tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18821051068202267052024-02-07T18:54:27.043+00:00RMProse"writing poetry, starts in my soul, flows through my heart, up to my head, then it's out of my hands"RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06368781750827270763noreply@blogger.comBlogger255125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882105106820226705.post-68068080502345835702020-11-25T17:51:00.004+00:002020-11-26T00:41:01.659+00:00Diamonds and Dust<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9CobHR-1PDc3plpKRCPyw89BT_QBFWRtnorynSa3x2It9NklhIIF-0Cbx33hINUkbdL1b3HFqvT1-BxCrRQyJmfqKwefoqp8Usi0uZDN1WkYwx3H38UgLxAoXCQ5UUCgD-5xKVq0ughFv/s730/Maradonna.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="410" data-original-width="730" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9CobHR-1PDc3plpKRCPyw89BT_QBFWRtnorynSa3x2It9NklhIIF-0Cbx33hINUkbdL1b3HFqvT1-BxCrRQyJmfqKwefoqp8Usi0uZDN1WkYwx3H38UgLxAoXCQ5UUCgD-5xKVq0ughFv/w640-h360/Maradonna.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><b>Diamonds and Dust</b><br /><br />Every Diamond has a flaw.<br />If you choose to chip at the crack,<br />all you are left is dust. <br />Ask yourself <br />would you rather dwell in dust, <br />or celebrate the way that the light plays <br />amongst the shards, in infinite ways,<br />refracted and gleaming, <br />uniquely glinting as no other may play. <br />Or, dwell upon the crack, <br />and watch it all blow away.<br /><br />© Richard Michael Parker 2020<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/6zvRA1aHKqU" width="320" youtube-src-id="6zvRA1aHKqU"></iframe></div><br />RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06368781750827270763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882105106820226705.post-80146992351066554412019-07-04T11:43:00.002+01:002019-07-16T10:56:45.630+01:00Poet in Transit... <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS6TPBf6rbmtr_RQ9W1suxDnjMelMIJLu20wCz3V9caDnFsAok_peCYvm0yh4oJtV48Eh71A8KyK_kFl-gKbwHhO0uDAqh-uHs1AEZe2O02Jjhnlksg3rkrNd63pO81WjN_67Of_eKP-Qw/s1600/20190516-+Ex+Machina+bus+from+paris+to+madrid.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS6TPBf6rbmtr_RQ9W1suxDnjMelMIJLu20wCz3V9caDnFsAok_peCYvm0yh4oJtV48Eh71A8KyK_kFl-gKbwHhO0uDAqh-uHs1AEZe2O02Jjhnlksg3rkrNd63pO81WjN_67Of_eKP-Qw/s640/20190516-+Ex+Machina+bus+from+paris+to+madrid.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Hello All<br />
<br />
I have within the last 14 months walked from the Netherlands to
Santiago de Compostella (2450km), from Madrid to Sahagun (320km), and
from Porto to Santiago de Compostella (240km)... A grand total of
3010km on behalf of <a href="https://www.charitywater.org/" target="_blank">Charity Water</a> and those that they support
worldwide.<br />
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It has been both an illumination and inspiration, not only for
myself, but those whom I touch daily, as we speak and travel about water
issues facing us as a planet. I can not tell you what a pleasure it is
to do this on <a href="https://www.charitywater.org/" target="_blank">Charity Water´s</a> behalf, and every kilometer has been worth the
struggle, as the inordinate support and benevolent spirit of all those I
have met shines forth, like a great beacon of love unto the world.<br />
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I carry 20kgs, on average 20km per day (a little more sometimes if
the feet are up to it) and for the most part in all weathers and
conditions. I do this as an act of solidarity with those who live in
water sparse regions who carry on average the same load each day, just
for their personal and familial water requirements.<br />
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There has not been a single occasion in all those months and all
those kilometers where I have been refused water when I have asked for
it, and I have asked for it a LOT. Never has it been refused. For I think there
is something quite instinctual within each of us that recognizes that
without water, nothing is possible, and that ´WATER IS LIFE´.<br />
