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worldmind
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Posted on Mon, Oct 01, 2012 22:10

There are poems/words that reflect our inner thoughts/feelings about ourselves and our perception/interpretation of the world around us. What shows your soul?


This one is a favourite and shows a bit of my soul;

 

The Road Not Taken

 

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

 


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worldmind
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Posted on Tue, Oct 16, 2012 12:59

windrider, well you must have superhomes where you live, as here in Sweden offcourse there are high standard homes with lots of staff..but..at the end of a full life..the respect the honor the LOVE the unpaid friendship which is only available in our nearest and dearest...thats unbought thats priceless and yet..at least in Sweden and also in some countries I have visited being as old equals almost forbidden almost leprabiten..they do not choose to celebrate their last Christmases alone..their superbusy long away living etc  "families" make that choice for them. the old people become beggars..begging attention..begging for fulfilling love..begging support...the glow in their eyes when they get a visit from their true loved and near ones is just from the heart..that is their only happiness when most else is giving up...the old and lonely need a tender voice who carries them into their final breathe not a harsch one blaming them for making wrong CHOICES.



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Windrider735
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Posted on Sun, Oct 14, 2012 22:08

Quoting worldmind:

windrider..lets agree to disagree...as i dont think old people in general choose to be forgotten and left alone in homes etc...i dont think pain is the prime choice of most people. Many times our wishes and the choices we wish are impossible due to several angles of people places and situations. Most of the times we are not making our own inner choice...we are placed or forced direct/infirect into many many choices. Lets be realistic.


worldlmind... 
An excellent idea! I can only give my opinion based on what I've seen. I know quite a few older people who live in the homes, so I have an opportunity to meet their friends when I visit and find very few who aren't happy and content living there.


By the way, I do agree with you that most old people probably don't choose to be forgotten and left in a home, but think about this. They are not alone in those homes...there are people there who would love to be their firend which would mean they wouldn't be alone. It is still their choice if they allow that to happen or not.


As for pain...that's something we all have to deal with at one time or another. How we chose to deal with it makes a huge difference in how we live our lives.


I respect your concept...just don't happen to agree, from what I've seen. I admit you hear horror stories about some of the places, but what we have here are beautiful, loving homes that are well run with staff who actually love their jobs and care deeply for the residents. That makes all the difference in the world.

 

 



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worldmind
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Posted on Sat, Oct 13, 2012 17:19

windrider..lets agree to disagree...as i dont think old people in general choose to be forgotten and left alone in homes etc...i dont think pain is the prime choice of most people. Many times our wishes and the choices we wish are impossible due to several angles of people places and situations. Most of the times we are not making our own inner choice...we are placed or forced direct/infirect into many many choices. Lets be realistic.



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Windrider735
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Posted on Thu, Oct 11, 2012 09:55

worldmind... Life is made of choices, and each of us chooses how we will react to things that life throws our way. We either choose to sit around feeling sorry for ourselves or choose get up, brush the dirt off our asses and try to find something positive out of the experience. Our choices start at a very young age, and patterns are formed that perpetuate throughout our lives unless we choose to change ourselves. Most unhappy, lonely people I've known chose to withdraw into their own misery.   There are many things that contribute to a person being a 'loaner', but the fact remains that it is still their choice to do so. Some just prefer not to be surrounded by other people all the time, but these are comfortable with who and what they are and enjoy their own company...although they seem to have a lot of family and friends who they are close to when they want company. There are others who embrace being miserable...who don't open up and make friends easily, are extremely critical of almost everyone and everything, and blame everyone but themselves for their isolation. These are the lonely old people you see in homes...ones who refuse to enjoy the company and love of the staff and other residents.   It's their choice to be alone, it's not a sentence. In that context, yes...they do bring it upon themselves...which in no way makes it any more acceptable or less heartbreaking.   Love is all around us...family, friends, strangers (who are only friends we haven't gotten to know yet), pets. All we have to do is choose to reach out and connect. I choose to be happy. I choose to be optimistic. I choose to reach out. That's all those lost, lonely souls have to do, but they choose not to.


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worldmind
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Posted on Mon, Oct 08, 2012 14:48

windrider...it was an interesting poem...

 

Oh so you mean the lonely elderly are to be blamed themselves and that their loneliness and suffering is selfinflicted?



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Windrider735
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Posted on Sat, Oct 06, 2012 14:56

worldmind... That one was written about a bad dream...not necessarily drug induced. The same person wrote this one...you might like it better.

