To My Little Girl,

The Little One Who is Still Inside of Me . . .

I wrote a letter

To my inner self

And, I told her

How loved she was, by me

And, if no one else

Ever told her so

She knew

How loved she was, by me

Poem by Athey Thompson Images @ Eminpee Fotography

"Life Cannot Be Handled"

Image: Montana-Star @ Urunga NSW

 ~ Glennon Doyle ~
 Life cannot be handled.
 The secret is simply to show up.
 It's about witnessing it all,
 even the pain,
 and letting it touch you
 and make you not harder, but more tender.

 Showing up, feeling it all -
 this is my new kind of prayer,
 I call it praying attention,
 and its how, for me,
 everything turns holy.

Images @ Eminpee Fotography

* HEAVEN ON EARTH *

(Simon Paul Bennett)©

Do you feel confused by religious views,
or left in the lurch because of the church?
Is the truth a 'man' died when crucified,
so now you're saved; or is that depraved?
Do they hold you down by lying;
heaven's a place found after dying?
Not knowing the mustard seed Jesus taught,
corresponds to a conscious thought;
growing 'big' enough for angels to nest in!
And 'Thy Kingdom come on earth as heaven,'
means try to be a living reflection.......
Of 'light,' from that sublime height;
by acting right and adoring nature,
with a heart and mind that love the Creator!
For that's how you start restoring the flow;
like Hermes said, 'As above, so below.'
(Simon Paul Bennett)©

Images @ Eminpee Fotography

I give you Myself

~ Dom Oakes  ~

I give you Myself
I am not young
I know some things
I am not old
I know something
I have learned a lot
I have a lot to learn
I have felt love
I have left love
I will live
I will die
I have life
I have a life
I will not give up
I will give you myself
I will give myself everything

Images @ Eminpee Fotography

On the Day that I die.

~ John Pavlovit ~

On the day I die a lot will happen.
A lot will change.
The world will be busy.
On the day I die, all the important appointments I made will be left unattended.
The many plans I had yet to complete will remain forever undone.
The calendar that ruled so many of my days will now be irrelevant to me.
All the material things I so chased and guarded and treasured will be left in the hands of others to care for or to discard.
The words of my critics which so burdened me will cease to sting or capture anymore. They will be unable to touch me.
The arguments I believed I’d won here will not serve me or bring me any satisfaction or solace.
All my noisy incoming notifications and texts and calls will go unanswered. Their great urgency will be quieted.
My many nagging regrets will all be resigned to the past, where they should have always been anyway.
Every superficial worry about my body that I ever labored over; about my waistline or hairline or frown lines, will fade away.
My carefully crafted image, the one I worked so hard to shape for others here, will be left to them to complete anyway.
The sterling reputation I once struggled so greatly to maintain will be of little concern for me anymore.
All the small and large anxieties that stole sleep from me each night will be rendered powerless.
The deep and towering mysteries about life and death that so consumed my mind will finally be clarified in a way that they could never be before while I lived.
These things will certainly all be true on the day that I die...
Don’t miss the chance to love, sing and dance while you can.
It’s easy to waste so much daylight in the days before you die.
Don’t let your life be stolen every day by all that you believe matters, because, on the day you die, much of it will fade into obscurity and irrelevance...
Yes, you and I will die one day.
But before that day comes: let us live...

Images @ Eminpee Fotography

“You are not weak just because your heart feels so heavy.”

~Andrea Gibson ~

A heart sprayed on a space ship lid

" The Heavy Gravity of Me"

False smiles are precisely authentic
and....
Warm looks have patriarchal hooks
Books tell stories
Families tell lies
My school teaches SunyataThe empty belly life
Of Strength in loss
And Strength in strife
Life is change and change is life
Death is the absence, the empty, the void
The next step after life's spring board
Death is a fundamental necessary spontaneous Lord

Pali Sanskrit
Sunya = Empty
Ta = ness
Sunyata = Emptiness (said Shoonya tah)
Śūnyatā is a key term in Mahāyāna Buddhism, and also influenced some schools of Hindu philosophy

Images @ Eminpee Fotography

"Anxiety"

~ Mary-Ellen Peters  ~

 Anxiety is a prison with invisible walls
Locked down in see through stalls
Held back and ignored
Its getting away ..... and anxiety has me floored

Anxiety comes in many different forms
Especially the ones you fill out cause
Anxiety rises at those social norms
Just a number as soon as your born

Anxiety beats in the chest harder
especially alone with no mother or father
Anxiety of a variety invisible to the eye
Breath accelerates when ever you wonder why

Anxiety caused by fake church piety
Christian hands under my nightie
Frozen in time and frozen in my mind
Anxiety caused by a blind society

Anxiety oh anxious me .. 
I see not one but three sitting near me
Anxiety is standing alone in the cities
Anxiously waiting while trying to sit pretty.

