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Wed, 03 Jun 2009 09:46:45 -0700

her hair of woven trunks of trees
my Eden girl for which I see
she smiles and the violets grow
from her radiant hands
to her gown of copper clovers
eyes that sprout the grass
from the earth
my sweet Eden woman
sandals to her roots for feet
elegant as the maple leaves
and weeping willow eyes
that cry their own forever
the lips of an angel
placed upon rose petals
those lips
I wonder how my lips are not a tarnishment
upon hers
an insult
but they are still the same sweet pine
the same sweet pine
as her morning dew tears cascade across them
my Eden woman
who's is all of mother natures daughter earth
my Eden woman

Eric Andrew James

thanks to amscribbles for sending

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Wed, 29 Apr 2009 20:25:48 -0700

Beltaine is the time to be joyous, lusty and carefree...

http://briarmoonfrog.stumbleupon.com/review/31615155/

Wed, 01 Apr 2009 16:50:23 -0700

When I was a boy
A god often rescued me
From the shouts and the rods of men
And I played among trees and flowers
Secure in their kindness
And the breezes of heaven
Were playing there too.

And as you delight
The hearts of plants
When they stretch towards you
With little strength

So you delighted the heart in me
Father Helios, and like Endymion
I was your favourite,
Moon. 0 all

You friendly
And faithful gods
I wish you could know
How my soul has loved you.

Even though when I called to you then
It was not yet with names, and you
Never named me as people do
As though they knew one another

I knew you better
Than I have ever known them.
I understood the stillness above the sky
But never the words of men.

Trees were my teachers
Melodious trees
And I learned to love
Among flowers.

I grew up in the arms of the gods.

Friedrich Holderlin

From the effervescent ya...thanks for pointing the way Alfred

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Sat, 14 Mar 2009 19:10:19 -0700

Of Adam's first wife, Lilith, it is told
(The witch he loved before the gift of Eve,)
That, ere the snake's, her sweet tongue could deceive,
And her enchanted hair was the first gold.
And still she sits, young while the earth is old,
And, subtly of herself contemplative,
Draws men to watch the bright web she can weave,
Till heart and body and life are in its hold.
The rose and poppy are her flower; for where
Is he not found, O Lilith, whom shed scent
And soft-shed kisses and soft sleep shall snare?
Lo! as that youth's eyes burned at thine, so went
Thy spell through him, and left his straight neck bent
And round his heart one strangling golden hair.

Rossetti Collected Works 216

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Wed, 11 Mar 2009 22:20:15 -0700

UNENDING LOVE

I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times,
In life after life, in age after age forever.
My spell-bound heart has made and re-made the necklace of songs
That you take as a gift, wear round your neck in your many forms
In life after life, in age after age forever.

Whenever I hear old chronicles of love, its age-old pain,
Its ancient tale of being apart or together,
As I stare on and on into the past, in the end you emerge
Clad in the light of a pole-star piercing the darkness of time:
You become an image of what is remembered forever.

You and I have floated here on the stream that brings from the fount
At the heart of time love of one for another.
We have played alongside millions of lovers, shared in the same
Shy sweetness of meeting, the same distressful tears of farewell-
Old love, but in shapes that renew and renew forever.

Today it is heaped at your feet, it has found its end in you,
The love of all man's days both past and forever:
Universal joy, universal sorrow, universal life,
The memories of all loves merging with this one love of ours-
And the songs of every poet past and forever.

~ Rabindranath Tagore~

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Fri, 06 Mar 2009 12:24:26 -0800

Everything that's visible hides something else that is visible.

We see the world as something outside ourselves, when, actually, we have only the imprint of it in our heads.

Thrust from the earth toward the sun, a tree is an image standing for a kind of joy. To comprehend that image we must be quite still, like that tree. When we move, it is the tree that becomes the spectator.

In the forms of chairs, a table or a door the tree continues to keep watch over the agitated spectacle that is our life. Later, when the tree has become a coffin, it disappears into the ground again. And when it is consumed by flames, it vanishes into the air.

source unknown

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Mon, 23 Feb 2009 19:41:16 -0800

I have been here before.
But when or how I cannot tell:
I know the grass beyond the door,
The sweet keen smell.
The sighing sound, the lights around the shore.

You have been mine before, -
How long ago I may not know:
But just when at that swallow's soar
Your neck turned so,
Some veil did fall, - I knew it all of yore.

Has this been thus before?
And shall not thus time's eddying flight
Still with our lives our love restore
In death's despite.
And day and night yield one delight once more?

Dante Gabriel Rossetti

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Mon, 01 Sep 2008 20:17:38 -0700

"The secret of health for both mind and body is not to mourn for the past, not to worry about the future, or not to anticipate troubles, but to live in the present moment wisely and earnestly." - Buddha

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Wed, 16 Jul 2008 17:26:22 -0700

Tree Hugger

A rich lady from California, who was a tree hugger and a vociferous anti-hunter, purchased a piece of timber land in Oregon. There was a large tree on one of the highest points in the tract. She wanted to get a good view of her land so she started to climb the big tree.
As she neared the top, she encountered a spotted owl that attacked her. In her haste to escape, the lady slid down the tree to the ground and got many splinters in her private parts.
In considerable pain, she hurried to the nearest country doctor. Being a hunter himself, the doctor listened to her story with great patience and then told her to go into the examining room and he would see if he could help her.
She sat and waited for three hours before the doctor reappeared.
The angry lady demanded, "What took you so long?"
He smiled and then told her, "Well, I had to get permits from the Environmental Protection Agency, the Forest Service, and the Bureau of Land Management before I could remove old-growth timber from a recreational area and I'm sorry, but they all turned me down."

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Sun, 13 Jul 2008 12:56:58 -0700

Worker Of The Universe

It is only the revelation of You as the Infinite
that is endlessly new and eternally beautiful in us
and that gives the only meaning to our self when
we feel Your rhythmic throb as soul-life, the whole
world in our own souls; then are we free.

O Worker of the universe! Let the irresistible
current of Your universal energy come like the
impetuous south wind of spring; let it come
rushing over the vast field of human life. Let our
newly awakened powers cry out for unlimited
fulfillment in leaf and flower and fruit.

Rabindranath Tagore