  ~Akasha~ I'm all that was and all that will be I'm shadows in the night I'm earth and wind and water I'm darkness and I'm light   I'm everything and I'm nothing Every thought you've ever had The beginning and the ending All the good and all the bad   From the first I've been here waiting All you take you must return Mingling of the past and present Promised future soon to learn   I am knowledge I am learning I am ignorance I am death Everything that e' r existed'  Every life and every breath   Explore the universe around you Search the hills and mountain streams You'll find I'm there In every atom I'm your reality and I'm your dreams  

  I agree that many of the older population lead lonely, sad existences in homes, but there are also homes that that make sure, even if family has forsaken them, these people get attention, love and active lives. The old people I know who are still in their own homes and keep busy are dynamos. Some of them can run me into the ground, and I can outwork most people half my age. Keeping physically, emotionally and mentally active makes a great deal of difference. Being around people who stimulate your thoughts and challenge your concepts does more for our well being than just amusing us. The 'lost' ones you refer to usually can't be helped. They've given up on themselves...and no amount of trying to help them will accomplish anything until they want things to change. My heart bleeds for them. Life has so much to offer, and so many interesting, caring people to meet if they'd just allow themselves to try and look beyond the lonliness and see what's around them. Easyman...  I like both his style and content. Not familiar with the writer but I'm going to Google him. Thanks for sharing.



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worldmind
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Posted on Sat, Oct 06, 2012 01:09

Easymantolove...does your poem mean you are some kind of a seeker or hopeful for something?

 

Windrider..the Despair one was a bit sad...but yet nice...this could be applicable on several human situations...sounds like agonizing  loneliness...it reminded me a bit of our troubled elderly situation in Sweden..where many elderly are sitting day in day out in elderly homes and their children and families forget all about them..how shatteringly sad..these people who have built our current world would deserve a golden crown on their head not such soulspanking as I would call it..it really really affects me to my deepest core this issue...just seeing an elderly sitting there by a window looking out those fading eyes just happy for the smallest good attention which he/she seldom gets...how the world celebrates youth and hides, almost despises oldness...and that old man/woman is who we might become ourselves when we are older...extremely sad indeed..



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Windrider735
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Posted on Fri, Oct 05, 2012 11:21

Francie...

Those words are not only beautifully presented, but good guidelines for our day-to-day lives.



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Franciemil
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Posted on Thu, Oct 04, 2012 18:18

Worldmind, I love this poem.

 

Poem.

Happiness: Deep inside you.

 

Serenity: In every sunrise.

 

Success: In every facet of your life.

 

Friends: Very near and awaiting you.

 

Love: That always flow from within.

 

Knowledge: In the grace and love of God.

 

Special memories: Of all yesterday.

 

A bright today: With so much appreciated.

 

One way: They take you to a beautiful morning.

 

Dreams: To become reality.

 

And gratitude for all the wonderful things around. francie.-



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Windrider735
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Posted on Thu, Oct 04, 2012 17:28

                                              ~Despair~ ... author unknown     Ilusive shadows in the mind Spirits dark and restless Memories bouncing off the walls like blips     Ghouls of un confronted fears Hide lurking in the halls    Silent screams lay frozen on their lips   Voices no one else can hear Shout arrows tipped in pain    Reality lies bleeding out it's dreams   Day after day just spending time    And going through the motions For nothing is as normal as it seems   With life not worth the effort Feel all emotion in extremes Nothing is as normal as it seems And you lie there quietly bleeding out your dreams


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worldmind
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Posted on Thu, Oct 04, 2012 16:34

Nice :-) I will look further for John Clifford as I liked his words on here...Tack! (=swedish thanks)



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worldmind
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Posted on Wed, Oct 03, 2012 18:21

 

A Life

 

As autumn leaves spread their wings and fly

Landing on the sidewalk of our street

 

We stroll along

As if nothing is wrong

 

Not even considering that tale of life

Delicate yet strong

 

A life

 

Beneath our feet

 

 

- written by me, just now


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easymantolove
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Posted on Wed, Oct 03, 2012 17:19

If we could see the future
What would we find?
A loving heart
A sharp mind?

 

What would be important
What would make our day
Someone to love us totally
Or someone to light our way?

 

How do we find tomorrow
When looking at our today?
Do we take all offers
Or find another way?

 

Is perfection our goal
Or faults more real
Is what we think
Really how we feel?

Author: Phil Petree



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Livnlov
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Posted on Tue, Oct 02, 2012 13:10

This keeps me going everyday and shows a little part of my soul:

 

When I despair, I remember that all through history the ways of truth and love have always won. There have been tyrants, and murderers, and for a time they can seem invincible, but in the end they always fall. Think of it--always. -

Mahatma Gandhi 1869 - 1948

 

Liv.



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Windrider735
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Posted on Tue, Oct 02, 2012 08:09

Hi DONTFITMOLD,

 

That beautiful poem was written by John Clifford. (1900-1983). If you'd like to read more of his poems, just Google him.



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DONTFITMOLD
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Posted on Tue, Oct 02, 2012 07:46

       The Anvil? God's Word.

 


Last eve I passed beside a blacksmith's door
And heard the anvil ring the vesper chime:
Then looking in, I saw upon the floor
Old hammers, worn with beating years of time.

 

 


"How many anvils have you had," said I,
"To wear and batter all these hammers so?"
"Just one," said he, and then, with twinkling eye,
"The anvil wears the hammers out, you know."

