Saturday, January 29, 2011

The Touch Of The Master's Hand

I found this poem while browsing on the internet a few days ago, and fell in love with it the first time i read it. Its shows us the value and integrity of humanity that makes us who we are. Whether an old violin or a priceless insturment, it's what's put into the value of our lives that make's it worth while.

( By Myra B. Welch 1877-1959 )

Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
thought it scarcely worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin,
But held it up with a smile.
"What am I bidden, good folks," he cried,
"Who'll start the bidding for me?
A dollar, a dollar, then, two! Only two?
Two dollars, and who'll make it three?
Three dollars, once; three dollars, twice;
Going for three . . ."
But no,
From the room, far back, a grey-haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow;
Then, wiping the dust from the old violin,
And tightening the loose strings,
He played a melody pure and sweet
As a caroling angel sings.

The music ceased, and the auctioneer,
With a voice that was quiet and low, said:
"What am I bid for the old violin?"
And he held it up with the bow.
"A thousand dollars, and who'll make it two?
"Two thousand! And who'll make it three?
"Three thousand, once; three thousand, twice;
And going and gone."said he.

The people cheered, but some of them cried,
"We do not quite understand, what changed its worth?"
Swift came the reply:
"The Touch Of The Master's Hand."

And many a man with life out of tune,
And battered and scarred with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd,
Much like the old violin.
A 'mess of potage,' a glass of wine;
A game - and he travels on.
He is 'going' once, and 'going' twice,
He's 'going' and almost 'gone'.
But the Master comes and the foolish crowd
Never can quite understand
The worth of a soul and the change that's wrought
By the touch of the Master's Hand.

Friday, January 28, 2011

Runaway Train

Runaway train, never going back
Wrong way on a one-way track
Seems like I should be getting somewhere
Somehow I'm neither here nor there

Bought a ticket for a runaway train
Like a madman laughing at the rain
A little out of touch, a little insane
It's just easier than dealing with the pain

Runaway train, never going back
Wrong way on a one-way track
Seems like I should be getting somewhere
Somehow I'm neither here nor there

Runaway train, never coming back
Runaway train, tearing up the track
Runaway train, burning in my veins
I run away but it always seems the same

Can you help me remember how to smile?
Make it somehow all seem worthwhile
How on earth did I get so jaded?
Life's mystery seems so faded

I can go where no one else can go
I know what no one else knows
Here I am just a-drownin' in the rain
With a ticket for a runaway train

And everything seems cut and dried
Day and night, earth and sky
Somehow I just don't believe it

Runaway train, never going back
Wrong way on a one-way track
Seems like I should be getting somewhere
Somehow I'm neither here nor there

Saturday, January 22, 2011

Dark Lady

Dark Lady laughed and danced and lit the candles one by one
Danced to her gypsy music till her brew was done
Dark Lady played back magic till the clock struck on the twelve
She told me more about me than I knew myself


Thursday, January 20, 2011

Wish Upon A Star

When a star is born, they receive a gift or two
One of them is this, they have the power to make a dream come true

When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are
Anything your heart desires will come to you
If your heart is in your dream, no request is too extreme
When you wish upon a star as dreamers do

Fate is kind she brings to those who love
Loves sweet fulfillment of their secret longing
Like a bolt out of the blue, fate steps in and sees you through
When you wish upon a star, your dreams come true

Ooh, like a bolt out of the blue, fate steps in and I sees you through
When you wish upon a star, your dreams come true, ooh, ooh

Sunday, January 16, 2011

The Spider And The Fly

"Will you walk into my parlor?" said the spider to the fly;
"'Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you may spy.
The way into my parlor is up a winding stair,
And I have many curious things to show when you are there."
"Oh no, no," said the little fly; "to ask me is in vain,
For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again."

"I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high.
Well you rest upon my little bed?" said the spider to the fly.
"There are pretty curtains drawn around; the sheets are fine and thin,
And if you like to rest a while, I'll snugly tuck you in!"
"Oh no, no," said the little fly, "for I've often heard it said,
They never, never wake again who sleep upon your bed!"

Said the cunning spider to the fly: "Dear friend, what can I do
To prove the warm affection I've always felt for you?
I have within my pantry good store of all that's nice;
I'm sure you're very welcome - will you please to take a slice?"
"Oh no, no," said the little fly; "kind sir, that cannot be:
I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see!"

"Sweet creature!" said the spider, "you're witty and you're wise;
How handsome are your gauzy wings; how brilliant are your eyes!
I have a little looking-glass upon my parlor shelf;
If you'd step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself."
"I thank you, gentle sir," she said, "for what you're pleased to say,
And, bidding you good morning now, I'll call another day."

The spider turned him round about, and went into his den,
For well he knew the silly fly would soon come back again:
So he wove a subtle web in a little corner sly,
And set his table ready to dine upon the fly;
Then came out to his door again and merrily did sing:
"Come hither, hither, pretty fly, with pearl and silver wing;
Your robes are green and purple; there's a crest upon your head;
Your eyes are like diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead!"

Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little fly,
Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by;
With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer grew,
Thinking only of her brilliant eyes and green and purple hue,
Thinking only of her crested head. Poor, foolish thing! at last
Up jumped the cunning spider, and fiercely held her fast;
He dragged her up his winding stair, into the dismal den -
Within his little parlor - but she ne'er came out again!

And now, dear little children, who may this story read,
To idle, silly flattering words I pray you ne'er give heed;
Unto an evil counselor close heart and ear and eye,
And take a lesson from this tale of the spider and the fly.

Mary Howitt (1799-1888)

Saturday, January 15, 2011

I Am Woman

I am woman, hear me roar
In numbers too big to ignore
And I know too much to go back an' pretend
'cause I've heard it all before
And I've been down there on the floor
No one's ever gonna keep me down again

Oh yes I am wise
But it's wisdom born of pain
Yes, I've paid the price
But look how much I gained
If I have to, I can do anything
I am strong (strong)
I am invincible (invincible)
I am woman

You can bend but never break me
'cause it only serves to make me
More determined to achieve my final goal
And I come back even stronger
Not a novice any longer
'cause you've deepened the conviction in my soul

I am woman watch me grow
See me standing toe to toe
As I spread my lovin' arms across the land
But I'm still an embryo
With a long long way to go
Until I make my brother understand

Oh yes I am wise
But it's wisdom born of pain
Yes, I've paid the price
But look how much I gained
If I have to I can face anything
I am strong (strong)
I am invincible (invincible)
I am woman

Oh, I am woman
I am invincible
I am strong

Sunday, January 9, 2011

Something I like to do when I am all alone is sit quietly. I am quite good at it.

And, you can discover whole new universes when you sit quietly.

I like to draw them up in my mind-- mine has stars made of tiny silver cross stitches and moons that have weathered old man faces that seem to sparkle with a quiet sort of melancholy. Perhaps the planets are strung together with bits of twine and colored ribbons, and you can taste them! I think they might taste a bit like peppermint and lavender.

Imagine, being able to taste an entire universe.

Saturday, January 8, 2011

I live quietly in an abandoned castle, with turrets and spires and big menacing iron gates that close with a big scary thud. I have my own tower, with cobwebs and winding halls that creak softly when you tiptoe through. At night, I listen to all of the princess ghosts, crying softly for their princes to save them from the dusty corridors of secret passages shut off long ago; covered with wallpaper and worries, never to be opened again. From my tower, I look down at the extensive grounds with so much deadness covering the once thriving gardens; so many gardens.

But they don't exist anymore-- nothing does, here.

Thursday, January 6, 2011


Words are so interesting, did you know that the simple phrase 'cellar door' is considered the most beautiful set of words, because of the way they sound. Phonaesthetics are words that are put together for the way that they sound rather than their meaning, I love this, I adore the sounds of some words, I love repeating words sometimes, the more you say the same the more magical they become.... what are your favourite words my dear ones, lets do a little survey and write down our magic words, share with us all

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

i am a wild girl

i am a wild girl. we are all wild girls. we do not want to be caged. we want to sneak out of our windows at night onto the roofs of our houses and bath in the constellations. we want to dance in the rain until we are soaked through to our lovely bones. we want to wear pretty dresses and red lipstick, and stay up to watch the sunrise. we want to fall in love so deep that we become dizzy and drunk with it. we dream of kissing boys in meadows, running into the sea and becoming mermaids, falling asleep amidst the flowers and tall grasses . we are made of pure golden light. we want all of this so badly it hurts, and yet what we want the most is the courage to do all this. we must all find our courage.


Tuesday, January 4, 2011

How to Live Magically

•let your hair grow long and unruly •wear flower crowns •tie ribbons on your wrists •wears bells on your ankles •wear a key to your heart around your neck •lie in fields of wildflowers •climb trees and read books in them •hand write letters to friends •go looking for fairies and build fairy houses •make friends with trees-tell them your secrets •drink lots and lots of tea •light candles at night •gaze out open windows •listen to dreamy music and dance around •go dancing in the rain •run into lakes wearing pretty dresses •plant a garden of vegetable and wildflowers •have a picnic on the countryside •learn to play an instrument (piano,ukulele,banjo,guitar) •wear vintage nightgowns as dresses •string fairy lights in your room •make someone a batch of cookies •make a teepee •collect seashells •have tea parties •dress up victorian style •frame vintage photos •press wildflowers •spend days in libraries

•don't be afraid of who you are

Monday, January 3, 2011

life is art

i think everything in life is art.  what you do.  how you dress.  the way you love someone, and how you talk.  your smile and your personality.  what you believe in, and all your dreams.  the way you drink your tea.  how you decorate your home.  or party.  your grocery list.  the food you make.  how your writing looks.  and the way you feel.

life is art.

need i say more.