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I hope that you will join with me and give generously to this
wonderful charity, who are doing such incredible work, and changing the
lives of countless communities and human beings by making fresh,
potable, water available in places where only water starvation, and
disease born from the lack of it, existed. <br />
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Please feel free to donate to <a href="https://www.charitywater.org/" target="_blank">Charity Water</a>... who are doing incredible work across the planet to bring the most basic requirement of life to millions of people who are still without this most obvious of human necessities.<br />
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Thank you<br />
<br />
Richard Michael Parker
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RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06368781750827270763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882105106820226705.post-33726807103509579122018-04-27T13:46:00.000+01:002018-04-27T13:46:20.925+01:00A Walk About Water <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzFmCETVyUx-1rnXM5yugaUsGF-zE-aVu4mxftwm3xOmU0to_XqlvXR-6xPdA0gQb6_y1u4dIRLL-eOIMWl_1O7b3Ngr7gidaNbDImszvt8LHMRmGt304xQ7VBWZRxfyMtcqXpzxtNJ1XD/s640/20180414_090510.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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Okidoki... I have created a blog to accompany the walk I am presently on, and invite you all to share and follow me on a 2000km journey from the Netherlands to Santiago de Compostela in Spain.<br />
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I am at present in Thuin, in southern Belgium, having already covered a couple of hundred kilometres, and as ever it has taken me a little while to put the blog together... but better late than never! Please bear with me whilst I fill in the gaps of the journey so far, having met and seen both wonderful folk and places, with images, poetry, and adventures to share with you all.<br />
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Please feel free to visit the blog, and you will find links to various people and places of interest there, along with a link to Charity:Water, where 100% of all donations go to water projects around the world.<br />
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I carry 25kgs, on average 20km a day, something many woman and children do on a daily basis, just to meet their daily water requirements. So hopefully this journey will in some small way highlight the need and necessity to change this plight.<br />
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One small step at a time.<br />
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<a href="http://www.awalkaboutwater.blogspot.be/" target="_blank">A Walk About Water</a>RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06368781750827270763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882105106820226705.post-62217855572948933942017-06-25T20:23:00.000+01:002017-06-27T20:34:16.920+01:00Ashes and Dead Coals<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiopttoxiX3VGD3j6Bfn1bjvux5d_U_fEXnEG36tQSnI2IFqKTV3ncB9DpUQd4Q7QNplSGxTIVbfXoLILEvPtS4G1_GbLrIkXa2idP5fuNUrcaYd0KYCwlG1g52luT6ahpY5ghWluO2ghyphenhyphenE/s1600/Feathers+and+Pearls+final+flame.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="916" data-original-width="1600" height="364" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiopttoxiX3VGD3j6Bfn1bjvux5d_U_fEXnEG36tQSnI2IFqKTV3ncB9DpUQd4Q7QNplSGxTIVbfXoLILEvPtS4G1_GbLrIkXa2idP5fuNUrcaYd0KYCwlG1g52luT6ahpY5ghWluO2ghyphenhyphenE/s640/Feathers+and+Pearls+final+flame.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b>Ashes and Dead Coals </b><br />
<br />
Hope is a string of pearls, hurled onto the floor,<br />
torn between the desperation and the craw.<br />
Measured days of heartache, <span class="text_exposed_show"><br /> spoonfuls of opium scented flowers,<br /> strewn in careless abandon on bloody tiles,<br /> fake smiles, tossed to lions;<br /> Strangeness, stumbling between the shards,<br /> nothing left inside the hearth,<br /> but ashes and dead coals.</span><br />
