A man was praying to God.
He said, “God!?”
God responded, “Yes?”
The man said, “Can I ask a question?”
“Go right ahead,” God said.
“God, what is a million years to you?”
God said, “A million years to me is only a second.”
“Hmmmm…” the man pondered.
Then he asked, “God, what is a million dollars worth to you?”
God said: “A million dollars to me is as a penny.”
So the man said, “God, can I have a penny?”
And God cheerfully said, “Sure!! … just a second.”
If you want to get a favor done
by some obliging friend,
And want a promise, safe and sure,
on which you may depend,
Don’t go to him who always has
much leisure time to plan,
If you want your favor done,
just ask the busy man
The man with leisure never has
a moment he can spare,
He’s always “putting off” until
his friends are in despair
But he whose every waking hour
is crowded full of work
Forgets the art of wasting time,
he cannot stop to shirk
So when you want a favor done,
and want it right away,
Got to the man who constantly
works twenty hours a day
He’ll find a moment somewhere,
that has no other use
And help you, while the idle man
is framing an excuse
I been scared and battered.
My hopes the wind done scattered.
Snow has friz me,
Sun has baked me,
Looks like between ’em they done
Tried to make me
Stop laughin’, stop lovin’, stop livin’–
But I don’t care!
I’m still here!
A book, I think, is very like
A little golden door
That takes me into places
Where I’ve never been before.
It leads me into fairyland
Or countries strange and far
And, best of all, the golden door
Always stands ajar.
The feet of the Gods are but half withdrawn;
The Colour fringes their garments’ hem,
And the stones of the desert remember them.
Where the white mists enfold each hill
Lingers their brooding presence still;
Still, though the glory of Thebes be done,
The twin Colossi salute the sun.
Lure on lure at the break of morn
The earth lies fair as the earth was born,
And the old Gods walk in the mist and the dew
Of an ancient splendour for ever new.
Paper, ink and thought
Fiction and reality
Passion and purpose
Poetry and prose
Map and drawing
Monographs and periodicals
Card catalog and bar code
Reading and research
Pleasure and knowledge
Wonder of language,
The power of words.
Books create
the wise man,
they educate
the sage;
the erudite
strops his
intellect
with the turn
of every
page.
I’ve learned that no matter what happens,
or how bad it seems today, life does go on,
and it will be better tomorrow.
I’ve learned that people will forget what you said,
people will forget what you did,
but people will never forget how you made them feel.
I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person
by the way he or she handles these three things:
a rainy day, lost luggage,
and tangled Christmas tree lights.
I’ve learned that regardless of the differences
you have with the people in your life,
you’ll miss them when they’re gone.
I’ve learned that making a “living”
is not the same thing as making a “life.”
I’ve learned that life sometimes
gives you a second chance.
I’ve learned that you shouldn’t go through life
with a catcher’s mitt on both hands.
You need to be able to throw something back.
I’ve learned that if you pursue happiness,
it will elude you.
But if you focus on your family, your friends,
the needs of others,your work and doing the very best you can,
happiness will find you.
I’ve learned that whenever I decide something
with an open heart,
I usually make the right decision.
I’ve learned that even when I have pains,
I don’t have to be one.
I’ve learned that every day you should
reach out and touch someone.
People love that human touch —
holding hands, a warm hug,
or just a friendly pat on the back.
I’ve learned that you should
pass this on to someone you care about.
Sometimes they just need a little something
to make them smile.
I’ve learned that I still have a lot to learn.
I can read in red. I can read in blue.
I can read in pickle color too.
I can read in bed, and in purple. and in brown.
I can read in a circle and upside down!
I can read with my left eye. I can read with my right.
I can read Mississippi with my eyes shut tight!
There are so many things you can learn about.
But…you’ll miss the best things
If you keep your eyes shut.
The more that you read, the more things you will know
The more that you learn, the more places you’ll go.
If you read with your eyes shut you’re likely to find
That the place where you’re going is far, far behind
SO…that’s why I tell you to keep your eyes wide.
Keep them wide open…at least on one side.
This morning I read about me wrestling an angel.
And of the dream.
About the ladder reaching to heaven,
threaded with angels, ascending, descending.
This life, here on earth.
Who has not wrestled an angel?
All night, till the breaking of day.
Blind.
Pressed close as lovers.
Consumed in the fetid sweat of the flesh,
the terrible reek of power from an angel.
Thy name shall no more be called Lieven.
Rising up, weak and spent in the morning,
a strange name branded onto the brow,
a nameless horror still clinging.
Blog of the Year – 2012 Award for Ralphie’s Portal.
Thank you ever so much on behalf of all the gang on Ralphie’s Portal for this wonderful present! Happy blogging.
I thank Nizy at Nizy’s Life Copendium and Cristi at Simple.Interesing for nominating my blog for “Blog of the Year 2012” award. I am grateful for this generous honour and the people who follow Teacher as Transformer. It has been a reflective, creative, and transformational journey for the blog and this blogger. This is a result of the wonderful blogs I discovered along the way, the support I receive from that community, and from the more immediate community of my day-to-day life.
I know I will miss some bloggers who deserve this award and I know others do not accept awards. To the first group, I apologize and, to the second group, I am deeply grateful for your contributions.
