Shared No. 102: “My Life With Gracie…Seasons Of Friendship” — by My Life With Gracie (John Spiers)

arts, Cartoons, Creatures, humor, Insights, Psychologie, psychology, Tipps, Zen
We are awaiting John`s first book impatiently….

“What are you doing?” asked Gracie. “I’m making some pencil sketches of you and the others.” “Why would you do that?” “So I won’t forget any of you.” “You aren’t forgetful. You always remember to feed us.” “Well, sometimes people forget even though they don’t want to forget especially when they get old. So I […]

My Life With Gracie…Seasons Of Friendship — My Life With Gracie

Poem No. 142 (repaired): “Renascence” by Edna St. Vincent Millay (1917)

Gedichte, Nature, poems

ALL I could see from where I stood
Was three long mountains and a wood;
I turned and looked the other way,
And saw three islands in a bay.

So with my eyes I traced the line
Of the horizon, thin and fine,
Straight around till I was come
Back to where I’d started from;

And all I saw from where I stood
Was three long mountains and a wood.
Over these things I could not see:
These were the things that bounded me;


And I could touch them with my hand,
Almost, I thought, from where I stand.
And all at once things seemed so small
My breath came short, and scarce at all.

But, sure, the sky is big, I said;
Miles and miles above my head;
So here upon my back I’ll lie
And look my fill into the sky.

And so I looked, and, after all,
The sky was not so very tall.
The sky, I said, must somewhere stop,
And—sure enough!—I see the top!

The sky, I thought, is not so grand;
I ’most could touch it with my hand!
And reaching up my hand to try,
I screamed to feel it touch the sky.

I screamed, and—lo!—Infinity
Came down and settled over me;
Forced back my scream into my chest,
Bent back my arm upon my breast,

And, pressing of the Undefined
The definition on my mind,
Held up before my eyes a glass
Through which my shrinking sight did pass

Until it seemed I must behold
Immensity made manifold;
Whispered to me a word whose sound
Deafened the air for worlds around,

And brought unmuffled to my ears
The gossiping of friendly spheres,
The creaking of the tented sky,
The ticking of Eternity.

I saw and heard and knew at last
The How and Why of all things, past,
And present, and forevermore.
The Universe, cleft to the core,

Lay open to my probing sense
That, sick’ning, I would fain pluck thence
But could not,—nay! But needs must suck
At the great wound, and could not pluck

My lips away till I had drawn
All venom out.—Ah, fearful pawn!
For my omniscience paid I toll
In infinite remorse of soul.

All sin was of my sinning, all
Atoning mine, and mine the gall
Of all regret. Mine was the weight
Of every brooded wrong, the hate

That stood behind each envious thrust,
Mine every greed, mine every lust.
And all the while for every grief,
Each suffering, I craved relief

With individual desire,—
Craved all in vain! And felt fierce fire
About a thousand people crawl;
Perished with each,—then mourned for all!

A man was starving in Capri;
He moved his eyes and looked at me;
I felt his gaze, I heard his moan,
And knew his hunger as my own.

I saw at sea a great fog bank
Between two ships that struck and sank;
A thousand screams the heavens smote;
And every scream tore through my throat.

No hurt I did not feel, no death
That was not mine; mine each last breath
That, crying, met an answering cry
From the compassion that was I.

All suffering mine, and mine its rod;
Mine, pity like the pity of God.
Ah, awful weight! Infinity
Pressed down upon the finite Me!

My anguished spirit, like a bird,
Beating against my lips I heard;
Yet lay the weight so close about
There was no room for it without.

And so beneath the weight lay I
And suffered death, but could not die.
Long had I lain thus, craving death,
When quietly the earth beneath
Gave way, and inch by inch, so great
At last had grown the crushing weight,

Into the earth I sank till I
Full six feet under ground did lie,
And sank no more,—there is no weight
Can follow here, however great.

From off my breast I felt it roll,
And as it went my tortured soul
Burst forth and fled in such a gust
That all about me swirled the dust.

Deep in the earth I rested now;
Cool is its hand upon the brow
And soft its breast beneath the head
Of one who is so gladly dead.

And all at once, and over all
The pitying rain began to fall;
I lay and heard each pattering hoof
Upon my lowly, thatchèd roof,

And seemed to love the sound far more
Than ever I had done before.
For rain it hath a friendly sound
To one who’s six feet under ground;

And scarce the friendly voice or face:
A grave is such a quiet place.

The rain, I said, is kind to come
And speak to me in my new home.
I would I were alive again

To kiss the fingers of the rain,
To drink into my eyes the shine
Of every slanting silver line,
To catch the freshened, fragrant breeze
From drenched and dripping apple-trees.

For soon the shower will be done,
And then the broad face of the sun
Will laugh above the rain-soaked earth
Until the world with answering mirth

Shakes joyously, and each round drop
Rolls, twinkling, from its grass-blade top.
How can I bear it; buried here,
While overhead the sky grows clear

And blue again after the storm?
O, multi-colored, multiform,
Beloved beauty over me,
That I shall never, never see

Again! Spring-silver, autumn-gold,
That I shall never more behold!
Sleeping your myriad magics through,
Close-sepulchred away from you!

O God, I cried, give me new birth,
And put me back upon the earth!
Upset each cloud’s gigantic gourd
And let the heavy rain, down-poured

In one big torrent, set me free,
Washing my grave away from me!

I ceased; and through the breathless hush
That answered me, the far-off rush
Of herald wings came whispering
Like music down the vibrant string

Of my ascending prayer, and—crash!
Before the wild wind’s whistling lash
The startled storm-clouds reared on high
And plunged in terror down the sky,
And the big rain in one black wave
Fell from the sky and struck my grave.

