"Season of Rest"
by Scott Parrish
November 2011
It's time for leaves to fall;
season of rest is here.
Let go of work and toil;
days of production are over.
Yield to the winds of change;
relax in the rhythm of weather.
Warm, sunny days are past.
Now comes the sleep of the winter.
Showing posts with label poem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poem. Show all posts
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
"Exponential Futility"
Exponential Futility
by Scott Parrish
November 2011
Raking leaves
ankle deep
on a windy day
with the trees only half shed.
by Scott Parrish
November 2011
Raking leaves
ankle deep
on a windy day
with the trees only half shed.
"How Do You Say?"
How Do You Say?
by Scott Parrish
November 2011
How do you say all the colors
of autumn leaves on hardwood trees?
Impossible!
Too many colors,
too many shades,
too much nuance,
too extraordinary and subtle for words.
The best you can do
is soak it in
and enjoy the wonder.
You must see,
you must touch,
you must experience
for yourself that which is beyond words.
by Scott Parrish
November 2011
How do you say all the colors
of autumn leaves on hardwood trees?
Impossible!
Too many colors,
too many shades,
too much nuance,
too extraordinary and subtle for words.
The best you can do
is soak it in
and enjoy the wonder.
You must see,
you must touch,
you must experience
for yourself that which is beyond words.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Flow of Thanksgiving
I tend to think in images and get a focus on certain thoughts or ideas in a day and week. I'm not a poet or writer yet, and often get drawn to a concept that I then enjoying playing with for days. Here's a rough draft as I'm trying to get myself ready for Thanksgiving. I'm still fussing with the grammar, wording, and punctuation, but want to share it with you to say THANKS. Maybe it will help you tap into your soul as you prepare for Thanksgiving.
This year I'm thinking a lot about all the sinners and saints who've framed my life, added to who I am, and made a huge difference to what I've become and what I'm becoming. I hope as you get caught in the busyness of Thanksgiving that you'll also get caught up in recognition of everyone that your life is built upon and the power of gratitude. Do something -traditional or creative- that helps raise your awareness of thanks giving/living.
Oh, the first photo is of a dry well in a west African village where we work, and the second of the pump is from the deep well we put in at the Kipuke Ministries Trinity Center outside of Kara, Togo. I was thinking of the old pitcher pump or shallow well as I started writing and was reminded of my rather shallow daily approach of thanks giving.
Flow of Thanksgiving
by Scott Parrish
Thanksgiving 2011
The pump needs to be primed.
The flow is hesitant from a
rusty, forgotten, untended supply-
a spring not drawn up.
Memory...
slowly welling in mind and heart-
of the people who have changed my life,
of the spices added to the dull recipe.
Keepsakes...
stirring in my thoughts-
family, friends, folk who sharpen iron,
those who create my life of experience.
Memorabilia...
flowing in life and story-
to be displayed and recounted,
stream that keeps me alive.
Recognition...
gushing spring of thanks knowing-
deep, deep gratitude from the core,
holy awareness, an offering, a prayer.
Spring of true thanks giving,
meant to flow pure in me.
Stories recalled, retold
as I drink deep of the pure water.
This year I'm thinking a lot about all the sinners and saints who've framed my life, added to who I am, and made a huge difference to what I've become and what I'm becoming. I hope as you get caught in the busyness of Thanksgiving that you'll also get caught up in recognition of everyone that your life is built upon and the power of gratitude. Do something -traditional or creative- that helps raise your awareness of thanks giving/living.
Oh, the first photo is of a dry well in a west African village where we work, and the second of the pump is from the deep well we put in at the Kipuke Ministries Trinity Center outside of Kara, Togo. I was thinking of the old pitcher pump or shallow well as I started writing and was reminded of my rather shallow daily approach of thanks giving.
Flow of Thanksgiving
by Scott Parrish
Thanksgiving 2011
The pump needs to be primed.
The flow is hesitant from a
rusty, forgotten, untended supply-
a spring not drawn up.
Memory...
slowly welling in mind and heart-
of the people who have changed my life,
of the spices added to the dull recipe.
Keepsakes...
stirring in my thoughts-
family, friends, folk who sharpen iron,
those who create my life of experience.
Memorabilia...
flowing in life and story-
to be displayed and recounted,
stream that keeps me alive.
