Peace, Love and Goodwill to ALL My Friends!

Christmas in a ShoeBox .. ..

As I pulled out my "Christmas in a Shoebox" and set it up . ..  (Whew . . . I wipe the sweat from my brow :-D)  . . . I realized that I wanted to share it with my friends . . . before I pack it all away again in that little box . . .


I also wanted to share a short message of love with you all . . . Because in just a little over a year, I have acquired so many new friends over this electronic medium, the Internet. . . which includes this blog, FaceBook and Jamendo . . .

When I started on Jamendo, I was captivated and there I learned to listen . . . and began to share my words to encourage the musicians . . .and they encouraged me, in my writing and my blog.


I discovered, in January 2010, that this community, called Jamendo, had the courage to draw close together and help out as they did in the "Save Jamendo" campaign days . . . What a shining light Jamendo was in those days . .. and still is . . . with all its flaws . . . it still is a warm and united community.


Some of the musicians surprised me, in July, when I went to Paris to visit and meet some of them. In that beautiful city . . . I met them face to face and received the surprise of my life . . . Wolfsong's : http://www.jamendo.com/en/album/70915  (also displayed on the side bar on this blog). Thank you . . . so much.


Merry Christmas . . . to all my friends, old and new, on Jamendo . . . I love you all! Here is my Christmas playlist: 

Royalty-free music for professional licensing

And then I MUST mention my new friends on FaceBook . . . because I have met new people from all over the world . . . made new friends and also I am able to keep up with old friends from my face to face world . . . 

Its wonderful fun to share art and games, music and ideas and thoughts . . . I love you all too . . . thank you for being my friends . . . you give me great pleasure . . . 


And then . . . I also want to thank my blog readers . . . you have been a huge encouragement to me and have given me the opportunity to express myself through my poetry and stories and pictures . . . My blog is my joy and is my Internet home . . . a place for me to be me.


Love to all of you, my friends . . . and I wish you a moment of peace . ..  some warmth in your heart to enjoy . . . and a fresh happy outlook on your lives . . .


Peace! and happiness


- Barbara Wolfsong

Peace, Love and Goodwill!

One Winter's Night

December 17, 2010


I was riding the bus this morning. . .
and it was very peaceful and quiet
except for one woman who was talking
to someone about a feast
that she had prepared
for the people at her job.
She was describing in detail,
all the vegetarian dishes,
she had made
and other delicious things. . .
and a word kept cropping up
in her conversation
- "ENJOY."
As in:
"I really enjoyed creating the menu.
And I enjoy that kind of food. . .
and cooking is something I enjoy."
Each time she said that word,
her voice got just a tiny bit louder . . .
warm and mellow .  .   .
but gave that extra inflection to the word.


And that word became highlighted
in brilliant neon in my heart . . .
and bounced around in my ears
and made me pay attention . . .
What is it about that word
that is so pleasurable to me? 
Enjoy!


A word that evokes simple pleasures -
sensing the good things in life . . .
the simpler the better . . .
The Dictionary's explanation . . .
1). To receive pleasure or satisfaction from.
2). To have the use or benefit of.
To have a pleasurable or satisfactory time.


Enjoyment can occur any time. . .
any place and
under any circumstances . . .
even the most dire . . . in life . . .
through every breath
we ever take . . .

Some Winter Joys:    The cold crispness of the air in my nostrils . . .  and the warmth and flavors of houses as I walk by.   The colorful lights decorating the homes of generous souls . . . to brighten my dark, long winter's nights.  An evening's walk in the twilight . . . observing the ambient lights from windows where I can see a close family eating dinner, conversing, smiling. . . and I get the feeling that I could walk up on that porch and open the front door to warm greetings and acceptance as a family member . . . just for that split second . . . then I look away so as not to be a voyeur . . .or intrusive. .  .


That moment . . . that precious dream . . . of . . .  family . . .
ENJOY!

Somalia

Poem written in response to a picture in the NewYorker (December 14, 2009) regarding some of the issues of the failed state of Somalia:


The man stands reaching out
to his broken country. . .
the waves toss the boats
like sodden flakes upon the bloodied tides
and the villas are rotten
around the edges,
blurring their outlines
under the violent sun. . .


the man stretches his arm
toward his anguished country. . .
a handful of hope
falls to the rubbled floor
and the lonely trees
bend down to
an empty pool
while barren clouds mound high over his
empty stare . . .


the man reaching out
to his bleeding country. . .
and in his grasping hand
a burned out star,
around his burdened neck
an iron sword. . .  rank with the odor of copper
and the blackened holes
in the empty homes
go deep. . .
while all the boats float away
like horses in a sandy desert
passing by and never returning


The man reaches out
and beneath his touch
the crumbled dust.

##

I may choose to work on this poem a bit more - since I just wrote it - but I am terribly moved by such a country - especially since the school I teach in has a large number of refugees from that area. I am so sorry our world is such a harsh place. . .and the terrors and horrors that happen are more often than not of our own devising.

In the meantime - here is my Christmas playlist from Jamendo - enjoy!

I wrote this poem today as I looked at my Mac's desktop picture. I tend to get a little melancholic during this time of year. I miss my people, the ones gone to the other side, having a good time in that great place. I just get lonely I guess - but don't we all?

The old tracks are still dynamic
although
slivered and unused
but still pointing the way to go. . .

somewhere
beyond the vision of even the wisest eyes -
and the black tree limbs
punctuate the leaden sky
layered like a blanket
over the drowsy river.
Tucked between the rails
is a scarlet scarf
long forgotten by a passing waif,
and a blistered breeze
tucks the ends out of sight
while the sparrow lays down her head to cry.