Jessica Bibbee

Posts Tagged ‘change’

20091012

In aphorism, proverb on 20091012 at 13:27

The right change happens only when a just need meets the right timing.

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20091011

In aphorism, proverb on 20091011 at 13:35

The loudest bird is not always the best mate.

Flashy is fleeting.

Change from without comes from the core within.

20090106

In aphorism, poetry, proverb on 20090106 at 14:20

A fool changes to become someone who he is not; the wise changes to become someone who he is.

《of cake》
Who eats not of cake but for health, is a fool.
Who eats not of cake but for fullness, is a bore.
Who eats not of cake but for lateness, is human.
Who eats not of cake but for giving, is saintly.

20081030

In aphorism, proverb on 20081030 at 18:16

A truth cannot be identified by a culture, an era, an event; a truth cannot be changed by circumstance or influence.

Money can buy what sweat does not earn, and so it is that what sweat earns, no money can buy.

20081008

In aphorism, proverb on 20081008 at 19:57

A war of weapons is won with many; a war of words, with few.

If you build a wall around yourself, don’t forget to install a drain.

Words can change your view, but cannot change the facts.

What is not understood hovers subliminally in the background as a camouflaged backdrop; only those who understand are able to see it.

Who understands will see, who overlooks is blinded.

The wise oversee, the fool overlook.

20080913

In aphorism, haiku, poetry, proverb on 20080913 at 00:59

Choice is another word for freedom.

True change must come from within if it is to stay; that which is forced is temporary at best and an illusion at worst.

《dare to stare》
eyes that stare, do they
reveal or simply dare to
make me who I am.

20060131

In poetry on 20060131 at 23:10

《the sex of poets》

The sex of poets emanates –
flowing as without edges,
contagious as without knowing;
words play
back and forth –
a rhythm, ever changing,
follows whereby one leads
until the pull of the next.
One moment
as without definition,
nor clearly sided with neighbors –
rolling one to the next.
Beckoned without call,
it is from a distance that
one sees deep into the heart
where life seems both
to stop and start, again –
without pause and
with the haste of lovers
kept at bay, unwilled.
The words sear clear,
sharp and pure.
They exist alone,
and yet are fed
by the hunger of ideas
yet tossed,
yet exposed –
as if the virgin ever lived
within the eyes of the soul;
forever waiting,
forever with hunger –
fresh as the moment to follow.

The sex of poets lingers
past the setting sun
into the morning dew,
where one knows not for sure
if the climax be truer
at the final release of
thoughts never felt, – or
perhaps at the time
of response; the
lover’s words, a compliment,
meshing with, as if one.
Almost beyond a reality,
the words live on
to dance without end,
to breed a careful song –
as if in tales of lore,
existence never certain.
Fleeting, though strong;
Skirting, though present –
The moment speaks not
of tangible truths
that speak of tomorrows,
but rather the window
rarely looked into –
it is there
it is waiting,
but cannot be taken with you,
nor fed to the mortal –
only to continue
in the souls of lovers –
perhaps truer than
the love of lovers itself.

The sex of poets preys
upon the passion saved
over years and decades
desires of the flesh
never satisfy the wound
of ages past
of pains neglected
merely masking in mum
the yearning ever mounting
to release with a single
sound
The silence is broken,
fears relinquished;
the rebirth of hopes
fills the air –
thick with the essence of now
and hint of next,
never to be sure.
The bliss lies within,
ever longing.
Separate worlds entwined –
an affair of the id
within…
Never lucid to the searching,
but in control.
When no longer logic bids you
surrender, at last call
with bursting souls;
hungrier still, the eve –
power of the word
has finally come, the time.