Jessica Bibbee

Posts Tagged ‘feel’

20131009

In poetry, rumination on 20131009 at 21:03

《the way》
dear little one,
the world is yours.
the world was yours
even before you belonged
to it.
it was, is, and will be
your redemption as often
as it will be your nemesis.
do not be afraid, for fear
will not carry your burdens
nor will it shelter you
from the elements.
have hope as much as will
allow triumph
over the ills of present,
but none so much that
you deceive yourself
of the realities of the future
or the consequences of the past.
days of sorrow will weave
a tight knit alongside joy,
neither with warning
nor with limitation.
you shall persist because
you know of nothing else,
not only because you will it.
for as a mortal, possibility
is as finite only as is time.
what tomorrow will bring you,
yesterday has already taken
away, with a fluidity that
surprises with subtlety.
you will love and hurt,
feel pain and transfer pain.
you will always forgive
because the alternative
is no alternative.
fairness and justice
will oft be at odds
with one another and for you.
you will not always deserve
your destiny, but you will
decide not to deny it.
for tonight, the sun sets low,
but tomorrow, high,
high shall the sun rise up.
oh, little one, until tomorrow,
good night.

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20130714

In aphorism, proverb on 20130714 at 15:14

One feels the need to look over one’s shoulder the rest of one’s life, if only a guilty conscience to find in follow.

Only conscience serves justice true.

20120513

In aphorism, proverb on 20120513 at 23:57

bystander:
noun; one who stands by [something], and thus condones [something], even supports [something].

A foolish argument is grounded in a foundation of desperation.

The fool praise the light, but live by the darkness.

The only way to fight evil is to not join it, not contribute to it.

The fool trust not those without intention to convert, confusing conversion for conviction.

The fool ask ‘How to conquer those who threaten us?’, not facing the reality of their contribution.

Who is without a weapon is feared only by the fool.

Defenseless, the fool become defensive.

Defense, by any other name, is offense.

Where some fool are critical, other fool are insecure.

Where two side against one, is strength only but numbers, is weakness only but elsewhere.

The fool seek not to hear, with a defense of listening.

The fool have ears, but do not hear; have eyes, but do not see; have hearts, but do not feel.

Resolution led by a moderator is not a resolution of two.

The fool don’t the best they can, the wise do the best they can’t.

Seize wisdom from the depths, net ignorance from the shallows.

The fool adjudge assumptions, the wise consider intentions.

Criticism that negates compliments exposes false compliments; criticism that complements compliments  reveals true compliments.

Forever to be trusted, are the fool and their fallacy.

Sooner an apology to be forgiven than the innocent to be spared.

The fool hear with ears that deceive.

Where fault lies, a defense is readied. Where understanding lies, an offense is unnecessary.

Do plumbers have pipe dreams?

Sooner a parent to side with the other than with truth.

Wisdom is not without extent.

Perspective and understanding are but two sides of a multi-dimensional reality.

Concern falls as criticism to fool ears.

The fool have a defense for every criticism, an offense for every defense, a criticism for every offense.

Who is fool enough to fight logic with illogic, falls victim to his own weapon.

What time does not heal, memory must forgive.

No one judges more or less than the next -some admit it, others deny it.

A poor defense is as good as no defense.

The fool fail to fathom the color beyond text, black and white.

20120201

In aphorism, proverb, rumination on 20120201 at 23:37

Being strong isn’t about not being weak. Being strong is about not making others feel weak.

20110301

In aphorism, poetry, proverb on 20110301 at 20:15

To satisfy an urge is elementary; to create desire is the grail.

To meet demand is rudimentary; to create demand is legendary.

A confession made to another is not without an admission made first to the self.

Words read, speak to the imagination;
Thoughts spoken, touch the heart;
Feelings expressed, define the voice.

An epiphany is a revelation of sight to the seeking.

The opposite of fragrant is not foul, but insipid.

A stone is but a jewel’s throw away; a jewel is but a stone’s throw away.

The fool keep the stone and so lose the jewel.

Covetous is cowardice.

A star shines despite the hour or the audience.

The heart transcends
a thousand places, lo, the feet occupy
but one.

The quantifiable may be counted, but lack opposites; the qualifiable possess opposites, but are not to be counted.

20091228

In aphorism, proverb on 20091228 at 15:55

The feeling not felt is repressed.

20090621

In rumination on 20090621 at 10:49

[on relationships]

In every relationship, we are bound by invisible strings to the other. Some strings tug, others are lax. The longer or more intimate a relationship, perhaps the more strings there are. There are strings that we pull with purpose, and others that we pull without our knowing. Still others ,we pull in knowing, but without intention of pulling. It is this tension and laxity of invisible strings that allows us to stay connected, and feel connected. A lessening in tension is the first step towards actually leaving a person, being disconnected from a person. For it is only when all the strings are lax and there is no pulling on either side that we may lose awareness of the existence of the other person. It is in this way that we are able to busy ourselves in daily life, interacting with various people and moving from one social setting to another. Interaction is simply the orchestrating, the puppeteering of these strings, as if they were to become electrified. Strings can find themselves under tension almost instantly, as when we are surprised, and they can go lax equally as quickly, as the sudden tension of another string releases, or rather rechannels the tension that we originally feel.

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.