Archive for May, 2012

I was browsing topics and came across this blog http://viewfromtheafternoon87.wordpress.com/2012/05/14/ever-wonder/ This post inspired me to write this poem. Hope you enjoy!

Sometimes I wonder.

Who comes here?

Who places their feet,

where I ponder?

Sometimes I question.

Why is this life?

Why do my eyes cry,

is this a lesson?

Sometimes I think.

Will things change?

Will my heart float,

or continue to sink?

Sometimes I hear.

What are the words?

What can they do,

to dissolve my fear?

Sometimes I wonder.

Who comes here?

Who sits with me,

While I ponder?


Since it is Mother’s Day here in North America I thought it would be fitting to share a little advice my Mother instilled in me as a young child. This quote from her are words I try to live by. Whenever I got in trouble or did something inappropriate or disobeyed at school my Mother would punish me but she would always say to me as I was denying any involvement in whatever situation I was getting shit for “Lindsay, you have to accept responsibility and move on.” I don’t know why but these words stuck with me and whenever I think of my Mother these are the first words that pop into my head. I have also included a poem below that is about a Mother and Daughter relationship in a story I wrote, it seems fitting for the day! Happy Mother’s Day to all the Mothers in the blog world and the real world, thanks for all the love and support!

You are the vine, roping me tight

holding my limbs when I put up a fight.

You are the tree, grounding my soul

From the first day my heart you stole.

You are the tear, falling from my eye

when I have no answer for my why.

You are the moon, lighting my darkness

showing me peace in all its starkness.

You are the sun, warming my heart

letting me know we will never part.

You are the song, ringing in my ear

calming my sadness, tabling my fear.

You are the wind, washing over me

keeping my spirit open and letting me be free.

Over the past few weeks I have gained many new followers and just wanted to share this poem again with everyone, I think it represents both me and my blog quite well. Enjoy! ( I have been kind of busy lately and hope to have some new stuff up within the next few days)

There Once was a Girl who Lived in a Box.

I recently began reading 1984 by George Orwell and was struck by this line “It’s a beautiful thing , the destruction of words.”
For those of you who are not familiar with the novel it is about a Dystopian society in which the entire population is under surveillance 24/7 and the language is continually broken down to the bare minimum needed to communicate (newspeak). By destroying words the government (Big Brother) is able to control how people think, understand and interact with each other.
After reading that line I instantly remembered writing this blog (watch your language) and I was slightly shocked at myself! There IS a reason we have synonyms they are not useless (what was I thinking?!). I think sometimes I am frustrated with people using words improperly and in inappropriate ways which can lead to miscommunication. I still however do believe that silence is a virtue, and that when we are truly silent we can hear what is most important!
Peace and Love
Lindsay

wordsofhonestunwisdom

The older I get the more I have noticed that Language is in many ways a hinderance to humanity. I remember being a kid and saying a word over and over until it didn’t even sound like a real word. This exercise made me question Who decides words? Who said that one is one not two? Who said up was up an not down? I then started to wonder what if everything I knew as language was backwards. What if what we know as red was actually called green? This intrigued me.

As I reached what some would call Adulthood I noticed another thing about Language, Tone. I had long heard the phase It’s not what you say but how you say it. As an adolescent I hated the phrase. To me I delivered words of rebellion in the same way I delivered words in usual conversation. Being…

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I stumbled across some of my old poetry while going through the memory box my Mother made for me when I graduated. I love  reading through my old journals from school. Sometimes I feel like a completely different person than when I was a child but in the same respect   I sometimes feel exactly the same (there goes my ambivalence again!). Here are 4 poems I wrote from grade 5 to grade 8. The first is a poem I wrote for Remembrance Day in honour of my grandfathers that fought in both WWI and WWII. The second poem is the only limerick I ever wrote (definitely not my strong suit!). The third poem is also not one of my best but I felt the need to share it because as a child and an adult I am always questioning why things are the way they are and what if they weren’t that way, what if? The last poem I wrote from a personal experience. A family member very close to me was in an abusive relationship for a long time and thankfully she was able to break free, I wrote the poem years after she had recovered from the relationship but as you can see it still was affecting me. Hope you enjoy!

Soldiers Lie

Soldiers lie in the darkness of death.

Soldiers lie in the grass of the cemetery.

Soldiers lie in the poppies of the summer.

Soldiers lie in the freedom of our country.

 

A Weird Limerick

There once was A TIME

WHEN I wrote a RHYME

About a BOY that FLIED

HE flied and FLIED until HE DIED

THAT was the time that I wrote a RHYME

 

What If?

What if the sky was green?

What if down was up and up was down?

What if?

What if the grass was purple?

What if guys were girls and girls were guys?

What if?

What if people were green?

What if one was two and two was one?

What if the whole world was different?

What if?

 

Why didn’t I run?

We used to love each other every single day,

But now I cannot wait for him to go away.

 

I don’t know what happened? He used to be so sweet,

But now all he does to me is hit, kick and beat.

 

He made my daughter watch as he slammed my head into the wall.

There she stood shocked, amazed and then she started to bawl.

 

Why do I let him do those horrible things, why don’t I run away?

Why do I put up with this pain day after day?

 

He made me think it was my fault that he did those thing to me,

But deep down inside I completely disagree.

 

I’m fed up with all of this, I’ve already started to pack,

And next time he try’s to hit me I just might hit him back.

My parents live on a plot of land that has been in our family history for 106 years. For me there is nothing more beautiful than this place. It is not just the scenic view that strikes me but the memories and sense of family that is engraved into the land. Nothing makes me more happy than sitting on the deck, drink in hand, surrounded by my family and animals, having good conversation. It’s the small things in life that bring true happiness! Here are a few pics of the area, hope you enjoy!

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