Louisiana Autumn, October Lullaby by Marion

My found rock with a message from the Universe for me.

Bleeding Heart Flowers

Louisiana Autumn

October Lullaby

A few brown,

desiccated, falling leaves---

lush, fragrant Lavender 

and feathery Yarrow yet

reaching skyward.

Endings woven

into Beginnings

and Circles breeding

Circles.

Moonflower seed pods

heavily pregnant with

next year's blooms.

Two hundred seeds

lying on my windowsill:

bountiful, generous

Autumn!

Beginnings woven 

into Endings

and Death breeding

Life.  Imagine!

Only the occasional Hummingbird

now at the almost empty,

red plastic feeders

rocking in the

80 degree breeze.

Such tiny enigmas,

sustained

on sugar water and

insects...headed further

South.

...and not surprisingly---

the only flowers 

yet still blooming

are the luscious

red-centered, sadly drooping

clusters of seemingly pulsing,

beating,

Bleeding 

Hearts.

10/11/16

Leaves Compared With Flowers by Robert Frost

I love the red veins in this dying leaf.

My first(!) rare blue Moonflower with Godlight shining, a highlight of this year.

Leaves Compared With Flowers
By Robert Frost

A tree's leaves may be ever so good,
So may its bark, so may its wood;
But unless you put the right thing to its root
It never will show much flower or fruit.

But I may be one who does not care
Ever to have tree bloom or bear.
Leaves for smooth and bark for rough,
Leaves and bark may be tree enough.

Some giant trees have bloom so small
They might as well have none at all.
Late in life I have come on fern.
Now lichens are due to have their turn.

I bade men tell me which in brief,
Which is fairer, flower or leaf.
They did not have the wit to say,
Leaves by night and flowers by day.

Leaves and bark, leaves and bark,
To lean against and hear in the dark.
Petals I may have once pursued.
Leaves are all my darker mood.

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And who doesn't love Robert Frost?  We’re supposed to get our first frost at the end of next week.  October, where did you go?  

Love & Blessings,
~Marion

^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~

"If you would know strength and patience, welcome the company of trees." ~Hal Borland

The Addict by Anne Sexton

Anne Sexton at her writing desk

The Addict 
by Anne Sexton

Sleepmonger,
deathmonger,
with capsules in my palms each night,
eight at a time from sweet pharmaceutical bottles
I make arrangements for a pint-sized journey.
I'm the queen of this condition.
I'm an expert on making the trip
and now they say I'm an addict.
Now they ask why.
WHY!

Don't they know that I promised to die!
I'm keeping in practice.
I'm merely staying in shape.
The pills are a mother, but better,
every color and as good as sour balls.
I'm on a diet from death.

Yes, I admit
it has gotten to be a bit of a habit-
blows eight at a time, socked in the eye,
hauled away by the pink, the orange,
the green and the white goodnights.
I'm becoming something of a chemical
mixture.
that's it!

My supply
of tablets
has got to last for years and years.
I like them more than I like me.
It's a kind of marriage.
It's a kind of war where I plant bombs inside
of myself.

Yes
I try
to kill myself in small amounts,
an innocuous occupation.

Actually I'm hung up on it.
But remember I don't make too much noise.
And frankly no one has to lug me out
and I don't stand there in my winding sheet.
I'm a little buttercup in my yellow nightie
eating my eight loaves in a row
and in a certain order as in
the laying on of hands
or the black sacrament.

It's a ceremony
but like any other sport
it's full of rules.

It's like a musical tennis match where
my mouth keeps catching the ball.
Then I lie on; my altar
elevated by the eight chemical kisses.
What a lay me down this is
with two pink, two orange,
two green, two white goodnights.
Fee-fi-fo-fum-
Now I'm borrowed.
Now I'm numb.

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“The whole notion of pain, and how every individual experiences pain, is up for debate. We don't know how another person experiences pain - physical pain or psychic pain. Some of these clinics where assisted suicide or euthanasia is practiced, they call it 'weariness of life.'”

