Success is not set in stone.
It’s not always in the eye of the beholder,
But when it is, it’s easy to please.
It doesn’t really matter how many times,
It doesn’t seem to matter how hard,
You are trying.
What matters is doing the thing right.
Or how much fortune follows you.
It seems easy enough.
Until you’ve given it your all and realized
That you have no idea
What the right way is
To find success.
People tell you that it’s spelled out,
Clear in writing,
That for you, it’s not so hard.
They think that they know
Everything.
That they can say words to help you.
Sometimes you wonder if they’re right
If they really do know how it is
And you’re just too small,
You are just too blind
To see the truth.
But how can anyone know?
How can someone profess to know
Everything about you?
How you think,
How you work,
The things of the past that haunt you.
Success comes almost always.
If you try, if you aim at it well enough,
You might just get there.
But Almost sits calmly,
Constantly sharing the picture
With Always.
That is what they don’t know.
Success does not always come.
Not even to the skilled,
Or the fortunate.
Not even to those who need it most desperately.
Or those who most deserve it.
Success is not always.
And when it isn’t,
Grace intends for us to learn
Failure
With patience.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Monday, September 24, 2012
What Poetry Is
Poetry - English 352
September 24th, 2012
What Poetry Is
It’s a vast, deep Ocean.
Rivers of words and emotions flowing in and out
Constantly.
Currents of ideas and people swirling through them, changing them,
Rearranging their shapes into something more familiar,
Comforting.
Centuries of walls stand round the shore,
Constraining:
Ancient attempts of power to withhold and bend knowledge, change it,
To feed it to society in a way which promotes rule,
Corrupting.
The walls are no longer holding the outside world at bay, but simply
Containing
The Sea. It is necessary to search, make an effort, but it is no longer forbidden
To know, to explore. Centuries of words flood it, deepen it,
Creating
Unfathomable, unending currents of evolving words.
Invisible to all but those who leap over the walls. It’s often the
Charismatic,
Those who are open and ready to drink in the words. They are the
Creative.
They will be the first to glean meaning. The Sea welcomes hearts with a steady, crashing song,
Waves of words leading to endless expressions and descriptions,
Caressing
Their ideas with its own grace, its own rhythm. Never quite
Changing
The words it contains, but allowing them to be bent to the will of new minds .
Though the words, the emotions, have been infinitely used and worn down, they are
Continuing:
Though the meanings differ and change, they continue to
Captivate
The minds of the brilliant and the simple, the proud and the humble.
The images contained by each simple creature in the sea, each simple word, vividly
Connect
Hearts to memories and experiences, objects and questions.
The countless mesmerizing rhythms of the ocean lead millions to
Contemplate
The advancing years, to wonder what might lie beyond what is now,
The meanings of what the secluded cees might be… To wonder if they might ever be
Complete.
Whatever poetry is, it is what it wants to be.
There are so many other letters,
Many more appropriate than the cees in the Sea.
September 24th, 2012
What Poetry Is
It’s a vast, deep Ocean.
Rivers of words and emotions flowing in and out
Constantly.
Currents of ideas and people swirling through them, changing them,
Rearranging their shapes into something more familiar,
Comforting.
Centuries of walls stand round the shore,
Constraining:
Ancient attempts of power to withhold and bend knowledge, change it,
To feed it to society in a way which promotes rule,
Corrupting.
The walls are no longer holding the outside world at bay, but simply
Containing
The Sea. It is necessary to search, make an effort, but it is no longer forbidden
To know, to explore. Centuries of words flood it, deepen it,
Creating
Unfathomable, unending currents of evolving words.
Invisible to all but those who leap over the walls. It’s often the
Charismatic,
Those who are open and ready to drink in the words. They are the
Creative.
They will be the first to glean meaning. The Sea welcomes hearts with a steady, crashing song,
Waves of words leading to endless expressions and descriptions,
Caressing
Their ideas with its own grace, its own rhythm. Never quite
Changing
The words it contains, but allowing them to be bent to the will of new minds .
Though the words, the emotions, have been infinitely used and worn down, they are
Continuing:
Though the meanings differ and change, they continue to
Captivate
The minds of the brilliant and the simple, the proud and the humble.
The images contained by each simple creature in the sea, each simple word, vividly
Connect
Hearts to memories and experiences, objects and questions.
The countless mesmerizing rhythms of the ocean lead millions to
Contemplate
The advancing years, to wonder what might lie beyond what is now,
The meanings of what the secluded cees might be… To wonder if they might ever be
Complete.
Whatever poetry is, it is what it wants to be.
There are so many other letters,
Many more appropriate than the cees in the Sea.
Monday, September 17, 2012
The Best Things
There are good things.
Good things like passing grades.
Like the wind playing with your hair,
Or the feel of cool water on your sun-toasted skin.
Things that give you a rush of happiness:
Temporary, but true.
There are great things.
Great things like kind smiles.
Like the rush of knowledge and discovery,
Or that first kiss, precious and terrifying.
Things that you'll hold in your memory forever:
They imprint themselves into your heart.
Then there are the best things.
The best things are choices:
They are the people you let affect your life,
The deeds to which you dedicate your soul.
The best things leave salty tear tracks on your face
And glowing joy in your heart.
The best things can make you a warrior for light
Or bring you enough pain to tear down your resolve.
They are the things that last:
They will follow you into forever.
The best things will teach you.
They will show you how to learn,
How to grow,
And how to love.
Good things like passing grades.
Like the wind playing with your hair,
Or the feel of cool water on your sun-toasted skin.
Things that give you a rush of happiness:
Temporary, but true.
There are great things.
Great things like kind smiles.
Like the rush of knowledge and discovery,
Or that first kiss, precious and terrifying.
Things that you'll hold in your memory forever:
They imprint themselves into your heart.
Then there are the best things.
The best things are choices:
They are the people you let affect your life,
The deeds to which you dedicate your soul.
The best things leave salty tear tracks on your face
And glowing joy in your heart.
The best things can make you a warrior for light
Or bring you enough pain to tear down your resolve.
They are the things that last:
They will follow you into forever.
The best things will teach you.
They will show you how to learn,
How to grow,
And how to love.
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