Jessica Bibbee

Posts Tagged ‘stop’

20140319

In aphorism, proverb on 20140319 at 21:43

How we handle a present failing is more crucial to determining a future success than is the incidence of the failure itself.

Every incidence of failure is given an opportunity for redemption, and that depends on whether we let it stop us or whether we bow to it or allow it to inspire a change within us.

A present failing is often but a perceived failing.

A failing offers but an opportunity to try again with informed experience behind us.

To loosen one’s grip is not necessarily to lose one’s grip.

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20120802

In aphorism, proverb on 20120802 at 23:59

Maintain real dialogue with those in rash disagreement, for worse than rare disaccord is rife division.

No matter which evil you are fighting, you are still fighting. To negate evil, do not entertain it, only be its antithesis.

What good is the purest of water if it will not irrigate the driest of dirt?

No one can stop you from being who you want to be, without your permission.

Turn away from darkness, but never hide your light.

The filth may stop at the bottom, but it originates at the top.

The crumbs may rest on the floor, but the loaf is cut from above.

The fool cook mops first the floor and wipes second the counter.

20110810

In aphorism, proverb on 20110810 at 11:44

Even when the waves stop crashing, there is still surface tension.

Every day offers a choice, every day affords a new chance.

Be certain only of uncertainty.

20101211

In aphorism, haiku, poetry, proverb on 20101211 at 12:49

The fool’s idea of freedom is a world without rules and the fool’s idea of power is to rule the world.

A world without enforcement is but a world without rules.

Freedom must reach all, if it is to touch even one.

The fool love a home without leaving it; the wise love a home by returning to it.

《rainbow》
Lofty and crooked,
united yet divided –
rainbow in the sky.

《wind》
The wind never stops
pausing only to enjoy
the beauty of stillness.

20091112

In question, rumination on 20091112 at 13:20

Ask me why the world won’t stop fighting, and I’ll ask you why the world won’t start getting along.

20081015

In aphorism, proverb on 20081015 at 19:25

Stars were meant to fall.

Don’t let a conversation stopper stop the thinking.

Each must play his own cards.

Remaining at a dead end is not commitment, it is stupidity.

A fool is afraid of the water’s surface, fearing its depth.

The fool learn not to swim for fear of drowning.

A water’s depth is not given away by its surface.

Who walks not the talk, is as if to look aside – quick to trip and sure to fall.

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.