Jessica Bibbee

Posts Tagged ‘within’

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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20120427

In aphorism, poetry, proverb, rumination on 20120427 at 23:21

The fool seek dominance, the wise seek balance.

The fool make noise, the wise make music.

Art is unnecessary, and that is precisely what makes it necessary.

Music is a gift that we can give to or deny our children.

With fervor is there urgency in purpose.

Musicians are magicians.

A will is the wishes of the living respected by the living once the living days have passed on.

Music is the sound that the heart makes between beats.

But with the presence of a void does a note resonate, like the oxygen that fuels a flame.

The art of management is to exploit strength and mitigate weakness.

Exercise the metamuscle: think about your thinking.

《the war within》
War is something you
create
carry
kill
within your heart.

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.

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.