31 March 2008

Inspirational Baby Quotes

By Danny Concannon

When Vivki and Vivien designed their birth announcement website they decided to feature a Quote of the Month. I thought it would be a nice idea to compile some of their favourites from months gone by. What I love about these quotes is their simplicity, their honesty, their beauty and their capacity to remind us just how amazing our children really are.

A baby will make love stronger, days shorter, nights longer, bankroll smaller, home happier, clothes shabbier, the past forgotten, and the future worth living for.
Anonymous

Children are a handful sometimes, a heartful all the time...
Author Unknown

If one feels the need of something grand, something infinite, something that makes one feel aware of God, one need not go far to find it. I think that I see something deeper, more infinite, more eternal than the ocean in the expression of the eyes of a little baby when it wakes in the morning and coos or laughs because it sees the sun shining on its cradle.
Vincent van Gogh

It is not a slight thing when those so fresh from God love us.
Dickens

There are many more quotes, but I decided to only hand pick a few of them. Van Gogh's descriptions are as vivid as his paintings, they paint a truly amazing picture of children and the joy they bring to their parents.

The second quote is also a great reminder that although parenting can be tough sometimes, having a baby is truly something to live for.

Danny Concannon writes for Baby Says Hello a birth announcement card website. They pride themselves on helping you to create high quality personalised baby cards





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15 Unforgettable Father Quotes

By Steve Brunkhorst

Father: a role model who gives the gifts of guidance and wisdom while learning how to stretch his ability to love beyond what he knew was possible.

Whether you are a father or planning to become one, you'll discover a nugget of wisdom and experience in each of these unforgettable "Father Quotes".

Fathers, like mothers, are not born. Men grow into fathers--and fathering is a very important stage in their development. - David M. Gottesman

As you journey through [life], you will encounter all sorts of these nasty little upsets, and you will either learn to adjust yourself to them or gradually go nuts. - Groucho Marx

What you have inherited from your father, you must earn over again for yourselves, or it will not be yours. - Johann Wofgang von Goethe

No man can possibly know what life means, what the world means, what the world means, what anything means, until he has a child and loves it. - Lafcadio Hearn

When dealing with a two-year-old in the midst of a tantrum, fathers need to be particularly watchful about the tendency to need to feel victorious. - Dr. Kyle Pruett (Quoted in Dads, June/July 2000)

True maturity is only reached when a man realizes he has become a father figure to his daughters' girlfriends--and he accepts it. - Larry McMurtry

My father didn't tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it. - Clarence Kelland

Let us teach them not only to do virtuously, but to excel. To excel they must be taught to be steady, active, and industrious. - John Adams

A boy, by the age of three years, senses that his destiny is to be a man, so he watches his father particularly--his interests, manner, speech, pleasures, his attitude toward work... - Benjamin Spock and Michael B. Rothenberg, Dr. Spock's Baby and Child Care (1992)

Fathers, provoke not your children to anger, lest they be discouraged. - Colossians 3:20

To show a child what once delighted you, to find the child's delight added to your own so that there is now a double delight seen in the glow of trust and affection, this is happiness. - J.B. Priestley

A girl's father is the first man in her life, and probably the most influential. - David Jeremiah (Quoted in Fathers Who Dare to Win by Ian Grant, 1999)

I talk and talk and talk, and I haven't taught people in fifty years what my father taught by example in one week. - Mario Cuomo

Father taught us that opportunity and responsibility go hand in hand. I think we all act on that principle; on the basic human impulse that makes a man want to make the best of what's in him and what's been given him. - Laurence Rockefeller

Hug. - Annie Pigeon, Dad's Little Instruction Book (1995)

These brief nuggets of gold describe the tremendous influence of a father upon his children. Particularly, they convey the importance of a loving spirit and how mutually beneficial a father-child relationship is. Through the years, we must be willing to learn much from our children, to grow with them, and give them the unconditional love and support needed to foster their trust, courage, and sense of personal responsibility.

As an additional resource on the topic of fathers, please see the article entitled, "7 Blessings from a Father to His Children" at http://ezinearticles.com/?7-Blessings-from-a-Father-to-His-Children&id=107163

© Copyright 2006 by Steve Brunkhorst. All rights reserved. Steve is the father of 3 daughters, a professional life success coach, motivational author and speaker, and the editor of Achieve! 60-Second Nuggets of Inspiration. Get the next issue and pick up some great resources for achievement at http://www.AchieveEzine.com





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Funny Quotes

By Jay K

I always look for a woman who has a tattoo. I see a woman with a tattoo, and I’m thinking, okay, here’s a gal who’s capable of making a decision she’ll regret in the future. (Richard Jeni)

I worked some gigs in the Deep South…Alabama…You talk about Darwin’s waiting room. There are guys in Alabama who are their own father. (Dennis Miller)

I went to a fight the other night and a hockey game broke out. (Rodney Dangerfield)

L.A. is so celebrity-conscious, there's a restaurant that only serves Jack Nicholson -- and when he shows up, they tell him there'll be a ten-minute wait. (Bill Maher) Funny Quotes. Sayings. Quotations.

I celebrated Thanksgiving in an old-fashioned way. I invited everyone in my neighborhood to my house, we had an enormous feast, and then I killed them and took their land. (Jon Stewart)

There’s always one of my uncles who watches a boxing match with me and says "Sure. Ten million dollars. You know, for that kind of money, I’d fight him." As if someone is going to pay $200 a ticket to see a 57-year-old carpet salesman get hit in the face once and cry. (Larry Miller)

If I ever have twins, I'd use one for parts. (Steven Wright)

My wife and I took out life insurance policies on each other -- so now it's just a waiting game. (Bill Dwyer) Famous Quotes

My sister was with two men in one night. She could hardly walk after that. Can you imagine? Two dinners! (Sarah Silverman)

I know a guy who called up the Home Shopping Network. They said "Can I help you?" and he said "No, I'm just looking." (George Miller)

I knew these Siamese twins. They moved to England, so the other one could drive. (Steven Wright)

A father is explaining ethics to his son, who is about to go into business. "Suppose a woman comes in and orders a hundred dollars worth of material. You wrap it up, and you give it to her. She pays you with a $100 bill. But as she goes out the door you realize she’s given you two $100 bills. Now, here’s where the ethics come in: should you or should you not tell your partner?" (Henny Youngman)

Creator of Short Funny Quotes, Sayings, Famous, Inspirational, Motivational, Love, Movie, Quotations




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Why Write Poetry?

By Nigel Beale

It’s often not a matter of choice. In many instances you can’t stop yourself. It’s an urge - visited upon you - to render communicable a feeling that is difficult to express, but that just wont go away - an urge for knowledge, peace, cathartic purging.

It’s a desire to capture pain or pleasure in a way that helps you better understand, escape or keep it. A motivation to communicate troubling or thrilling experience. To try to tell others your truth. To express in language what is bigger than language…that which has moved you extraordinarily, caused anguish or ecstacy…so you can know yourself better, diminish the pain or prolong the pleasure…but equally so you can share your wonder or awe or sadness or anger or joy with another human being…to prove to yourself that you are not alone, that you are not nothing, that you being on earth makes a difference, that you are contributing something, somehow.

