The idea brain
Keeps tickin
On and off
It thinks
Of whats to come
And just where
It went
Sum ideas
Comes full forth
Most git stuck
And be
Just an idea
Yet the big brain storm
Bustin at the seams
Of the genus
Are but always
The best
One to come
When many git together
And idea is so born
Reworked an oldie for this magical challenge. Speaking of challenges, I’m still trying to figure out how to create some of the old effects with the new and “improved” photobucket. Let me know if you find this too hard to read.
They gather together
in that quiet place
at the first breath of dawn,
where the silence of the morning
speaks in a hushed whisper,
where a renewed canvas
awaits our gathering,
where the colors of the day
begin to assemble one by one.
And I meet them there
where they gather.
And I listen carefully
to what they have to say,
those ideas gathered together
in that quiet place at dawn.
And I try to understand
as they converse
amongst themselves,
the birds just beginning
to sing their morning songs.
I try to make
some sense of it all,
those ideas I hear
as the sun begins to rise.
And I catch snippets
here and there,
random thoughts,
impressions,
images,
words dancing
across the empty spaces
of this morning’s canvas.
And I jot them down,
some of those ideas
that delight
in confounding me,
before they have a chance
to slip away,
to evaporate
into a busy day.
For it is
in the quiet
of my morning
that those ideas
of yesterday
and today
and sometimes
even of tomorrow
slowly find their way
to my hand
and to my pen
and to this blank page
that lays on the desk
in front of me.
And so it it is
that the lines and words
that tumble ’round and ’round
within this blank space,
making little sense all alone,
but begging for company,
meet together at dawn
and try to make some sense
of life’s bits and pieces
as the birds begin to sing
their melodies of a new day.
Magic in the air
Plenty of Ideals I tread upon.
In this head I carry on.
First I set my magical intent.
Once it set I say it to the world.
Then I do my magical dance.
Energy rises to the sky.
Goddess hears my ideals through my third eye.
I light the candles one by one.
Then the magical spell has begun.
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In
Daylight
Everyone
Able to
See
Still
Answers
Elude
Daring
Individual
Ideas come and go
It is those you bring alive that are gold
Those that keep you alive and keep you from getting old:)
Such a beautiful blog and challenge. Will ponder and return . . . .
BRAIN STROM
The idea brain
Keeps tickin
On and off
It thinks
Of whats to come
And just where
It went
Sum ideas
Comes full forth
Most git stuck
And be
Just an idea
Yet the big brain storm
Bustin at the seams
Of the genus
Are but always
The best
One to come
When many git together
And idea is so born
Written By: Bettie Davis ———————– © May 21 , 2o12
Reworked an oldie for this magical challenge. Speaking of challenges, I’m still trying to figure out how to create some of the old effects with the new and “improved” photobucket. Let me know if you find this too hard to read.
Archived image unavailable
RENDEZVOUS AT DAWN
They gather together
in that quiet place
at the first breath of dawn,
where the silence of the morning
speaks in a hushed whisper,
where a renewed canvas
awaits our gathering,
where the colors of the day
begin to assemble one by one.
And I meet them there
where they gather.
And I listen carefully
to what they have to say,
those ideas gathered together
in that quiet place at dawn.
And I try to understand
as they converse
amongst themselves,
the birds just beginning
to sing their morning songs.
I try to make
some sense of it all,
those ideas I hear
as the sun begins to rise.
And I catch snippets
here and there,
random thoughts,
impressions,
images,
words dancing
across the empty spaces
of this morning’s canvas.
And I jot them down,
some of those ideas
that delight
in confounding me,
before they have a chance
to slip away,
to evaporate
into a busy day.
For it is
in the quiet
of my morning
that those ideas
of yesterday
and today
and sometimes
even of tomorrow
slowly find their way
to my hand
and to my pen
and to this blank page
that lays on the desk
in front of me.
And so it it is
that the lines and words
that tumble ’round and ’round
within this blank space,
making little sense all alone,
but begging for company,
meet together at dawn
and try to make some sense
of life’s bits and pieces
as the birds begin to sing
their melodies of a new day.
(c) barbara kausteklis 5-21-12
Magic in the air
Plenty of Ideals I tread upon.
In this head I carry on.
First I set my magical intent.
Once it set I say it to the world.
Then I do my magical dance.
Energy rises to the sky.
Goddess hears my ideals through my third eye.
I light the candles one by one.
Then the magical spell has begun.