I Hear the Call of the Night Bird… Longing…

 

Diederik Cuckoo

The bird whose call is it’s name. 🎶🎵🎶

Barn Owl

This nocturnal beauty is found on every continent except Antarctica. 

Common Nightingale 

This bird can have more than 200 songs in its repertoire, and it might sing them all at night. 🌙💫

~*~*~*~

Birdsong brings relief 
to my longing 
I'm just as ecstatic as they are, 
but with nothing to say! 
Please universal soul, practice 
some song or something through me.

Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi

💙 I love Blue birds! 💙

🔥 My Hummingbirds are only eating at night recently because it’s so hot. 🔥

This Poem Has Gotten Over 70,000 Views on My Blog

One of my favorite poems of all time.  I read it often and still marvel at each word picture…

“If you cannot be a poet, be the poem”. – David Carradine

From:  “Houses of Parliament” series by Monet

📝📝📝📝📝📝

Monet Refuses The Operation 

by Lisel Mueller

Doctor, you say there are no haloes
around the streetlights in Paris
and what I see is an aberration
caused by old age, an affliction
I tell you it has taken me all my life
to arrive at the vision of gas lamps as angels, 
to soften and blur and finally banish 
the edges you regret I don't see, 
to learn that the line I called the horizon 
does not exist and sky and water,
so long apart, are the same state of being.
Fifty-four years before I could see 
Rouen cathedral is built 
of parallel shafts of sun, 
and now you want to restore 
my youthful errors: fixed
notions of top and bottom,
the illusion of three-dimensional space,
wisteria separate
from the bridge it covers.
What can I say to convince you
the Houses of Parliament dissolves
night after night to become
the fluid dream of the Thames?
I will not return to a universe 
of objects that don't know each other,
as if islands were not the lost children
of one great continent. The world 
is flux, and light becomes what it touches,
becomes water, lilies on water,
above and below water,
becomes lilac and mauve and yellow
and white and cerulean lamps,
small fists passing sunlight 
so quickly to one another 
that it would take long, streaming hair
inside my brush to catch it.
To paint the speed of light!
Our weighted shapes, these verticals, 
burn to mix with air
and change our bones, skin, clothes
to gases. Doctor,
if only you could see
how heaven pulls earth into its arms
and how infinitely the heart expands 
to claim this world, 

blue vapor without end.

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🌟 A special treat:  Ms. Mueller reading this amazing poem:

Lisel Mueller died on February 21, 2020, at the age of 96.

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Freedom Isn’t Free - God Save America

 A must-read thriller, unputdownable & the first of 5 in this series.

Jack Carr served America as a Navy Seal for 20 years.

🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸

We the people are the rightful masters of both Congress and the courts, not to overthrow the Constitution but to overthrow the men who pervert the Constitution.  ~Abraham Lincoln

🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸

🇺🇸 A pack of jackasses led by a lion is superior to a pack of lions led by a jackass.  ~George Washington

🇺🇸 The last official act of any government is to loot the treasury. ~George Washington

“If ever the time should come, when vain & aspiring men shall possess the highest seats in government, our country will stand in need of its experienced patriots to prevent its ruin.”—Samuel Adams

🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸

It is impossible to govern the world without God. It is the duty of all nations to acknowledge the Providence of Almighty God, to obey his will, to be grateful for his benefits and humbly implore his protection and favor.  ~George Washington

✝️🇺🇸✝️🇺🇸✝️🇺🇸✝️🇺🇸✝️

www.insidebidensbasement.org

Knowledge is power.  Don’t be a sheep and don’t trust this administration.

.

M O O D

Some days you just find a perfectly perfect song to describe your mood.  This is dedicated to the 4 surgeons/doctors who ruined my body & health.  I only wish they could hear it up close & personal. ☠️

Martha Wainwright ~ “Bloody Mother Fucking Asshole” 🎶

Poetry is no place for a heart that's a whore
And I'm young and I'm strong
But I feel old and tired
Over fired

And I've been poked and stoked
It's all smoke, there's no more fire
Only desire
For you, whoever you are
For you, whoever you are

You say my time here has been some sort of joke
That I've been messing around
Some sort of incubating period
For when I really come around
I'm cracking up
And you have no idea

No idea how it feels to be on your own
In your own home
With the fucking phone
And the mother of gloom
In your bedroom
Standing over your head
With her hand in your head
With her hand in your head

I will not pretend
I will not put on a smile
I will not say I'm all right for you
When all I wanted was to be good
To do everything in truth
To do everything in truth

Oh I wish I wish I wish I was born a man
So I could learn how to stand up for myself
Like those guys with guitars
I've been watching in bars
Who've been stamping their feet to a different beat
To a different beat
To a different beat

I will not pretend
I will not put on a smile
I will not say I'm all right for you
When all I wanted was to be good
To do everything in truth
To do everything in truth

You bloody mother fucking asshole
Oh you bloody mother fucking asshole
Oh you bloody mother fucking asshole

