Wednesday 29 April 2020

Dust in the wind . . .

A Contemplation Upon Flowers

Brave flowers . . .that I could gallant it like you.
And be as little vain!
You come abroad, and make a harmless show,
And to your beds of earth again.
You are not proud; you think your birth;
For your embroider'd garments are from earth. 

You do obey your months and times, but I
Would have it ever Spring;
My fate would know no winter, never die,
Nor think of such a thing.
O that I could my bed of earth but view
And smile, and look as cheerfuly as you!

O teach me to see Death and not to fear,
But rather to take a truce!
How often have I seen you at a bier,
And there look fresh and spruce!
You fragrant flowers! then teach me, that my breath
Like yours may sweeten and perfume my death. 
~Henry King, Bishhop of Chichester (1592-1669) 

I bought this book for myself early in the year, along with another copy for a friend. It combines two of my loves, poetry and flowers, actually three of my loves as each poem is also richly illustrated.

I am not sure where the great love I have for poetry in my heart springs from.  I only know that I cannot resist a poem.  Of any kind.  They truly do speak to my being in a special way.  I often think in prose.  Have I ever told you that?  Thoughts come frequently into my head versed and written by my mind as poetry, and I often think in rhyme, although I know full well that poetry doesn't or needn't necessarily rhyme.  I hope that doesn't certify me crazy . . .  this idea that I think in verses and prose  . . .  

I also often write poetry myself, inside lined notebooks.  Poetry combined with thoughts and feelings. I don't really share them with anyone else.  I'm not sure why that is, perhaps it is fear of someone telling me that they are no good?  I do not really know.  Things like that are very subjective. One man's meat is truly another man's poison and I am sure that Shakespeare at some point was told his work was rubbish  . . .  but don't compare me to Shakespeare.  I am no he  . . . 

I wrote a lot of poetry when I was at University.  My English Lit prof told me she thought I had an arresting style, and to keep it up, but life got in the way.  I didn't even finish Uni. Back in the 1970's Uni as a single  mom was a huge challenge, and I was not as brave back then as what I am now.

(This is sooooo on my wish list.)

Poetry is such a very personal thing.  Much more so than writing stories is.  Poetry comes straight from the heart and is filled with great emotion . . . raw and untested . . . it lays open the bare bones of your very soul.  I am not quite sure I am ready for the world to peruse the bare bones of my soul just yet, maybe I never will be  . . . but I do know that I can no more not write than I can not breathe.  Indeed it is as much a part of me as my breath . . . be it good or be it appallingly bad . . . 

I breathe in experience and then breathe it out in words . . .  and feelings . . .  word paintings . . . embroidered richly with my life's blood . . .  

I see something like this and my soul longs to paint it in verse  . . . majestic and proud amidst the mist of a thousand mornings. He protects them, watches out for them  . . . sometimes powerless against the forces of nature . . .  and yes . . .  of man. 

We are such silly creatures. We've been gifted with everything and yet we have taken it all so for granted.  Misused our stewardships . . .  of land and of beast, abusing them often in the worst ways.  We are the creators of our own demise. And still He loves us ANYWAYS  . . .  gives us second and third and even fourth chances. He never gives up on us, even though many of us have given up on Him . . . 

Inside each of us He has planted that seed . . . that yearning to create and to become much more than we are.  Not many of us water it, and I often wonder why that is.  Is it fear that keeps us from doing  and becoming what we were intended to become?  

In my case I would say yes.  Fear combined with a lack of confidence in myself and my talents has held me back.  Add to that a strong sense of responsability which often puts the needs and wants of others first.  It is not wrong to care for others . . .  however misplaced that care might be.  And much of  mine has been misplaced. 

Our lives are filled with an abundance of paths and opportunities. Our choices determine our destiny . . .  but it is never too late to change your path or head in a new direction. This I do know for sure . . .  life is filled with old endings and new beginnings.  

