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Favorite Poems and Verses
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Posted on Thu, Dec 22, 2005 21:43

THE COLD WITHIN
Author Unknown


Six humans trapped by happenstance
In black and bitter cold,
Each one possessed a stick of wood
Or so the story's told.

Their dying fire in need of logs,
The first woman held hers back,
For on the faces 'round the fire,
She noticed one was black.

The next man looking 'cross the way,
Saw one not of his church,
And couldn't bring hiimself to give
The fire his stick of birch.

The third one sat in tattered clothes,
He gave his coat a hitch,
Why should his log be put to use
To warm the idle rich?

The rich man just sat back and thought
Of the wealth had in store,
And how to keep what he had earned
From the lazy, shiftless poor.

The black man's face bespoke revenge
As the fire passed from his sight,
For all he saw in his stick of wood,
Was a chance to spite the white.

And the last man of this forlorn group,
Did naught except for gain,
Giving only to those who gave,
Was how he played the game.

The logs held tight in death's still hands,
Was proof of human sin.
They didn't die from the cold without,
They died from the cold within.



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Posted on Tue, May 02, 2006 09:35

From the Osho Zen Tarot
53. The Dream


This has been said again and again, down through the ages. All the religious people have been saying this: "We come alone into this world, we go alone." All togetherness is illusory. The very idea of togetherness arises because we are alone, and the aloneness hurts. We want to drown our aloneness in relationship.... That's why we become so much involved in love. Try to see the point. Ordinarily you think you have fallen in love with a woman or with a man because she is beautiful, he is beautiful. That is not the truth. The truth is just the opposite: you have fallen in love because you cannot be alone. You were going to fall. You were going to avoid yourself somehow or other. And there are people who don't fall in love with women or men--then they fall in love with money. They start moving into money or into a power trip, they become politicians. That too is avoiding your aloneness. If you watch man, if you watch yourself deeply, you will be surprised--all your activities can be reduced to one single source. The source is that you are afraid of your aloneness. Everything else is just an excuse. The real cause is that you find yourself very alone.

Osho Take it Easy, Volume 2 Chapter 1

Commentary:

Some enchanted evening you're going to meet your soulmate, the perfect person who will meet all your needs and fulfill all your dreams. Right? Wrong! This fantasy that songwriters and poets are so fond of perpetuating has its roots in memories of the womb, where we were so secure and "at one" with our mothers; it's no wonder we have hankered to return to that place all our lives. But, to put it quite brutally, it is a childish dream. And it's amazing we hang on to it so stubbornly in the face of reality. Nobody, whether it's your current mate or some dreamed-of partner in the future, has any obligation to deliver your happiness on a platter--nor could they even if they wanted to. Real love comes not from trying to solve our neediness by depending on another, but by developing our own inner richness and maturity. Then we have so much love to give that we naturally draw lovers towards us.

  


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Posted on Fri, Apr 21, 2006 21:08

Luv2Ride99 write:
I wrote your name on a piece of paper, but by accident threw it away.

Then I wrote your name on my hand, but you know, it wouldn't stay.

I wrote your name in the sand, but the waves whisked it out to sea.

I wrote your name in my heart and forever it will stay with me.

Very nice.

  


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Posted on Fri, Apr 21, 2006 10:13

I wrote your name on a piece of paper, but by accident threw it away.

Then I wrote your name on my hand, but you know, it wouldn't stay.

I wrote your name in the sand, but the waves whisked it out to sea.

I wrote your name in my heart and forever it will stay with me.

  


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Posted on Fri, Apr 21, 2006 10:12

Feel Good Moments.

Some things in life can just make you feel wonderful, like...

