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Category Archives: Poetry

Happy New Year!

Suresh Motivator wine, originally uploaded by suresh_gundappa.

This is a lovely image from Suresh Gundappa, my favorite photographer at Meditation Photography. Please read his wonderful fable over at his website.

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.the twilight hour..

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Photography by Gracie – © All rights reserved

“The human spirit needs places where nature has not been rearranged by the hand of man.”

Author Unknown

 
 

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..love..

2007_lovegraffitimarakeshi

“Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken.
If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal.
Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements.
Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness.
But in that casket — safe, dark, motionless, airless — it will change.
It will not be broken;
it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.
To love is to be vulnerable.”

C.S.Lewis

 
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Posted by on November 11, 2008 in Art, Inspirational, Poetry

 

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The Giving Tree……….

The giving tree………., originally uploaded by *Gracie.
Photography by Gracie – © All rights reserved

Storyline

The story is a short moral tale about a relationship between a young boy and a tree in a forest. The tree and the boy become best friends. The tree always provides the boy with what he wants: branches to swing from, shade to sit under, apples to snack on, branches to build a house. As the boy grows older and older he requires more and more of the tree. The tree loves the boy very much and gives him anything he asks for. In the ultimate act of self-sacrifice, the tree lets the boy cut her down so the boy can build a boat in which he can sail. The boy leaves the tree, now a stump. Many years later, the boy, now an old man, returns and the tree says, “I have nothing left to give you.” The boy replies that all he needs is a quiet place to sit and rest. The tree happily obliges.

Analysis

Ever since the book was published, it has generated controversy and opposing opinions for its interpreted messages, on whether the tree is selfless or merely self-sacrificing, and whether the boy is selfish or reasonable in his demands of the tree. The story clearly shows childhood as being a time of relative happiness in comparison to the sacrifice and responsibility of adulthood. The story only uses the word “need” at the end to describe the “boy’s”/old man’s need of a place to rest- all of his other desires are “wants.”

A review of The Giving Tree: A Symposium shows some academic readers describing the book as portraying a vicious, one-sided relationship between the tree and the boy: with the tree as the selfless giver and the boy as a greedy and never-satisfied being who constantly receives, yet never gives anything back to the tree; a selfish love that could be misrepresented and imitated by its children readers. Indeed, some of these speakers single the tree out as either an irresponsible parent whose self-sacrifice has left the boy ill-equipped to cope and make his way in the world (and therefore led to him ending up alone) or as hopelessly co-dependent. Other speakers, however, insisted that the book is a tale of unconditional love and generosity: the tree gives all it can to the boy because it loves him, and its feelings are reciprocated by the boy when he returns to the tree for a rest. In this way, the relationship between the tree and the boy as he grows up could be viewed as similar to that between a mother and her child; despite getting nothing in return for a long time, the tree puts the boy’s needs foremost, because it wants him to be happy. Indeed, the only time the tree ever seems to be sad is when it feels that it has nothing left to give the boy and that the boy might never return.

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“The Last Leaf”

“The Last Leaf”, originally uploaded by *Gracie.

Photography by Gracie – © All rights reserved

by O. Henry

In a little district west of Washington Square the streets have run
crazy and broken themselves into small strips called “places.” These
“places” make strange angles and curves. One street crosses itself
a time or two. An artist once discovered a valuable possibility in
this street. Suppose a collector with a bill for paints, paper and
canvas should, in traversing this route, suddenly meet himself
coming back, without a cent having been paid on account!

So, to quaint old Greenwich Village the art people soon came
prowling, hunting for north windows and eighteenth-century gables
and Dutch attics and low rents. Then they imported some pewter mugs
and a chafing dish or two from Sixth avenue, and became a “colony.”

At the top of a squatty, three-story brick Sue and Johnsy had their
studio. “Johnsy” was familiar for Joanna. One was from Maine; the
other from California. They had met at the _table d’hote_ of an
Eighth street “Delmonico’s,” and found their tastes in art, chicory
salad and bishop sleeves so congenial that the joint studio
resulted.

That was in May. In November a cold, unseen stranger, whom the
doctors called Pneumonia, stalked about the colony, touching one
here and there with his icy fingers. Over on the east side this
ravager strode boldly, smiting his victims by scores, but his feet
trod slowly through the maze of the narrow and moss-grown “places.”

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Turn Turn Turn – Roger McGuinn – The Byrds

Turn! Turn! Turn! (To Everything There Is a Season)

The Byrds

– words adapted from the Book of Ecclesiastes by Pete Seeger
– music by Pete Seeger

To everything – turn, turn, turn
There is a season – turn, turn, turn
And a time for every purpose under heaven

A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep

To everything – turn, turn, turn
There is a season – turn, turn, turn
And a time for every purpose under heaven

A time to build up, a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones
A time to gather stones together

To everything – turn, turn, turn
There is a season – turn, turn, turn
And a time for every purpose under heaven

A time of war, a time of peace
A time of love, a time of hate
A time you may embrace
A time to refrain from embracing

To everything – turn, turn, turn
There is a season – turn, turn, turn
And a time for every purpose under heaven

A time to gain, a time to lose
A time to rend, a time to sew
A time to love, a time to hate
A time of peace, I swear it’s not too late!


Photography by Gracie – © All rights reserved

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Photography by Gracie – © All rights reserved Roger McGuinn – October 27, 2008

 

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Earth Mother

I’ve noticed any photograph uploaded from my computer lacks the clarity of those downloaded from my Flickr page. Wonder what causes the difference? Anybody else having that problem?

..still standing.., originally uploaded by *Gracie.
Photography by Gracie – © All rights reserved


by Alison Rotmark

Life pulses throughout Her land,
Covered by rich harvest and fertile beauty –
Time as deep as ocean and as infinite as sand rippling harmony and
complexity; Her duty
Her life and wisdom rides the breeze,
As Her mercy and strength evaporates.
Man’s creation reigns; devastation, disease
From invention of the wheel; we’ve industrialized our fates.
War and meaningless death – what extinction it creates.
Her rivers of life are running dry
As She watches Her children lead Her to die.
She feels the gentle wind of Her own failing breath,
And from Her eye a final tear does glisten.
It saddens Her to know we orbit our own death.
We’ve always known the way – Her voice; if only we would listen.

Photography by Gracie – © All rights reserved

 
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Posted by on September 7, 2008 in Art, Environment, Flowers, Gracie, Nature, Nikon D60, Organic, Photography, Poetry

 

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