I know not how such things can be;
I only know there came to me
A fragrance such as never clings
To aught save happy living things;

A sound as of some joyous elf
Singing sweet songs to please himself,
And, through and over everything,
A sense of glad awakening.

The grass, a-tiptoe at my ear,
Whispering to me I could hear;
I felt the rain’s cool finger-tips
Brushed tenderly across my lips,

Laid gently on my sealèd sight,
And all at once the heavy night
Fell from my eyes and I could see,—
A drenched and dripping apple-tree,

A last long line of silver rain,
A sky grown clear and blue again.
And as I looked a quickening gust
Of wind blew up to me and thrust

Into my face a miracle
Of orchard-breath, and with the smell,—
I know not how such things can be!—
I breathed my soul back into me.

Ah! Up then from the ground sprang I
And hailed the earth with such a cry
As is not heard save from a man
Who has been dead, and lives again.

About the trees my arms I wound;
Like one gone mad I hugged the ground;
I raised my quivering arms on high;
I laughed and laughed into the sky,

Till at my throat a strangling sob
Caught fiercely, and a great heart-throb
Sent instant tears into my eyes;
O God, I cried, no dark disguise

Can e’er hereafter hide from me
Thy radiant identity!
Thou canst not move across the grass
But my quick eyes will see Thee pass,

Nor speak, however silently,
But my hushed voice will answer Thee.
I know the path that tells Thy way
Through the cool eve of every day;

God, I can push the grass apart
And lay my finger on Thy heart!

The world stands out on either side
No wider than the heart is wide;
Above the world is stretched the sky,—
No higher than the soul is high.

The heart can push the sea and land
Farther away on either hand;
The soul can split the sky in two,
And let the face of God shine through.

But East and West will pinch the heart
That can not keep them pushed apart;
And he whose soul is flat—the sky
Will cave in on him by and by.

Poem No. 131: “YOU” by M. Wang

Gedichte, poems

I still remember the first day we met.
We were too shy to say much at all.
It’s funny to think back to that time,
Because now we’re having a ball!

They say that true friendship is rare,
An adage that I believe to be true.
Genuine friendship is something that I cherish.
I am so lucky to have met you.

Our bond is extremely special.
It is unique in its own way.
We have something irreplaceable. 
I love you more and more each day.

We’ve been through so much together.
In so little time we’ve shared ,
I will never forget all the moments
That you’ve shown me how much you cared.

Friends are forever,
Especially the bond that you and I possess.
I love your fun-filled personality.
Somehow you never fail to impress.

The world could use more people like you.
It would certainly be a better place.
I love everything about you.
You are someone I could never replace.

You are always there for me
When my spirits need a little lift.
I cannot thank you enough for that.
You are truly an extraordinary gift.

You are everything to me and more.
I could never express that enough.
Life is such a treacherous journey, and
Without you it would be even more tough.

Our story will continue to grow
With each passing day,
Because I trust that with you by my side,
Everything will always be okay.

You are so dear to me.
You know I will love you until the end.
I will always be there for you, and
You will always (and forever) be my best friend.

Poem No. 129: “Empathy”

Gedichte, poems, Psychologie, psychology

The greater pain than the one you feel
Is the one you see in the ones you love
The one you can’t make go away
Cannot ease or take on as your own
That you neither caused
Nor can conclude
But must play its course
And you are the witness to the sorrow and the grief
The despair and the gloom 
The melancholy that it brings to that beloved person of yours
When sympathy is not appropriate
And distraction isn’t possible
When you’re powerless to in any way lessen the pain 
When all you can do
Is to be there
And to experience that hurt with them
To watch as it changes them
As it pulls them to their depths
And then to wait
Wait for the feeling to subside
To diminish
And all the while
You would trade
In an instant
And have that pain be yours rather than theirs
Have their heavy heart be weighed on you
And release them of that load of agony
To take it on and free them of their state of dreariness
Absorb it
And battle it for yourself 
Even if it were strong enough to destroy you
Just to save from ever seeing them feeling so hopeless
That is the pain greater than pain itself

When the ones we love hurt
We feel their pain tenfold 

Poem No. 127: “Forgive Me?” by an unknown Author

Gedichte, poems, Psychologie, psychology, Uncategorized

No matter how much we fight,
I’ll always be by your side.
We’ve been through too much
To let what we have slide. 
For years you’ve put up with me;
You’re my best friend, 
I can always count on you; now it’s my turn to lend.
This is all my fault, 
Don’t let this turn our friendship gray.
I love you, and that’s all I have to say.

Poem No. 124: “Smile” by an unknown author

Gedichte, poems

A smile is cheer to you and me
It comforts the weary, gladdens the sad
consoles those in trouble, good or bad.
To rich and poor, beggar or thief,
it’s free to all of any belief.
A natural gesture of young and old
cheers on the faint, disarms the bold.
Unlike most blessings for which we pray,
it’s one thing we keep when we give it away.

Poem No. 110: “The Invitation” by Oriah Mountain Dreamer

Gedichte, poems

It doesn’t interest me
what you do for a living.
I want to know
what you ache for
and if you dare to dream
of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me
how old you are.
I want to know 
if you will risk 
looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesnt interest me
what planets are 
squaring your moon…
I want to know
if you have touched
the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened
by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know
if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know
if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you 
to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations
of being human.

It doesn’t interest me
if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear
the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know
if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live
or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me
who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me
where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know 
what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know
if you can be alone 
with yourself
and if you truly like
the company you keep
in the empty moments.