Poetry is an effort to connect with others, with yourself and with the world and universe at large…to comprehend the incomprehensible…to add to an existing pool of knowledge or beauty.

It’s also about (yup, here we go again, and here, and here) getting laid.

Men are often motivated to impress women with words in hopes of convincing them of their worth, of conquering them…of being loved and cared for by them, of being noticed, acknowledged, recognized, revered and worshipped.

Poetry is born out of need.

Paul Muldoon once told me that if a poem accomplishes what its author wants it to then it’s a success.

I suppose if enough others feel, or are moved or benefit in similar ways, then it assumes a status as good or great, which in turn exposes it to new ears and eyes.

Writer, Broadcaster, Marketer, Bibliophile.

Marrying expertise in generating media exposure with an insane, deep-seated love of books, Nigel Beale has, over the past two years, quickly established himself as one of the world’s top literary broadcasters, travelling the globe interviewing an impressive selection of award winning authors and accomplished booksellers, publishers, collectors and experts.





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Poems of Nature

By Owen Johnston

Nature
The sky is gray
On this late summer day
As the sun imbues
Its various hues
Upon the scene.
A sight to be seen,
A beauty to behold,
A thousand campfire stories to be told.

With the settling twilight
And the settling night
Comes the settling fog
About every log,
Every limb
As the light continues to dim.

Yet, do you hear it?
Yes, a kindred spirit,
As it beckons
To us, Nature's patrons,
Who think deep thoughts of
All things up above
And things all around
And adventures upon which to bound.
Well then,
Let's begin,
Before this great night can end!

Nature II
As I continue to tread
The well-worn path between the trees,
Many thoughts swim in my head
Of the refreshing beauties
Of the crisp, clean air
Playing in my hair,
The rainbow
That has begun to show
Over the tips of the trees,
The birds' outspoken symphonies,
And the sun-rays that warm my face
As I pass each open, sun-lit space.

Nature has its own music,
Its own specially tuned melody.
I never want to lose it,
For what it means to me,
I can never fully express,
Even as my feelings well up in my chest.
It is here in the forest,
This place of nature and spirit,
That I feel blessed,
And ignore the old habit
Of humankind
To mind
Its own business
And forget about the wilderness.

Come friend,
Let's walk this path again,
Before this great day can end!

Nature III
In that sky so immense,
I see clouds something dense,
Holding tight and tense,
Ready to drop their contents,
In order to rinse
And cleanse
All this poetic nonsense.
Yes, I'm guilty of many sins.

On this grayest of days,
While watching the lightning blaze,
I'm pondering my all too human ways,
Hoping to soon see hopeful sun rays,
To brighten my own soul's shadowy grays.

I now realize,
That until our demise,
That which is good and right
In God's sight
Our nature often defies
And denies.

Nonetheless,
Let me not digress,
For I hope and work for the best,
And I must never rest,
For God promises
Salvation and nothing less
To those who would in Him believe
And their own sinner state quickly leave.
Now, as we find God's love strong and true,
We can begin our adventures anew,
And enjoy nature once again,
Before this great day can end!

Nature IV
As I walk down the glistening beach,
I watch the waves break on the shore.
All nature's joy seems within reach,
And I enjoy it all the more.

Many are the sights that I behold:
Lots of people fishing on the pier,
Lovers whose whispers will go untold,
And young swimmers who have no fear!

Yet, even as I watch the birds,
And they dive in to look for fish,
I realize that even these words
Can't properly describe all this!

Nonetheless, the great tide of life
Still continues to ebb and flow.
Live by faith, for all of our strife
Will be solved by God, not what we know.

Now then, let's begin this journey again!
Let us walk down the beach hand in hand,
Until the afternoon tide comes in,
And it overtakes us walking in the sand!

The above nature poems were excerpted from the author's Heaven on Earth. This online book of poetry is available in PDF format as a free download at Johnston Arts - Online Publications. Be sure to also keep up with the author's latest updates at his Martial Arts Myspace





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26 March 2008

Love Quotes

By Jimmy Sturo

Love’s beauty and specialty lies in experiencing it. Only a person in love can understand the feelings of another person enjoying the bliss of love, and sometimes its agonies too. Even though love is not an easy term to define, the fact that it is a spontaneous feeling or emotion results in the birth of love quotes.

There are many phases in love, like infatuation, companionate love, consummate love, empty love, romantic love, etc. Love quotes can be written in any language but their crux is always love.

Who but those who are in love are creators of love quotes? Sometimes, these quotes run into several paragraphs, like a poem. Such is the thumping influence of love that it brings a person’s creativity and imagination to the front.

Some quotes are indeed crisp and striking, while others are elaborate.

“love is like a mustard seed;

planted by God

and watered by men.”

There is no doubt that love quotes are intense and reflect the person’s involvement in love.

“You know you are in love

when you see the world in her eyes,

and her eyes everywhere in the world.”

Unfortunately not all love quotes are joyous and optimistic. You cannot expect a person who has suffered love failure to write such quotes. On the contrary, he will be discouraged and pour out all his woes. This is the reason why some love quotes are negative.

“Love is only half the illusion; the lover, but not his love, is deceived” George Santayana

“To be in love is merely to be in a state of perceptual anesthesia -- to mistake an ordinary young man for a Greek god or an ordinary young woman for a goddess” H.L. Mencken

Love quotes are true and original words as they come directly from a person’s heart, like this one:

Love is the expansion of two natures in such fashion that each include the other, each is enriched by the other- Felix Adlers

Love provides detailed information on Love, Love Poems, Love Quotes, Love Songs and more. Love is affiliated with Magic Love Spells.





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Blue Poetry

By Dennis Siluk Ed.D.

[10-20-2006] Poems:

Blue Poetry

I—Blue (#1505)) 10-13-2006)
II—Rainbow Jars (#678/10-2004)

III—Winter Remembered (#1506) 10-13-2006)
IV—Shadow in the Wood (#679/10-2004)

V—Exile the Poets (#1504)

1—Blue

Blue was the Master, blue, blue!
Blue his eyes, were, blue his hair.

Through the blue air he came
(the whole world turned blue for him).

The flashy designs of his dress
Were neither green nor black, but blue.

Over the blue sky he went
(and even the sea turned blue then).

My life will always leave open
A narrow door, to let him in.

#1505 10/134/2006

II—Rainbow Jars

If you do not ride a falling star

You will never write about who you are,
Revive your dormant soul!

“Now let’s go!”

Harmony is in heaven, not here on earth…!

And ghosts do not tarry in rainbow jars…

If you will not ride a falling star

You leave no impressions
Nor revive your dead heart!

Harmony is in heaven, not here on earth…!

#678 (10/2004)) Revised 10/2006)

III—Winter Remembered

Oh, the whiteness so divine
Of the first snow fall of winter—;
Its solitude so pure,
Its silence so permanent.