Recognition...
gushing spring of thanks knowing-
deep, deep gratitude from the core,
holy awareness, an offering, a prayer.
Spring of true thanks giving,
meant to flow pure in me.
Stories recalled, retold
as I drink deep of the pure water.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
"Confession"
What is it about the winter, staying inside where it is warm, and writing which speaks truth? Here's another Wendell Berry favorite as it captures what I know to be true of myself.
"Confession"
by Wendell Berry
I wish I was easy in my mind, but I ain't.
If it wasn't for anger, lust, and pride, I'd be a saint.
And a quote for the day:
Human salvation lies in the hands of the creatively maladjusted.
Martin Luther King, Jr., Strength to Love, 1963.
"Confession"
by Wendell Berry
I wish I was easy in my mind, but I ain't.
If it wasn't for anger, lust, and pride, I'd be a saint.
And a quote for the day:
Human salvation lies in the hands of the creatively maladjusted.
Martin Luther King, Jr., Strength to Love, 1963.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
A Warning
Here's another Wendell Berry poem that I resemble!
"A Warning to My Readers"
by Wendell Berry
Do not think me gentle
because I speak in praise
of gentleness, or elegant
because I honor the grace
that keeps this world. I am
a man crude as any,
gross of speech, intolerant,
stubborn, angry, full
of fits and furies. That I
may have spoken well
at times, is not natural.
A wonder is what it is.
A quote for the day:
"The church must be reminded that it is not the master or the servant of the state, but rather the conscience of the state. It must be the guide and the critic of the state, and never its tool. If the church does not recapture its prophetic zeal, it will become an irrelevant social club without moral or spiritual authority."
Martin Luther King, Jr., Strength to Love, 1963.
"A Warning to My Readers"
by Wendell Berry
Do not think me gentle
because I speak in praise
of gentleness, or elegant
because I honor the grace
that keeps this world. I am
a man crude as any,
gross of speech, intolerant,
stubborn, angry, full
of fits and furies. That I
may have spoken well
at times, is not natural.
A wonder is what it is.
A quote for the day:
"The church must be reminded that it is not the master or the servant of the state, but rather the conscience of the state. It must be the guide and the critic of the state, and never its tool. If the church does not recapture its prophetic zeal, it will become an irrelevant social club without moral or spiritual authority."
Martin Luther King, Jr., Strength to Love, 1963.
Monday, January 19, 2009
A Journey in This Day
I've enjoyed the poetry of Wendell Berry for many years. The Kentucky farmer, professor, and poet/writer speaks to my heart and life with his rural imagery, his turn of phrase, and his keen life observations using the everyday setting and circumstances of his home which he knows so well.
"Traveling at Home"
From A Part
Even in a country you know by heart
it's hard to go the same way twice.
The life of the going changes.
The chances change and make a new way.
Any tree or stone or bird
Can be the bud of a new direction. The
natural correction is to make intent
of accident. To get back before dark
is the art of going.
Quote for the day:
"If a man hasn't discovered something that he will die for, he isn't fit to live."
Martin Luther King, Jr., speech, Detroit, Michigan, June 23, 1963.
"Traveling at Home"
From A Part
Even in a country you know by heart
it's hard to go the same way twice.
The life of the going changes.
The chances change and make a new way.
Any tree or stone or bird
Can be the bud of a new direction. The
natural correction is to make intent
of accident. To get back before dark
is the art of going.
Quote for the day:
"If a man hasn't discovered something that he will die for, he isn't fit to live."
Martin Luther King, Jr., speech, Detroit, Michigan, June 23, 1963.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
"To Be of Use"
Check out the expression, energy, and action of "work that is real" and what it means to be of use. This seems VERY familiar, perhaps from school days, yet resonates with me today as it reminds me of my action oriented friends, as well as those we hope to entice out of the shallows.
LOL "Parlor generals and field deserters!"
To Be of Use
by Marge Piercy
The people I love the best
jump into work head first
without dallying in the shallows
and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.
They seem to become natives of that element,
the black sleek heads of seals
bouncing like half submerged balls.
I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,
who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,
who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,
who do what has to be done, again and again.
I want to be with people who submerge
in the task, who go into the fields to harvest
and work in a row and pass the bags along,
who stand in the line and haul in their places,
who are not parlor generals and field deserters
but move in a common rhythm
when the food must come in or the fire be put out.
The work of the world is common as mud.
Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.
But the thing worth doing well done
has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.
Greek amphoras for wine or oil,
Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums
but you know they were made to be used.
The pitcher cries for water to carry
and a person for work that is real.
"To be of use" by Marge Piercy © 1973, 1982.
From CIRCLES ON THE WATER © 1982 by Alfred A. Knopf, Inc. and Middlemarsh, Inc.
LOL "Parlor generals and field deserters!"
To Be of Use
by Marge Piercy
The people I love the best
jump into work head first
without dallying in the shallows
and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.
They seem to become natives of that element,
the black sleek heads of seals
bouncing like half submerged balls.
I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,
who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,
who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,
who do what has to be done, again and again.
I want to be with people who submerge
in the task, who go into the fields to harvest
and work in a row and pass the bags along,
who stand in the line and haul in their places,
who are not parlor generals and field deserters
but move in a common rhythm
when the food must come in or the fire be put out.
The work of the world is common as mud.
Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.
But the thing worth doing well done
has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.
Greek amphoras for wine or oil,
Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums
but you know they were made to be used.
The pitcher cries for water to carry
and a person for work that is real.
"To be of use" by Marge Piercy © 1973, 1982.
From CIRCLES ON THE WATER © 1982 by Alfred A. Knopf, Inc. and Middlemarsh, Inc.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Burned Out
One of the students I spend some time with at Augusta State University shared some lyrics that got my attention. It is December, the last day of class (when he shared this on 12/4), projects and papers have been due the last few days, and final exams are this week. Plus you add all the mess with the economy and the struggles of everyday life and most people seem beat down! The students are teaching me a lot about creativity, sharing deep thoughts and emotions, and finding one's voice. They are teaching me about listening to music while I read, think, feel! They remind me how challenging many people have it as there isn't enough money to cover the basics of a month, there are no jobs, and life is hard even as they give their best. I'm also becoming aware that there is an honesty, power, and reality that too often more recent traditional or "Christian" styles of music in the United States totally miss! Daniel has a complexity and reality to these lyrics that remind me of some of the Old Testament writings that struggle with current realities (check out some of the Psalms, Lamentations, Job, etc.). I know he is expressing what MANY people are experiencing in these tough days before Christmas. My comments are merely introduction to a creation from T. Daniel Barber. Just be sure to turn on the music and feel the power and emotion of the thoughts.
Lyrics: Burned Out
by T, Daniel Barber, 2007
beat: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EFeWW6gUpjs
Burned Out
I’m just so burned out, all that’s churned out, I’m hearing, is so uninspired
I let my soul glow, my eyes closed, in that never ending journey to find fire
It’s crazy; it’s hazy, moving through the fog
Man it’s almost daily, breathing in the smog
The proud can’t reach out, the weak can’t reach in
It’s the world they doubt and the faith they have in
Themselves, living in a personal hell
Trapped in a jail and they ain’t making bail
Turing ambitionless, wandering missionless
Warped to be hideous and pitiless, I hate it
Because you become deluded, end up just like them
Jaded and tainted and you reek of sin
Or you end up all alone, drove crazed by your thoughts
Not seeing no stars, so all hope is lost
Gotta make it past this, don’t like this turn out
But I’m stuck, just straight burned out
That’s what they want, so you can’t resist
So they beat you down, put shackles on your wrist
Hook:
I’m just so burned out; everything I deal with these days is getting me crazed
But I gotta get past it, gotta outlast it, have to break out of this daze (2 x)
It’s so rough to try to make it, to that good life
Because I don’t want to be thinking how I should’ve been right
It’s like boxing with fate and you’re in the 10th round
Everything’s blurred and you’re dizzy, spinning all round
When you were the underdog, they ain’t want you to lose
But when you’re on top, they want you lifted out you’re shoes
Now you’re doing things that’s drastic
But in only take you closer to a casket
When all you really want is to get some rest
Get a couple of minutes away to forget all the stress
And it’s just a mess; you can’t get any real joy
Like when you were a little kid in the room with your toys
Reaching your limits, you just can’t go on
But if you have limits then you just don’t know strong
Now I’m saying things that I barely believe
So many try, few rarely succeed
And achieve what they want, to be building up their power
And the ones that do, in up trapped in a tower
Then the lightning strikes and it all falls down
And then it’s that painful crash to the ground
Is this just how it is, when you go against the grain?