1. Falling in love

2. Laughing so hard your face hurts

3. A hot shower (after a long ride)

4. No lines at the supermarket

5. A special glance

6. Getting mail from someone you care about

7. Taking a ride on a beautiful road

8. Hearing your favorite song on the radio

9. Cuddling in bed under the covers while listening to the rain outside

10. Hot towels, fresh from the dryer

11. An ice cream cone on a hot summer's day

12. A bubble bath

13. Giggling

14. A good conversation

15. The beach

16. Finding a 20 dollar bill in your coat from last winter

17. Laughing at yourself

18. Looking into someone's eyes and knowing they Love you

19. Late night phone calls that last for hours

20. Running through sprinklers

21. Laughing for absolutely no reason at all

22. Hearing someone say that you're beautiful and know they mean it

23. Laughing at an inside joke

24. Friends

25. Accidentally overhearing someone say something nice about you

26. Waking up and realizing you still have a few hours left to sleep

27. Your first kiss with that someone special

28. Making new friends or spending time with old ones

29. Playing with a new puppy (or kitty)

30. Having someone fiddle with your hair

31. Sweet dreams

32. Hot chocolate on a cold night

33. Road trips with friends

34. Swinging on a swing made from an old tire

35. Making eye contact with a cute stranger

36. Making chocolate chip cookies and sharing them

37. Having a friend send you homemade cookies

38. Holding hands with someone you care about

39. Running into an old friend and realizing that some things (good or bad) never change.

40. Watching the expression on someone's face as they open a much wanted present from you.

41. Watching the sun rise or set

42. Getting out of bed every morning and being grateful for another beautiful day

43. Knowing that somebody misses you

44. Getting a hug from someone you care about deeply

45. Knowing you've done the right thing, no matter what other people think



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Posted on Tue, Apr 11, 2006 18:49

First Light
By (me)



It's morning as my eyes greet the first dim light of day. My mind slowly makes it's way from the fog of the previous night's stasis, to a level of just enough conscience thought in order to find my way into the shower so that I may begin my day ah new. But the thought of what this day is requires no introduction to this morn. For indeed I've been waiting a near eternity for this particular morning to begin. As I rise to my feet I stretch long and slow as muscles begin to come to life. Perhaps not with the ease they once did when my body was that of a younger man, but to life they come none the less. To the shower I go to help this process along. For today I will need all these muscles working for me, because today is a special day.

The hot steaming water feels good as it spreads all over my body, chasing the soap bubbles across my skin and down the drain, along with the lethargic state of mind I normally find myself in this time of day. I can feel the steam caressing through my sinuses, clearing my head and bringing my thoughts to life one by one. But there is only one main thought on my mind this morn. So the shower will have to come to an end just a little sooner once it has done it's job in awaking my remaining muscles. On the bathroom counter my cloths await me, just where I staged them the previous night in preparation for today. Black T-shirt, blue jeans, warm socks, all required attire for the day's activity.

Into the kitchen I follow my nose to the smell of fresh coffee. I pour my first cup and watch the amber liquid flow smoothly into the waiting ceramic. As it cools, the steam circles upward, quietly dissipating in the morning light, while I prepare the rest of my attire for the day. To the closet I go, where my winter coat is kept. But the coat will stay this day, my target this morning is on the top shelf. After retrieving them from where they have been carefully stored, I unrole the brown leather chaps that have been so patiently waiting these long winter months. Next, my helmet joins the trio, inside the gloves that are, like the rest, an intricate necessity. They will not only warm and protect my hands from the cold nip of the wind, but also will protect against the sudden impact of an insect. After a draw on my cup of jo, the taste of which no morning would be complete without, I sit in my chair to pull on the boots that have been patiently waiting with the rest of my leather on sombo. A little stiff from a winter of sitting in the closet, but that will soon pass. Once in the garage, I roll open the door and push 700 pounds of Milwaukee iron, highlighted with generous amounts of chrome, all of which glisten like the crown jewels themselves, into the driveway. Once in the open, I check my fuel level, tire pressure, and an assortment of other necessary items prior to bringing my sleeping old friend to life once again. Satisfied that all is well, I turn the petcock to "On," and the tank switch to "Ignition." With that, an assortment of lights tell me all is well. Once the final light extinguishes letting me know the machine has finished it's own checks and is ready as well, I depress the start button and feel my heart race and my blood surge while eighty-eight cubic inches of V-twin roars to life. Music in perfect harmony, s$x on two wheels, I love this sound best of all.