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How do we string those pearls together again?<br />
When all the threads are broken,<br />
how does the heart find the courage to endure?<br />
<br />
In the garden of love there are two pools,<br />
one of joy, the other of sorrow,<br />
one past, one, tomorrow.<br />
Libations in the lamentations of betrayal,<br />
The arrows dipped, slipped into the wound.<br />
To bathe in cool streams of past regret,<br />
dreams, turned in upon themselves.<br />
From root to seed, that ancient tree still bleeds.<br />
<br />
Finding the time to breathe again,<br />
The wailing edge of sorrow,<br />
a bough without a song.<br />
Deep ray, the dawn comes, <br />
and with her, bright lark, <br />
resplendently reborn from out the dark,<br />
settles upon your heart, with joy, once more.<br />
<br />
Strings of pearls threaded through ancient eyes,<br />
matriculating in the school where love never dies.<br />
<br />
© Richard Michael Parker 2017<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/UYIAfiVGluk" width="560"></iframe>RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06368781750827270763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882105106820226705.post-56010624550065682422017-06-25T10:41:00.001+01:002017-06-25T11:07:34.121+01:00Grief<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPSiVuDZ-KqRBccLbtOoHUrhlpWZSSjDi3CHeG2lV6Fo89_0fkbexqbi52oT61QI-RxZj3JB6o0m0a7AETccHxk4hEubZlCEfqeoqKW8b5ewRyDrJmL4zlhgfPWuHwBJKrn48hByyhKnsE/s1600/Grief.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="749" data-original-width="800" height="372" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPSiVuDZ-KqRBccLbtOoHUrhlpWZSSjDi3CHeG2lV6Fo89_0fkbexqbi52oT61QI-RxZj3JB6o0m0a7AETccHxk4hEubZlCEfqeoqKW8b5ewRyDrJmL4zlhgfPWuHwBJKrn48hByyhKnsE/s400/Grief.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b>-Grief-</b><br />
<br />
It is called mourning. Grief that comes from out the
loss, intimate loss, and though we seek to deflect it, deny, or in
anger, fail to accept it, still, in the end, it is loss, it is love. A
love that demands the truth of our sincerity, a sincerity in the grace
of that loss.<br />
<br />
Those deep bonds of love, the intimate
vulnerability of the heart, where trust is an absolute, leave us open to
the truth of the deepest sorrow, just as they have allowed for the
greatest joy. The<span class="text_exposed_show">y gnaw upon the marrow, as easily as the ecstasy they employ.</span><br />
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When we lose those we have loved, the depths they have dug into the
fathomless oceans of our heart, swallows us, until we too, crushed in
the darkness of that infinite blue... become those depths.<br />
<br />
But this
is not a sign of failure or weakness, abnormality or affliction,
rather, it lends it's colours to the truth of the love we have shared,
the trust and the care, the infinite womb in the oceans of our mutual
tenderness.<br />
<br />
How can one who has ever lost and loved ever come to a
place of forgiveness, acceptance, or the dawn of renewed hope once
more, except through the door that leads through the dark night of the
soul? One who has lost, in love, and grieved not, loved not.<br />
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Grief is a room where all fear to follow, for it is dark and hollow,
holding nothing but the sea's that we swallow; still, it is a room with
two doors.<br />
<br />
On the outside of one, written in large dark script,
is the word, 'Loss'. On the inside of the other, written in equally dark
script, is the word, 'Hope'. Only, In that darkened place, the sanctum in
the sorrow of that infinite space, it is hard to read the writing,
without a light.<br />
<br />
© Richard Michael Parker 2017<br />