It is so far away
(a Minnesota winter)
So far, it is hard to remember—
Yet the idea alone is a fountain.

Unending snowflakes—
A snow that will never cease
On hard wooden roofs, and streets
All this indelible white—.

A fancy indeed, a peace; hence,
Leave alone to remember.

#1506 10/13/2006

IV—Shadow in the Wood

I got lost in the dark part of the wood’s shadow.
The moon is up, dark with shadows in the wood!
“Look dark,” I say, “you are by yourself! What

will you do?”

“…come to this crevasse—this shadow in the wood,”
it said to me; and now I’m a leaf, on a big tree.

#679 10/2004; revised 10/2006

V—Exile the Poets

Exile Baudelaire’s swan, along with Yeats and Keats and Jimeuez, they are all dead poetic geese and so is Martinez. Ride the swan’s neck, then do away with the rest: Dario, Najera, Silva, Casal, and Echeverria. Who needs poets anyway? Do away with Romanticism, literary madness, freedom, lets be clones; it is all that will be left, once the poets are gone.

#1504 10/13/2006

See Dennis' web site: dennissiluk.tripod.com





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Poetry Exercises

By Devrie Paradowski

Poetry is very much an art. That means that writing poetry entails exploration and practice. More than that, though, the exploriation involved in writing poetry can be very enlightening. There are words that come easily to us, then there are those that take finesse, thought, and persistence to find. Those are the words that can oftentimes be burried beneath your skin, deep behind the emotional conext of a larger situation.

There are many shades to each word, just as there are shades of each primary color that a painter uses. Sadness, for examples, is a word that is so large, that it cannot possible mean the same thing for every situation. That is why a poet uses images, figurative language, and other poetic skills to slice away at adjectives and abstract language. The poet digs between the meaning of certain words, and looks to unearth a meaning that does not exist in conventional language.

Exploring ways to define the different shades of words is an experience that, whether you write poetry simply for therapy, or you write poetry in hopes of one day being published, will help you to reach a direct path to heightened awareness. You will become more aware of your own thoughts, how you perceive them, and you will learn to read the meaning of simple objects and situations in your every day life.

Here are some basic exercises to get you thinking honestly about your writing.

Rewrite a classical poem using your own point of view. Play with perspective. Write it from the point of view of someone you know, or write it as a response to the original author.

Write a poem about yourself, but don't show it to anyone. Here's a basic template. Feel free to rewrite the lines, and don't answer the blanks by writing the obvious. You should come up with something that resembles a poem, and perhaps if you are clever enough with the manipulation of it, it could very well be a poem. This exercise isn't designed to create a masterpiece, rather, it is designed to show you the kind of poet you are.

When you are finished with this piece, not only will you see some details about yourself in general, but you can look at the way you manipulated the exercise to see a certain style. Ask yourself these questions: What kind of metaphors did I use? Did I completely change the direction it seemed this exercise was supposed to take me? How did I restructure the lines? Did I add rhyme?

I Am: an exercise in poetic self actualization

My name is (first name).

When I was (child age) I [...].

When I was (older age) I [...].

I've always wanted to [...],

but when I turned (age), I [...].

My thoughts are like a [...],

they [verb] like [...].

My skin is [...]

I'm wrapped in a [...].

I ripped myself from [...],

when I was (age).

Even when I turned (age),

I knew that [...],

I know for sure that [...].

Now I [...].

I am [...],

(Last name).

Write a letter to some object. Throughout our daily routines, there are objects that we see that have some kind of effect on us. Of course letters and special momentos have significant meaning for us, but have you ever been caught up in thought about a particular item that doesn't fit into the momento category? That's what you will write a letter to.

Again, this exercise isn't designed to create a masterpiece. It is more of a self-defining process. As with the other exercises, you might end up with something that could be considered a good poem, but the idea is to make you see how you observe the things around you. Keep a notebook handy with you throughout the next day, week, or month. The next time you drive to work, take your kids to the park, or go to a grocery store, keep mindful of the way you percieve ordinary things.

In summary, there really is no such thing as good or bad poetry, only undiscovered poetry. Simply writing down what you think sounds poetic won't reach the audience, and it won't do anything for you. You do need to dig around, scratch your skin until it bleeds. Then and only then will a true poem surface.

The process of writing one poem may take you a day, or it may take you a year. Finding the rawness of your poetry is as enlightening as discovering the meaning of life.

Devrie Paradowski is the author of "A Ray Squeezed Through," http://www.lulu.com/content/139977 a weird combination of dirt smudged poetry, failed attempts at self discovery, and awesome mistakes. Visit her literary website at http://www.literaryescape.com or chance a visit at the poetry exercise website, http://www.poetryexercises.org





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Love Poems

By Vivian Gilbert Zabel

Letters Yellowed with Age

Wrinkled hands, trembling and spotted with age,
Hold letters yellowed and fragile, brittle and torn.
Fingers touch the memories found on each page
Of the man who wrote the words now so worn.

The woman stands beside a sterile bed
Watching the nearly empty shell lying there.
She touches his hand, so yellowed with age,
Like love letters written when they still could share.

Silent tears leave streaks down her crepe-thin cheeks
As she sighs, whispers, "I remember your touch.
Do you know how much I miss your embrace?
I pray you'll return since I miss you so much."

Nothing does he say: his quietness complete.
She turns from him trapped as if in a cage,
No hugs to comfort her, just remains of
The memories from letters yellowed with age.

Color Our Love

I search back over the past,
Noticing the hues of love
That sprinkle through events
That included pain and joy.

Warmth of your arms curled
Around me through ageless decades,
Leaving a glow that lingers still
After more than forty years.

Tints of pain gave texture
To the happiness we knew,
Shadings that brought forth
Brightness of the gladness.

Would I trade this portrait
Of love that shaped my life
With primary colors that radiated
For one tinged with nothing?

No, I'll keep our rainbow
Even though it signals
A storm passed through
Not long before it appeared.

To Robert

Life comes to an end for us all,
And I thought I was prepared;
I'm not, as I found out one night,
To see him answer his final call.

The ache in my heart was severe
As I watched him suffer and weaker grow.
So I decided to keep a journal
To honor the man I love and revere.

We've faced so much over the years,
Together, side by side as one.
The laughter, the joy, the giving
Were more important than the tears.

Yet the tears watered and fed
Our lives, melding us tighter
Into the combined force we've become
Along the rocky road we've been led.

To Robert, my life, my love,
I dedicate these words I write
To honor and remember our life
Until the time I'm left here alone.

Song of Love

A song of love I hear
In the whisper of the wind
Ruffling the leaves and sending
Them dancing through my dreams.

A song of love I see
In the bright face of sun-down,
Glowing in the golden clouds
Mirrored in my mind.

A song of love I taste
In the sweet drops of rain
Sliding down the windowpane,
Cleansing doubts from my memory.

A song of love I feel
In the softness of a touch
Reaching into the depths of me,
Leaving a part of him.

