Jessica Bibbee

Posts Tagged ‘distance’

20101130

In aphorism, proverb on 20101130 at 08:01

A fool mocks from a safe distance.

Hold onto blessings dearly; misgivings more loosely.

If memories are a cache of the past, ideas are credits of the future.

Genuineness is flawed, by nature; only falsity reaches perfection, by man.

Worry is for warts.

The dog that tucks its tail scares none with its bark.

One’s view of the world depends on whether one’s head is held high or bowed low.

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20100413

In aphorism, proverb on 20100413 at 15:24

Only true separation brings distance; physical separation only reveals true closeness.

Hardship brings growth, if embraced.

20091110

In aphorism, proverb, rumination, tale on 20091111 at 01:28

In a land far away, in a time long ago, there was a man who had enough and had he not just enough, but to excess had he. His hours were long, his toils sincere, and his earnings quite dear. He ate well, he lived well, and he slept well. For this was a man with enough to spare and did he, with others share. For this, he was well regarded by his brethren, kin and neighbor, too. Even his foes kept a fond distance, for they were few and their character untrue, with only the cowardice of envy to spare. And so, the man slept well and he lived well.

It was common in those times, as in times now, for like to live by like. And so it happened that in a dwelling nearby lived a second man, well to do as he was. This man, too, had more than enough, enough even to excess. He ate well and he lived well, but he did not sleep well. Though his hours were likewise long, his toils were not sincere. The wind hums in question, how were his earnings dear? With cunning and not without conniving, this second man pondered and plotted his hours away. He left his toils to others near, that they may have reason not to stray. And stray they did not, their fear keeping them near. His foes were neither few and ever nearer they drew. Respect for this man fell away; in its place, stood only their contempt. And so, the second man, though he lived seemingly well, did not sleep so well.

It was true in those times, as in times now, that where a mountain stands tall, a valley lays nearby. And so it were that a third man lived not so far from the first and second men. But though he ate well enough, he did not live well and he did not sleep well. His toils were many and his hours even more. And whilst he would utter not such words, it was for the second man that he toiled so. Neither foe had he, nor friends with which to be. His hours filled with anger true and one part angst, and toil alone did he. And so, the third man did not sleep well, because he did not live well.

It was inevitable in those days, as in days of now, that where the sun shines upon a tree, never the land below is a golden ray to see. And so there was a fourth man, who served below all the others. Of excess and its meaning he understood not, knowing it to be a thing only that he lacked. His toil was not much, his time of rest neither more. For his hours were long and he never knew when, if, it would end. Foes he had not; for nothing did they fear nor more was there to envy dear. Friends were likewise few, too afraid of filth to stand even near. He ate not well, and by no man’s standard did he live well. But he did sleep well. With little to weigh him down and not a regret to hold him back, only the night was his friend, ever to return and always to keep him until the morn. And so, the fourth man did not live well, but he slept so very well.

With a heavy heart do we toil away what otherwise would we idle, or with light heart shall we rest when the day has met its end and bids farewell the eve.

This story of four men is but a tale of two: two ways to eat, two ways to sleep, and keeping true –there are but two ways to live.

20090919

In aphorism, proverb on 20090919 at 15:18

Distance takes us away and brings us perspective.

Until we run out of judgment for ourselves, there will be judgment for others to spare.

Hope is fear, an interchange only of panic for apathy.

Beyond any fool, is the wiser.

May we be blinded by the truth,  never blind to the truth.

20090327

In aphorism, proverb on 20090327 at 16:04

A mountain is not without valleys, light not without darkness, proximity not without distance.

The valley is immersed in peaks, if just out of reach.

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.