the artichoke flower

artichokeFlowers

Alexander Hamilton wrote:

“The sacred rights of mankind

are not to be rummaged for among old parchments or musty records.

They are written, as with a sunbeam,

in the whole volume of human nature

by the hand of the divinity itself

and can never be erased or obscured by mortal power.”

Trifecta

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The Frank Scotti Family in Colorado

trifecta: the three winners:

1 healthy humans

2 clear atmosphere

3 excellent camera skills and lens

Snowboy

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illustrator: Julia Rohan Zoch

frozen tail

frozen scarf

frozen eyes

music ears

frozen nose

all that sticks out

succumbs

in the highlands…

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For a rendering of the song, please go to:

In the Highlands


by Robert Louis Stevenson

In the highlands, in the country places,


Where the old plain men have rosy faces,


And the young fair maidens


Quiet eyes;


Where essential silence cheers and blesses,


And for ever in the hill-recesses


Her more lovely music


Broods and dies—

O to mount again where erst I haunted;


Where the old red hills are bird-enchanted,


And the low green meadows


Bright with sward;


And when even dies, the million-tinted,


And the night has come, and planets glinted,


Lo, the valley hollow


Lamp-bestarr’d!

O to dream, O to awake and wander


There, and with delight to take and render,


Through the trance of silence,


Quiet breath!


Lo! for there, among the flowers and grasses,

Only the mightier movement sounds and passes;


Only winds and rivers,


Life and death.
 
“In the Highlands” by Robert Louis Stevenson. Public domain

Care-taker

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grow a pouch

 

generate warmth

model shelter

catch some winks

breast-feed

share genes

Recipe for Peace

John on Love

Italic Calligraphy of    John 14; 15-26    by Jeanne

Self Respect

the meditation

jeannepoland's avatarThe Vibrant Channeled Creator

cat self-respect cat self-respect

wrinkles at my throat
expand flexibility:
leaps and bounds forecast!

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Oy Joy!

JULIEROWAN-ZOCH

illustrator: Julia Rohan Zoch

 

“joy”

(Poem of the month Jan 2020)

“oy!”
“joy” cloys
to my homeboy’s
pageboy.

decoys
houseboy
from poi-poi…
oy!

annoys
Roy;
deploys
decoy.

enjoys
toys,
corduroys,
ploys!

It’s all:
foi
(freedom of information)

poem by Jeanne

The New Year

JULIEROWAN-ZOCH

illustrator: Julia Rohan Zoch

 

The New Year 
by Barbara Crooker

When a door bangs shut, a window doesn’t open.


Sometimes, it slams on your fingers. God often


gives us more than we can handle. A sorrow


shared is a sorrow multiplied. There’s a bottle


of Champagne waiting to be uncorked,


but it’s not for you. Nobody wants another poem.


The prize-winning envelope has someone else’s name


on it. This year you already know you’re not going


to lose those ten pounds. How can you feel hope,


when the weight of last year’s rejections is enough


wants to feel the black ink unscrolling on its skin.


In spite of everything, you sit at your desk and begin.

“The New Year” by Barbara Crooker from Some Glad Morning © 2019.

Definition #339 Marriott Boston Newton

Here we are in 2019, New Years Eve and I’m home form the Marriott Waltham Courtyard after family Reunion and Birthdays

jeannepoland's avatarThe Vibrant Channeled Creator

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The tide came in

the surf brought plenty

in Boston Newton.

Two year old played soccer

Nana Jeanne drove her scooter

brunch fed appetites

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