Dreams of Loving

Dreaming -
When young, my dreams
Brought thoughts of happiness,
Being a princess with a knight
On a black horse, I preferred black, not white,
Coming to carry me away
Because he fell in love
With my beauty.
Dreaming.

Hoping -
When some years passed,
Maybe the horse could leave.
As long as the handsome knight came,
I could still be happy with the results.
My knight would come for me alone,
The part of me that kept
Dreaming of love,
Hoping.

At last
My dream came true.
Not actually tall,
But he had ridden a black horse.
Importantly, he loved me, only me.
No one else could capture his heart.
He thought me a beauty.
Love came to me,
At last.

Loving -
This knight of mine
In his tarnished armor
Sees me through the eyes of love each day,
Never noticing the sags or wrinkles
That mar any lasting beauty
Which I may still possess.
Indeed, we keep
Loving.

This poetry is copyrighted by Vivian Gilbert Zabel

After teaching composition for years and becoming an author on http://www.Writing.Com/ a site for Poetry, Vivian Gilbert Zabel produced Hidden Lies and Other Stores, Walking the Earth, The Base Stealers Club, and Case of the Missing Coach, found on Amazon.com.





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The Macabre Poems [Part Six: Poems: 111 to 126/the last part]

By Dennis Siluk Ed.D.

111) Droughts along the Mesa [Mesa Verde: 1200-1300 AD]

Written after visiting Mesa Verde [8/04], and walking among its renowned cliff dwellings in its 53,000-achers National Park; the author was captivated by its legacy. The cliff dwellings were only occupied for some 75-years before the inhabitants moved south due to the 24-years of droughts they had to endure.

And God called the dry land earth.—Genesis

Sorrow on sorrow the droughts brought
So many deaths it had gulped, gulped up;
The blood, flesh, the bones and the marrow
Shapeless, final, incinerating—
It could not digest all in a day,
And so it took 24-years, and stayed.

Death faces, scorched lands and trees,
—spirit ancestors, along the mesa,
Their macabre shadows laced with light
Within the cliff dwelling of silent nights.
(Living on forgotten memories.)

Cries the ancient ones, the Anasazi
(of days past):
“A thousand lungs rooted to hearts—
A thousand tombs, and empty guts;”
Murmured a bowel-empty: ‘Why must I die?’

*

Brains starved to death for lack of water;
Eyes weakened by battling the droughts;
A thousand faces ten-thousand ribs:
A thousand tombs and empty guts—
Strangled for the lack of wind.

A thousand cliff dwellings now tombs,
Along the mesas and valleys of stones:
Cry, cry, like dead crows that lay—
Lay over the once young breasts, now dead.
(That once laughed instead.)

[The drought— the drought:]

Over men and women’s bodies,—deafness,
Deafness of the drought; burst ear drums—
Ear drums that shouted, for hunger and thirst;
Now these bodies are empty without souls.
(Like dead flowers without stems.)

Expired now, they knew the drought
The drought would outlast them….

The drought, gaping, and gulping with greed:
The ancestors wept upon their knees,
“Keep your fingers moving, deadliness ahead.”
And the worms kept creeping deeper in,
And up and through the eye sockets;

The whole earth was its tunnels, as they coiled,
Through the pores and blood-dark doors,
Open-rusted veins never seen before.

*

“Move, move on to other lands,” cried,
Cried and screeched the Ute and Anasazi!
(To the living of Mesa Verde)

And the streets closed forever
And the cliff dwellings closed forever
And the dead lay where the’re buried
And living abandoned forever the dead.
(Forever—Mesa Verde.)

August 6, 2004, #351/published on the internet sight useless-knowledge.com

112) The Devils Windless Chamber

For the devil there is no wind—
There is no breath, only a chamber
Where the blood between the thighs,
Awaits—awaits the day: the day
Long life—chains him
Like an eagle clinging, clinging—
To mason walls, faceless stone walls:
Walls collapsing with brittle bones,
Earless, eyeless, walls of stone.

Here speechless worms appalled—
Watch and wait, with pulsating claws,
Murderous claws that want to reach him:
To eat his marrow, and suck his salty blood.

* His hands tremble, and his heart pounds.
Something grabs his arm, his throat—.
His horny head, his egg-shell eyes,
His shark-teeth—all scream, yet chains remain.
He beats his chest and cracks his face;
With scorpion legs, he kicks his belly.
He snatches from the wall dirt to eat.
He stands covered in brackish blood;
Worms watching and waiting—waiting.
He drops his head, like a sword tossed
Like a sword tossed to the ground—.

“From dust to dust,” he murmurs,
“Let me die like a god!”

*

The devil clapped his beak, scratched it,
He looked for a sip of water—
And cried to heaven—
But no one noticed, not anymore.
Yet, yet still he could hear his heart pound,
As a strange silence came about,
And the dribble from the worms, longed.

8/24/04—#352: written on the The day Pompeii died

113) The Witch Speaketh:

Once witches danced to plenilunal magic,
With weak souls to molest—;
And ah, yes, way back then,
Sin, boldly robed men—of virtue,
And witches, robed—their piousness.

8/26/04 #355/Publushed on the Eldritch Dark site

114) War and Empty Shells

The life that was once in these
Young and vibrant bodies,
Are now like hollow shells—
Gone are the once, beautiful-self’s;
Where once a heart-beat dwelt!

From nothing, to nothing,—
They came and left;
Perhaps—: perhaps it was best,
For inside of war—we’re but living shells,
Obedient to heart-beats, if you will.

Now, all but empty, deserted shells—
Left on the battle fields.

*Poem #357, 9/2/2004 [part of the story, “Yesterday was a better day,” a short story of Vietnam]

115) Ol Henri Sanson

Ol Charlie-Henri Sanson
With just one swing—
With a sword could bring,
The condemned head off:
Quicker than an ax and block.

Note: The Charls Soason family, held the title in Paris of executioner from 1688 to 1840: the official title being: ‘exeuteur des hautes oeuvres de poris,’ #368 10/10/04

116) Forced Silence

The scold bridle, the gagging strap;
Scorned by women, long ago,
Was cruel….

#367, 10/10/04

117) Purple Twilight

(In tune with her mood.)

Lit with sad stars
was a dreamlike, melancholy
purple twilight
that bred subconscious fears.

Then, hidden under her pillow
in an open book
(she was slow to admit
she found life disappointing—)
she found a slip
of an old manuscript,
it read: ‘I shall never know
but only doubt, if life is
hidden behind the clouds?’

#366 10/10/04

118) Clap of the Eye

Again she walked
Eyeing the passing faces
With nervous-distrust
Her stages of life—
Recurring to her
One after another
She boarded a bus
And was carried away
From the crowd and glitter
Of the world she knew
To a narrow, dingy street
With glasshouses of windows
Inside it grew hotter and hotter
She became anxious
The conductor said [shouted]:
“This is your stop!”
The bus slowed down
She got dizzily to her feet
In a moment, on the pavement
She found herself alone
Her pilgrimage straight ahead
Everything sooty-glass
Balconies with burning fire
(So it seemed)
A vast horde of cries echoed
(Peeled her skin like the wind
Humanity was not present
Without purpose it seemed
And without hope
She ran as if the devil was near
Stood panting, stomach sinking
She squeezed her hand
Denying her misery
Where was she in this?
In this evil labyrinth—
She wanted to faint, weep
She perceived one consolation:
She’d never marry again:
Not for money or adoration….

