One year Poppashroom. This movie, this song

http://youtu.be/bo_efYhYU2A

Forgive me for being shallow Poppashroom. Too soon baby.

http://youtu.be/wcpEte4plbw

http://youtu.be/R7M9TDWRUTQ


.

People whom say and never do.

Chat or vent or a one line poem?

For someone close to my heart... You know who you are

http://youtu.be/ppvOlIXcVrc

While life is tough and can get you down, I highly recommend following the philosophy of stoicism. It is a healthy and mature way to look at life. I myself have always been a stoic, but more so with age, and didn't really have a name for it until my twenties. Look it up on YouTube or at your public library when you've a chance.

Thank you for your comment. I am in a good place Last week was hell and I am expressive/vent here, but onwards and upwards.
Welcome...

Remembering the fallen/ injured/ traumatised one year ago.


The Guest House
In this house we

have one rule:



bring only what you want to

leave behind



We open doors

with both hands

passing batons

from death to life



Come share with us

this tiny peace



We built from broken tongues

and one-way boarding passes



From kauri bark

and scholarships



From kaitiaki

and kin



In this house

we are

all broken

all strange

all guests



We are holding

space for you

stranger

friend



Come angry

Come dazed

Come hand against your frail

Come open wounded

Come heart between your knees

Come sick and sleepless

Come seeking shelter

Come crawling in your lungs

Come teeth inside your grief

Come shattered peace

Come foreign doubt

Come unrequited sun

Come shaken soil

Come unbearable canyon

Come desperately alone

Come untuned blossom

Come wild and hollow prayer

Come celestial martyr

Come singing doubt

Come swimming to land

Come weep

Come whisper

Come howl into embrace

Come find

a new thread

a gentle light

a glass jar to hold

your dust

Come closer

Come in

you are welcome, brother.



The Guest House by Mohamed Hassan written about the Christchurch Mosque shootings a year ago in New Zealand.

The last line 'You are welcome brother' was what was said to the Shooter as he was met at the entrance of the Mosque before he opened fire.


.

hay there Ladywind
how are you doing? I haven't been out here much it's a long story a few friends
past away, my grandson had type A flu
we thought we'd lose him omg lordy good I took care of him and his sis, for a weekend the things we do for loved ones Bev aka:Coldersky minus the halo,
GF I'm a fallen angel true,

Sorry, I have not been around for awhile
(((Hugs))). Are you doing better my love?

To all my friends, be kind, be strong. I am in lockdown, if you need human contact, talk to me by private message or here. Thinking, praying and loving each one of you through this crazy time.
Grace, I want to hear from you please, to know you are safe.

I am going to post poems for you to read. They will be random emotional poems, because right now we are experiencing random emotions.

A magic moment I remember:
I raised my eyes and you were there.
A fleeting vision, the quintessence
Of all that's beautiful and rare.

I pray to mute despair and anguish
To vain pursuits the world esteems,
Long did I near your soothing accents,
Long did your features haunt my dreams.

Time passed- A rebel storm-blast scattered
The reveries that once were mine
And I forgot your soothing accents,
Your features gracefully divine.

In dark days of enforced retirement
I gazed upon grey skies above
With no ideals to inspire me,
No one to cry for, live for, love.

Then came a moment of renaissance,
I looked up- you again are there,
A fleeting vision, the quintessence
Of all that`s beautiful and rare.

Alexander Pushkin

And the people stayed home. And read books, and listened, and rested, and exercised, and made art, and played games, and learned new ways of being, and were still. And listened more deeply. Some meditated, some prayed, some danced. Some met their shadows. And the people began to think differently.

And the people healed. And, in the absence of people living in ignorant, dangerous, mindless, and heartless ways, the earth began to heal.

And when the danger passed, and the people joined together again, they grieved their losses, and made new choices, and dreamed new images, and created new ways to live and heal the earth fully, as they had been healed.

Untitled
Kitty O'Meara 2020

Sending love and light to you. 🧡

A tender letter to us from Francesca Melandri, an Italian writer, in weeks of lockdown in Rome.

“I am writing to you from Italy, which means I am writing from your future. We are now where you will be in a few days. The epidemic’s charts show us all entwined in a parallel dance.

We are but a few steps ahead of you in the path of time, just like Wuhan was a few weeks ahead of us. We watch you as you behave just as we did. You hold the same arguments we did until a short time ago, between those who still say “it’s only a flu, why all the fuss?” and those who have already understood.

As we watch you from here, from your future, we know that many of you, as you were told to lock yourselves up into your homes, quoted Orwell, some even Hobbes. But soon you’ll be too busy for that.

First of all, you’ll eat. Not just because it will be one of the few last things that you can still do.
You’ll find dozens of social networking groups with tutorials on how to spend your free time in fruitful ways. You will join them all, then ignore them completely after a few days.
You’ll pull apocalyptic literature out of your bookshelves, but will soon find you don’t really feel like reading any of it.