 

 

And so, thought I, the anvil of God's word,
For ages skeptic blows have beat upon;
Yet though the noise of falling blows was heard,
The anvil is unharmed . . . the hammer's gone.

 

 


Author unknown


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D ( @ )( @ )

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Windrider735
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Posted on Mon, Oct 01, 2012 22:58

A bit long, but it speaks my soul and my thoughts on life.

 

William Cullen Bryant... 

 

A Forest Hymn

 

The groves were God's first temples. Ere man learned
To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave,
And spread the roof above them,---ere he framed
The lofty vault, to gather and roll back
The sound of anthems; in the darkling wood,
Amidst the cool and silence, he knelt down,
And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks
And supplication. For his simple heart
Might not resist the sacred influences,
Which, from the stilly twilight of the place,
And from the gray old trunks that high in heaven
Mingled their mossy boughs, and from the sound
Of the invisible breath that swayed at once
All their green tops, stole over him, and bowed
His spirit with the thought of boundless power
And inaccessible majesty. Ah, why
Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect
God's ancient sanctuaries, and adore
Only among the crowd, and under roofs,
That our frail hands have raised? Let me, at least,
Here, in the shadow of this aged wood,
Offer one hymn---thrice happy, if it find
Acceptance in His ear.
Father, thy hand
Hath reared these venerable columns, thou
Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look down
Upon the naked earth, and, forthwith, rose
All these fair ranks of trees. They, in thy sun,
Budded, and shook their green leaves in the breeze,
And shot towards heaven. The century-living crow,
Whose birth was in their tops, grew old and died
Among their branches, till, at last, they stood,
As now they stand, massy, and tall, and dark,
Fit shrine for humble worshipper to hold
Communion with his Maker. These dim vaults,
These winding aisles, of human pomp and pride
Report not. No fantastic carvings show
The boast of our vain race to change the form
Of thy fair works. But thou art here---thou fill'st
The solitude. Thou art in the soft winds
That run along the summit of these trees
In music; thou art in the cooler breath
That from the inmost darkness of the place
Comes, scarcely felt; the barky trunks, the ground,
The fresh moist ground, are all instinct with thee.
Here is continual worship;---Nature, here,
In the tranquility that thou dost love,
Enjoys thy presence. Noiselessly, around,
From perch to perch, the solitary bird
Passes; and yon clear spring, that, midst its herbs,
Wells softly forth and wandering steeps the roots
Of half the mighty forest, tells no tale
Of all the good it does. Thou hast not left
Thyself without a witness, in these shades,
Of thy perfections. Grandeur, strength, and grace
Are here to speak of thee. This mighty oak---
By whose immovable stem I stand and seem
Almost annihilated---not a prince,
In all that proud old world beyond the deep,
E'er wore his crown as lofty as he
Wears the green coronal of leaves with which
Thy hand has graced him. Nestled at his root
Is beauty, such as blooms not in the glare
Of the broad sun. That delicate forest flower
With scented breath, and look so like a smile,
Seems, as it issues from the shapeless mould,
An emanation of the indwelling Life,
A visible token of the upholding Love,
That are the soul of this wide universe.

 

My heart is awed within me when I think
Of the great miracle that still goes on,
In silence, round me---the perpetual work
Of thy creation, finished, yet renewed
Forever. Written on thy works I read
The lesson of thy own eternity.
Lo! all grow old and die---but see again,
How on the faltering footsteps of decay
Youth presses----ever gay and beautiful youth
In all its beautiful forms. These lofty trees
Wave not less proudly that their ancestors
Moulder beneath them. Oh, there is not lost
One of earth's charms: upon her bosom yet,
After the flight of untold centuries,
The freshness of her far beginning lies
And yet shall lie. Life mocks the idle hate
Of his arch enemy Death---yea, seats himself
Upon the tyrant's throne---the sepulchre,
And of the triumphs of his ghastly foe
Makes his own nourishment. For he came forth
From thine own bosom, and shall have no end.

 

There have been holy men who hid themselves
Deep in the woody wilderness, and gave
Their lives to thought and prayer, till they outlived
The generation born with them, nor seemed
Less aged than the hoary trees and rocks
Around them;---and there have been holy men
Who deemed it were not well to pass life thus.
But let me often to these solitudes
Retire, and in thy presence reassure
My feeble virtue. Here its enemies,
The passions, at thy plainer footsteps shrink
And tremble and are still. Oh, God! when thou
Dost scare the world with falling thunderbolts, or fill,
With all the waters of the firmament,
The swift dark whirlwind that uproots the woods
And drowns the village; when, at thy call,
Uprises the great deep and throws himself
Upon the continent, and overwhelms
Its cities---who forgets not, at the sight
Of these tremendous tokens of thy power,
His pride, and lays his strifes and follies by?
Oh, from these sterner aspects of thy face
Spare me and mine, nor let us need the wrath
Of the mad unchained elements to teach
Who rules them. Be it ours to meditate,
In these calm shades, thy milder majesty,
And to the beautiful order of the works
Learn to conform the order of our lives.



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