MIND RESCUE

We all have moments where we feel we've lost our mind, and a little mind rescue is the only way of getting us back on track. So open up and share your problems with the world because two brains are better than one. The more people that get involved the bigger the brainstorm and the better your chances of solving your dilemma. So click on the label help wanted on the right hand side of your computer screen, mobiles need to click on view web version located on the bottom of your screen.

Showing posts with label SOUL FOOD. Show all posts

Friday, 13 March 2020

FINALLY IT'S FRIDAY "FEED YOUR STARVING SOUL SOME POERY"

Death is nothing at all.

It does not count.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
Nothing has happened.

Everything remains exactly as it was.
I am I, and you are you,
and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged.
Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.

Call me by the old familiar name.
Speak of me in the easy way which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.

Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it.

Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was.
There is absolute and unbroken continuity.
What is this death but a negligible accident?

Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you, for an interval,
somewhere very near,
just round the corner.

All is well.
Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost.
One brief moment and all will be as it was before.
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!

By Henry Scott-Holland

Friday, 6 March 2020

FINALLY IT'S FRIDAY"FEED YOUR STARVING SOUL SOME POETRY"

Life Is A Privilege

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Life is a privilege. Its youthful days
Shine with the radiance of continuous Mays.
To live, to breathe, to wonder and desire,
To feed with dreams the heart’s perpetual fire,
To thrill with virtuous passions, and to glow
With great ambitions – in one hour to know
The depths and heights of feeling – God! in truth,
How beautiful, how beautiful is youth!

Life is a privilege. Like some rare rose
The mysteries of the human mind unclose.
What marvels lie in the earth, and air, and sea!
What stores of knowledge wait our opening key!
What sunny roads of happiness lead out
Beyond the realms of indolence and doubt!
And what large pleasures smile upon and bless
The busy avenues of usefulness!

Life is a privilege. Thought the noontide fades
And shadows fall along the winding glades,
Though joy-blooms wither in the autumn air,
Yet the sweet scent of sympathy is there.
Pale sorrow leads us closer to our kind,
And in the serious hours of life we find
Depths in the souls of men which lend new worth
And majesty to this brief span of earth.

Life is a privilege. If some sad fate
Sends us alone to seek the exit gate,
If men forsake us and as shadows fall,
Still does the supreme privilege of all
Come in that reaching upward of the soul
To find the welcoming Presence at the goal,
And in the Knowledge that our feet have trod
Paths that led from, and must wind back, to God.

FINALLY IT'S FRIDAY "FEED YOUR STARVING SOUL SOME POETRY"

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

I am not there; I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.

By Mary Elizabeth Frye

Friday, 28 February 2020

I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings

The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

MAYA ANGELOU

Friday, 21 February 2020

FINALLY IT'S FRIDAY "FEED YOUR STARVING SOUL SOME POERY"

Friday, 14 February 2020

FINALLY IT'S FRIDAY "FEED YOUR STARVING SOUL SOME POETRY"

JOHN DONNE

When I Died Last, And, Dear, I Die As Often As From Thee I Go Though It Be But An Hour Ago And Lovers Hours Be Full Eternity.

I Would Not That Death Should Take Me Asleep. I Would Not Have Him Merely Seize Me, And Only Declare Me To Be Dead, But Win Me, And Overcome Me. When I Must Shipwreck, I Would Do It In A Sea, Where Mine Impotency Might Have Some Excuse; Not In A Sullen Weedy Lake, Where I Could Not Have So Much As Exercise For My Swimming.

Love Built On Beauty, Soon As Beauty, Dies.

Take Me To You, Imprison Me, For I, Except You Enthrall Me, Never Shall Be Free, Nor Ever Chaste, Except You Ravish Me.

And New Philosophy Calls All In Doubt, The Element Of Fire Is Quite Put Out; The Sun Is Lost, And The Earth, And No Mans Wit Can Well Direct Him Where To Look For It.

Let Us Love Nobly, And Live, And Add Again Years And Years Unto Years, Till We Attain To Write Threescore: This Is The Second Of Our Reign.

Perchance, He For Whom This Bell Tolls May Be So Ill, As That He Knows Not It Tolls For Him...

More Than Kisses Letters Mingle Souls.