I get chills every time I listen to this. Its a beautiful song.
This is a re-post of one of my poems. I think I first posted it back in 2009. Enjoy.
we need to find another way
of being who we are
we’ve punch holes in the canopy
there is no blanket of protection
from the elements now
the only consolation I have
is that the past does fade
new weavers will come
to mend the broken pieces
of life’s intricate fabric
beads of water will glitter
in the warmth of new sunsets
new growth will emerge
like a phoenix from the ashes
Written by Me (pastelmoon)
A weak tornado goes across rows of vegetables picking up the plastic sheeting covering the plants. It twirls the sheets up into the air twisting them together and pulling them up into the sky.
Tonight the moon is going to appear larger and brighter than usual because its closer to the Earth. You don’t want to miss seeing it.
Anger, a spark, within all of us.
There, anger is lurking, waiting to
ignite the dynamite, that will
cause an explosion of words,
and actions, that can not be taken back.
Anger, is the roadblock, to anything
and everything, worthwhile in life.
Anger, seemingly an involuntary reaction,
to rejection of thought or action.
Anger, an interpretation, of unacceptable behavior.
Anger, almost always followed by regret.
Anger, an emotion. who’s children are,
anxiety, fear, frustration, animosity, passion,
outrage and a thousands of other, emotionally
affecting articulations.
Anger, the replacement of reason.
What is the enemy of anger? The
enemy of anger, is, patience, understanding
and love.
Anger, the emotion, the world would be
far better off, without.
Joe Fazio
Drop a pebble in the water:
just a splash, and it is gone;
But there’s half-a-hundred ripples
Circling on and on and on,
Spreading, spreading from the center,
flowing on out to the sea.
And there is no way of telling
where the end is going to be.
Drop a pebble in the water:
in a minute you forget,
But there’s little waves a-flowing,
and there’s ripples circling yet,
And those little waves a-flowing
to a great big wave have grown;
You’ve disturbed a mighty river
just by dropping in a stone.
Drop an unkind word, or careless:
in a minute it is gone;
But there’s half-a-hundred ripples
circling on and on and on.
They keep spreading, spreading, spreading
from the center as they go,
And there is no way to stop them,
once you’ve started them to flow.
Drop an unkind word, or careless:
in a minute you forget;
But there’s little waves a-flowing,
and there’s ripples circling yet,
And perhaps in some sad heart
a mighty wave of tears you’ve stirred,
And disturbed a life was happy
where you dropped that unkind word.
Drop a word of cheer and kindness:
just a flash and it is gone;
But there’s half-a-hundred ripples
circling on and on and on,
Bearing hope and joy and comfort
on each splashing, dashing wave
Till you wouldn’t believe the volume
of the one kind word you gave.
Drop a word of cheer and kindness:
in a minute you forget;
But there’s gladness still a-swelling,
and there’s joy circling yet,
And you’ve rolled a wave of comfort
whose sweet music can be heard
Over miles and miles of water
just by dropping one kind word.
By James W. Foley
All are architects of Fate,
Working in these walls of Time;
Some with massive deeds and great,
Some with ornaments of rhyme.
Nothing useless is, or low;
Each thing in its place is best;
And what seems but idle show
Strengthens and supports the rest.
For the structure that we raise,
Time is with materials filled;
Our to-days and yesterdays
Are the blocks with which we build.
Truly shape and fashion these;
Leave no yawning gaps between;
Think not, because no man sees,
Such things will remain unseen.
In the elder days of Art,
Builders wrought with greatest care
Each minute and unseen part;
For the Gods see everywhere.
Let us do our work as well,
Both the unseen and the seen;
Make the house, where Gods may dwell,
Beautiful, entire, and clean.
Else our lives are incomplete,
Standing in these walls of Time,
Broken stairways, where the feet
Stumble as they seek to climb.
Build to-day, then, strong and sure,
With a firm and ample base;
And ascending and secure
Shall to-morrow find its place.
Thus alone can we attain
To those turrets, where the eye
Sees the world as one vast plain,
And one boundless reach of sky.
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
PastelMoon 
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