Anxiety is unsightly
It never asks can it unfold politely
and you get what you get see
A bit more anxiety!

Very personal thoughts of mine shared in a poetic style to lighten the subject matter and help to build a picture of what it is like for someone when they become anxious in particular situations.  Being with someone is of great assistance. When I am alone it is a different story.

Images @ Eminpee Fotography

“Painting is silent poetry.”

~ Plutarch ~

"Trees in Love"


Creativity In Action

C I A is Creativity in Action
CIA artist after all.

Images @ Eminpee Fotography

“If you would be a poet, create works capable of answering the challenges of apocalyptic times.”

~ Lawrence Ferlinghetti ~

Images @ Eminpee Fotography

“If you would be a poet, create works capable of answering the challenges of apocalyptic times.”

Read more at: http://fractalenlightenment.com/34118/issues/the-zen-of-alchemy-transforming-anxiety-into-art | FractalEnlightenment.com

Play for us, you big wild gypsy girl,

~ Tom Robbins ~ 

Play for us, you big wild gypsy girl, you who look as if you might have spent the morning digging potatoes on the steppes of Russia;
you who surely galloped in on a snorting mare,
bareback or standing in the saddle; you whose chicory tresses reek of bonfire and jasmine;
you who traded a dagger for a bow;
grab your violin as if it were a stolen chicken,
roll your perpetually startled eyes at it,
scold it with that split beet dumpling you call a mouth;
fidget, fuss, flounce, flick, fume–and fiddle;
fiddle us through the roof, fiddle us over the moon, higher than rock ‘n’ roll can fly;
saw those strings as if they were the log of the century,
fill the hall with the ozone of your passion;
play Mendelssohn for us, play Brahms and Bruch;
get them drunk, dance with them,
wound them, and then nurse their wounds,
like the eternal female that you are;
play until the cherries burst in the orchard,
play until wolves chase their tails in the tearooms;
play until we forget how we long to tumble with you in the flower beds under Chekhov’s window; play, you big wild gypsy girl, until beauty and wildness and longing are one.

(Tom Robbins, “Nadja Salerno-Sonnenberg,” 2005)

Images @ Eminpee Fotography

A Better Place

~ Spratt Cre8ive Writing ~




A Better Place
Escape your pain
To a better place,

Where the sky is blue
And the sun shines bright.
Where any cloud
That might appear
Is soft like cotton balls,
And oh, so light.

The grass is green,
The trees also.
And the birds fly gracefully,
And sing their sweetest song.
Escape to a place,
Where there’s endless peace,
And every face carries a smile,
For nothing ever goes wrong.

Don’t worry about us.
We’ll be alright.
Go, without a care
For we’ll all be there,
Someday.

She wrote this for Nanny when she died.  [Her Grandmother / my Mother]

Ellen Katherine Fraser (Peters) nee Baguley.  Warwick Queensland born and bred.

Images @ Eminpee Fotography

"Let my worship be in the heart that rejoices, for behold, all acts of love and pleasure are my rituals."

~ Doreen Valiente ~

"The Charge of Star Goddess"
Read Full Poem HERE

Images @ Eminpee Fotography

I caught the happy virus last night when I was out singing beneath the stars, it is remarkebly contagious - so kiss me.

~ Hafiz ~

A Frog Prince . . .

Images @ Eminpee Fotography

Little Lamb who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee? Gave thee life & bid thee feed?

~ William Blake ~

Montana was always known as "Lamb" to me.

"The Lamb" is a poem by William Blake, published in Songs of Innocence in 1789. "The Lamb" is the counterpart poem to Blake's poem: "The Tyger" in Songs of Experience. Wikipedia

"LAMB"

Little Lamb who made thee
         Dost thou know who made thee
Gave thee life & bid thee feed.
By the stream & o'er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing wooly bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice!
         Little Lamb who made thee
         Dost thou know who made thee

         Little Lamb I'll tell thee,
         Little Lamb I'll tell thee!
He is called by thy name,
For he calls himself a Lamb:
He is meek & he is mild,
He became a little child:
I a child & thou a lamb,
We are called by his name.
         Little Lamb God bless thee.
         Little Lamb God bless thee.

Images @ Eminpee Fotography

"To see a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower, Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand and Eternity in an hour."

~ William Blake ~

Hibiscus Flower

"To See a World..."

(Fragments from "Auguries of Innocence"

To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand 
And Eternity in an hour.

A Robin Redbreast in a Cage
Puts all Heaven in a Rage.
A dove house fill’d with doves and pigeons
Shudders Hell thro’ all its regions.
A Dog starv’d at his Master’s Gate
Predicts the ruin of the State.
A Horse misus’d upon the Road
Calls to Heaven for Human blood.
Each outcry of the hunted Hare
A fiber from the Brain does tear.