Back in the house to get ready, I find the leather that I have previously neatly laid out on the couch, and begin to don my riding attire. The leather chaps to protect my legs from rocks an insects impacting at 70 plus miles per hour. A hooded sweat shirt for warmth, since winter has not yet fully let go it's grip on the land. Over that, my brown leather jacket, together all feeling as though I was wearing them but yesterday. I return outside to my purring steed, now completely awakened and ready for the journey. On goes my helmet, which after 30 years of riding I've had good reason to always include as a necessity stemming from both my own experiences, and those of others. Some of which ride with me now in spirit alone...

One leg over the saddle, both hands on the grips, I settle into a custom fit all my own. After adjusting my mirrors for optimal viewing, with a gloved hand I pull in the clutch. A gentle nudge with my left toe, and the re-assuring "click" tells me we are ready. With a little finesse back out goes the clutch, and with a corresponding twist of the throttle, we're in motion my steed and I. Through city streets it's a gentle cruise, it's Saturday and the little town has not yet reason to be up and about just yet, so remains in slumber. Once to the highway, and after looking up and down the visible stretch of blacktop, I'm satisfied the road is all mine. With a crack of the throttle, a gentle lean to the right, and five short gears later, my sled and I are once again together in the wind!

Under me the purr of power caresses my entire body, starting with my thighs and arse. I watch as the sun just begins to peak over the distant mountains looking onto the highway to see a lone motorcycle cruising it's length. The land around me comes to life as I pass, a Red-Tailed hawk flies low over a field hunting it's breakfast as I pass by, seemingly unshaken by the sound of my pipes. The brisk morning air breaks over my body, invigorating my senses. The smell of the land filling my nostrils as it swirls within my helmet. I've waited all winter for this moment! Yes, the first ride of the season has begun...



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Posted on Tue, Apr 11, 2006 10:00

buggerbender write:
Sorry for the length on that last one. Given the time of year, I thought it might fit in with how allot of my fellow bikers are feeling about now.

I hope you enjoyed my scribbling's.

"Rubber Down"


LOVED IT ! Thank You!



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Posted on Sun, Apr 09, 2006 13:57

Sorry for the length on that last one. Given the time of year, I thought it might fit in with how allot of my fellow bikers are feeling about now.

I hope you enjoyed my scribbling's.

"Rubber Down"



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Posted on Thu, Mar 30, 2006 22:51

jynesisk write:
WHEN THE WIND BLOWS
A POEM FOR LILY

this poem my nephew wrote for his two month ole baby that passed away in dec.05

when the wind blows i will see your face
i will think of you and gods amazing grace.

you will be with me every step of the way
i will think of you each and every day

deep inside my heart that is where you are
youre always close by and never too far.

you were a gift from god sent to us with love
a love that can only come from heaven up above.

as i write this poem tears i cannot hide
today you play with angels with god right by your side.

until im with you there in that heavenly place
when the wind blows lily .i will see your face.

One of my nephews lost a premature baby boy. It was the most heartbreaking thing in the world. Thank you for sharing.



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Posted on Thu, Mar 30, 2006 17:02

WHEN THE WIND BLOWS
A POEM FOR LILY

this poem my nephew wrote for his two month ole baby that passed away in dec.05

when the wind blows i will see your face
i will think of you and gods amazing grace.

you will be with me every step of the way
i will think of you each and every day

deep inside my heart that is where you are
youre always close by and never too far.

you were a gift from god sent to us with love
a love that can only come from heaven up above.

as i write this poem tears i cannot hide
today you play with angels with god right by your side.

until im with you there in that heavenly place
when the wind blows lily .i will see your face.



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Posted on Tue, Mar 28, 2006 09:25

I just received this via email from a friend and it seemed to hit the mark with allot of the individual philosophies on this site, myself included. With that thought in mind, I thought I would share it with you all. I have no idea who wrote it, or when.
_____________________________________________ __________________________
I read of a man who stood to speak
At the funeral of a friend.
He referred to the dates on her tombstone
From the beginning... to the end.

He noted that first came her date of birth
And spoke the following date with tears,
But he said what mattered most of all
Was the dash between those years. (1934 - 1998)

For that dash represents all the time
That she spent alive on earth.
And now only those who loved her
Know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not, how much we own;
The cars... the house... the cash,
What matters is how we live and love
And how we spend our dash.