10/8/04 #366

119) Allen Ginsberg
[The poet’s game]

He leaps, and leaps, upon his knees—
A little messy if you please:
The phantom –boys, he so adores,
He masturbates: for hours more.

The Poet-man—says so:
He thinks they are, playful toys—
Obliged, obliged he cries: by name,
Fuc…ing their ass, and pubic manes;
To molest—their growing pains.

Allen Ginsberg’s, poetic game.

120) Blackblood: The Beast [Sub-sonnets I]

The beast that eats me in the eyes of all,
This hate, this craving, this insensible thing,
That has bled me dry as the snow flakes fall,
Will puke, will vomit, and fade by summer.
My wounds will heal, my fate will abate,
The entwined anger will subside in the beast;
He will forget within hells summer heat
My look that is today his feat and breathe.
Unharmed, somewhat, from a scorn so deep
Though I should hate him I cannot do:
Revenge is deadly: blackblood in the soul,
Sharp like an arrow, with burning red coal;
Blood from his attack a double edged sword
Will never heal between beast and Lord.

#359/9-18-04

Blackblood: Strange and Fatal [Sub-sonnet II]

Nay, wicked dictator, with fire worm flesh
“Sweet country, my loves have pity!” he cried.
Lo, the evil, the blackblood in his flesh
That rips the red-hearts out, all now dead.
An’ you, who didn’t think in human terms,
Filling dungeons and graves with piteous woe;
Upon your throne, dreaming or awake,
With an empty heart and Hell for a grave;
Your mortal breath, ministers only death.
Now, now you thirst confessor of no sin,
Yet should you be free, free to call my name
You’d surely summon me to be slain.
But that I would not boast, if I were you—
Upon your dubious veins resides evil.

Blackblood: The Window [Sub-sonnet III]

Disdainful dust, comes within an hours rush
You will be weight and brought to bed with him.
When you are dead, no more storm-filled eyes:
When your blood will roar and roar, yet be rust
This moment, plainly visible like green grass
The world will sing in delight of your past.
Your body’s heat and sweat desirous
A shameful kiss, obscure—from Satan’s mist;
Wherewith you, you will remain powerless—
To evoke, choke yourself from the whims of court.
Your bewildered dead heart will have no peace
Fluttering at the ravished winds of time:
Cry, cry as you may, cry will not let you go
For you are the fluttering beat by the window.

#360 and #361/9-2004/ Published in October on the Eldritch Dark Internet Magazine site

121) A Garden with Voices

I hear them in the garden—
I feel them from my door,
A flower is a face to me,
With eyes that have no scorn.

The Dandelions are white today
Blossom-balled they seem;
The Calla Lily stems are tall:
Sensuous—with youthful green.

I wonder if it hurts to live—
I mean, like you and I?
Enlightened by the centuries,
I wonder if they cry.

Death is once, and comes to all—:
The reason, I know not why;
But jealousy, I see is nil,
Within the garden’s eyes.

Crickets, bees and butterflies,
And honey bears to boot—
All prefer the garden, like me:
To walk on top of roots.

So whether it be runes or rimes,
Piercing comforts or divine—
Leave me in the garden walk
To listen to the garden talk.

(I leave this world to thee.)

#358 9/13/04 dedicated to VM

122) The Mistress elf

Down the stairs with prancing feet
The Mistress Elf walks up the street;
And by and by she walks her pace
From fall to winter to early spring.
And hiding in her secret place
The Mistress Elf grins at fate;
An eerie kiss she carries with thee
And—curses the wheeze, within the trees.

O! cool dim, and frolic child—
With waxen ears and shielded mind,
Your stars are chained to your heart,
Stop and think before you start.

A soulless earth, with vanities:
Her first true love, I can see—.
Love for time, space and things,
Is but a childish dream.

The light in the eyes is greater than thee
She does not want to die—I see;
To live here and now in piety,
To live and die in mystery.

Why then—not a cup of wine!
Bitter-sweet, with lure repine;
‘Ts all that’s thy, Mistress—Elf.

*Inspired by Alyce Ornella/and the Yam Yam Elf’s [#365] By Dennis L. Siluk/9/30/04

123) Orange Twilight

Snow on earth falls gently, gently falling,
Where more dark days lie
Eerie is the voice that calls all, eerie calling,
At orange twilight.

Hate, I hear thee
How gentle, how eerie his voice is now calling,
Never answered, and the dark snow keeps falling,
Now—and then.

Light to our hearts, O hate, shall die in the cold
As his eerie heart is slain
Under the thorny twilight, his heart decays
In the grumbling white-rain.

#361/ 9/25/04—Published by the Eldritch Dark Site

124) Beauty Denied

Beauty is beauty:
different or prepared,
accepted or denied,
irritating or stimulating
When was it —
not beautiful?
If you can remember,
then it was always
beautiful—: thus, this
was beauty denied,
now accepted….

#362 9/26/04

125) The Death Rattle

‘Thou will not return
The dead await ye!’
The earth replied,
With a leap—
Form of a shadow
Trampling my bones
All the way down—down
To the House of Darkness—
Home of the damned:
No doors, no bolts,
Men like wild animals.
—The earth opened its legs wide,
Said, ‘There is no cure for this,
One’s fate is settled!’

#369 10/13/04

126) The Hyena Demigod

Head of the Hyena
[Part I]

The long night
The first glow of dawn
The Jackal, lion, wild bull
Mourned the death
Of the Hyena.

They cried:
“He is dead, he is dead!
How can we bear this sorrow?”
(like a woman with birth pains)
The wild deer, leopard
Ragging in the wilderness—
(gnawing at their bellies, restless).
But the god’s of the underworld
Would not hear—
For they wanted his head
Like a scorpion prizes his tail.

Journey of the Hyena
[Part II]

Darkness was inside the tunnel
Inside the tunnel it was deep
Deep darkness that lead to the gates;
Nothing could be seen: behind,
Along side, in front of the Hyena;
No breeze, no light, emerged.

The gate keeper appeared—
Agaliarept, the Henchman was near,
The Hyena looked up, saw them standing
He shouted (face burnt like coal),
Maggots crawling from head to toe,
As he leaped from the dark—
The demon severed his head,
Placing it upon Agaliarept;
As his lower body turned into clay.

The Prized—Hyena
[Part III]

His head was now hollow
His cheeks were ravaged,
His eyes frozen, burnt black
His crooked teeth, yellow
His facial muscles pained
With anguish—

Agaliarept had many heads:
The bear, lion and leopard;
But the hyena was the prize.
“The god’s of Hell envy me,”
He cried—(unsleeping-undying
Demigods, shadow-gods).
“This is the way of the underworld,
Death drags all away,” he whispered,
Whispered to the pile of clay.

