The encyclopedia of my life
dwells inside my mind.
Home is found in my personal history.
My world is located here.
The trajectory of a moonlight
path. The sun upon my face.
My mother’s embrace. The
voices of friends. Love lost
Love found The purr of my cat.
My daughters’ laughter. My
Father’s smile. These things
give me purpose.
My life has been a slow
awakening. With the passing
of each year, I become more
aware, more alive. Time has
a way of opening eyes. It’s
midday and the mist never
I’m still struggling in a dimly
lit room. Trying to understand
where my place is in the
swirling of seasons, places
and things. I yawn and stretch,
hungry for the unknown, the unborn poem,
the next adventure, to exist wholly,
before the fadeout begins.
Scenes from my Christmas and yet another new pair of eyeglasses.
Now for a few quotes about the new year.
“Hope. Smiles from the threshold of the year to come, Whispering ‘it will be happier’…-Alfred Lord Tennyson
“May the New Year bring you courage to break your resolutions early! My own plan is to swear off every kind of virtue, so that I triumph even when I fall!”
-Aleister Crowley, Moonchild
“Each New Year, we have before us a brand new book containing 365 blank pages. Let us fill them with all the forgotten things from last year—the words we forgot to say, the love we forgot to show, and the charity we forgot to offer.”
-Peggy Toney Horton
And what’s a blog post without a little Swift?
Hope you all have a very happy vintage new year full of sunshine, laughter, love, and loads of books and chocolate. ❤️ -Tosha
this is your song. My cover of “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas” See after poem. Wishing you all the happiest of holidays. xx
“Music on Christmas Morning” by Anne Brontë
Music I love – but never strain
Could kindle raptures so divine,
So grief assuage, so conquer pain,
And rouse this pensive heart of mine –
As that we hear on Christmas morn,
Upon the wintry breezes borne.
Though Darkness still her empire keep,
And hours must pass, ere morning break;
From troubled dreams, or slumbers deep,
That music kindly bids us wake:
It calls us, with an angel’s voice,
To wake, and worship, and rejoice.
I know you’re in a better place.
where anguish and pain
can’t find you.
Your frail arms strong again
Your mind free of dementia,
where your hardest task is
choosing a book over a nap.
I know God must exist,
and he must be a good God
because he gave me the
gift of you. Proof was found
in the way you nurtured me,
my teacher of homespun truths,
my giver of Sunday dinners,
porch swing singalong, and
Sometimes when my eyes are
starry, I feel the membrane
between our worlds break
and I find you again.
You’ve traveled so far to
be near, galaxies envelopes
us. You faster than the lightest
of lights, so much faster than
death and despair.
In these times I can feel
you living on in me.
Remnants of a childhood of
belonging and grace.
The cosmos and it’s mysteries
of scattered matter and infinite
wonder draws us closer still.
Grandmother together again.
Happy Sunday. I recently took a DNA test from Ancestry.com. These were my results. No big surprises.
And in other news, Tucker making the world brighter 😜
Lastly, some Christmas cheer. I’ll be posting a point dedicated to my grandmother on Wednesday. Love to all. 💕
Tucker taking a cat nap.😜 I know I’m such a dork. Hope you all have a weekend to write about full of adventure and all good things. Here’s the latest song stuck in my nerdy head. So catchy. It’s Bleachers ‘Don’t Take the Money” Apparently the song is about Lena Dunham. Jack Antonoff wrote it for his lady love with a little help from Lorde. Hope you enjoy. 💕
Sometimes sorrow turns into
We choose to live an icebox
Wallowing in misfortune’s
Consorting with memories
Squabbling with dreams.
The poet too has felt life
interrupted, days that vanish
I’ve known suffering and
the pull of solitary confinement.
Now looking back from a happier
vista. I’m hear to tell you,
the pitch of pain may never
be unheard, but it does gets softer,
fading into a bittersweet refrain.
The past becomes part of
your case history, to be read
by nostalgia’s light on rain
In time the visible world brightens
Let it entice you with the woo of
the today and what will be.
Take refuge in the heat of
places uncharted, linger in
the sweet realism of the hour.
Walk toward the future
with unshackled feet.
The misbegotten shadows
behind you now.
Let the smudge of the sun,
and the warmth of a steadfast
hand be your guide.