The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings but shorter tempers, wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints. We spend more, but have less, we buy more, but enjoy less. We have bigger houses and smaller families, more conveniences, but less time. We have more degrees but less sense, more knowledge, but less judgment, more experts, yet more problems, more medicine, but less wellness.
We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too little, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom.
We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often.
We've learned how to make a living, but not a life. We've added years to life not life to years. We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet a new neighbor. We conquered outer space but not inner space. We've done larger things, but not better things.
We've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul. We've conquered the atom, but not our prejudice. We write more, but learn less. We plan more, but accomplish less. We've learned to rush, but not to wait. We build more computers to hold more information, to produce more copies than ever, but we communicate less and less.
These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion, big men and small character, steep profits and shallow relationships. These are the days of two incomes but more divorce, fancier houses, but broken homes. These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throwaway morality, one night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer, to quiet, to kill. It is a time when there is much in the showroom window and nothing in the stockroom. A time when technology can bring this letter to you, and a time when you can choose either to share this insight, or to just hit delete....
Remember; spend some time with your loved ones, because they are not going to be around forever.
Remember, say a kind word to someone who looks up to you in awe, because that little person soon will grow up and leave your side.
Remember, to give a warm hug to the one next to you, because that is the only treasure you can give with your heart and it doesn't cost a cent.
Remember to say, ' I love you ' to your partner and your loved ones, but most of all mean it. A kiss and an embrace will mend hurt when it comes from deep inside of you.
Remember to hold hands and cherish the moment for someday that person will not be there again...
Give time to love, give time to speak! And give time to share the precious thoughts in your mind.
AND ALWAYS REMEMBER:
Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.
Showing posts with label Writing/Poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Writing/Poetry. Show all posts
Monday, August 24, 2009
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
My Name is Trippy Travaasey
My dream from Saturday July 25, 2009.
I am a child of the 70's era on vacation in the middle of North California. A few signs tell me I'm near UC Berkeley. The midsummer afternoon breeze comes through the open window of the moving car, refreshing me. I get out of the car and walk until I see a group surrounding a tree bent at a certain angle. I go closer to the tree and I read a plaque that explains tree is directly pointing to my beloved Kafkas. I stand wondering if the tip of this tree and the tip Mt. Elbrus are emitting an invisible protective dome over my people. Nearby is a statue of a beautiful lady nurturing the tree. She is bent and kneels over as if she is constantly watering the roots. "Mother Satanaya?" I question. "Are you still nurturing your children?"
I continue my stroll on the brick sidewalk, passing by little shops that fill all my senses. I choose to sit on the stoop of a candle shop. The shelves are lined with more colors than a summer rainbow that entice me. Its intoxicating fragrances soothe me.
I watch older hippies with psychedelic outfits stroll by. A young couple is running a few errands. Across the street, I spot a tall, lean man with a guitar on his back. His long dark hair falls into his inky black eyes. I sit straighter, smoothing my sideways plait and fixing my little white dress. He spots me sitting on the store stoop. As he walks towards me I notice he is carrying a shiny pink skateboard. He introduces himself as Jim Morrison. Nervously I unravel my braid. I ask about his guitar and politely tell him that I’ve never heard his music. When he asks me for my name I shyly tell him, “My name is Trippy Travaasey.” Jim sees me eyeing the skateboard and generously hands it to me, saying, "Play Trippy, but do good with this." He winks at me, runs his fingers in my hair and disappears into the crowds that have come out with the cooling dusk.
With a skip in my step, I run uphill. I want to play with my skateboard! After a few downhill zooms that make my long hair wild, I decide that darkness will make my descending flights riskier. I walk along an avenue lined with small willow trees decorated with little white lights. A black family catches my attention as I see a little girl around my age talking to her slightly older brother. Like others of the crowd they comment on the colorful windows. I get closer to them, to hear them talk. I hear the little girl say to her brother, "Look at that pink skateboard! How much of an allowance do I need to buy that?"
