Sunday, April 28, 2013

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Robert Frost


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.

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

{Shakespeare Quote of the Week} No. 5


{Shakespeare Quote of the Week} No. 4


The End and the Beginning

After every war
someone has to clean up.
Things won't
straighten themselves up, after all.

Someone has to push the rubble
to the side of the road,
so the corpse-filled wagons
can pass.

Someone has to get mired
in scum and ashes,
sofa springs,
splintered glass,
and blood rags.

Someone has to drag in a girder
to prop up a wall,
Someone has to glaze a window,
rehang a door.

Photogenic it's not,
and takes years.
All the cameras have left
for another war.

We'll need the bridges back,
and new railway stations.
Sleeves will go ragged
from rolling them up.

Someone, broom in hand,
still recalls the way it was.
Someone else listens
and nods with unsevered head.
But already there are those nearby
starting to mill about
who will find it dull.

From out of the bushes
sometimes someone still unearths
rusted-out arguments
and carries them to the garbage pile.

Those who knew
what was going on here
must make way for
those who know little.
And less than little.
And finally as little as nothing.

In the grass that has overgrown
causes and effects,
someone must be stretched out
blade of grass in his mouth
gazing at the clouds.

--Wislawa Szymborska

Do not live your life in ignorance of the world and all that happens in it. Though it may be easier to go on with our perfect little lives, it is a crime to do so. It is a crime against ourselves, and a crime against those who have to deal with the "clean up" every day while we sit and watch. Remember you are blessed, and remember to do all you can to bless others. If we all try to keep our world a little "cleaner" then everyone will be a little happier.

Sunday, April 14, 2013

Unfinished Composition By President Boyd K. Packer

Unfinished Composition


I had a thought the other night,
A thought profound and deep.
It came when I was too worn down,
Too tired to go to sleep.
 
I’d had a very busy day
And pondered on my fate.
The thought was this:
When I was young, I wasn’t 68!
 
I could walk without a limp;
I had no shoulder pain.
I could read a line through twice
And quote it back again.
 
I could work for endless hours
And hardly stop to breathe.
And things that now I cannot do
I mastered then with ease.
 
If I could now turn back the years,
If that were mine to choose,
I would not barter age for youth,
I’d have too much to lose.
 
I am quite content to move ahead,
To yield my youth, however grand.
The thing I’d lose if I went back
Is what I understand.
 
Ten years later, I decided to add a few more lines to that poem:
 
Ten years have flown to who knows where
And with them much of pain.
A metal hip erased my limp;
I walk quite straight again.
 
Another plate holds neck bones fast—
A wonderful creation!
It backed my polio away;
I’ve joined the stiff-necked generation.
 
The signs of aging can be seen.
Those things will not get better.
The only thing that grows in strength
With me is my forgetter.
 
You ask, “Do I remember you?”
Of course, you’re much the same.
Now don’t go getting all upset
If I can’t recall your name.
 
I would agree I’ve learned some things
I did not want to know,
But age has brought those precious truths
That make the spirit grow.
 
Of all the blessings that have come,
The best thing in my life
Is the companionship and comfort
I get from my dear wife.
 
Our children all have married well,
With families of their own,
With children and grandchildren,
How soon they all have grown.
 
I have not changed my mind one bit
About regaining youth.
We’re meant to age, for with it
Comes a knowledge of the truth.
 
You ask, “What will the future bring?
Just what will be my fate?”
I’ll go along and not complain.
Ask when I’m 88!
 
And last year I added these lines:
 
And now you see I’m 88.
The years have flown so fast.
I walked, I limped, I held a cane,
And now I ride at last.
 
I take a nap now and again,
But priesthood power remains.
For all the physical things I lack
There are great spiritual gains.
 
I have traveled the world a million miles
And another million too.
And with the help of satellites,
My journeys are not through.
 
I now can say with all certainty
That I know and love the Lord.
I can testify with them of old
As I preach His holy word.
 
I know what He felt in Gethsemane
Is too much to comprehend.
I know He did it all for us;
We have no greater Friend.
 
I know that He will come anew
With power and in glory.
I know I will see Him once again
At the end of my life’s story.
 
I’ll kneel before His wounded feet;
I’ll feel His Spirit glow.
My whispering, quivering voice will say,
“My Lord, my God, I know.”
 
 
-President Boyd K. Packer
LDS General Conference, April 2013
 
 
Read the rest of this fantastic talk at www.lds.org.

This Moment

A neighborhood.
At dusk.

Things are getting ready
to happen
out of sight.

Stars and moths.
And rinds slanting around fruit.

But not yet.

One tree is black.
One window is yellow as butter.

A woman leans down to catch a child
who has run into her arms
this moment.

Stars rise.
Moths flutter.
Apples sweeten in the dark.

~Eavan Boland


Capturing a moment it time is a very special thing indeed.

Thursday, April 11, 2013

Bread

Bread is a gift that has
Come from above.
Bread creates stories.
The ones we all love.

The bread with seaweed,
That signals the escape.
Or a special little cracker
With an imprinted shape.

The boy standing on a porch,
Throwing bread in the rain.
The girl who caught it and
Knew she was saved.

A French Loaf from Arabia
That a monkey couldn't eat.
That loaf was given to children
Who had no shoes for their feet.

The mouthful that caused a
Good man to do time.
The mouthful that caused
A 3 hour long rhyme.

Roasting crumpets and marshmallows
Over holiday break.
Or bread served at a party.
(That was mouldy, no mistake).

A ginger bread man,
Who just couldn't be caught.
(The baker and his wife
Were very distraught).

The brother and sister who
Left a trail in the woods.
A witch almost ate them,
But she never quite could.

Bread is my favourite.
I know it's your's too.
So perhaps you should think
About what it's done for you.

Its the simplest of foods.
It comes from the oldest of times.
Jesus Christ ate it
And blessed it in rhymes.

They say that man cannot
Live by bread alone.
But we still need a slice because
Bread makes life whole.

~HRH~

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

A Dream Within A Dream


Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow--
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand--
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep--while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
- Edgar Allan Poe 


Sounds a bit like Inception, doesn't it?

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

The Art of Disappering

When they say Don't I know you?
say no.

When they invite you to the party
remember what parties are like
before answering.
Someone telling you in a loud voice
they once wrote a poem.
Greasy sausage balls on a paper plate.
Then reply.

If they say We should get together
say why?

It's not that you don't love them anymore.
You're trying to remember something
too important to forget.
Trees. The monastery bell at twilight.
Tell them you have a new project.
It will never be finished.

When someone recognizes you in a grocery store
nod briefly and become a cabbage.
When someone you haven't seen in ten years
appears at the door,
don't start singing him all your new songs.
You will never catch up.

Walk around feeling like a leaf.
Know you could tumble any second.
Then decide what to do with your time.


~Naomi Shihab Nye