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<br />RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06368781750827270763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882105106820226705.post-65567465080103748462017-06-23T02:35:00.003+01:002017-06-23T02:35:53.713+01:00Gallery...<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTz_cGUHNaKFxKlWWBMBBMIMM7ogv2lBh_XMKEYwafFQfg5WW4joQWXaHCedJELcyiq11uwZLWw-jxj8Npi_CAaLIeP3zQcPQzWUR999pq3LXdLpJLzEC1whsjEEUbnK2utpguQZY7bkNV/s1600/Adieu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTz_cGUHNaKFxKlWWBMBBMIMM7ogv2lBh_XMKEYwafFQfg5WW4joQWXaHCedJELcyiq11uwZLWw-jxj8Npi_CAaLIeP3zQcPQzWUR999pq3LXdLpJLzEC1whsjEEUbnK2utpguQZY7bkNV/s640/Adieu.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h2>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/92224703@N08/sets/72157632503092989/" target="_blank">Please click here for Gallery...</a></b></span></h2>
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<u><b><br /></b></u>RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06368781750827270763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882105106820226705.post-89208809573863053212017-04-14T00:33:00.000+01:002017-04-14T00:33:16.944+01:00Spring Cleaning<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuPIw7Mf0NcGSse2Kr1tBS0rrr9ZrX-fsoxvji9pXO5jRGkjVj5XedlxvavazgRfoNK8Y-lL7T89GoHeZDpso0W_WZ4u4iboQ1u3rJHwKt0XuWwKiBgbsifIKOEnCCD6ZzTpQLf9jDI92G/s1600/sunny.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuPIw7Mf0NcGSse2Kr1tBS0rrr9ZrX-fsoxvji9pXO5jRGkjVj5XedlxvavazgRfoNK8Y-lL7T89GoHeZDpso0W_WZ4u4iboQ1u3rJHwKt0XuWwKiBgbsifIKOEnCCD6ZzTpQLf9jDI92G/s640/sunny.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b>-Spring Cleaning-</b><br />
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They were sweet and torrential!... The
fitful sleep of a carousel that whirls after long years of disuse;
cobwebs swept from out darkened corners, the dust brushed and removed.
From time to time I stop and pick up some fine bone china ornament or a
decorative figurine, a memory of all that has been, and fly, but for a
moment, into some long lost forgotten sky. Then all at once your suns
deep ray shines it's ceaseless way into the recesses of my mind, and I a<span class="text_exposed_show">m
home again, the dust swept away in an instant as I open the window from
whence you have shone your loving balm upon my soul. Spring cleaning is
such a moment of bittersweet revelry, and though the songs of distant
days echo their sweet tunes in fragrant hallways, half lit stairwells,
nothing will quell the turning of the season, and the warm thaw of
winters cool heart. I close my eyes and walk into your light, your warm
fingers stroke these threads with imperceptible delicacy, a new day has
dawned, and warmer suns beckon me on.</span><br />
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© Richard Michael Parker 2017<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/qcil4hExebE" width="560"></iframe>RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06368781750827270763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882105106820226705.post-2976166211496883612016-04-30T20:57:00.001+01:002017-03-27T01:05:33.951+01:00Words...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyFqxLVPukRCH30vaTxu2ucFVN30yxSM0G4Wn3XESfShTtpKK9jVvrkuI7TgRYQIXZA0Vz2jEAAFDzMqF2fpRDqQS0E2cqXyzwcPHRm0f-mrcQHQCm-sSKLy65XtRs_drUc-2ZQIfsLe8L/s1600/Words.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyFqxLVPukRCH30vaTxu2ucFVN30yxSM0G4Wn3XESfShTtpKK9jVvrkuI7TgRYQIXZA0Vz2jEAAFDzMqF2fpRDqQS0E2cqXyzwcPHRm0f-mrcQHQCm-sSKLy65XtRs_drUc-2ZQIfsLe8L/s640/Words.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span data-offset-key="7grp3-0-0"><span data-text="true">These shapes and feelings, the efflorescent stealing's of my heart, the rhyme upon the tip of this feathering quill, a skill, deftly stroked upon the soul of another, my lover, whose eternity wraps her arms in the gossamer airs of night, to twinkle through the filigree's of starlight, that play upon the pages of these scripted verses, born for all the ages we have ever known, forsworn by every gratitude to each that was ever grown, a twin heart, beats time within my own. These cymbals of love, that sound upon the parchment with scratchings of earth and fire, resound within a hearth, stoked by the coals of this living desire, mark time, in sweet rhythm upon my heart, the sounding bell upon the depths, from which each feathered dip does swell, to crash upon the shore of every word that sings of this love, and speaks for two, a fusion of rebirth, forever bespoke upon wings reborn, flown between the crashing waves, the smouldering tide, the seething page, fervent words, drawn from out the ink well of this love. Words...</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="6jboj-0-0"><span data-text="true">© Richard Michael Parker 2016</span></span><br />
