My World: Wordless Wednesday’s Wandering Wonder Walk For Feb. 09th
Every day is a blessing, a small miracle. Notice it.
Every day is a blessing, a small miracle. Notice it.
"One's writing is a kind of mirror of one's self," wrote Mary Oliver in A Poetry Handbook. Does this apply even to magnetic poetry, I wonder? Writers, what are your thoughts?
Like a daydream, the day was idyllic and in my mind, I could have passed it with The Little Prince. The sky was lovely today, perfect for daydreaming indeed.
For the daily dose of inspiration today, the question is: What is your favorite part about yourself? The response is in the photos. Leave a comment with your answer too, please. Or a link with a photo. Thanks.
"Teach me the meaning of heaven and hell," the samurai barked. The monk opened his eyes. "I have no time for rudeness or silly questions." So goes the parable of The Monk and The Belligerent Samurai.
To borrow Guardini's quote, may our hearts be quickened by love, and free will stir us to action so that spiritual conception can happen. And may we soon turn to our stillness within to allow the blessings to seep in. I bless you and wish you safe and joyous festivities.
I'm ashamed of how long I dragged my feet with this book. I hope you forgive me, and in the same breath want to invite you to read my story of discovery and vulnerability in this book review. Kudos to the author of Victorine: A book that I will forever hold dear.
ArkquainSyllablic: 1/2/3/4 5/7/7/5 4/3/2/1The two 7-syllable lines, must use end rhyme.Poetry Forms one'notherand then morebring warm fuzziesfrom far away lands--U.S, U.K, New Zealand,Spain, Greece, Belize, and Finlandjubilant treasurescome to remindit's Christmas'round theworld ***…
The country that raised me boasted of one season throughout the year, but perhaps it was because we wished for snow so much, but at Christmas time, we often pulled out sweaters to ward off the chill. And mother read us stories of Christmases in cold countries. Hope you enjoy these from Librivox.
To have a constant supply of joy at all seasons, discern the solar halo of joy in wonted placed, then incline your heart to them-- joy will be there because you stored it there.
© 2021 selmamartin.com (exclusively) Show me proper courtesy if you wish to reblog this, and ask for written permission to repost. Thank you. Do you have a Halloween poem that you wrote and failed to publish? Then I guess that poem is bullying your shadow. Let's do something about that.
These things I remember, and I remember them well: Father brought us white Christmases to revel and to boast, and Mother brought us Christmases to last forever.