A Lovely Poet

Courtesy Google Images

Autumn writes her own poetry,

we are merely observers.

~Terri Guillemets


Click here for more about Autumn

(Yes you are being sent on a wild goose chase!)

Her Name is Easter

Photo Credit

Linking with Imaginary Gardens for The Tuesday Platform Imagined by Kerry

 

It is the hour to rend thy chains,
The blossom time of souls.
~Katherine Lee Bates

 

 

Her name is Easter and she is full of grace

she quickly glides to kiss each and every face

as she dances a dance even the awkward know

for she longs to dance with every living soul.

Her garments are always flowing and miles long

so all can touch it's true fabric and always hold on.

The perfume she wears is renewal's new rose

and all who come near her long to stay close.

Now when Easter is near us her voice becomes clear

and the song that she sings is a choir all can hear.

So touch her and in song let your voice raise

for her name is Easter and she if full of grace.

 

 

Places We Have Never Been

Photo Credit

Linking with Imaginary Gardens "The Tuesday Platform"

There is an eternal landscape, a geography of the soul; we search for its outlines all our lives. ~Josephine Hart

I have never measured a man
 the way this world determines
 worthiness and what is considered good
 drawing worldly lines and graphs

like maps to places we have never been

 every soul has its own charted territory with
unmarked roads that no other footsteps have tread
 the terrain can be rough and gravel ridden
or it can be smoothly paved like palace walls
but it is a diverse map every time
like fingerprints have paths that cannot be replicated
and all the history soil and sediment
make rocks no other hands can throw
the passing traveler may see
the built up cities but never
understand the architecture
nor pass through the open doors
yet still we try to predict mold and form
what we expect someone else should be
we draft our own plans
 of what truly makes someone
deserving of honor and acknowledgement
or justify our eye contact and attention
who will we let in our living room
whose hand will we hold on to
who will we truly love.







Sedimentary rocks are formed through the gradual accumulation of sediment sand on a beach, mud at a river bed.  As the sediment is buried it is compacted as more and more material is deposited on top.   Eventually the sediment will become so dense that it is essentially rock.   An explanation according to Wikipedia of course, but our lives are like this.  They are an accumulation of sediment that gets compacted more and more.  All the hurts, bitterness, experiences and dirt that living can provide push deeper and compress building the being that we are.  Each of us a different landscape, yet all truly the same continent.

One Blog is Never Enough

 

 

 

Welcome to my blog "What a Seagull Never Told You".  It got it's name from a poem I wrote many years ago about looking at the world and life's situations through the eyes of an animal and it's ways of living on this planet.  When I started my first blog I was excited to have a way to share my writing with someone other than my very close friends.  After having it for less than a year I found myself yearning to have another one for more ideas and more posts.  So the next thing I knew I had 3 blogs.  If you click on this link to go to my other blog "Dancing With Elephants".  I don't really have some magnificent reason for wanting 3 blogs other than the simple fact that "one blog is never enough".

Thank you for stopping by.

 

 

Reaching Across The Blogosphere

To contact me you can e-mail me at:

 

carrielvanhorn@gmail.com

 

I look forward to hearing from you.

Containing the Stars

Courtesy Pinterest

 

 

Linking with Susan's prompt at Mid-week Motif~ Science over at Poet's United

 

 

 

"Science has made us gods even before we are worthy of being men."

 ~Jean Rostand

 

 

 

 

It has been whispered in my ear yet forever is such a mighty word we use with such frequent casualty flinging it around like a kite on display

with the recklessness of dreamers and earnestness of poets

 

as if we could truly contain the stars in a tin can

 

we chase forever's essence as if it could be caught

 

it has been written before me yet religion is such a fragile word

 

we say with such power

 

shuffling it around on desk tops like legal documents

 

with the harshness of scientists and disregard of fools

 

as if we could truly contain the stars in a tin can

 

we try to see the face of God

 

ignorant to the revelation that we have already seen the sparkle in His eyes.

 

 

 

This is an old poem that I wrote a long time ago, but I felt it fit the prompt so well that  I thought I would re-post it and share it again.  The subject of God and science has always been so controversial.  So many do not agree, and even more just only have faith in what they can see with their own two eyes, and touch with their own hands.  This life is a beautiful mystery indeed, and we are all seekers of the truth, but we learn more when we open up our hearts than when we open up any text book in our reach.

 

 

 

What a Seagull Never Told You

photo from The Guardian, Eyewitness

 

 

The Mag #197

 

This is an older poem I wrote many years ago that was the inspiration behind the name of this blog.....so it seemed fitting to share it from here.  Thank you for stopping by.

 

 

 

"God gives every bird its food, but He does not throw it into its nest."  ~J.G. Holland

 

 

 

 

What a seagull never told you about why he flies away is the farther up you fly the broader the view you get of the shore you left behind.

What a wild horse never told you is some chained up fences can be jumped.

What a river never told you is getting off the flowing path may mean your whole world may pass you right by.

What a pine tree never told you is those that stand together never fall alone.

What a valley never told you is that sometimes the safest place to wait out the storm is right where you are.

What a sunset never told you is if you leave today behind does not mean you cannot come back and start all over again tomorrow.

What a pigeon never told you is sometimes the thrown crumbs don't come right to us we must go to them.

What a sparrow never told you is the leaver sometimes loses the nest.

What a goldfish never told you is maybe the bowl you are swimming in is just where you were meant to be.



Time Is A Fast Train

The Mag #185

 

"Sometimes I feel that life is passing me by, not slowly either, but with ropes of steam and spark-spattered wheels and a hoarse roar of power or terror.  It's passing, yet I'm the one who's doing all the moving." 

 ~Martin Amis, Money

 

 

 

When we were children the world was at our service

and life was a large menu before our eyes.

All the choices were a wonderful entre
and each dish we wanted to try.

Every day was like a train ride
that seemed to move too slow,

Yet with time it gained momentum
and faster and faster it did go.

The places that pass fly faster
like migrant birds in flight.

Everyday seems to grow shorter
as life's chores increase in size.

In time we are all grown up
and the tables seem to turn,

like smoke from the steam engine
where the coals char and burn.

Then the world becomes our master
and we provide it our best seat,

and life's menu gets smaller
that we need glasses to try and read.

For time is a fast moving train
and the conductor we are not.

So passenger of life take the provisions
and in return give it all you've got.

 

Brilliance

Linking with Poets United Wonder Wednesday E=mc2

"There are two ways to live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle;

 you can live as if everything is a miracle."

~Albert Einstein

Brilliance is not a newly cut diamond,

but the glistening eyes of a child so full of hope.

Brilliance is not a scientific theory,

but the enlightening that can occur

in the colliding of two souls.

Brilliance is not an orchestrated opus,

but the deep flutter of the leaves

that only the forest can compose.

Brilliance is not a numeric formula,

but the unmeasurable capacity

of what the heart can hold.

This is a re-post from my other blog.  It fit too well for the prompt for me not to dig in the archives.

Follow Hope's Tracks

Puddle, 1952, M.C. Escher

The Mag #122

"If you knew that hope and despair were paths to the same destination, which would you choose?"  ~Robert Brault,

Trudge forward brave soldier with the fearless puddle stomping of a child.
Plow through the sludge like a bulldozer pushing deep into the wild.
Life is messy with plenty of beautiful lessons down many muddy paths.
You can turn around or stop, but what is the use in that?
We are all in a journey that either progresses or lags behind.
The roads we take are opportunities that we can lose or we can find.
So take each step courageously and get back up when you slip and fall.
For life is a big puddle of tests and learning that is meant for us all.