When we come to the end of our days, will they read as poetry?  Filled with purple mists and the raging winds of whimsical prose?  I don't know.  What I can tell you for sure is that the poetry of my mother's life lived still has the power to move me in strong and tangible ways.  It is written upon my soul where it occupies space which is strongly interwoven within the prose of my own life's heartbeat. 

I close my eyes, only for a moment, 
and the moment's gone 
All my dreams pass before my eyes, 
a curiosity 
Dust in the wind 
All they are is dust in the wind 

Its a dull day out there again today.  I worked very hard yesterday trying to get everything done before the month's end. I have one more thing to finish today and then April will be done and dusted. Whew!  I am not sure why, but my days seem to be flashing by more quickly than they ever have, and yet  . . .  if you ask me on most days I will have to truly think before I can tell you what day of the week it actually is! I think today is Wednesday  . . .

A thought to carry with you  . . . 

° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •
•。★★ 。* 。
° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚
˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~\。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ | 田田 |門 ★

A beautiful day begins
with a beautiful mindset •。★★ 。* 。 


In the Kitchen today Levain Bakery Oatmeal and Raisin Cookies.  I wanted to see what the hype was all about. Now I get it.  

Have a wonderful Wednesday.  Don't forget to stay safe, wash your hands and remember  . . . 

═══════════ ღೋƸ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒღೋ ═══════════ ⊰✿░G░O░D⊰✿⊰L░O░V░E░S⊰✿⊰░Y░O░U░⊰✿
═══════════ ღೋƸ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒღೋ ═══════════  
And I do too! 



  1. I had thought I might have more time for projects etc during this shutdown...but like you I find less time somehow...for me, I think it is all the hours I have had to spend online, trying to find alternate ways to purchase supplies we needed. At least I have now found some, so that will save a bit of time. I do so love getting pkgs at the much easier than shopping. I will still want to go shopping a bit once that is allowed more again...but maybe not as much!! Always so much to do at home isn't there? I think you must have been given poetry as a gift...just as some are given the gift of music!! Keep on keeping on!!
    Elizabeth xoxo

    1. Do you think perhaps we are spending more time cleaning and disinfecting things Elizabeth? I, like you, spend a lot of time online trying to source things we are in need of. I will continue to write as long as I have my marbles so to speak and the will to continue! xoxo

  2. You have a gift with words! And all art forms!Take care..

    1. Thanks very much Monique. You are likewise blessed! xoxo

  3. Our days are like dust in the wind. They do go by fast. I can't believe how fast it goes. Here we are at the end of another month. I've done nothing to brag about yet somehow we are here at the end of April and God has kept us safe and healthy to welcome in the Month May. We do need to use our gifts and talents ao as not to waste them.

    1. Its unbelievable how quickly the days are passing Pam! I have not really done much to brag about either. But still they pass! Love and hugs, xoxo

  4. I loved the review of "our" book, Marie. I keep it on the coffee table because the cover is so pretty. The first go through was looking at the lovely paintings. Now, I'm slowly reading and savouring each poem. Thank you again for such a thoughtful gift. My other friend Marie made your Greek yogurt biscuits and she loved them. She said they are her new favourite. We're off to the drug store for prescriptions. I'll wait in the car. Soon it will be May. Where do the days go? Stay well, stay happy. Hugs, Elaine

    1. Oh, I am so pleased that your other friend Marie likes the biscuits! I have not ventured out yet, other than to walk the dog with Todd. The Virus is really bad here in the UK. Its quite frightening actually! Love and hugs, xoxo

  5. Oh my dear friend, I love how you write and I imagine that your poetry is brilliantly written. I have told you before that I think you should write and illustrate a book. I think you could write a novel, a children's book or just a book of musing from all your posts on your blog site. You truly do have a gift given to you my a lovely Heavenly Father. Continue to use it to bless our lives with your thoughts. I found this very inspiring and want you to just write a way. I find it amazing how much you find to write about.
    Sending loving thoughts, prayers and hugs your way! Stay safe you two!!

    1. Oh, I have a book already written LeAnn, but nobody to publish it. That is the case for many writers! Love and hugs for you and Roger. Stay safe! xoxo


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