When every other day becomes just another pain
And you’re so burned out; you can hardly fight it
It’s just the price you pay for enlightenment
HookIt’s hard to believe in god and believe benevolence
When you only see malevolence, pride and prejudice
Taking your own path might make you lost
There’s a price for everything and this is just the cost
You wanna get away but you’re not thinking clear
There’s a bottle in your hand and you’re reeking of beer
If life’s supposed to be a painting, then it just got smeared
Becoming what you hated, that’s your worst fear
Another heartless monster, your eye’s freezing cold
You’re so hard now, can’t nothing touch your soul
Tryna drift away, wonder if there’s a heaven
If all of this is a test, well then tell me what’s the lesson?
So maybe the pain will lessen
And I can stop stressing bout reaching perfection
In this failed paradise that we call life
Hiding from the truth like a thief in the night
Nobody’s proactive, all we do is react
All we do is wait to get hit by hot wax
Letting the words of others be affecting what we do
And we’re turn on ourselves and looking like fools
While they’re flashing a smile, emptier than their deeds
Thinking that they can do whatever they please
Getting everyone involved in the evil they conceive
They’ve long been consumed by their greed
No more hero cause now he’s turning villain
Cause when he was hero, they were plotting to kill him
Either be starving or obese in a hearse
Man it’s so perverse, it’s just the reverse
In Africa and America, facing the terror of
Slow extinction, this is just the era of
Disaster, hypocrisy, shadiness and lies
The wool always over your eyes
Plotting for demise, it’s just a matter of time
Won’t let me climb out of this hole in my mind
Maybe they’ll hear my voice on day, my thoughts learn about
But not now, cause I’m just burned out
by T. Daniel Barber (Augusta, GA) 2007
Lyrics: Burned Out
by T, Daniel Barber, 2007
beat: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EFeWW6gUpjs
Burned Out
I’m just so burned out, all that’s churned out, I’m hearing, is so uninspired
I let my soul glow, my eyes closed, in that never ending journey to find fire
It’s crazy; it’s hazy, moving through the fog
Man it’s almost daily, breathing in the smog
The proud can’t reach out, the weak can’t reach in
It’s the world they doubt and the faith they have in
Themselves, living in a personal hell
Trapped in a jail and they ain’t making bail
Turing ambitionless, wandering missionless
Warped to be hideous and pitiless, I hate it
Because you become deluded, end up just like them
Jaded and tainted and you reek of sin
Or you end up all alone, drove crazed by your thoughts
Not seeing no stars, so all hope is lost
Gotta make it past this, don’t like this turn out
But I’m stuck, just straight burned out
That’s what they want, so you can’t resist
So they beat you down, put shackles on your wrist
Hook:
I’m just so burned out; everything I deal with these days is getting me crazed
But I gotta get past it, gotta outlast it, have to break out of this daze (2 x)
It’s so rough to try to make it, to that good life
Because I don’t want to be thinking how I should’ve been right
It’s like boxing with fate and you’re in the 10th round
Everything’s blurred and you’re dizzy, spinning all round
When you were the underdog, they ain’t want you to lose
But when you’re on top, they want you lifted out you’re shoes
Now you’re doing things that’s drastic
But in only take you closer to a casket
When all you really want is to get some rest
Get a couple of minutes away to forget all the stress
And it’s just a mess; you can’t get any real joy
Like when you were a little kid in the room with your toys
Reaching your limits, you just can’t go on
But if you have limits then you just don’t know strong
Now I’m saying things that I barely believe
So many try, few rarely succeed
And achieve what they want, to be building up their power
And the ones that do, in up trapped in a tower
Then the lightning strikes and it all falls down
And then it’s that painful crash to the ground
Is this just how it is, when you go against the grain?
When every other day becomes just another pain
And you’re so burned out; you can hardly fight it
It’s just the price you pay for enlightenment
HookIt’s hard to believe in god and believe benevolence
When you only see malevolence, pride and prejudice
Taking your own path might make you lost
There’s a price for everything and this is just the cost
You wanna get away but you’re not thinking clear
There’s a bottle in your hand and you’re reeking of beer
If life’s supposed to be a painting, then it just got smeared
Becoming what you hated, that’s your worst fear
Another heartless monster, your eye’s freezing cold
You’re so hard now, can’t nothing touch your soul
Tryna drift away, wonder if there’s a heaven
If all of this is a test, well then tell me what’s the lesson?