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RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06368781750827270763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882105106820226705.post-75777591321619931712016-04-24T01:31:00.002+01:002016-04-24T01:36:27.119+01:00Prince<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFjy1HdRPvR14FsFBIBxn0AalWlErPC-NZhbpB3d_FOLe9C-1DRGHT5CSG_6v9K27-34sotsvMJqsYpFrG-f-9a2ZZifR6xbsQFQzMGnmFxrrvk29dxWtT5pj9mNz_XrYDTurAouAmqO2y/s1600/Princely.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFjy1HdRPvR14FsFBIBxn0AalWlErPC-NZhbpB3d_FOLe9C-1DRGHT5CSG_6v9K27-34sotsvMJqsYpFrG-f-9a2ZZifR6xbsQFQzMGnmFxrrvk29dxWtT5pj9mNz_XrYDTurAouAmqO2y/s640/Princely.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b>Prince</b><br />
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I think it is also that he left us such beauty, bared his soul and resonated with our own, often in less callous times. Years of hope and tenderness, before the full blush of summers harsh sun had whorled it's wicked way with us. The passing of these iconic personalities, finger scars, or more tremulous hearts than those we may know today, and so too their passing becomes our own, a thousand deaths, passing down passageways we have long since left, yet, indelibly they remain our own, filled with the remnants of all those passing moments, feelings, emotions we have known. An ocean of song, sung in a common soul, though we be different, each drop a part of the whole. In the end, every moment, every emotion meant something to us, and so in passing, perhaps, those emotions that were so vital in that time pass too... for that, though we be grateful for the beauty and shared remembrance, it is hard not to be a little sad. As someone sagaciously said: "We don't cry because we knew them, we cry because they helped us know ourselves." <br />
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© Richard Michael Parker 2016<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/dGo7EqG0X1g" width="560"></iframe>RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06368781750827270763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882105106820226705.post-14242664052216432612016-04-18T01:37:00.002+01:002016-04-18T01:38:27.718+01:00Loves First Dawning Ray<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx4H6kmDqsG6gXsd0GCIgaZdL_E7-j7v_f0UjNBWm-C3ox4psTbvZj3y7yjZeJICIiAvDufPFXxTUbMWDeRZAMkxGaqzKT17Im1iRLQVFnqcLxHZ74WfhQajL87wj4TSl8-fcD0oncFE8T/s1600/LFDR.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="448" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx4H6kmDqsG6gXsd0GCIgaZdL_E7-j7v_f0UjNBWm-C3ox4psTbvZj3y7yjZeJICIiAvDufPFXxTUbMWDeRZAMkxGaqzKT17Im1iRLQVFnqcLxHZ74WfhQajL87wj4TSl8-fcD0oncFE8T/s640/LFDR.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b>-Loves First Dawning Ray-</b><br />
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You are the earth in which the seed is sown,<br />
the silent dark, receiving every ray,<br />
you are the night, the supple round, the fertile loam,<span class="text_exposed_show"><br /> the coddled warmth of summers glow in endless May.<br /> Wrapped in golden hue, this suckled honey,<br /> lapped upon the morning dew we lay.</span><br />
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<div class="text_exposed_show">
You are the ashes from the forest of the fallen<br />
the rankled cold of winters solemn deep<br />
you are the crown on which the soul was swollen<br />
the hope renewed, the promise that we keep.<br />