I walk to her. Her ebony eyes sparkle in the bright window's lights. She is shy and stands near her brother for comfort. I hand her my new toy that saying that I want her to have my shiny pink skateboard. "Its brand new. A guy with a guitar just gave it to me!" I excitedly explain. Their parents are nearby and overhear the conversation. They offer to pay fifty dollars for the skateboard. I firmly refuse. As I start to turn around and run towards the park, the brother yells to me , "Hey! What's your name?!" I stop, smile and shout, "My name is Trippy Travaasey!" I continue my dash to the park swings.
Years pass and I return to this little neighborhood. My hair is braided, and I'm wearing a white summer sundress, while carrying many papers in an oversized bag. I overhear that President Obama is in the area, on vacation visiting his cousin. I’m determined to show him the statue of Mother Satanaya as she nurtures the leaning tree and tell him about Circassians. I get his attention and we talk as we stroll along the neighborhoods, commenting on the little shops windows. The location of the enchanted place reminds him of a story that his cousin shared with him as a child. He asks for my name and his face lights up when I say, “Trippy Travaasey.”
He urges me to follow him. His giant steps lead me through a winding lane of little willow trees. We walk past more shops and he disappears from view as a sparkly jewelry store window catches my eye. The diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and sapphires twinkle as they flirt with golden light allowing the combination to dance and twirl in my mind. I walk away dejected, until a tall smart looking man accidentally bumps into me, sending my papers flying into the street. He shares that he was trying to find someone in a hurry. As an apology he invites me to ice cream. I accept. While a delightful chocolate ice cream, I notice that he is looking at me funny; almost nostalgically. When he asks for my name, I tell him with a smile, "Trippy Travaasey."
Without missing a beat he pulls out a little black book with the McDonald's emblem embossed on the front. His eyes are shining as he glances at me when he pulls out a shiny black pen from his crisp white shirt. A miniature pink skateboard is the pen's holder. He scribbles a few lines and signs his name with a flourish.
He hands me a check. I gasp at the amount. $1,000,000. I look down at the person’s title beneath the signature. The man is the President and CEO of McDonald's.
Bewildered, I look at him with wide eyes. He laughs at my speechlessness and explains, "I'll never forget how you gave my sister the shiny pink skateboard. She played with it for every summer since she went to college, and made countless happy memories for her, me and everyone in my neighborhood."
The man’s happiness and mirth at my shock attracts President Obama to join his cousin. They both say with a twinkle in their winking eyes, "Trippy Travaasey, just play with this. Don't give it away."
I am a child of the 70's era on vacation in the middle of North California. A few signs tell me I'm near UC Berkeley. The midsummer afternoon breeze comes through the open window of the moving car, refreshing me. I get out of the car and walk until I see a group surrounding a tree bent at a certain angle. I go closer to the tree and I read a plaque that explains tree is directly pointing to my beloved Kafkas. I stand wondering if the tip of this tree and the tip Mt. Elbrus are emitting an invisible protective dome over my people. Nearby is a statue of a beautiful lady nurturing the tree. She is bent and kneels over as if she is constantly watering the roots. "Mother Satanaya?" I question. "Are you still nurturing your children?"
I continue my stroll on the brick sidewalk, passing by little shops that fill all my senses. I choose to sit on the stoop of a candle shop. The shelves are lined with more colors than a summer rainbow that entice me. Its intoxicating fragrances soothe me.
I watch older hippies with psychedelic outfits stroll by. A young couple is running a few errands. Across the street, I spot a tall, lean man with a guitar on his back. His long dark hair falls into his inky black eyes. I sit straighter, smoothing my sideways plait and fixing my little white dress. He spots me sitting on the store stoop. As he walks towards me I notice he is carrying a shiny pink skateboard. He introduces himself as Jim Morrison. Nervously I unravel my braid. I ask about his guitar and politely tell him that I’ve never heard his music. When he asks me for my name I shyly tell him, “My name is Trippy Travaasey.” Jim sees me eyeing the skateboard and generously hands it to me, saying, "Play Trippy, but do good with this." He winks at me, runs his fingers in my hair and disappears into the crowds that have come out with the cooling dusk.
