September

As you all may already know, I love the month of September.  The crispness of the air revives my spirit somehow.  So, this week, I chose to share one of my poems with you.  I hope you enjoy it and the weather!

September, 1918

By Amy Lowell

This afternoon was the colour of water falling through sunlight;

The trees glittered with the tumbling of leaves;

The sidewalks shone like alleys of dropped maple leaves,

And the houses ran along them laughing out of square, open windows.

Under a tree in the park,

Two little boys, lying flat on their faces,

Were carefully gathering red berries

To put in a pasteboard box.

Some day there will be no war,

Then I shall take out this afternoon

And turn it in my fingers,

And remark the sweet taste of it upon my palate,

And note the crisp variety of its flights of leaves.

To-day I can only gather it

And put it into my lunch-box,

For I have time for nothing

But the endeavour to balance myself

Upon a broken world.

Summer's End

I hope you are all enjoying this beautiful summer day.  The sun glimmering through the trees today reminds me about His promise to all of us. 

Happy end of summer!

Beach

I just returned from the beach and had a wonderful time.  Thanks to my friends, I had a beautiful week.  I'll reiterate a philosophy of mine...that summer rocks!

I hope your week was as perfect. 

A Note

Last week, I wrote a note to one of my good friends; an elderly man who lost his wife not quite a year ago.  In the midst of my busy school schedule, I remembered I hadn’t communicated with him in a while.  As I wrote, it brought to mind the joy every time I see or talk to him; a happiness that only a good friend evokes.  It reminded me to delight in the simple pleasures of life; above all, the human connection we all have.  To partake in that is the greatest gift of all!  Isn’t that what it’s all about?   It certainly is for me.

Happy fall weekend, everyone!

A Critique of Monet

As a follow-up on last Friday’s commentary on Monet, I thought I’d post one of my favorite poems I’ve written over the years about him.  Trying to capture the beauty of Monet’s brushstrokes is very difficult, in my estimation, but this is my young attempt to do so.  I hope you all enjoy!

How precisely his movement of brush glided over the canvas as he worked.

The beauty of the objects which he saw captures the entire being.

A sparkling lake, a bubbling spring, and a garden filled with colorful, but

Delicate flowers.  Red roses, white lilies and purple asters create a sense of utopia.

It is intense, yet subtle.

The masterpieces transport one to another time and place.  To another century.

It is a place where only beauty remains, though tempered by the reality of the world.

A pastoral, sweet existence for which one yearns.

The man fades, but the image remains of pictorial visions in the sky.

A little girl sitting on a bench in the park, a flower covered wall and a cornfield are

All familiar objects in his imagery.

One is left to wonder if that sense of pastoral passion will every be captured

again.

Or is the spirit too wistful, too unique?

Monet’s Garden

Today, I came upon an article I thought fit nicely with the post I wrote about Emily Dickinson’s garden a few weeks ago.  As we try to calm ourselves in our fast-paced world, it is nice to know nature is always there, waiting for us as a refuge.  I have always loved Claude Monet’s artwork and found a certain peace, as I look at his various works.  I hope this article speaks to you as it did me!

Have a good weekend, and if you feel so compelled, comment!

http://www.smh.com.au/lifestyle/homestyle/what-we-can-learn-from-monets-garden-20130721-2qces.html

Pebbles and Shells

I want to thank my friends for an amazing time at the beach last week.  It was a time for reflection—to review the past year’s events and achievements, but also to look ahead—to prepare for life changes and anticipate their effect on my thoughts, words and deeds.  I must say as I start to focus on my final year at Messiah College, I feel a sense of urgency and uncertainness.  Last week, as I saw the tide roll in and out though, a peaceful serenity washed over me, and I realized the waves of the ocean is like life itself—continuous pebbles and shells wash onto shore, only to be swept away again.  Doesn’t that sound like life?  No one knows what pebbles and shells they’ll encounter, but once in a while, they discover a beautiful one and cling to them with every breath they have.  That makes everything all right in the world.  I know no matter my life challenges, I’ll always find beautiful pebbles and shells in all of my travels!  I hope you do as well.

Emily’s Garden

As you all know, the enigma of Emily Dickinson always fascinated me, even as a young child.  Like her poetry, her love of her garden is certainly a well-known aspect of her life.  During these hot, summer days; I always wonder about the poetic musings she had while she worked in her garden; planting and pruning over a hundred years ago.  She certainly experienced the hot, blazing sun at her back while she tended lovingly to her plants.  Today, as I re-read some of her poetry, I marveled at how she captured nature’s beauty and described it on paper.  I feel honored to see the same sun’s brightness as she and to witness God’s great beauty every ephemeral summer day that passes.  It is comforting in a way to know some things change, while others stay the same; that we can always see and feel God’s unending love in His magnificent creations, knowing our journey does not end, only changes in its form.

Whispering Hope

Last night, I attended a hymn sing with my friend, Alta.  Although all the songs were beautiful, one stood out in my mind.  As the singers began “Whispering Hope,” a familiar happiness washed throughout my soul.  Even though the song bears my name, it holds an even more symbolic meaning for me as I become older.  Whether it is pre-destiny or coincidence, I believe some names determine personalities, at least, it seemingly does mine.  To me, my name embodies the spirit of everlasting determination and the continuing faith I posses.  When I hear the song, these feelings rise to the forefront of my entire soul.  I only HOPE I live up to my name everyday and am a gentle reminder of what His promise holds for all of us.

Miss Iowa

Today, I read such an inspiring news story that I felt compelled to share my thoughts with all of you.  It was about “Miss Iowa,” and how she does not let her disability define who she is.  I can definitely relate to this!  As someone who is differently abled, I know it’s very hard not to let my Cerebral Palsy define my thoughts and actions at times.  It dawned on me several years ago, though, if I dwelled on my disability, outwardly or inwardly, it would affect those who interacted with me, and I would become my Cerebral Palsy.  While I still fall into this pit at times, experience teaches me if I concentrate on life itself, it leads to a happier and healthier life.  So hats off to “Miss Iowa” because she is one of many who redefines what it means to live life with a disability!

Carolinian Land

Today, I rummaged through my old writings, and found this poem I thought you all would enjoy.  In it, I try to capture the land’s beauty.  Feel free to post any comments.  Again, thanks for tuning in every week and I hope you all have a marvelous weekend! 

Carolinian Land

How barren are you, 

The wind sweeping across your surface. 

Remnants of grass toss to and fro,

Making you a never-ending sea of shining, flexible, delicate thread. 

Nothing but that whimsical grass is seen playing in the soft breeze;

Evoking an enigma of your quiet, yet effervescent presence. 

You will forever be loved as my own,

Even though you are miles away.

A barren land that is so honored and

Cherished that you will never be forgotten or discarded.

May your beauty remain throughout

Eternity.