The ‘rules’ for this award are simple:
View original post 482 more words
another vieuw, but still the same wicked…. yours, Lieven (héhé &nd I like it)
I Miss My Friend (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
You made me laugh when I cried so hard
You gave me bracelets to cover my scars
You held me close when I was so cold
You offered a comforting hand to hold
You picked me up whenever I fell
You showed me heaven when I was blinded by hell
You answered my calls in the darkened night
You gave me the reasons to hold on and fight
You rescued me when I was drowning in pain
You placed me back on the right path again
You loved me forever and stayed by my side
You entered my heart as an angel to guide
You may not be with me so much anymore
But I know you will leave open a beckoning door
I miss you so much but I’ll fight till the end
I love you so much my Bestest friend.
Ralphie says: “Yea, though I stumble through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall not soil my underwear!”
from Cheezburger via Lieven
Said the little boy, “Sometimes I drop my spoon.”
Said the old man, “I do that too.”
The little boy whispered, “I wet my pants.”
“I do that too,” laughed the little old man.
Said the little boy, “I often cry.”
The old man nodded, “So do I.”
“But worst of all,” said the boy, “it seems
Grown-ups don’t pay attention to me.”
And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand.
“I know what you mean,” said the little old man.
The last, late guest
To the gate we followed;
Goodbye — and the rest
The night-wind swallowed.
House, garden, street,
Lay tenfold gloomy,
Where accents sweet
Had made music to me.
It was but a feast
With the dark coming on;
I was but a guest —
And now, all’s gone.
Miss ya all (OUAF Photodiary)
Image by cynicalview via Flickr
Lieven posted:
“Dance like no one’s watching
Love like you’ve never been hurt
Sing like no one’s listening
Live like it’s heaven on earth “
Image via Wikipedia
Lieven wrote:
“The moon rises. The red cubs rolling
In the ferns by the rotten oak
Stare over a marsh and a meadow
To the farm’s white wisp of smoke.
A spark burns, high in heaven.
Deer thread the blossoming rows
Of the old orchard, rabbits
Hop by the well-curb. The cock crows
From the tree by the widow’s walk;
Two stars in the trees to the west,
Are snared, and an owl’s soft cry
Runs like a breath through the forest.
Here too, though death is hushed, though joy
Obscures, like night, their wars,
The beings of this world are swept
By the Strife that moves the stars.”
Image via Wikipedia
Lieven Grillaert:
“We nailed the hands long ago,
Wove the thorns, took up the scourge and shouted
For excitement’s sake, we stood at the dusty edge
Of the pebbled path and watched the extreme of pain.
But one or two prayed, one or two
Were silent, shocked, stood back
And remembered remnants of words, a new vision,
The cross is up with its crying victim, the clouds
Cover the sun, we learn a new way to lose
What we did not know we had
Until this bleak and sacrificial day,
Until we turned from our bad
Past and knelt and cried out our dismay,
The dice still clicking, the voices dying away.”
Image via Wikipedia
Once I saw mountains angry,
And ranged in battle-front.
Against them stood a little man;
Aye, he was no bigger than my finger.
I laughed, and spoke to one near me,
“Will he prevail?”
“Surely,” replied this other;
“His grandfathers beat them many times.”
Then did I see much virtue in grandfathers —
At least, for the little man
Who stood against the mountains.
Image via Wikipedia
Come to me, O ye children!
For I hear you at your play,
And the questions that perplexed me
Have vanished quite away.
Ye open the eastern windows,
That look towards the sun,
Where thoughts are singing swallows
And the brooks of morning run.
In your hearts are the birds and the sunshine,
In your thoughts the brooklet’s flow,
But in mine is the wind of Autumn
And the first fall of the snow.
Ah! what would the world be to us
If the children were no more?
We should dread the desert behind us
Worse than the dark before.
What the leaves are to the forest,
With light and air for food,
Ere their sweet and tender juices
Have been hardened into wood, —
That to the world are children;
Through them it feels the glow
Of a brighter and sunnier climate
Than reaches the trunks below.
Come to me, O ye children!
And whisper in my ear
What the birds and the winds are singing
In your sunny atmosphere.
For what are all our contrivings,
And the wisdom of our books,
When compared with your caresses,
And the gladness of your looks?
Ye are better than all the ballads
That ever were sung or said;
For ye are living poems,
And all the rest are dead.
Image via Wikipedia
“Man in hospital bed wearing oxygen mask over his mouth. “Nurse”, he mumbles. “Are my testicles black?” Nurse raises his gown, holds his penis in one hand & his testicles in the other, …she takes a close look & says, “There’s nothing wrong with them Sir.” Man pulls off the oxygen mask, smiles at her & says very slowly, “Thanks for that, it was lovely, but listen very very carefully. “Are-my-test-re-sults-back?””
Image via Wikipedia
Lieven Grillaert:
Great Streets of silence led
To Neighborhoods of Pause
Here was no Notice, no Dissent
No Universe, no laws
By Clocks, ’twas Morning, and for Night
The Bells at Distance called
But Epoch had no basis here
For Period exhaled.
Image via Wikipedia
Life, to be sure,
Is nothing much to lose,
But young men think it is,
And we were young.
Image via Wikipedia
Poetry out of Laarne is language at its most distilled and most powerful.
Cheer up he shouted ! And we did…
Image via Wikipedia
