i am spending a significant portion of my morning on social media because, well, i have been stimulated. Which basically means my brain is cooking up ideas and piling up future projects, while a myriad of unfinished projects patiently weep… waiting for me. “Off on another excursion, yet again! Are you?” my conscious is seething.…
Church is poetry. Poetry is life. A life well lived. I read this article… Is this our world? Here is my heart reaction, in words. This is equally tragic as 9/11. The voices of those dead in Chicago cry out for us to take action. How do we react? We dissect each tragedy and look…
wish i understood perhaps, i do deep inside light eminates a bushel covered instincts reside beside, i fathom the mystery of life… to shine! the grumblings of earth, surface lay bare the charred forest scattered to four corners the huddled masses break free and rejuvinate spirit… to be! communion of souls, breathe a hush spreads…
for the longest time i sought a chair wooden and sturdy now resting alone in the forest it sits bare the glowing gown seen through and torn resembles more the air breezy and blown four circles rising above the center of all
A new experience presented itself within a community to celebrate positive energy. This was most of the group’s first time being together. The hour started with rhythmic drum beats mimicking the heart’s life force. There were 15 of us, each with a drum and another percussion instrument. This video is the third of four sets,…
Where to start? It is as if my life is being lived in one day… with no way to slow down. Juggling between need-to-do and want-to-do and compromising. All this beauty is descending upon my head in rocket speed… the town i have moved to is bursting at the seems with poetry and dance. Harvard…
Generations. To profess belief in simple faith and be left to wander the perilous gate… held ajar, wide open. The future bleak… shall the narrow door shut in time… before utter and complete destruction. Ideally, we all could get along. Some stronger. Others weaker. The problem is truth cannot be relative. Either murder is wrong…
summer song and dance sunshine’s grace chose to do differently this time and place smile to spread peace life’s not a race set your clock to be one with the earth’s trace
he says not your friend but he cannot fathom the depth of his words carved on stone “goodbye” my weakest point and i tremble at being alone even in my happiness tears well knowing he is gone —– I sincerely hope he finds what he is seeking. What he believes he needs. 😚😇
My! i love this… I have Vidur’s book of poems… go find a copy. Read it when your stressed and unsure of your surroundings. Let his gentle voice calm your nerves. Thanks Vidur! ❤️❤️❤️ — Read on vidursahdev.wordpress.com/2018/08/04/me-mock-myself/