So think about this long and hard.
Are there things you'd like to change?
For you never know how much time is left,
That can still be rearranged;

If we could just slow down enough
To consider what's true and real,
And always try to understand
The way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger,
And show appreciation more
And love the people in our lives
Like we've never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect,
And more often wear a smile,
Remembering that this special dash
Might only last a little while.

So, when your eulogy's being read
With your life's actions to rehash,
Would you be proud of the things they say
About how you spent your dash?



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Posted on Mon, Mar 27, 2006 22:41

Luv2Ride99 write:
In dreams we meet
my breath
is your breath
my heart, your heart.

A merging so complete
that we know not
where one ends
and the other begins.

A sweetness so sublime
you can almost taste it
we are one
if only for a moment.

And even in parting
a link remains,
ethereal, caressing
but never constricting.


Very nice. I could feel the intamacy as I read through this one. Thanks for share'n!



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Posted on Mon, Mar 27, 2006 20:19

In dreams we meet
my breath
is your breath
my heart, your heart.

A merging so complete
that we know not
where one ends
and the other begins.

A sweetness so sublime
you can almost taste it
we are one
if only for a moment.

And even in parting
a link remains,
ethereal, caressing
but never constricting.



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Posted on Fri, Mar 10, 2006 18:55

nittekitten write:

some of us aren't quite lucky enough to have such eloquence of word as yourself. i have a deep respect for that.

Perhaps not everyone, but after all isn't art a form of self expression? And writing is art. I've always believed that written expression, and the ability to put down on paper feelings, and emotions so that others can feel pain, sorrow, happiness, and quiet reflection is an art unto itself. Eloquence of style is uniquely individual to each and every writer, as are the brush strokes of each and every painter. A writer paints a picture within the minds of those who experience the words, while conveying emotions to the reader, similar to a painter's picture. Your words clearly come from the heart, and easily paint a picture of emotion, and quiet reflection. So grant me this one favor if you would be so kind. Never put down your pen, as I'm certain it still contains within it many more words all very eloquently arranged in order to paint many more pictures within the minds eye.

And in the mean time, "Thanks for share'n!"

  


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Posted on Fri, Mar 10, 2006 14:10

buggerbender write:
nittekitten write:
no title
(by me)

When love was lost
This empty shell of my soul
Wanders in silence

And the beat of my heart
Was but an image
Of my emotions
Falling deeply
In this pool of living
We call life


I could see much inner pain in this one. Very nice job of getting it down on paper.


some of us aren't quite lucky enough to have such eloquence of word as yourself. i have a deep respect for that.



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Posted on Thu, Mar 09, 2006 21:16

buggerbender write:
My apologies to the group if I loaded things up abit. I tend to save words that get my attention.

post away! and thanks for sharing too, NiteKitten !



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Posted on Thu, Mar 09, 2006 09:34

nittekitten write:
no title
(by me)

When love was lost
This empty shell of my soul
Wanders in silence

And the beat of my heart
Was but an image
Of my emotions
Falling deeply
In this pool of living
We call life


I could see much inner pain in this one. Very nice job of getting it down on paper.

  


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Posted on Thu, Mar 09, 2006 07:13

no title
by me

Walk with me thru time
Take my hand
We've many valleys to cross
Each one a years journey

The mountains we climb
Our lessons of life
Until we encounter the next
Turn around
See the last one behind you

The fields we harvest
Sewn with the seeds of life
Our most precious gifts
The little ones
Loving, trusting, forever believing

The rain falls like tears
Only to make us rainbows
Gleaming light thru its colors
The new sun of our next day



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Posted on Thu, Mar 09, 2006 07:06

no title
(by me)

When love was lost
This empty shell of my soul
Wanders in silence

And the beat of my heart
Was but an image
Of my emotions
Falling deeply
In this pool of living
We call life



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Posted on Wed, Mar 08, 2006 19:17

My apologies to the group if I loaded things up abit. I tend to save words that get my attention.



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