So maybe the pain will lessen
And I can stop stressing bout reaching perfection
In this failed paradise that we call life
Hiding from the truth like a thief in the night
Nobody’s proactive, all we do is react
All we do is wait to get hit by hot wax
Letting the words of others be affecting what we do
And we’re turn on ourselves and looking like fools
While they’re flashing a smile, emptier than their deeds
Thinking that they can do whatever they please
Getting everyone involved in the evil they conceive
They’ve long been consumed by their greed
No more hero cause now he’s turning villain
Cause when he was hero, they were plotting to kill him
Either be starving or obese in a hearse
Man it’s so perverse, it’s just the reverse
In Africa and America, facing the terror of
Slow extinction, this is just the era of
Disaster, hypocrisy, shadiness and lies
The wool always over your eyes
Plotting for demise, it’s just a matter of time
Won’t let me climb out of this hole in my mind
Maybe they’ll hear my voice on day, my thoughts learn about
But not now, cause I’m just burned out
by T. Daniel Barber (Augusta, GA) 2007
Friday, November 28, 2008
From Thanksgiving to Advent and then Christmas
Here's a favorite poem/prayer that seems to fit this season of endings and beginnings.
Benedicere
by Ken Sehested
May your home always be too
small to hold all your friends.
May your heart remain ever supple,
fearless in the face of threat,
jubilant in the grip of grace.
May your hand remain open, caressing, never clinched,
save to pound the doors
of all who barter justice
to the highest bidder.
May your heroes by earthy,
dusty-shoed and rumpled,
hallowed but unhaloed,
guiding you through seasons
of tremor and travail, apprenticed
to the godly art of giggling
amid haggard news and
portentous circumstance.
May your hankering be
in rhythm with heaven's,
whose covenant vows a dusty
intersection with our own:
when creation's hope and history rhyme.
May hosannas lilt from your lungs:
God is not done;
God is not yet done.
All flesh, I am told, will behold;
will surely behold.
New Year's Day 2005
Benedicere
by Ken Sehested
May your home always be too
small to hold all your friends.
May your heart remain ever supple,
fearless in the face of threat,
jubilant in the grip of grace.
May your hand remain open, caressing, never clinched,
save to pound the doors
of all who barter justice
to the highest bidder.
May your heroes by earthy,
dusty-shoed and rumpled,
hallowed but unhaloed,
guiding you through seasons
of tremor and travail, apprenticed
to the godly art of giggling
amid haggard news and
portentous circumstance.
May your hankering be
in rhythm with heaven's,
whose covenant vows a dusty
intersection with our own:
when creation's hope and history rhyme.
May hosannas lilt from your lungs:
God is not done;
God is not yet done.
All flesh, I am told, will behold;
will surely behold.
New Year's Day 2005
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Careful Living
Careful Living
Flagitious fellows know flagrant vice
Outrageous actions considered spice
Quickly change a person once thought nice
So watch your heart and soul each day
For new experiences may lead you astray.
Scott Parrish
Flagitious fellows know flagrant vice
Outrageous actions considered spice
Quickly change a person once thought nice
So watch your heart and soul each day
For new experiences may lead you astray.
Scott Parrish
Friday, June 27, 2008
Spirit Me!
Spirit Me!
Elate me! Sedate me!
Just don't talk too much and bore me.
I don't want to hear, I don't want to know.
Busy me, hectic me,
No time for You, I'm eclectic me.
I envy the birds who know their day,
Creatures who know Your way.
A thousand voices call to me.
I try to hear Your voice; I try to find my voice.
I want to hear and want to be heard.
Recreate me! Elevate me!
Just help me to really live.
I do want to hear, I do want to know.
Scott Parrish
Elate me! Sedate me!
Just don't talk too much and bore me.
I don't want to hear, I don't want to know.
Busy me, hectic me,
No time for You, I'm eclectic me.
I envy the birds who know their day,
Creatures who know Your way.
A thousand voices call to me.
I try to hear Your voice; I try to find my voice.
I want to hear and want to be heard.
Recreate me! Elevate me!
Just help me to really live.
I do want to hear, I do want to know.
Scott Parrish
Thursday, June 26, 2008
The Garden of Words
The Garden of Words
Once the word leaves your lips it takes on life.