Miriam Toews

I Am the Highway by Audioslave

What a magnificent Autumn Full Moon!  Wow!  Just...WoW! xo, Marion

———————-

“But even when the moon looks like it's waning...it's actually never changing shape. Don't ever forget that.” 
― Ai Yazawa, Nana, Vol. 14

———————-


I AM THE HIGHWAY
Audioslave

Pearls and swine bereft of me
Long and weary my road has been
I was lost in the cities
Alone in the hills
No sorrow or pity for the leaving I feel

I am not your rolling wheels
I am the highway
I am not your carpet ride
I am the sky

Friends and liars don't wait for me
I'll get on all by myself
I put millions of miles
Under my heels
And still too close to you
I feel

I am not your rolling wheels
I am the highway
I am not your carpet ride
I am the sky

I am not your blowing wind
I am the lightening
I am not your autumn moon
I am the night
night

Source: Musixmatch

Songwriters: BRAD WILK / TOM MORELLO / TIM COMMERFORD / CHRIS CORNELL

So Tired...

Getting old is exhausting...

My daughter, Sarah, and my smart, gorgeous granddaughter, Mary Mace, who is 15.

Way Maker - God

The Pentecostals Of Alexandria, Louisiana 

Isaiah 43:16 - 19 

Thus saith the Lord, which maketh a way in the sea, and a path in the mighty waters;

17 Which bringeth forth the chariot and horse, the army and the power; they shall lie down together, they shall not rise: they are extinct, they are quenched as tow.

18 Remember ye not the former things, neither consider the things of old.

19 Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert. 

JESUS IS THE WAY MAKER

Way maker

Miracle worker

Promise keeper

Light in the darkness

My God

That is who you are

Way maker

Miracle worker

Promise keeper

Light in the darkness

My God

That is who you are

You are here

Touching every heart

I worship you

Meeting every need

I worship you

I worship you...

Songwriters: Osinachi Okoro

__________________________

I am fortunate to know God, to have experienced His Love, miracles, healing and Light.  In my darkest hours, Jesus came to me, spoke to me through His Word, His people and His beautiful Spirit.  I’ve been cared for spiritually, materially and physically by God.  He has met my needs, healed my body and mind and kept my heart beating.  When I was poorest materially, I was richest spiritually because I depended on God for everything.

Aren’t We Strange? By Marion

Aren’t we strange

little creatures?

We live; we die.

It happens that fast,

like a semicolon’s pause...

Estranged family, former friends,

& neighbors who never spoke to you

gather in an ornate funeral parlor

with sparkling chandeliers,

thick, soft, neutral carpet, and

black suited, paid employees. 

Soft, morbid music is piped in...

Soon-to-be-dead flowers 

are covering the fancy,

expensive, satin-lined coffin

in which your corpse is stuffed

wearing clothing, well, you would

never be caught dead in.

Why dress up corpses?

Put them in comfortable clothes!!!

Why are these people here?

To celebrate your life??

You’re dead.  You don’t know

who’s at this gathering of gawkers.

Why, when you were alive, didn’t 

they tell you of their love, friendship

and caring concern...and give you living flowers,

red Rose bushes & Blueberry plants?

Or apologize for the ugly scars

they inflicted on your tender

body, soul and spirit?

Why didn’t they speak

of their love for you or

once say sincerely:  “Are you hurting?”

Or, “I’m sorry you are in pain.”

“What can I do for you?”

So few words holding such power—-

To the living, of course.

Have mercy, breathing people

with wildly beating hearts—-

Make peace with your loved ones

while they are still alive!

They will not see you or your 

crocodile tears once they are

forever in that box,

buried in the 

cold, hard,

eternally silent, 

unforgiving earth.

~Marion

PSALM 69:29 (ESV) 

But I am afflicted and in pain;
    let your salvation, O God, set me on high!

Your Other Name by Tara Sophia Mohr

Ragnar, our new rescued Pitbull.  He’s a sweetheart.

Your Other Name
By Tara Sophia Mohr

If your life doesn’t often make you feel
like a cauldron of swirling light –

If you are not often enough a woman standing
above a mysterious fire,
lifting her head to the sky –

You are doing too much, and listening too little.

Read poems. Walk in the woods. Make slow art.
Tie a rope around your heart, be led by it off the plank,
happy prisoner.

You are no animal. You are galaxy with skin.
Home to blue and yellow lightshots,
making speed-of-light curves and racecar turns,
bouncing in ricochet -

Don’t slow down the light and turn it into matter
with feeble preoccupations.

Don’t forget your true name:
Presiding one. Home for the gleaming.
Strong cauldron for the feast of light.

Strong cauldron for the feast of light:
I am speaking to you.
I beg you not to forget.

From:  "Teaching With Heart:  Poetry That Speaks to the Courage to Teach", page 75

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"Be kind whenever possible. It is always possible." ~Tenzin Gyatso, 14th Dalai Lama

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"If you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion."  ~Dalai Lama

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