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What inspires you today? 

3/9/2014

10 Comments

 
I love the fact that we are  headed back into the light. Now we can enjoy more daylight and for me that means more time spent walking with  my dog and friends and drinking in the extraordinary beauty of New Jersey's parks. The following is a poem I stumbled upon when I was about 12 years old.  This poem by Conrad Aiken always inspired me and seemed to be a celebration of spring.

Morning Song From Senlin

It is morning, Senlin says, and in the morning  When the light drips through the shutters like the dew,  I arise, I face the sunrise,  And do the things my fathers learned to do.  Stars in the purple dusk above the rooftops  pale in a saffron mist and seem to die,  And I myself on swiftly tilting planet  Stand before a glass and tie my tie.    

Vine-leaves tap my window,  Dew-drops sing to the garden stones,  The robin chirps in the chinaberry tree  Repeating three clear tones.     It is morning. I stand by the mirror  And tie my tie once more.  While waves far off in a pale rose twilight
Crash on a white sand shore.  I stand by a mirror and comb my hair:  How small and white my face!--  The green earth tilts through a sphere of air  And bathes in a flame of space. 

There are houses hanging above the stars  And stars hung under a sea...  And a sun far off in a shell of silence  Dapples my walls for me.

It is morning, Senlin says, and in the morning  should I not pause in the light to remember God?  Upright and firm I stand on a star unstable,  He is immense and lonely as a cloud.  I will dedicate this moment before my mirror  To him alone, for him I will comb my hair. 

Accept these humble offerings, clouds of silence!  I will think of you as I descend the stair.     Vine-leaves tap my window,  The snail-track shines on the stones;  Dew-drops flash from the chinaberry tree  repeating two clear tones.   

It is morning, I awake from a bed of silence,  Shining I rise from the starless waters of sleep.  The walls are about me still as in the evening,  I am the same, and the same name still I keep. The earth revolves with me, yet makes no motion,  The stars pale silently in a coral sky.  In a whistling void I stand before my mirror,  Unconcerned, and tie my tie. 

 There are horses neighing on far-off hills  tossing their long white manes,  And mountains flash in the rose-white dusk,  Their shoulders black with rains.

It is morning, I stand by the mirror  And surprise my soul once more;  The blue air rushes above my ceiling,  There are suns beneath my floor.

It is morning, Senlin says, I ascend from darkness  And depart on the winds of space for I know not where;  My watch is wound, a key is in my pocket,  And the sky is darkened as I descend the stair.  There are shadows across the windows, clouds in heaven,  And a god among the stars; and I will go  Thinking of him as I might think of daybreak  And humming a tune I know.

Vine-leaves tap at the window,  Dew-drops sing to the garden stones,  The robin chirps in the chinaberry tree  Repeating three dear tones.




10 Comments
Wendy Behary link
3/9/2014 12:47:23 am

John O'Donohue was perhaps the most inspiring man I ever had the pleasure to meet... to share dinner with... to listen to... to learn from... to read...
Sadly he died an untimely death in 2008.
One of his poems:


On the death of the Beloved

Though we need to weep your loss,
You dwell in that safe place in our hearts,
Where no storm or might or pain can reach you.

Your love was like the dawn
Brightening over our lives
Awakening beneath the dark
A further adventure of colour.

The sound of your voice
Found for us
A new music
That brightened everything.

Whatever you enfolded in your gaze
Quickened in the joy of its being;
You placed smiles like flowers
On the altar of the heart.
Your mind always sparkled
With wonder at things.

Though your days here were brief,
Your spirit was live, awake, complete.

We look towards each other no longer
From the old distance of our names;
Now you dwell inside the rhythm of breath,
As close to us as we are to ourselves.

Though we cannot see you with outward eyes,
We know our soul’s gaze is upon your face,
Smiling back at us from within everything
To which we bring our best refinement.

Let us not look for you only in memory,
Where we would grow lonely without you.
You would want us to find you in presence,
Beside us when beauty brightens,
When kindness glows
And music echoes eternal tones.

When orchids brighten the earth,
Darkest winter has turned to spring;
May this dark grief flower with hope
In every heart that loves you.

May you continue to inspire us:

To enter each day with a generous heart.
To serve the call of courage and love
Until we see your beautiful face again
In that land where there is no more separation,
Where all tears will be wiped from our mind,
And where we will never lose you again.

-- John O’Donohue

http://www.johnodonohue.com/

Reply
MaryLynnn
3/9/2014 01:37:41 am

Wendy, What an extraordinarily beautiful poem. How lucky you are to have known this spirit. This is truly inspiring for all of us.

Reply
Margaret B. Pravata
3/9/2014 03:57:38 pm

Comment deleted

Reply
Margaret B.Pravata
3/9/2014 07:48:46 pm

Comment deleted

Reply
Margaret B.Pravata
3/17/2014 02:58:06 am

This poem was inspired from "THE DIVINE COMEDY OF DANTE ALIGHIERI......TRANSLATED BY LAWRENCE GRANT WHITE...
ENGRAVINGS BY GUSTAVE DORI....
M y interpretations of the illustrations of: INFERNO CANTO 7: VIRGIL SHOWS DANTE THE SOULS OF THE WRATHFUL

"We push we shove and try to reach the top of earthly vanities
of goal and gold not caring who we squash along the road
As seagulls fly above to see if we have left a leavoned crumb upon the sea. They could not know the selfishness of we,
who push and shove so recklessly, and so we reach the earthly summit of our climb, oblivious to all the pain we've left behind, only
to discover in our wake, that even Hell does not accept the earthly treasures we must forsake"...M.B.P.

