Jessica Bibbee

Posts Tagged ‘clear’

20150815

In aphorism, proverb on 20150815 at 23:55

A bat will never see the light.

The fool has much desire to speak and offers little to say.

Until we make efforts for peace, we will make excuses for war. 

The fool argue sides, the wise argue issues.

Who explains without end has yet begun to understand. 

Who points a finger in blame has nary another point to offer. 

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20120527

In aphorism, proverb on 20120602 at 23:40

When we share, ownership becomes secondary to fellowship.

Your quest, your questions.

Projection is proximal to perception, distal to existence.

Learning follows listening.

Clarity wears a cloak of obscurity.

20110729

In aphorism, chinese, proverb, rumination on 20110730 at 09:39

Math follows rule; language follows reason.

青竹清水。
(Green bamboo, clear water.)

20091016

In aphorism, proverb on 20091016 at 16:35

Repetition without purpose is an act in vain.

Who strives for the sake of another’s desire, shall fail in another’s name.

Cheap sparkles; quality shines.

A fool resents another for his own shortcomings.

A king does not mingle.

Embrace. Thrive. Seek.

A joker in jest is not.

Who shouts has not a voice, but a lung.

The ice that doesn’t sublime is left to melt.

Faster is a flock to follow the fool than to heed the wise.

A hypocrite cannot find his face in a mirror.

Look inward, look upward, look past.

An outcast sees clearly the others for who they are.

20090430

In aphorism, proverb on 20090430 at 10:44

The clearest way to see within is to be without.

There is a time to shine, and a time to let others shine.

The setting of the sun has a silent way of bidding farewell.

And the small root shall overcome even the most stubborn of the big rocks.

A blossom blooms only while the beauty begets and will whither wherever the wind wills.

20090419

In aphorism, proverb on 20090419 at 08:50

Morality is listening to your conscience, acting accordingly, and being able to sleep with a clear mind.

May we be less certain of our doubts, and more doubtful of our certainties.

War is premeditated murder without exception, exemption, or excuse.

20090328

In aphorism, proverb on 20090328 at 15:33

Season a pot, not without heat or smoke high.

Project who you want to be, and that is who you are.

Even the big worm does not tempt a fish with purpose.

The traveler brings clarity home.

Travel allows one to know more clearly the meaning of home, by questioning it.

Why plant a seed, if only to let it thirst?

The truth stands where’er a fool lies.

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.