#369/10-16-04

See Dennis' web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com





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21 March 2008

Christmas Quotes

By Sean Carter

An occasion as warm as Christmas has rightly inspired wonderful thoughts and nice quotes on it. These Christmas quotes are many and are worth a glance for anyone who'd like to be in the spirit of the holidays and share some warm notes with all far and near. From Shakespeare, Longfellow to Dickens and Scott, today's literature can boast of a plethora of Christmas quotes that will keep nurturing the warmth and goodness of Christmas through time. So as you celebrate Christmas full throttle, stop and spare some moments to sink deep in the Christmas quotes. Here are some:

At Christmas I no more desire a rose Than wish a snow in May's new fangled mirth; But like of each thing that in season grows.

~William Shakespeare

I heard the bells on CHRISTMAS Day. Their old familiar carols play. And wild and sweet the words repeat. Of peace on earth goodwill to men.

~ Henry. W. Longfellow

So stick up ivy and the bays, and then restore the heathen ways, green will remind you of the Spring, though this great day denies the thing, and mortifies the earth, and all, but your wild revels, and loose hall.

~Henry Vaughan

Christmas is coming, the geese are getting fat. Please put a penny in the old man's hat. If you haven't got a penny, a ha'penny will do. If you haven't got a ha'penny, then God bless you.

~English traditional Christmas rhyme

I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year.

~Charles Dickens

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse; The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

~Clement C. Moore

England was merry England, when Old Christmas brought his sports again. 'Twas Christmas broach'd the mightiest ale; 'Twas Christmas told the merriest tale; A Christmas gambol oft could cheer A poor man's heart through half the year.

~Sir Walter Scott

Love came down at Christmas, Love all lovely, Love Divine; Love was born at Christmas; Star and angels gave the sign.

~Christina Rossetti

Sean Carter writes on holidays, Christmas Day and world events. He also writes on family, relationships, Christmas, religion, love and friendship. He is a writer with special interest in ecard industry and writes for 123greetings.com. He is an active blogger at Christmas Blog





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Weight Loss Quotes - 14 Popular Quotes About Weight Loss

By Katie Johnson

1. "The best way to lose weight is to close your mouth - something very difficult for a politician. Or watch your food - just watch it, don't eat it." — Edward Koch

2. "I think Dr. Atkins and all those other charlatans are missing the boat. The best method for losing weight can be summed up in two words: Shit more!" — Brad Simanek.

3. "The whole idea of motivation is a trap. Forget motivation. Just do it. Exercise, lose weight, test your blood sugar, or whatever. Do it without motivation. And then, guess what? After you start doing the thing, that's when the motivation comes and makes it easy for you to keep on doing it." — John C. Maxwell

4. "Thank you for calling the Weight Loss Hotline. If you'd like to lose a half pound right now, press 1 eighteen thousand times." — Randy Glasbergen

5. "I keep trying to lose weight... but it keeps finding me!" — Author Unknown for this Weight Loss Quote

6. "When I first got an agent, they gave me some advice--lose weight. — Jennifer Aniston quotes"

7. "The only way to lose weight is to check it as airline baggage." — Peggy Ryan

8. "The three words women most want to hear from a man are, "You lost weight"." — Lori Gottlieb

9. "Lose weight quickly by eating raw pork or rancid tuna. I found that the subsequent food poisoning/diarrhea enabled me to lose 6 kg in only 2 days." - Author Unknown

10. "The older you get, the tougher it is to lose weight, because by then your body and your fat are really good friends." — Author Unknown for this Weight Loss Quote

11. "If worry were an effective weight-loss program, women would be invisible." — Nancy Drew.

12. "Losing weight for a big event is a great reason for you to call Jenny Craig, but don't forget the biggest of event all, your life." - Jenny Craig

13. "Let's see, which would be easier: Losing 40 pounds by strict dieting and exercise or gaining 60 pounds to qualify for a gastric bypass?" — Nancy Casurella.

14. "A great way for you to lose weight is to eat naked in front of a mirror. Restaurants will almost always throw you out before you can eat too much." — Frank Varano.

Click Here to find out more about How to Lose Weight the Natural Way Without Supplements or Drugs: http://www.abouthealthtips.com/weightloss/. Visit the main site to subscribe to Health Tips. These weight loss quotes have been compiled by Katie Johnson of Health Tips





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Narrative Poetry

By Holly Bliss

I adore writing poetry. I’ll arm myself, with pen and paper at the ready, and accept any challenge of conquering a new poetry form.

Last year was the first time I questioned whether or not I could meet the challenge and bury it on the battlefield. Sure, I’m a perfectionist, but what could make a person who’s played with poetry for almost thirty-five years hesitate before charging? It was the narrative form.

I’m not talking about the ballad or epic - which are types of narrative poetry - or other rhyming narratives. I’m referring to the more modern, freer, narrative poetry. It was different than anything I’d ever done before. To me, it seemed more like a story than a poem. I even remember wondering how they could get away with calling it poetry.

EXAMPLES TO READ: (both easy to find on Google if you aren't familiar with them)

Those Winter Sundays by Robert Hayden
The Wood-pile by Robert Frost

I write stories and poetry, but when I write a poem – I’m in poetry mode, and I felt stuck in neutral. How could the Poet-in-Me mix the two?

Stephen Minot said, in Three Genres – The Writing of Poetry, Fiction, and Drama, “Narrative is as natural a structure for poetry as it is for prose.”

Poet-in-Me then rationalizes that Story-Writer-in-Me borrows stuff from the “Poet’s Toolbox” to write more effective stories, so why not knock on her door and borrow a couple of things?

Narrative Poetry Basics in Brief

BRIEF HISTORY

Narrative Poetry is poetry that tells a tale and can be traced back to Homer's Iliad and possibly beyond.

MUST HAVES

*Tell a story.

*Pay particular attention to rhythm and sound.

COULD HAVES or What's The Poet's Choice In All This?

*YOU choose the form or whether or not to even use a particular form (aka ballad, etc.)

*Imagery - depth of imagery up to the author – but keep in mind that a primary part of poetry is imagery, and you are writing a poem that tells a story, not a short story.

*Rhyme - use it or not - internal, external or none.

Since I’ve tried using narratives in my poetry, I feel as if I’ve written some of the best work I ever have in my life. It has opened a door I never knew was locked and I crossed a threshold into a land I never knew existed.

Simply, It has helped me grow as a writer.

WRITING EXERCISE: If you are a writer that really considers yourself more of a poet, try out narrative poetry as a way to build a bridge to story writing. If you consider yourself mainly a storywriter, use the narrative form to ease your way into poetry.

© 2006 Holly Bliss. All Rights Reserved. This document may be freely redistributed in its unedited form and on the condition that all copyright references are kept intact along with the hyperlinked URLs.





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Poetry Critics

By Jeff Miller

I've been writing poetry for quite some time. I care about the art and how the art effects people.