And ever has the world unfurled her glory,<br />
though oft that climb atop seemed all too steep.<br />
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You are the silence that bends before me,<br />
the rolling wave that greets the salted knight,<br />
the curl of dreams, the whisper in the hollow,<br />
the lavish realm, the promise of the light.<br />
Each ripple curved upon the yielding lip,<br />
to slip into the fulsome sheath aright.<br />
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And when the yawn of death is over,<br />
you are the revelry, the sprightly risen tune,<br />
the morning star, the lark-full luscious clover,<br />
rekindled in the spark'd hearth renewed.<br />
For every day, the dark recedes, my lover,<br />
you are the blessing of loves first dawning ray.<br />
<br />
© Richard Michael Parker 2016<br />
<br /></div>
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Gru4IfbKlfU" width="420"></iframe>
RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06368781750827270763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882105106820226705.post-68299689463521122232016-02-23T02:25:00.002+00:002016-02-23T02:41:53.653+00:00The Willow's Song<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO7ndVxwz2_lsjts23DVndT2vf-wTujBvCfJInkWad5EXf19JoJEOIgEYvuUtMVZptljTKKr0DXRN_8xFM3nFQ448UXHPllpPgPIOti6HrYPPuloeG9qISx6EuU42BrQQqyQhgIwThNK3D/s1600/hope-milenka-delic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="481" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO7ndVxwz2_lsjts23DVndT2vf-wTujBvCfJInkWad5EXf19JoJEOIgEYvuUtMVZptljTKKr0DXRN_8xFM3nFQ448UXHPllpPgPIOti6HrYPPuloeG9qISx6EuU42BrQQqyQhgIwThNK3D/s640/hope-milenka-delic.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b>-The Willow's Song-</b><br />
<br />
I heard the wind chimes call,<br />
your tender breath blowing through the willow;<br />
How soft the moon,<span class="text_exposed_show"><br /> the elegant sweep of your hands<br /> crushed beneath my heart and the pillow.</span><br />
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Was it only yesterday we sat alone?<br />
And turned the fated rocks,<br />
every tortured stone,<br />
tilled from out the sodden peat<br />
the mangled scar'd fray<br />
of every sunken beat?<br />
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And turning... still,<br />
the silence and the warmth of every crook,<br />
pressed into the nook of my soul,<br />
your emerald heart <br />
glowing in the still night of your yearning.<br />
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How fickle this spell<br />
that breaks upon the dawns first ray.<br />
How low the moon, <br />
her weary sunken brow borne far away,<br />
caught between the rapture, and the day.<br />
<br />
I heard the wind chimes call;<br />
And all that frightened woe, <br />
will not wash the sound away.<br />
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© Richard Michael Parker 2016<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/MMDa0Ua_KrI" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
Artwork: 'Hope' by Milenka Delic <br />
<br />RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06368781750827270763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882105106820226705.post-22223873981417399362016-02-07T22:34:00.006+00:002021-02-15T10:41:39.464+00:00Teardrop<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqym018EBOQ7nfsCS-cqS8vg27zysr7yZIe7UjGqByeDDT669_Z4EvGqAfOsSTbbYAcY42GIKKt9gfwgaQTlYT95xK0uB_LUcdaNALKLlBKqGhGkdgGdQqO7mmt_9_8fnKTfSuGiRLtCXg/s1600/teardrops.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqym018EBOQ7nfsCS-cqS8vg27zysr7yZIe7UjGqByeDDT669_Z4EvGqAfOsSTbbYAcY42GIKKt9gfwgaQTlYT95xK0uB_LUcdaNALKLlBKqGhGkdgGdQqO7mmt_9_8fnKTfSuGiRLtCXg/s640/teardrops.jpg" width="496" /></a></div>
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<b>Teardrop</b><br />
<br />
The danger with disappointment, especially when it has accompanied
sorrow, is projection. The sanctimony of the artful mental manipulations
of the mind, mendaciously matriculating from the college of the soul.
