Just What If….

Today’s guest post is from my adorable “weirdo” Amity. 🙂 I just love her writes. They leave you thinking and wondering….who really is Amity? And when you think you’ve begun to understand, she wows you by introducing her alien friends (her muses I suppose), who often decide if, when and what she writes. 🙂

Don’t we just love Amity?

Messieurs et dames, here is Amity, doing what she knows to do best – wow us. 🙂

Just What If….

What if black was really white and white green?
Would it make a difference?
Would the black mamba be as gentle as a dove?

What if the sky was green and grasses blue?
Would it change the force of nature?
Would the sun wither in season?

What if your skin was red and mine pink?
Would we love more?
Would there be peace in the world?

What if the rainbow was colourless and the butterflies grey?
Would the rain still know when to stop?
Would life still be beautiful?

Just what if…?

The Angle

Hello my lovelies. A beautiful Sunday to you all. Throw open your windows and  just savor the essence of today.

I find this poem by Kathryn Ingrid a really nice piece to give thought to. She blogs at artcoloredglasses.com. Enjoy! Bonne journée!

Art-Colored Glasses

Digital illo from a Photo: Gathering StormOpen a Window

Open a window; what’s outside?

Sunlight blazing far and wide?

Branches dancing in the trees

and birdsong lilting on the breeze?

Is it an evening cold with storm,

with indigo cloud banks taking form

in a palisade of lightning, hail,

and whistling ghosts in a screaming gale?

So goes the weather, for a start;

how, now, with the windows of your heart?Photo: Sunny Days

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Never-Ending Cycle

Summer 2 freedigitalphotos.net

 

Summer’s love turned to loathing

Or just some slight unease

We used to pray for these days

Shiver through sunless rays

 

And now that we have been sated

New longings materialize

Yielding to wishes idem

A never-ending cycle

 

I’m grateful for these tropics

Its varying cycles too

Somehow Someway I’ll weather

This storm and others new

Friday Duet

 

I love music. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t. However there’s a certain impact that music has on me when it’s a duet. Is it the harmony, the sheer beauty and the heavenliness of it or the honesty of the singing pair as they pour out their souls for their audience, as if on a platter? Or perhaps the fact that many of them are love songs? I think it’s all of that and more.

Now I don’t know anything of the works that go into making music, whatever the form, nor do I understand the mechanics of a duet. But I think that shouldn’t be a requisite for me to enjoy it and just go with the flow.

I recently stumbled on Andrea Bocelli’s pieces and he has got quite a few duets performed with outstanding female singers. I’ll leave you to enjoy this duet of Andrea Bocelli performed with Laura Pausini And no, this is not a love song, though it looks like one. It’s a song that reminds me, despite my many struggles, not to forget to “really live,” to give thanks and to help others too, because they also are struggling. So  as you enjoy this, (see embedded you tube video above), do not forget to Dare To Live.

 

 

 

 

Power Blackout; or, Apocalypse Now

Hello dear readers. Hope your Sunday is unfolding beautifully. I found this piece of humor on Mara Eastern’s website and thought to share with you. I love her approach here to those less-than-desirable situations in life.
To Mara, I would suggest (not) a trip to Naija -short slang for Nigeria – where we, like the 4 horsemen, ride on this daily apocalypse. We bathe in it everyday and it’s really nothing. Once you’re born, the orientation program begins. Any contrary opinions?😅

Mara Eastern

I grew up in a one-street village situated (in)conveniently at the bottom of a valley surrounded by woods and wine. Whoever founded the settlement was clearly wasted: while the sunny slopes of the hills did provide a nice site to plant grape vine, rain water tended to flow down the slopes and flood the village on the regular. I also blame said village founder, deceased since about the Middle Ages, for not foreseeing that the villagers of the future will be addicted to electricity and won’t be chuffed with the frequent power blackouts for whose frequent occurrence in the valley there is a scientific explanation which I don’t remember.

The village natives took the blackouts with a stiff upper lip, though they weren’t even British. My mother looms large in my memory as the candle fairy – not to be confused with candy fairy – as she roamed the rooms…

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Success, Me And You

Work in Progress2
I am not a success. Yet. And that’s by your definition.
Why, I have not the things that money can buy.

I am not a success. Yet. And that’s by your definition.
Why, I have not a house of my own, so that I can be called a landlord.

I am not a success. Yet. And that’s by your definition.
Why, I have not a ride to wheel me through the highway.

I am not a success. Yet. And that’s by your definition.
Why, I have not a bachelor’s, neither master’s nor a doctorate.

I am not a success. Yet. And that’s by your definition.
Why, I have not a job – the kind that gets me a regular paycheck.

I am not a success. Yet. And that’s by your definition.
Why, I am but a spinster, a bachelor, a lone pole with a heart.

I am not a success. Yet. And that’s by your definition.
Why, I have not a son or a daughter to call my own.

I am not a success. Yet. And that’s by your definition.
Why, I’ve sown seeds that just won’t see the light of day or grow to fruition.

I am not a success. Yet. And that’s by your definition.
Why, I have not a first class, not a second, but sit with the rest of the ranks.

I am not a success. Yet. And that’s by your definition.
Why, I come from rock-bottom. Far beneath the elite.

I am not a success. Yet. And that’s by your definition.
I am faceless, nameless, voiceless.

I am not a success? Yet? Now here’s my definition:

I have things that money cannot buy –
True love, true family, true friends, true relationship,
And with the Greatest Friend of all.

No mortgage in my name, yes but no debt in my name.
No ride, yes but I move.

No degrees, yes but not without an education.
Unemployed, yes but employable.

Unmarried, yes but marriageable.
Childless, yes but working hard to be the kind of parent,
That any child would be proud of.

Not of your class, yes but every bit worthy.
The tallest trees started from beneath the soil.
They were faceless, nameless, voiceless too.

I am not a success? Perhaps. But I am succeeding.
I am work in progress. And that is all I need to know.
Work in Progress

Joy

images

Oh the joy of founding

New friendships on the old

Of reminiscing on former times

While planning for the morrow

Oh the joy of decay

The sort that brings in New life

The wish of many a farmer

Who prays for harvest bounties

Oh the joy of rebirth

Of being made anew

You know you’re getting better

Each new and passing day