Joleyn Larson Photography & Design

unrealized feeling.

one moment.

fruitioned.

breathe warmth.

the thrill.

embers fly.

love realized.

inhale it.

—again.

mirror by myra perrings

how clearly does the stream reflect the bending tree.

the water is so still and pure that it can be

a perfect mirror for the boughs of leafy green,

whose shadows gently fall like the patterns on a screen.

how clearly does the soul reflect the Masters’ will

when it is purified of self, when it is still:

as waters trace designs of boughs that bend above,

God’s pattern shows through lives made pure by love.

I heard daddy whispering quietly one night,
He said you were sleeping while his ear was pressed tight.
I pushed out my little hand in search for the sound,
He must not have noticed for his head did not turn around.

Daddy went on to say, “We 4 are waiting for you,”
I said to myself, “four? I only know of two!”
I know of Mommy and Daddy, who else could he mean?
I’m starting to remember, I’ve heard them talk of the BEANS!!

Daddy said, “Listen little one, you have two big brothers.”
And we are all so excited to see you, especially your mother.
Then Daddy mentioned something about maybe 1 week
Maybe he meant that’s when we will finally meet!!

“How exciting”, I said “Maybe I can finally come out!”
Daddy then said, “Hold on there, there’s still someone to think about”
“Your Mommy has been working very hard for you, three more months it would be a year!”
“Let’s make this day easy for her, that day being when you appear.”

I said, “Ok, Dad…I’ll do my best—
Cause Mommy already told me that she would do the rest.”
Daddy said one more thing to me, so I sat up tall..
“You’ll find out soon enough but, you’ve got the best Mother of all!”

“Mom, I think I’m going to like this new little nest,
Because You, Daddy and the Beans sure sound like the best!”  

SONNET #43, FROM THE PORTUGUESE 
By Elizabeth Barrett Browning   Published in 1850
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

One click. 

Eye closed.

Muddled darkness.

Blank.

Blackness surrounds.

Spun me ‘round.

Pushed me down.

Sat on me.

I could not breath.

Stillness. Pause—

Breath. Pause—

Breathe. Pause— 

Driving force.

Internal inspiration.

Mind releases.

Altered motivation.

But … inspired.

jml

so i started reading this book. a collection of poems really…by emily dickinson.  poetry… something that has always intrigued me but yet, i’ve  never felt such power…until now. wow. her words can bring tears to my eyes in one breath and complete joy in the next. i’ve had to research her, to seek out how she grew up, what inspired her, how she lived. such fragile beauty yet so elusive-ly secretive and powerful. one of my favorite poems so far…

I measure every Grief I meet
With narrow, probing, Eyes – 
I wonder if It weighs like Mine – 
Or has an Easier size.

I wonder if They bore it long – 
Or did it just begin – 
I could not tell the Date of Mine – 
It feels so old a pain – 

I wonder if it hurts to live – 
And if They have to try – 
And whether – could They choose between – 
It would not be – to die – 

I note that Some – gone patient long – 
At length, renew their smile – 
An imitation of a Light
That has so little Oil – 

I wonder if when Years have piled – 
Some Thousands – on the Harm – 
That hurt them early – such a lapse
Could give them any Balm –  

Or would they go on aching still
Through Centuries of Nerve – 
Enlightened to a larger Pain – 
In Contrast with the Love –  

The Grieved – are many – I am told – 
There is the various Cause – 
Death – is but one – and comes but once – 
And only nails the eyes –  

There's Grief of Want – and grief of Cold – 
A sort they call "Despair" – 
There's Banishment from native Eyes – 
In Sight of Native Air –  

And though I may not guess the kind – 
Correctly – yet to me
A piercing Comfort it affords
In passing Calvary –  

To note the fashions – of the Cross – 
And how they're mostly worn – 
Still fascinated to presume
That Some – are like My Own – 

can’t get enough of the frosty forests in our front yard.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Robert Frost

we had the most wonderful week of Christmas this year. we stayed home this time. we celebrated mass, we enjoyed our secret santa gifts, we finished our puzzle, we baked tons of cookies, we read books, we relaxed and watched christmas movies all week. we made so many wonderful Christmas memories. truly enjoyed the true meaning of Christmas. our gratitude journals were full and it was a huge sigh of love and joy for us. {sigh}

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

“Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”

feeling inspired

with nothing to say

words toss around in my head

but nothing comes out on paper

click

click

click  … instead

much better

visually

satisfied

fed

i see you now

among familiar faces

among strangers too

you are grown up

your own person,

no longer a small shadow to me

you are drenched with beauty, 

your eyes speak through me

i see someone

someone I love very much,

in your face

i ache

emotions rain in

questions flood my soul

does she remember?

we never forgot

time lost

tick – tock

twelve years gone

new beginnings

my hearts’s eternal hope

just waiting,

just wait,

wait.

to you see your face again.

and now, i do.

genesis 31:49

may the Lord

keep watch

between you and me

while we are away

from each other.

jml

01.31.09