With a skip in my step, I run uphill. I want to play with my skateboard! After a few downhill zooms that make my long hair wild, I decide that darkness will make my descending flights riskier. I walk along an avenue lined with small willow trees decorated with little white lights. A black family catches my attention as I see a little girl around my age talking to her slightly older brother. Like others of the crowd they comment on the colorful windows. I get closer to them, to hear them talk. I hear the little girl say to her brother, "Look at that pink skateboard! How much of an allowance do I need to buy that?"
I walk to her. Her ebony eyes sparkle in the bright window's lights. She is shy and stands near her brother for comfort. I hand her my new toy that saying that I want her to have my shiny pink skateboard. "Its brand new. A guy with a guitar just gave it to me!" I excitedly explain. Their parents are nearby and overhear the conversation. They offer to pay fifty dollars for the skateboard. I firmly refuse. As I start to turn around and run towards the park, the brother yells to me , "Hey! What's your name?!" I stop, smile and shout, "My name is Trippy Travaasey!" I continue my dash to the park swings.
Years pass and I return to this little neighborhood. My hair is braided, and I'm wearing a white summer sundress, while carrying many papers in an oversized bag. I overhear that President Obama is in the area, on vacation visiting his cousin. I’m determined to show him the statue of Mother Satanaya as she nurtures the leaning tree and tell him about Circassians. I get his attention and we talk as we stroll along the neighborhoods, commenting on the little shops windows. The location of the enchanted place reminds him of a story that his cousin shared with him as a child. He asks for my name and his face lights up when I say, “Trippy Travaasey.”
He urges me to follow him. His giant steps lead me through a winding lane of little willow trees. We walk past more shops and he disappears from view as a sparkly jewelry store window catches my eye. The diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and sapphires twinkle as they flirt with golden light allowing the combination to dance and twirl in my mind. I walk away dejected, until a tall smart looking man accidentally bumps into me, sending my papers flying into the street. He shares that he was trying to find someone in a hurry. As an apology he invites me to ice cream. I accept. While a delightful chocolate ice cream, I notice that he is looking at me funny; almost nostalgically. When he asks for my name, I tell him with a smile, "Trippy Travaasey."
Without missing a beat he pulls out a little black book with the McDonald's emblem embossed on the front. His eyes are shining as he glances at me when he pulls out a shiny black pen from his crisp white shirt. A miniature pink skateboard is the pen's holder. He scribbles a few lines and signs his name with a flourish.
He hands me a check. I gasp at the amount. $1,000,000. I look down at the person’s title beneath the signature. The man is the President and CEO of McDonald's.
Bewildered, I look at him with wide eyes. He laughs at my speechlessness and explains, "I'll never forget how you gave my sister the shiny pink skateboard. She played with it for every summer since she went to college, and made countless happy memories for her, me and everyone in my neighborhood."
The man’s happiness and mirth at my shock attracts President Obama to join his cousin. They both say with a twinkle in their winking eyes, "Trippy Travaasey, just play with this. Don't give it away."
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Caressing Breeze
The soft breeze caresses the world.
It freshens our days,
gathers giggles of innocence,
eavesdrops on cuddled lovers' whispers,
heralds tempestuous storms,
sings sweet songbird melodies,
heeds the old oak's advice,
enlivens mesmerizing campfires,
tastes salty oceans,
dries sorrowful tears,
reveals tenderness in hearts,
urges fairytales to become realities,
and reassures the hopes of noble ambitions.