I will not pretend
I will not put on a smile
I will not say I'm all right for you
For you, whoever you are

Painters by Jewel

Painters by Jewel

Eighty years, an old lady now, sitting on the front porch

Watching the clouds roll by
They remind her of her lover, how he left her, and of times long ago,
When she used color carelessly, painted his portrait
A thousand times, or maybe just his smile,
Her and her canvas would follow him wherever he would go

'Cause they were painters and they were painting themselves
A lovely world

Oil streaked daisies covered the living room walls
He put water colored roses in her hair
He said, "Love, I love you,
I want to give you the mountains, the sunshine,
The sunset too
I want to give you a world as beautiful as you are to me"

'Cause I'm a painter and I want to paint you
A lovely way

So they sat down and made a drawing of their love,
They made it an art to live by
They painted every passion, every home, created every beautiful child
In the winter they were weavers of warmth,
In the summer they were carpenters of love
They thought blue prints were too sad so they made them yellow

And they were painters and they had painted themselves
A lovely world

Until one day the rain fell as thick as black oil
And in her heart she knew something was wrong
She went running through the orchard screaming,
"No God, don't take him from me!"
But by the time she got there, she feared he already had gone
She got to where he lay, water colored roses in his hands for her
She threw them down screaming, "Damn you man, don't leave me
With nothing left behind but these cold paintings, these cold portraits
To remind me!"

He said, "Love I only leave a little, try to understand
I put my soul in this life we've created with these four hands
Love, I leave, but only a little, this world holds me still
My body may die now, but these paintings are real"
La li lai la li lai la li lai

So many seasons came and many seasons went
And many times she saw her love's face watering the flowers,
Talking to the trees and singing to his children,
And when the wind blew, she knew he was listening,
And how he seemed to laugh along, and how he seemed to hold her
When she was crying

'Cause they were painters and they had painted themselves
A lovely world

Eighty years, an old lady now, sitting on the front porch
Watching the clouds roll by
They remind her of her lover, how he left her, and of times long ago,
When she used color carelessly, painted his portrait
A thousand times, or maybe just his smile,
Her and her canvas would follow him wherever he would go
Yes, she and her canvas still follow

'Cause they are painters and they are painting themselves
A lovely
'Cause they are painters and they are painting themselves
A lovely world

My almost twin sister & me in the 1980’s. I’m the tall one. 😼 We’re 10-1/2 months apart in age.

My Life is Painful, but Often Beautiful…

 

From:  “On Pain” by Khalil Gibran

“Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding. Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.

     And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy;
     And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.
     And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.

😘💋 Johnny Depp’s band with Alice Cooper & Joe Perry, “Hollywood Vampires” 🎶

🙏🏼 Amen!  🙏🏼

🌿 A weed is but an unloved flower. 🌿

🥬 Tasty Swiss Chard, grows very fast! 🥬

💃🏼 Johnny Depp, my Rock & Roll crush. . . 🎶💞🎶

My Cherry Tomatoes coming along…

I love & appreciate those of you who have followed me all these years through thick & thin. ☀️🥰🌹

‘Flip the Script’ is the Politics of the Day, So I’m Flipping It - “1984” is Here

Nashville Buddha with a Moonflower that opened on the Full Flower Moon.

Having a very rough year, almost unbearable…

WE ARE LIVING IN A DYSTOPIAN NOVEL!

All quotes from “1984” by George Orwell, Biden’s playbook. 😱

 

Louis Ramey, Fabulous Comedian

“Your joy is your sorrow unmasked. And the same well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears. And how else can it be? The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain. Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven? And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?”

Khalil Gibran

“I would not exchange the laughter of my heart for the fortunes of the multitudes; nor would I be content with converting my tears, invited by my agonized self, into calm. It is my fervent hope that my whole life on this earth will ever be tears and laughter. Tears that purify my heart and reveal to me the secret of life and its mystery, Laughter that brings me closer to my fellow men; Tears with which I join the broken-hearted, Laugher that symbolizes joy over my very existence.”

Khalil Gibran

🌺🌸🌺🌸🌺🌸

Tuesday’s Roses

 

A RED FLOWER

Your lips are like a southern lily red, 
Wet with the soft rain-kisses of the night, 
In which the brown bee buries deep its head, 
When still the dawn's a silver sea of light. 

Your lips betray the secret of your soul, 
The dark delicious essence that is you, 
A mystery of life, the flaming goal 
I seek through mazy pathways strange and new. 

Your lips are the red symbol of a dream, 
What visions of warm lilies they impart, 
That line the green bank of a fair blue stream, 
With butterflies and bees close to each heart! 

Brown bees that murmur sounds of music rare, 
That softly fall upon the langourous breeze, 
Wafting them gently on the quiet air 
Among untended avenues of trees. 

O were I hovering, a bee, to probe 
Deep down within your scented heart, fair flower, 
Enfolded by your soft vermilion robe, 
Amorous of sweets, for but one perfect hour! 

Claude McKay