Wise Saying from Madrid, NM

i've been told that not all wise sayings are for everyone. but i solemnly want to say that this sign of wise saying is, in fact, for everyone.

circa. december 4, 2010

old but comforting, this is America you know

in this land of enhancement, ancient sings

for every drop of soil in the mountains and deserts

bleeds stories of past, where ancestors once flourished

that now lives quietly behind the hidden beauty of New Mexico.

all love stories are the same

There was Diego Rivera and his Frida

Or should we all disagree

For the chain was led by the matriarch of love

Frida who loved her Diego.

Diego was all she thought about

The producer of her joy and tears

Woes, heartbreaks, and betrayals,

Yet his embrace was the centerpiece of her everything.

There was John Lennon who left his wife

For a woman he fell in love at one party, Yoko Ono,

Their love story never broke up the group,

It made John Lennon the peacemaker.

A love story that was cut short

With the assassination of John,

Became a legend of a beautiful love story

Everyone saw the spell Ono had on John.

All love stories are the same if we really see it

Because what matters is how the person is felt during the time

If she or he feels, understands, and possesses love

Then all love stories are the same.

343 Townsend Ave, by the cove,

in the heart of Italian New Haven,

there lays a house of love, family, and compassion.

More than an address

More than a house

More than a set of grandparents.

But an address of where love is,

an house of compassion,

a set of grandparents that define family.

At this time of the year,

With my struggles & confusion,

I long to be at 343 Townsend Ave.

As I Went Out One Morning

Bob Dylan

As I went out one morning

To breathe the air around Tom Paine’s

I spied the fairest damsel

That ever did walk in chains

I offer’d her my hand

She took me by the arm

I knew that very instant

She meant to do me harm

“Depart from me this moment”

I told her with my voice

Said she, “But I don’t wish to”

Said I, “But you have no choice”

“I beg you, sir,” she pleaded

From the corners of her mouth

“I will secretly accept you

And together we’ll fly south”

Just then Tom Paine, himself

Came running from across the field

Shouting at this lovely girl

And commanding her to yield

And as she was letting go her grip

Up Tom Paine did run,

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said to me

“I’m sorry for what she’s done”

i love this poem

Starfish

by Eleanor Lerman

This is what life does. It lets you walk up to

the store to buy breakfast and the paper, on a

stiff knee. It lets you choose the way you have

your eggs, your coffee. Then it sits a fisherman

down beside you at the counter who says, Last night

the channel was full of starfish. And you wonder,

is this a message, finally, or just another day?

Life lets you take the dog for a walk down to the

pond, where whole generations of biological

processes are boiling beneath the mud. Reeds

speak to you of the natural world: they whisper,

they sing. And herons pass by. Are you old

enough to appreciate the moment? Too old?

There is movement beneath the water, but it

may be nothing. There may be nothing going on.

And then life suggests that you remember the

years you ran around, the years you developed

a shocking lifestyle, advocated careless abandon,

owned a chilly heart. Upon reflection, you are

genuinely surprised to find how quiet you have

become. And then life lets you go home to think

about all this. Which you do, for quite a long time.

Later, you wake up beside your old love, the one

who never had any conditions, the one who waited

you out. This is life's way of letting you know that

you are lucky. (It won't give you smart or brave,

so you'll have to settle for lucky.) Because you

stopped when you should have started again.

So life lets you have a sandwich, and pie for your

late night dessert. (Pie for the dog, as well.) And

then life sends you back to bed, to dreamland,

while outside, the starfish drift through the channel,

with smiles on their starry faces as they head

out to deep water, to the far and boundless sea.

this silence is valuable.