This soft caressing breeze,
flirts with emerald fields,
charms with immortal stories,
laughs with gusty bursts,
allowing the grass to forever sway and dance
with unbridled joy, eternal life and endless love.
-DW
It freshens our days,
gathers giggles of innocence,
eavesdrops on cuddled lovers' whispers,
heralds tempestuous storms,
sings sweet songbird melodies,
heeds the old oak's advice,
enlivens mesmerizing campfires,
tastes salty oceans,
dries sorrowful tears,
reveals tenderness in hearts,
urges fairytales to become realities,
and reassures the hopes of noble ambitions.
This soft caressing breeze,
flirts with emerald fields,
charms with immortal stories,
laughs with gusty bursts,
allowing the grass to forever sway and dance
with unbridled joy, eternal life and endless love.
-DW
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Wish Away
Think of a wish,
Gently blow away.
Let the wind flow,
Make your dream sway.
Dancing in the breeze,
It will come to a grassy hill.
Your wish that you released
Will plant itself- your wish fulfilled.
Your wish will blossom,
And be nourished by the day.
Growing until its is plucked
by a little girl who jumps, laughs, and plays.
Tenderly she will shield
the unassuming delicate flower.
Smiling softly, she makes a wish,
And than blows with all her gentle power.
-DW
Image by S.K. Tsay
Gently blow away.
Let the wind flow,
Make your dream sway.
Dancing in the breeze,
It will come to a grassy hill.
Your wish that you released
Will plant itself- your wish fulfilled.
Your wish will blossom,
And be nourished by the day.
Growing until its is plucked
by a little girl who jumps, laughs, and plays.
Tenderly she will shield
the unassuming delicate flower.
Smiling softly, she makes a wish,
And than blows with all her gentle power.
-DW
Image by S.K. Tsay
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
New Beginning...
Brand new morning,
brand new day.
A new start at the future
and an era of change.
Daring to hope,
daring to believe.
With work, patience, and courage,
we will all succeed!
President Barack Obama -- 1.20.2009
brand new day.
A new start at the future
and an era of change.
Daring to hope,
daring to believe.
With work, patience, and courage,
we will all succeed!
President Barack Obama -- 1.20.2009
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Moonset
Its majestic presence in the western sky
beckons the new day to pursue it.
The flame of its yellow glow warms me in the cool pre-autumn air,
as it presses against the the pale blue canvas of the dawn.
The purple sliver of night is in the distance
as the moon chases the darkness away.
Sweet slumber of the masses, and dreams sprinkled by the stars
are gathered in the moon's embrace...
As the magical golden dream catcher disappears over the horizon.
--D.W.
Image and writing do not do justice to the image etched in my mind.
beckons the new day to pursue it.
The flame of its yellow glow warms me in the cool pre-autumn air,
as it presses against the the pale blue canvas of the dawn.
The purple sliver of night is in the distance
as the moon chases the darkness away.
Sweet slumber of the masses, and dreams sprinkled by the stars
are gathered in the moon's embrace...
As the magical golden dream catcher disappears over the horizon.
--D.W.
Image and writing do not do justice to the image etched in my mind.
Monday, September 8, 2008
At First Light
As the sun breaks the inky black sky,
it shines a path of beautiful promises.
Promises that echo
in all the things the golden rays caress.
Caresses so warm and inviting
that allows a life to love.
A love so embracing
that forces darkness and hate to hope.
Hopes so inspiring
it lets the songbirds sing.
Songs so arousing
it paints the colors of a wonderful world.
And yet in this wonderful world,
I dream of such a picture...
A picture of unequivocal splendor
that I thought only existed in my deepest realms of my imagination.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Nothing Gold Can Stay
Saturday, December 29, 2007
We Wear the Mask
We Wear the Mask
By Paul Laurence Dunbar (1876-1902)
We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.
Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.
We smile, but, O great God, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!
By Paul Laurence Dunbar (1876-1902)
We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.
Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.
We smile, but, O great God, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!
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