You’ll eat again. You will not sleep well. You will ask yourselves what is happening to democracy.
You’ll have an unstoppable online social life – on Messenger, WhatsApp, Skype, Zoom…

You will miss your adult children like you never have before; the realisation that you have no idea when you will ever see them again will hit you like a punch in the chest.

Old resentments and falling-outs will seem irrelevant. You will call people you had sworn never to talk to ever again, so as to ask them: “How are you doing?” Many women will be beaten in their homes.

You will wonder what is happening to all those who can’t stay home because they don’t have one. You will feel vulnerable when going out shopping in the deserted streets, especially if you are a woman. You will ask yourselves if this is how societies collapse. Does it really happen so fast? You’ll block out these thoughts and when you get back home you’ll eat again.

You will put on weight. You’ll look for online fitness training.

You’ll laugh. You’ll laugh a lot. You’ll flaunt a gallows humour you never had before. Even people who’ve always taken everything dead seriously will contemplate the absurdity of life, of the universe and of it all.

You will make appointments in the supermarket queues with your friends and lovers, so as to briefly see them in person, all the while abiding by the social distancing rules.

You will count all the things you do not need.
The true nature of the people around you will be revealed with total clarity. You will have confirmations and surprises.

Literati who had been omnipresent in the news will disappear, their opinions suddenly irrelevant; some will take refuge in rationalisations which will be so totally lacking in empathy that people will stop listening to them.

People whom you had overlooked, instead, will turn out to be reassuring, generous, reliable, pragmatic and clairvoyant.

Those who invite you to see all this mess as an opportunity for planetary renewal will help you to put things in a larger perspective. You will also find them terribly annoying: nice, the planet is breathing better because of the halved CO2 emissions, but how will you pay your bills next month?

You will not understand if witnessing the birth of a new world is more a grandiose or a miserable affair.
You will play music from your windows and lawns. When you saw us singing opera from our balconies, you thought “ah, those Italians”. But we know you will sing uplifting songs to each other too. And when you blast I Will Survive from your windows, we’ll watch you and nod just like the people of Wuhan, who sung from their windows in February, nodded while watching us.

Many of you will fall asleep vowing that the very first thing you’ll do as soon as lockdown is over is file for divorce.
Many children will be conceived.
Your children will be schooled online. They’ll be horrible nuisances; they’ll give you joy.
Elderly people will disobey you like rowdy teenagers: you’ll have to fight with them in order to forbid them from going out, to get infected and die.

You will try not to think about the lonely deaths inside the ICU.

You’ll want to cover with rose petals all medical workers’ steps.
You will be told that society is united in a communal effort, that you are all in the same boat. It will be true. This experience will change for good how you perceive yourself as an individual part of a larger whole.

Class, however, will make all the difference. Being locked up in a house with a pretty garden or in an overcrowded housing project will not be the same. Nor is being able to keep on working from home or seeing your job disappear. That boat in which you’ll be sailing in order to defeat the epidemic will not look the same to everyone nor is it actually the same for everyone: it never was.
At some point, you will realise it’s tough. You will be afraid. You will share your fear with your dear ones, or you will keep it to yourselves so as not to burden them with it too.

You will eat again.

We’re in Italy, and this is what we know about your future. But it’s just small-scale fortune-telling. We are very low-key seers.
If we turn our gaze to the more distant future, the future which is unknown both to you and to us too, we can only tell you this: when all of this is over, the world won’t be the same.”

Francesca Melandri 2020

Blah, my friend is right now dying, her daughter messaged me. Very hard to process life without her. Cancer sucks.

wisdom would forgive, but not forget.
i would accept the request but, be cautious

Thank you friend. I did accept her request and things shall never be the same now. But we do care and shall have minimum contact. It is difficult to keep her at arms length when she has no boundaries, but all you can do is try.

Heart to Heart

Rita Dove - 1952-


It’s neither red
nor sweet.
It doesn’t melt
or turn over,
break or harden,
so it can’t feel
pain,
yearning,
regret.

It doesn’t have
a tip to spin on,
it isn’t even
shapely—
just a thick clutch
of muscle,
lopsided,
mute. Still,
I feel it inside
its cage sounding
a dull tattoo:
I want, I want—

but I can’t open it:
there’s no key.
I can’t wear it
on my sleeve,
or tell you from
the bottom of it
how I feel. Here,
it’s all yours, now—
but you’ll have
to take me,
too.

hay there Ladywind I'm social distancing not by choice but it's what we all need to do right now my son brings my grandchildren Jude & Mckee
in the truck we all put both hands on the behind the glass like in prison I look at them and sob we all sob I raised them two little Dickens lol,I miss people
you get no huggs,kisses doggone it Coldersky not fairing well and I have no job ok Ladywind Dear abby be well it's a very lonely time I'm copeing Coldersky minus the halo 🤪JMO