Reply
Margaret B. Pravata
3/12/2014 03:13:59 pm

Christmas Quatrains

“Upon your Christmas cheeks a blushing thief...
Inspiring to restore a high relief..
.Where love cast it's spell across.;
With it's Divine Nirvana and Hell's belief....

.Overwhelmed by fourteen Stations in dire need...
I was granted the go ahead indeed..
.Having to first attend the ritual the Mass....
'Twas in the planting to sow the.seed .....

.Each day for months of loyal dedication...
Of scraping, sanding, painting & restoration...
In an atmosphere of my Divine Atelier
. I continued my interpretation....

In the midst of a snow filled winter I imparted...
My talents generously volunteered wholehearted...
.To the snow tipped stonewalled House of God...
The little church I sadly departed....

The Monsignor
Attracting his female lure.
With mystifying power...
Where much seemed obscure...

Descending the outdoor stairwell ...
In his black attire, shaking hands farewell...
The snowflakes kissed his cheeks & cloak...
And melted in my heart as well......To be cont'd.


page 2 0f my Quatrains cont'd-----
Where "Billy Jean" filled the air...
Like nectar from a blossom fair...
Where Rhododendron edged the path in bloom...
& the sunlit mornings with their dew, I care...

Even rainy days are welcomed here...
Where candles flickering in the dark dank air...
Warmed ones’ soul in place of fear...
Each raindrop a symphonic cheer...

In shock I was abruptly stopped...
Because I only dotted the eye I cropped...
How cruel this love of mine...
To hang it unfinished & chopped...

The story of "Ruth" became "My God" "My People"...
Directed at me it seemed but for everyone's Steeple...
Qverwhelming, this love portrayed to me....
Gravitating around it's center, we all pull...

"Pray for me" "I do" "Pray for me " I will"...
Stopped in a path oh still...
Of a Springtime Day ...
That the oath could fulfill.....

"Week at a glance? or" Weak at a glance?"...
A play on words makes you want to dance..
Is it my imagination?...
Or am I in a trance?...

"Jesu Christo" the Eucharist served in Spanish...
Inspiring the study of many languages, did not vanish.....
Learning them all simultaneously & did...
Not fluently but no longer a famish...
I
page 3 of my Quatrains cont'd---
Languages unlock the secrets of history...
many of which are no longer a mystery...
Challenging but possible, I dare to linger there
Back to basics of Enlightenment, a kiss to thee...

Multi Lingual in understanding thee...
How generous the Holy Spirit is to me...
The "Our Father" took precedence over being...
Multi Lingual "Pater Noster" a learning spree...

The Latin Septo, Octo, Novem, Decem...
Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten a stem...
From them, a ten month year...
January & February were added a twosome...

"Perpetuate, Peremptory, Perserverance"...
A birthday gift, a clearance...
Not meant to be, obviously..
Between us a Perpetual Fence..

Moved abruptly from the Mount
The laity in shock on account...
It was so unexpected a dispersion...
The agony of uprooting a fount...

Missed by all unanimously...
More then subcutaneously..
A deep, deep well of feelings by all...
On a grand scale quite ravenously...


To an Alter of gold, Martini’s Annunciation.....
To my surprise, the incantation...
But "Home is where the Heart is"
& the incarnation... to be con'd....M.B.

page 4 of my quatrains --last page
Woman flocked for a visitation
& a grand tour, a manifestation...
& A Christmas tree & a coffee clutch....
Surprise hugs farewell, a gesticulation..

The Perpetual Mass, inspired perpetual learning...
Of life drawing classes & anatomy yearning...
Being in my glory I proceeded Art, Anatomy
& Chiropractic employ simultaneously burning
.
Then he moved on to the Bishop's castle...
No visitation, no reprisal no hassle...
'Twas out of my jurisdiction...
With years passing, with just a connotation of will...

The finality was my denouncement...
For the betrayal of trust, encipherment ...
"Home is where the Heart is "& God as well...
Retiring now to my non-denominational Announcement

While years of studiyng the Bible at home...
Like Daniel, I feel like an unharmed dome...
While the Sphinx (the lion) consumed Daniel's body...
His dome (his head) was unharmed, in my theory an oam”...
M.B..P.

Reply
Margaret B. Pravata
5/30/2014 02:06:08 am

I'm going to share a short verse by Sappho whose poems were burned by the Romans in BC with only fragments left...

" O Evening Star that bringeth back all that bright dawn hath scattereth

Thou bringest the sheep...

Thou bringest the goat...

Thou bringest the child back to its Mother"...


Sappho

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    INSPIRE

    You are invited to add comments, poetry, passages from sacred texts on this page  -- anything that inspires you.
    Inspire means to "breathe into" -- we have the opportunity to breathe into one another joy, hope, new ideas for living fully and with great passion. 

    Picture
    Painting by Margaret B. Pravata of Warren, NJ. Inspired by the work of Leonardo Da Vinci. Oil fresco, oil paints on plaster on wood.

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