Magical Melodies

Hello friends. The weather has been so lovely this weekend, and I had such a magical day, that I kept getting distracted with the parrots  still visiting and a gentle sun. I have a new phone, a generous gift from a dear friend. A lady that is always helping others. My student teaching is going well. I really love it there, and my students, and teacher. Now three months to graduation. I am so excited I am almost doing the Snoopy Dance, but I know I will cry on my last day with these kids. But I am still excited.

Oh and guess what? I read my poetry at a poetry slam for ASU, and Eddy accompanied me  on guitar. I was kind of surprised I did that. The most fun was mentoring the young poets.

Here is my Magical Melodies Playlist. Sorry but the music is not available on YouTube. Two Beatles and two ELO.

Magical Mystery Tour

Strange Magic

Strawberry Fields Forever

All Over the World

I miss you all and I hope my post finds you in a happy light .

Manifest Dreams

The lovebirds are daily visitors now to the backyard garden. Apparently they get along just fine with all the other species of birds that feast with them. I just counted nine of them, among the grackles, finches, pigeons, and sparrows. Such a miraculous delight to sit and watch these cutie pies fly their colors around like a frenzied artist at work. It is just indescribable.

Pretty Birds

Turquoise tail flips and cute head nods

Soft and Sweet

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Looking forward to 2018, and to graduating from college. A goal that in my youth I thought impossible, Nothing is impossible. I just got the breakdown of my NES English exam, interesting, I did score well above the standard, but boy did I bomb in the poetry section. Meter analysis is just not my thing, I knew that going in to the exam lol, at least I know what I don’t know. I have studied it since the exam, and guess what? I still don’t, oh well.

I have a good feeling overall for everybody, and for world consciousness elevation. I still believe be the architect of your dream, build it, and it will manifest. Together we can believe an manifest the world of love, beauty, peace, creation, and harmony that we want to exist in.

Namaste

Art

Gwenn Seemel

Birth Happiness

Sibelius Violin Concerto

Happy Anniversary with WordPress.com!
You registered on WordPress.com 5 years ago.
Thanks for flying with us. Keep up the good blogging.
Happy Birthday
Blue Butterflies & Me
Happy Birthday om!
The birth of my blog has truly birthed happiness and good friends. Thank you all so much for not only supporting my blog, but for supporting me and my life. I recall making the journey alone from Louisiana to Arizona driving a U-Haul truck and pulling a car in high winds, but I knew that my blog friends were with me and keeping me in their thoughts and prayers. This amazing community has helped me grow spiritually, creatively and consciously. I have made some really great friends here, and I love you all.
Thank you all so very much~
Namaste
Sindy

Here I Love You

anna-raz

Here I Love You

Sometimes I get up early and even my soul is wet.
Far away the sea sounds and resounds.
This is a port.

Here I love you.
Here I love you and the horizon hides you in vain.
I love you still among these cold things.
Sometimes my kisses go on those heavy vessels
that cross the sea towards no arrival.
I see myself forgotten like those old anchors.

The piers sadden when the afternoon moors there.
My life grows tired, hungry to no purpose.
I love what I do not have. You are so far.
My loathing wrestles with the slow twilights.
But night comes and starts to sing to me.

The moon turns its clockwork dream.
The biggest stars look at me with your eyes.
And as I love you, the pines in the wind
want to sing your name with their leaves of wire.

Pablo Neruda

Painting by Anna Razumovskaya

Winter Solstice

white-maiden

Solstice draws nigh
dark days, long, longest night
deep remembrance
journey of the soul
moving, ever moving
moving to stand still
still in the darkest light
the most glorious light
light of the undying Sun
standing sill. still point
where we bask breathe
delight in Light, Love
pure beingness
This ever turning play –
dance of dark and light
our soul’s shadow dancing
concealing and revealing
gently, reverently mirroring
cosmic flow and rhythm
of which you and I are part –
One in the eternal dance
movement-Eternal moment
meeting, re-uniting ever again
as One . . . separating, then returning
again and again

HollyRose Gosselin

~Thanks to Holly Rose my FB friend, and sistar~

Solstice facts

Archangel Raziel

 art by Jessica Galbraith

Life Is Bigger

Wave abstract11

R.E.M.

Oh life, it’s bigger
It’s bigger than you
And you are not me
The lengths that I will go to
The distance in your eyes
Oh no, I’ve said too much
I set it up

That’s me in the corner
That’s me in the spotlight
Losing my religion
Trying to keep up with you
And I don’t know if I can do it
Oh no, I’ve said too much
I haven’t said enough

I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try

Every whisper
Of every waking hour
I’m choosing my confessions
Trying to keep an eye on you
Like a hurt, lost and blinded fool, fool
Oh no, I’ve said too much
I set it up

Consider this
Consider this, the hint of the century
Consider this, the slip
That brought me to my knees, failed
What if all these fantasies come
Flailing around
Now I’ve said too much

I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try

But that was just a dream
That was just a dream

That’s me in the corner
That’s me in the spotlight
Losing my religion
Trying to keep up with you
And I don’t know if I can do it
Oh no, I’ve said too much
I haven’t said enough

I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try

But that was just a dream
Try, cry, why try
That was just a dream
Just a dream
Just a dream, dream

Art

Gwen Duda

I did not realize that Micheal Stipe was a visual artist and a director, as well as a singer-songwriter. This song and video from 1991, is just as relevant, and current 25 years later. That video is a very nice bit of film-making.

Sea Serenity

purple-boat-and-friends-elizabeth-blaylock-johnson

The Ocean

The Wide Ocean

by Pablo Neruda

Ocean, if you were to give, a measure, a ferment, a fruit
of your gifts and destructions, into my hand,
I would choose your far-off repose, your contour of steel,
your vigilant spaces of air and darkness,
and the power of your white tongue,
that shatters and overthrows columns,
breaking them down to your proper purity.

Not the final breaker, heavy with brine,
that thunders onshore, and creates
the silence of sand, that encircles the world,
but the inner spaces of force,
the naked power of the waters,
the immoveable solitude, brimming with lives.
It is Time perhaps, or the vessel filled
with all motion, pure Oneness,
that death cannot touch, the visceral green
of consuming totality.

Only a salt kiss remains of the drowned arm,
that lifts a spray: a humid scent,
of the damp flower, is left,
from the bodies of men. Your energies
form, in a trickle that is not spent,
form, in retreat into silence.

The falling wave,
arch of identity, shattering feathers,
is only spume when it clears,
and returns to its source, unconsumed.

Your whole force heads for its origin.
The husks that your load threshes,
are only the crushed, plundered, deliveries,
that your act of abundance expelled,
all those that take life from your branches.

Your form extends beyond breakers,
vibrant, and rhythmic, like the chest, cloaking
a single being, and its breathings,
that lift into the content of light,
plains raised above waves,
forming the naked surface of earth.
You fill your true self with your substance.
You overflow curve with silence.

The vessel trembles with your salt and sweetness,
the universal cavern of waters,
and nothing is lost from you, as it is
from the desolate crater, or the bay of a hill,
those empty heights, signs, scars,
guarding the wounded air.

Your petals throbbing against the Earth,
trembling your submarine harvests,
your menace thickening the smooth swell,
with pulsations and swarming of schools,
and only the thread of the net raises
the dead lightning of fish-scale,
one wounded millimetre, in the space
of your crystal completeness.

 

 

Painting By

Elizabeth Blaylock