He who shall train the Horse to War
Shall never pass the Polar Bar.
The Beggar’s Dog and Widow’s Cat,
Feed them and thou wilt grow fat.
The Gnat that sings his Summer song 
Poison gets from Slander’s tongue.
The poison of the Snake and Newt
Is the sweat of Envy’s Foot.

A truth that’s told with bad intent
Beats all the Lies you can invent.
It is right it should be so;
Man was made for Joy and Woe;
And when this we rightly know
Thro’ the World we safely go.

Every Night and every Morn
Some to Misery are Born.
Every Morn and every Night
Some are Born to sweet delight.
Some are Born to sweet delight,
Some are Born to Endless Night.  

Images @ Eminpee Fotography

Rou-cou spoke the dove, Like the sooth lord of sorrow, Of sooth love and sorrow, And a hail-bow, hail-bow, To this morrow

~ Wallace Stevens ~

Sooth means real or true and is from Olde English usage.  Soothsayers were "Truth Teller's" for example.

Images @ Eminpee Fotography

"A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness".

~ Robert Frost ~

Eminpee Memes

Images @ Emipee Fotography

Gaze early upon the beauty before thee ..
I Beseech thee, hold the vision tightly,
Allow this majesty to wash the inner workings of your soul
Flowing like a river through you
That healing light that touched you ...
Touched you from Olde  
Mary-Ellen Peters

In my back yard .. it is majestic.

Aye!  It is beautiful and this morning, it was no different.   The colours stretching as far as the eye could see.

rHymE
There is something mechanical that happens
When the intell goes lyrical
After the moons gone full
Forging its existence shaping our characteristics..
Hey you - Welcome to the Hill of truth,
Welcome to the top...
Well done getting away with the capacity
To hang on to what you got.     Mary-Ellen Peters

Images @ Eminpee Fotography

The Sorcerer's Apprentice

~ by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe ~

Image by Dragonfly

That old sorcerer has vanished
And for once has gone away!
Spirits called by him, now banished,
My commands shall soon obey.
Every step and saying
That he used, I know,
And with sprites obeying
My arts I will show.

Flow, flow onward
Stretches many
Spare not any
Water rushing,
Ever streaming fully downward
Toward the pool in current gushing.

Come, old broomstick, you are needed,
Take these rags and wrap them round you!
Long my orders you have heeded,
By my wishes now I've bound you.
Have two legs and stand,
And a head for you.
Run, and in your hand
Hold a bucket too.

Flow, flow onward
Stretches many,
Spare not any
Water rushing,
Ever streaming fully downward
Toward the pool in current gushing.

See him, toward the shore he's racing
There, he's at the stream already,
Back like lightning he is chasing,
Pouring water fast and steady.
Once again he hastens!
How the water spills,
How the water basins
Brimming full he fills!

Stop now, hear me!
Ample measure
Of your treasure
We have gotten!
Ah, I see it, dear me, dear me.
Master's word I have forgotten!

Ah, the word with which the master
Makes the broom a broom once more!
Ah, he runs and fetches faster!
Be a broomstick as before!
Ever new the torrents
That by him are fed,
Ah, a hundred currents
Pour upon my head!

No, no longer
Can I please him,
I will seize him!
That is spiteful!
My misgivings grow the stronger.
What a mien, his eyes how frightful!

Brood of hell, you're not a mortal!
Shall the entire house go under?
Over threshold over portal
Streams of water rush and thunder.
Broom accurst and mean,
Who will have his will,
Stick that you have been,
Once again stand still!

Can I never, Broom, appease you?
I will seize you,
Hold and whack you,
And your ancient wood
I'll sever,
With a whetted axe I'll crack you.

He returns, more water dragging!
Now I'll throw myself upon you!
Soon, 0 goblin, you'll be sagging.
Crash! The sharp axe has undone you.
What a good blow, truly!
There, he's split, I see.
Hope now rises newly,
And my breathing's free.

Woe betide me!
Both halves scurry
In a hurry,
Rise like towers
There beside me.
Help me, help, eternal powers!

Off they run, till wet and wetter
Hall and steps immersed are lying.
What a flood that naught can fetter!
Lord and master, hear me crying! -
Ah, he comes excited.
Sir, my need is sore.
Spirits that I've cited
My commands ignore.

"To the lonely
Corner, broom!
Hear your doom.
As a spirit
When he wills, your master only
Calls you, then 'tis time to hear it."

English translation by Edwin Zeydel, 1955

Taken in the Manning Valley NSW

Images @ Eminpee Fotography

And So my nights are forged in the dreaming

~ Mary-Ellen Peters ~

 

And So my nights are forged in the dreaming,

Moreover...

My days are filled with sunshine

...and in my eyes, its gleaming!

 Its good to know this day is mine

For me to freely choose the meaning.

Singular moments pass and fall
in conjunction with each other

..in gentle rhythmic time...

Beauty is the gently resting lover
This dot defines the perfect line
With wondrous light filled love
It's new and its fresh and its constant like no other.

Images @ Eminpee Fotography