.
And sometimes wondered if my mind, was totally insane.
The spirit world is active, angels move throughout the earth.
And you can read my story and take it for what it’s worth.
But now my son is doing fine, he is my source of pride.
And all because an angel said, “Just ground him by your side.”
***I kept this with me, a reminder to my own’s parenting path. THIS POEM IS A TRUE STORY TOLD BY JAMES KISNER’S NEXT DOOR NEIGHBOR.
God said let there be light,
And there was light.
God said let there be life,
And the birds took flight.
God said let there be stars,
And the stars shone through.
God said let there be love,
And there was you.
This reminds me of a song my husband gave me when he was still courting me (yes, people, conservative as it sounds, I was courted – for two years – before we became an item. That’s another story, though). The song was from Beatles called Till There Was You, and it has been our song.
“The best Christmas ever?
I remember it well!”
So began the old story
My mother would tell
The familiar old story
We kids love to hear,
Christmas Eve by the fire,
At the end of the year.
“I was eighteen,”
She would smile and say,
“But how well I remember
That one Christmas Day.
On the morning before,
A great storm started blowing,
The air became damp,
And soon, it was snowing.
And then, how it fell,
Flakes just poured from the sky,
Till the drifts piled up
Half a dozen feet high,
The roads became blocked,
Our small airport shut down,
And soon, not a soul
Could escape from the town.
“I remember my father
Reached home around four,
And I saw someone with him
When I opened the door.
A snow-covered stranger,
A guest, I was told,
A young out-of-town lawyer,
Tall! Handsome! – And cold!
A young man from the city,
I heard my father say,
Christmas Eve – he was stranded –
So with us he would stay,
And we’d make his Yule merry.
Or at least we would try,
Till the airport reopened,
And the storm had gone by.
“And then, there began
The best Christmas ever.
Our guest was a dream,
For besides being clever,
And besides being handsome,
He was gentle and shy –
So – I soon fell in love!”
Mother said with a sigh.
“Christmas Eve – Christmas Day –
We spent hours together,
But then I could see
A change in the weather.
The storm had gone past,
It no longer was snowing,
And the following day,
I knew he’d be going.
He’d be off to the city,
He’d be leaving – and then –
I feared that I never
Would see him again.
“Ah, if only, I thought
There was some magic way,
To prevent him from leaving,
To cause a delay.
I was sure that I pleased him,
That was easy to see,
Why, another few days,
And he might fall for me!
Well, I thought and I thought,
But what could I do?
And then, after supper –
Yes, it’s perfectly true –
He said he felt odd,
He confessed he was ill,
One moment so hot,
The next moment, a chill.
Yes, it’s hard to believe,
But it was perfectly true,
That evening our guest
Came down with the flu!
“For a week he stayed with us,
Now better, now worse,
He was so sweet and helpless –
And I was his nurse.
I brought him cold cloths
To put on his head,
I brought him warm soup,
And fluffed up his bed.
Oh, I cared for my patient,
Through each fever attack,
And when he left a week later,
I prayed he’d come back.
Mother paused for a while,
And said nothing more.
She looked at us children.
Sprawled about on the floor.
She gazed at the tree.
All tinseled and bright,
At the wreaths and the fire,
And the holiday night.
Then she said, “Every Christmas
Is special, I know,
But for me, that December
Had a magical glow,
First the hours before Christmas,
And then Christmas day,
The great blizzard that brought us
Together that way,
All the wind and the snow,
And the terrible weather,
Then the last minute flu
That kept us together.”
And she’d look at my father,
And say with a smile,
“I’m so glad you were forced
To remain for a while,
The out-of-town stranger,
So handsome and clever,
The sweetheart I found,
On the best Christmas ever.”
I know it’s not Christmas yet, but I wanted to share my favorite Christmas poem, a love story obviously. We all wanted to have that special someone to be in our lives till we’re old and elderly. Sit by the fire telling stories to grandkids. All those awesome stuff of growing old together. We don’t really know what will happen in the future, but that’s the plan. (Grow Old With You is another song that my husband really likes).
Maps are the plans that make us weep,
For those times that they don’t go well.
They’re like promises that’s hard to keep,
For they’re the future we cannot foretell.
Yet maps are the dreams we hope to come true,
For they make us get up everyday.
They’re goals and wishes we move forward to do,
For they keep us from wasting away.
So keep moving, keep pushing,
Move forward keep living,
For maps serve as guide when we lapse.
Maps are the stars that give life deeper meaning,
Keep going on making more maps.
© 2015 ReadWriteSnap. All Rights Reserved.
While driving and racking (as opposed to wracking) my brain around the fourth prompt, I was thinking of ‘the love i know’, a poem I made for my husband. I couldn’t think of anything more imperfect or more fitting for the prompt.