Yesterday remembers
plans pushed aside for
plans from the day before
forgotten and revived
Yesterday remembers
the crazy busyness of the phone
or someone coming to the door or
breaking a favourite ornament
Yesterday remembers,
in the midst of today,
as a dream that vanishes
all frayed and gauzy.
Yesterday remembers
what must be done today with
hope that we will pick up the
loose threads and weave a new tapestry.
“If you fell down yesterday, stand up today.”
~ H.G.Wells, writer
(1866 ~ 1946)
Give it some space
The impulse
The longing
The wish or the dream
Give it some space
To breathe
To become real
To feel it bloom
Give it some space
The impulse
The longing
The wish or the dream.
“Create the space and a bigger life happens.”
~ Alysia Reiner, actress
Temptation to change the world
is merely a wisp of a dream,
too great a task,
and too messy.
I walked to day,
just to the grocery store
for my prescription refill
and bananas.
I added a Bosc pear because
they taste good. Curious,
I took my blood pressure -
the machine showed ‘optimal’.
Then I spoke to a cheerful pharmacy tech
about the state of the weather outside.
Paying my bill, I packed my groceries
and my medication into my bag,
zipped up my jacket and headed home.
I looked up to check the clouds ~
rain this afternoon or possibly this evening? ~
Three blocks to walk, I skirted all the puddles,
rain stayed in the clouds. Home safe and dry.
Temptation to change the world
is merely a wisp of a dream,
too great a task,
and too messy.
“Action expresses priorities.”
~ Mahatma Gandhi
There is a gap
where words have forgotten
to flow ~ all crowded at the edges
like snow drifts around a frozen pond.
If I put on my white leather skates
with the sharp silver blades
I could set out on the ice and
carve a poem in it’s frigid surface.
Tonight my skates don’t fit and
the blades are dull. Tomorrow,
I will skate under the blue sky
as the sun sets in the west ~
a childhood dream that is
the imagining of my heart.
“Everything you can imagine is real.”
~ Pablo Picasso
an idea
a belief
a dream
consumes each moment so
plans float and spin
designs shift like sand
timelines begin to form
as we play the music of life
two-stepping task to task
loving family and friends
being present in the life we’ve been given.
“A garden to walk in and immensity to dream in - - what more could he ask?
A few flowers at his feet and above him the stars”
~ Victor Hugo, Les Miserables
fills me with rhythms
that dreams have made.
“Music is like a dream. One that I cannot hear.”
~ Beethoven
sky colours of happy places
~ sunrise or sunset ~
peach, mauve or soft yellow,
thin gilded clouds drifted
‘til eyes drooped and I slept.
“for then what wouldst thou know, flitting ‘twixt waking and sleep.”
~ Stewart Stafford, author
 |
| Photo: Vancouver Feb/2019 Looks like trees in Regina this morning! |
On the Tip of My Tongue
Clara knew it was April, but her little brother had raced into her bedroom shouting “It’s snowing!!” Barely time to open her eyes, she had just surfaced from a dream of the garden she had planned. It wouldn’t be a big one though. Her father had said so. He’d have the big one and she just had a little corner. But the dream was so beautiful. Mostly flowers, but fat watermelons grew at one end of her huge garden. Now, if there was snow again, she wouldn’t be able to get started. “Don’t sound so excited. Is there enough to make a snowman?” Robbie was pulling off her covers. “I don’t know but I’ll get outside and find out!”
Already dressed, he raced out of Clara’s room, thundered down the stairs and out the kitchen door. Their mother called after him, knew he was excited about the snow. “Get in here and eat your breakfast, Robbie.” Silence. She looked out the window by the back door. He was standing still, unusual for this son who always raced from one place to the other. His head tipped back, she guessed what he was doing. Catching snow flakes on his tongue, the tiny bite of cold sweet and welcome. She shook her head. “I remember doing that.” She turned the stove off, grabbed her jacket and went outside. Putting her hand on his shoulder, she tipped her head back and stuck her tongue out to feel the tiny cold of the melting flakes. In her mind she said “I don’t even care if the neighbours are looking. This is one memory I want to experience again.”
“The purpose of life is to live it; to taste experience to the utmost,
to reach out eagerly and without fear for newer and richer experience.”
~ Eleanor Roosevelt