Our breath creates the seen and the unseen.
Chaos yields to creativity,
creativity yields to chaos.
So, we say the words holy,
and we say the words insane.
A chance to create a garden of delight.
Fear the words that disturb, or distance, or damn.
To garden is hard work,
Calling us to fresh efforts each day.
Calling us to nurture, to grow.
Calling us to careful work lest we grow a garden of weeds.
Calling us to create delight with Water and with Power.
Scott Parrish
Once the word leaves your lips it takes on life.
Our breath creates the seen and the unseen.
Chaos yields to creativity,
creativity yields to chaos.
So, we say the words holy,
and we say the words insane.
A chance to create a garden of delight.
Fear the words that disturb, or distance, or damn.
To garden is hard work,
Calling us to fresh efforts each day.
Calling us to nurture, to grow.
Calling us to careful work lest we grow a garden of weeds.
Calling us to create delight with Water and with Power.
Scott Parrish
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Perfection
Perfection
We now have perfection
Predestined confection
Biotech food to fill our tummy
Cloning ourselves to avoid kids crummy
Too bad we still have war, hunger, & hate
Values even good genes can't erase.
Scott Parrish
We now have perfection
Predestined confection
Biotech food to fill our tummy
Cloning ourselves to avoid kids crummy
Too bad we still have war, hunger, & hate
Values even good genes can't erase.
Scott Parrish
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
The Way of Faith
The Way of Faith
Uptight
Inside Jitters,
Queasy Flitters.
Nerves on edge, stomach unsettled,
anxious thoughts, uncertain starts.
Where will it lead, how will it end, who will I be?
How will I live if I follow the hard path,
the barely discernible way?
Easier to stay on the main highway,
the well traveled thorough fare.
Breathe a sigh--
Catch your breath--
Take a step!
Scott Parrish
Uptight
Inside Jitters,
Queasy Flitters.
Nerves on edge, stomach unsettled,
anxious thoughts, uncertain starts.
Where will it lead, how will it end, who will I be?
How will I live if I follow the hard path,
the barely discernible way?
Easier to stay on the main highway,
the well traveled thorough fare.
Breathe a sigh--
Catch your breath--
Take a step!
Scott Parrish
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Dandelion Love
Dandelion Love
Can't be removed
Can't be pulled out
Can't be completely destroyed
Won't disappear.
You can remove some but won't get all the root.
You might make a dent in the population
by pulling a few visible offenders out.
But give it some time and the yard is full again.
Allow one plant to seed and a hundred more spring up.
God's love is like the dandelions taking over my yard,
It's just best to give in!
Scott Parrish
Can't be removed
Can't be pulled out
Can't be completely destroyed
Won't disappear.
You can remove some but won't get all the root.
You might make a dent in the population
by pulling a few visible offenders out.
But give it some time and the yard is full again.
Allow one plant to seed and a hundred more spring up.
God's love is like the dandelions taking over my yard,
It's just best to give in!
Scott Parrish
Friday, June 20, 2008
Spirit
Spirit
Spirit, like raindrop, here and then gone.
How do you change?
How are you changed?
Do you outlast the moment?
Spirit, like flower seed, floating by wind.
Where are you going?
Where have you been?
What will you grow when you land?
Scott Parrish
Spirit, like raindrop, here and then gone.
How do you change?
How are you changed?
Do you outlast the moment?
Spirit, like flower seed, floating by wind.
Where are you going?
Where have you been?
What will you grow when you land?
Scott Parrish
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Daughter Noise
My "little girl" is now 12. Everyone laughed when I told them she came home from the hospital as a baby talking and making noise. The chatter hasn't stopped! I wrote this at some point during her elementary school years during a particularly noisy day in Greensboro. It's a tribute to one with power and voice who makes sure you are aware of her presence.
Daughter Noise
Talks too loud, laughs too loud
Sings the sun up in the morning
Sings the moon up at night
Challenges the birds for dominion
Fills the air with thunder
Ear splitting, deafening, window rattling
A force to be reckoned with
The power of one voice.
Scott Parrish
Daughter Noise
Talks too loud, laughs too loud
Sings the sun up in the morning
Sings the moon up at night
Challenges the birds for dominion
Fills the air with thunder
Ear splitting, deafening, window rattling
A force to be reckoned with
The power of one voice.
Scott Parrish
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