I want to talk some about how poetry is seen in my opinion and how narrow the view of some can be when it comes to poetry and the worth and value it holds in society. I've heard many times by reviewers and critics and even booksellers that poetry books are hard to sell and that little interest is taken in the art of poetry by the general public but I beg to differ on these views held by so many in the literary world.

I feel poetry is such a unique and expressive art that has stood the test of time and as we look back on poets like Wordsworth and Dickinson and all the wonderful poets of a time gone by we can all agree that nobody can discount or dismiss the contributions these people have made to the literary world.

The Wordsworth's and Lord Byron's are still out there today working hard to bring back into the mainstream the powerful emotions and feelings that once struck a chord so long ago. These people are putting their heart and soul into their words and putting forth messages that they want to share with readers from all origins and backgrounds.

We should not put limitations on them by telling them their art is dead or that their art is not much of a selling point in society because it is and if it wasn't we would not have so many poetry forums and websites accross the infinite space of the internet from nation to nation. One website I visited has over five million poets in their database alone so obviously their is an interest in poetry and it's growing bigger with every passing day. Multitudes of people from accross the globe enjoy this art we call poetry and this is a fact that should not be ignored.

There is also a problem in my view with some people who take the role of critic and these people judge the work of others and seek to influence how an individual chooses to express themselves through poetry. I feel that each person and expression is unique and I have never been much of a fan of the critic as Teddy Roosevelt reminded us in " The Battle of Life " it's not the critic that counts and I agree.

Individualism and uniqueness spawns genius in my opinion in every facet of life or work and it's also certainly true when it comes to poetry. I want to read new and freshly presented material from someone original. I don't want to see someone trying to copy another artist or his or her ways. I want to see someone expressing their own ways that I will not judge because I feel I have no rightful place in doing so.

We must remember that it's not my opinion or the opinion of a critic that counts when it comes to you and your work and the feelings you wish to present. These things are yours and yours alone that nobody should touch or try to fine tune in any fashion. If Shakespeare had allowed his work to be sorted out and played with by the masses then he would not have been the Shakespeare we know today and your work will not be yours if you allow it to be changed to fit the views of others.

Let your vision and your work live and die on it's own and let it live independantly and develop into what you wish it to be not what someone else wants it to be so it never ceases to be your very own.

Publishamerica poet.





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The Old Man and the Wooden Fortress (Poems to the Creator)) Part One, Three Poems))

By Dennis Siluk Ed.D.

I walked the back alleys of the world;
fought in one of its wars—
the wind pushing me always
from my back,
but the Old Man never
let me dwindle from His Mind
(nor from His eyes)
—He showed me the cross
From time to time:
The one His Son hung on.

It would seem I had more lives
than a cat, often times
living like a rat;
but throughout the years I’ve

learned a thing or two,
that He’s always
been near if not there,
especially when I had nothing
left—that is when he was my

Fortress…of wood!

Note: wood absorbs, bends, even acts like a camel, holds in the water to feed it during the winter months. A fortress is a stronghold, one that protects you, in my life time, the Old Man, was that fortress (with his Son and the comfort and strength of his Holy Spirit; and I thank them all). #1861 6-1-2007 (done in Spontaneous poetic prose)

(Waiting to :)
Cross the River

Mom’s been dead, going on four years now
Aunt Rose, perhaps two;
Uncle Wally just passed on recently,
And I’m pushing on sixty,
I’ll cross that river soon!

Time is going fast, for sure,
Like a crackle in a fire;
We are heard but seldom remembered
Here on earth my friends:
We’ll be crossing that river soon!

By and by—we all make it the banks
(so I’m told, and believe)
From earth to clay I suppose
That is how I came, how I’ll leave:

Waiting and hoping to see
The savior from the Cross:
Waiting on the river banks
To see who will cross.

Note: Life is short at best; perhaps if we live it to its fullest, it is enough, this earth. But if we can think of it, it most likely is worth taking into consideration, that there is something beyond this life, it would seem so, and like my mother once said, “Everyone thinks they’re going to heaven, where did they get that idea?” I never did answer her question, it was rhetorical, and it is out of sight, thus, out of mind. And she once said, “Aunt Betty says, she’ll wait until her dying days to ask the Lord for help…what makes her think she’ll have time.” Again, I did not answer, a rhetorical question; meaning, we really don’t have much control over death (perhaps a little), and surely nothing once we make it to the river banks. #1860 6-1-2007 (Done in Spontaneous poetic prose)

Just a Poor Boy

You’re just a poor boy—from Minnesota,

That’s what they meant and implied
About me, back in ’84:
“Why would Jesus put forth his hand to you?”
(Noticeable, able to see it, in its mist—
a miracle, oh yes)) but He did)).
I couldn’t answer it back then
(Who could? Nor can now)
But my mother, then said:
“They’re all resentful!”

#1864 6-1-2007 (Done in Spontaneous poetic Prose); the question was, “Why did the Lord appear to me,” a bad boy, back then (in the 60s and 70s, up to perhaps ’83). Perhaps because I was weaker than the good and faithful, and I needed what he provided. I cannot answer such a question, I wrote the book, “The Last Trumpet,” and it had to do with many visual miracles during that time. If it done anything, it proved to me, there is another world beyond our sight, a world that is waiting.

See Dennis' web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com





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15 March 2008

Positive Thinking Quotes - Enrich Your Life By Reading Positive Thinking Quotes

By Abhishek Agarwal

We all like reading positive quotations don't we? Some times when we are down in life, reading positive quotations gives us reassurance that others have walked down this same path that we are on, and they came out on top. Why most of us love to read such quotes is also because we normally hear foolishness being said all around us, and when we hear something that is right, it stays in our mind for a long time. The effect of positive words is best demonstrated through such quotes.

The few words of positive quotations are enough to have a deep impact on our mindsets, and therefore in our lives as well. When we are down in life and read a positive quote, our spirits are overjoyed simply because of the directness and simplicity of the message. Not only are the quotes short in length and simple to read, they normally contain a good deal of wisdom that takes time to seep into our mind. People thus keep these quotes at the back of their mind for a few minutes after reading them, trying to work out the depth and wisdom of the message as they continue with their lives.

Winston Churchill once said, 'attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference', and that is so profoundly true in everyday life. The way we see life will effect every action that we plan out, and therefore affect the outcome of our lives in the long run.

Abraham Lincoln has famously quoted, 'I don't like that man. I must get to know him better.' These simple words tell us the beautiful fact that nobody can be totally bad. We can choose to look at the negative qualities of people and judge them hastily, or we can choose to seek the goodness in the same person and deal with that side of his persona.

'I don't think of all the misery but of the beauty that still remains'. These are the famous words found in Anne Frank's diary. Who could imagine a little girl with so much wisdom, that she had the peace to write this down in her diary during the Second World War? The fact that she was a Jew whose family was being persecuted by the Nazis makes it all the more surprising. If she could be so positive at such times, why do we let the smallest flaws in life get us down?

'All you can do is hurt me but pain doesn't last. It makes me stronger'. Stephen Donaldson wrote that in his book White Gold Wielder. It tells us that there is a positive to every wrong that is done unto us, in the fact that it makes us stronger emotionally, in the long run.

'If there is an effort there is always accomplishment'. These are the beautiful words of Jigoro Kono, the man who introduced Judo to this world. It tells us that not one of us, or the smallest of actions from the smallest of men, is insignificant. Every action has a reaction.

These are just a few examples of famous quotes that remain ever ready to inspire our lives when we feel the necessity.

Abhishek is a self-proclaimed Personality Development Guru and has written several books on this topic! Visit his website http://www.Positive-You.com and Download his FREE Personality Development Report and discover some amazing self-improvement tips for FREE. Become the best you can become and reclaim your life! But hurry, only limited Free copies available.





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Positive Affirmation Quotes - How To Make Positive Affirmation Quotes Work For Your Everyday Life

By Joel Chue

Making positive affirmation quotes are extremely beneficial to everyday life. Positive affirmation quote as the name suggests, is a positive statement made in the present or past tense that serve to communicate a message to the subconscious mind.

The power of the subconscious mind lies in its manifestation abilities which when once aroused with positive affirmation quotes or other mind reprogramming tools perceived the statements to be true and turn them to reality. That's the power you can trigger in your everyday life if you understand the power of positive affirmation quotes. Here's a sample positive affirmation quote you can use in your everyday life.

I am in constant touch with the Universe.
I accept and love myself.
I am loving and unique, free and loved.
I am protected and feel safe always.
Since I am in contact with every feeling I have, I accept all of them.
My life is surrounded by caring and loving people.
I accept and love other people and this builds friendships that are strong and long-lasting.
I have faith in my inner being leading me in the correct direction.
I do everything I can each day to make the environment for everybody around me loving.
I am in constant connection with the Divine Loving Power in the Universe.
The vision in my inner self is always focused and clear.

Positive affirmation quotes are not quick fixes to problems in your everyday life. It takes patience, faith and conviction to manifest what you truly desire in life. That's how life works; there ain't no magic bullets to problems. However, if you truly believe that you deserve much more in life, positive affirmation quotes are going to get where you want to go in life.

For more resources about the power of the Subconscious Mind
or especially about Mind Power Techniques... please visit
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What Is Poetry?

By Motown Terri

1. the art of rhythmical composition, written or spoken, for exciting pleasure by beautiful, imaginative, or elevated thoughts.

2. literary work in metrical form; verse.

3. prose with poetic qualities.

4. poetic qualities however manifested: the poetry of simple acts and things.

5. poetic spirit or feeling: The pianist played the prelude with poetry.

6. something suggestive of or likened to poetry: the pure poetry of a beautiful view on a clear day.

The difference between poetry and verse is usually the difference between substance and form. Poetry is lofty thought or impassioned feeling expressed in imaginative words: Elizabethan poetry. Verse is any expression in words which simply conforms to accepted metrical rules and structure: the differences between prose and verse.

What inspires you?

Inspiration should be felt and heard,
you can feel it by reading the word!

The word INSPIRATION means something different to us all. It can stimulate, motivate, encourage, influence, stir, energize, or galvanize. It may even arouse, awaken, prompt, kindle and uplift our spirit.

Inspiration is continuously given and often received. When it is given, it is unconsciously done. When it is received, it fuels the path you are on.

Inspiration is our muse,
See how we put it to use...

To Freely Express...

...what is on one's mind,
to see it in print, signed,
affirms the premise, swirling in the brain,
from random thought to sweet refrain.
Like any work of art, the seeing
is the grand believing,
an idea transformed with color and form
or letters typed to form words of norm.
Creative affirmation,
positive acclimation,
free from suppression,
free expression!





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Poets & Poems Part XV: Are the Dead, Dead? Two Poems and a Sonnet

By Dennis Siluk Ed.D.

Sonnet for Old Age

I will be deep, buried below the ground

Asleep, a ghoul in a shadowy grave Like you, beside your table turning gray!

Oh mother, your eyes never did regret; Ah, yes, me, me! We may be happy yet,

Travel afar, but not yet, to-day.

When you grew old, you’d often say:

“You’ll get old like me, some far-off day!” (I feel like this, this very evening).

When I was young, to my son I’d say, “Cody: with your busy mind, keep forefront,

Now listen to me…” he called “…dad!” He’ll be held long in remembering.

#1527 21/10/2006

The Bird-gods

Before the making of man
The Bird-gods rule the lands:
Ere, love and war took place then!
The Hawks and the Eagles raced:
Clawful, fluttered, muttered:
They cast (somehow) to each other:
An evil magical spell, then—
Embracing they fell.

Then man appeared and found fire,
But somehow, it was wiped clean:
The memory of the Bird-gods,
From mans brain.

#1528 21/10/2006

Are the Dead, Dead?

Are not the dead, dead?
It is not strange to reach me
I am at present, reaching out of the dark
To see you (or out of the light)
To see you—
Look around—
Fear not
I am dead.
But I wrote this for you
T’is true—the world
Is mad—
Go on—
You will join me soon.

Note: This poem was found after ten years, sitting in the back of one of my old books, thought I’d bring it to life. 8/1996 (#1529); at this time, the time I wrote this, I was very ill, not knowing if my system (body) was ever going to recover from a number of atrophies. But it did somewhat.

See Dennis' web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com





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Poets and Poems (Part XXV) Two Poems on Wanka Warrior (Spanish and English)

By Dennis Siluk Ed.D.

Poets & Poems The Globetrotter Poet (A Journal by: D.L. Siluk)) Part XXV)) (Reviews, Commentaries, Short Stories and Poems) [10-27-2006]

1.

The Wanka Warrior’s Love

O’ lay her softly where the songbirds are nesting

For now is the time for resting, For her whose heart was sad.

Gone is her grieving to a place forgotten,

And unseeing, Neither roses nor the sun.

Deep was her sorrow and her slumber

Her heart, forgotten on tomorrow And on tomorrow’s sorrow.

Spanish Version

El Amor del Guerrero Wanka

O’ ponla suavemente donde los pájaros cantores anidan

Por que ahora es tiempo para descansar, Por ella cuyo corazón estaba triste.

Su congoja se fue a un lugar olvidado,

Y oculto, Sin rosas, ni sol.

Profundo fue su dolor y su sueño

Su corazón, olvidado para mañana Y en el dolor de mañana. 2.

Slaying of the Wanka Warrior

On a far night, on a far mountain, under twilight, the moon swung cold

and dim— I lay upon fallen leaves, as trees

swayed overhead.

Fainting, I dreamt of her lovely face: but she of mine no more…:

a Wanka Warrior had I been, but dead, I was no more!

She buried me in spring, a pale star, I had been…:

on a far night, on a far mountain, under twilight…!

#1466 (9-17-2006)

Spanish Version

Asesinato del Guerrero Wanka

Durante una noche lejana, en una montaña lejana, bajo el crepúsculo, la luna giró fría

y débil— Me tiré sobre hojas caídas, mientras los árboles

se balanceaban en lo alto.

Desvaneciéndome, soñé con su cara encantadora: pero ella con la mía nun