Grief is a dreadful taskmaster unless it is confronted, and while we
presume to believe only in all that has gone before, that blistered
light that once shone as stars in the nebulous universe of our
unfolding, to seek to avoid the vacuum that shapes and controls even t<span class="text_exposed_show">he
greatest of these spheres is a dreadful mistake. No one wants to see
the dark, especially when one projects such light as a mask, but to
avoid the truth in the nature of that balance is simply to abdicate ones
life journey in favour of a fantastical illusion, an illusion so
powerful it blinds us to the truth of it, whilst subtly eking between
the cracks. Sorrow, uncontested, becomes a bitter sword wielded by the
blind. We say to ourselves, 'We, are light, They are dark, We are in
control, they are chaos,' the eternal polemic becomes a battle contested
in ourselves and projected upon the world, until all are separated in a
sanctimony of dis-equilibria. The courage to face the shadow, the fear,
the darkened remnants of our own grief, allows for the transcendent
moment to redress that balance in an authentic manner, so that we are no
longer forced to project a false polemic upon the world, and love can
once again form new stars in this universe we all share. All else is
illusion...</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show"> </span>© Richard Michael Parker 2016<br />
<br />
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/8X490Yt0ZHU" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen></iframe>RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06368781750827270763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882105106820226705.post-88116435200505907862015-07-26T16:34:00.001+01:002015-07-26T16:34:17.900+01:00The Jeweler<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTNNYVuRB4HuY-5tFWkliRmZvCAAb7kVxFfxDPzlz1GJM3nxC0tKEF9PAykTK8dp-q1P3mPKnhk_HzaICKuFh06hroWaMIuEmGKnorj9FWmDeeWzUN8d0SFxOvajKbR4hysfZdnuI7RbZX/s1600/The+Jeweler.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="601" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTNNYVuRB4HuY-5tFWkliRmZvCAAb7kVxFfxDPzlz1GJM3nxC0tKEF9PAykTK8dp-q1P3mPKnhk_HzaICKuFh06hroWaMIuEmGKnorj9FWmDeeWzUN8d0SFxOvajKbR4hysfZdnuI7RbZX/s640/The+Jeweler.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b>-The Jeweller-</b><br />
<br />
'I like it, but it is a pretty dangerous thing
to do'. Not that focussing on the jewel amidst the darkness is not
beautiful, just that to ignore the truth of the context in which that
jewel shines is to be absent in truth somehow. It is as if to say, 'all
that other stuff, it doesn't matter! we will ignore it and in ignorance
it will simply fade away'... but that rarely happens. Not only is it
semi delusional, and in a way judgemental, but it also speaks of a k<span class="text_exposed_show">ind
of travesty of perception, a lack of sincerity and humility, as if you
are saying, 'that darker stuff that surrounds you, well, that doesn't
matter', but of course, it does matter. It is someone's life, and that
matters, all the tawdry little moments matter, all the quirks and hard
to bare iniquities matter, they matter because they didn't just come
from nowhere, they have a story too, and though that story is hard to
hear, though that story may be washed with pain and suffering, still it
is life, and for that person, it mattered; It mattered so much, that
they took it upon themselves in the guise of a dark shroud, one that is
hard to bare and uncomfortable to look at, but still it mattered. Yes
that jewel is beautiful, but we are not stone collectors, fashioning the
uncut gems we find in others for our own device and pleasure, rather,
accepting the darkness too, listening to it's story also, gives context
to the jewels we find, and gives honour to the life we share, the whole
life, not just the parts we find easy to look at, and in so doing, we
give honour to that person we love, giving love, even to the darkness we
may find, and the stories that it tells. 'The stars shine brightly
within the firmament, set in the night as jewels upon the sky, and never
brighter were all those celestial ornaments, than when in darkness the
twinkling diamonds caught my eye.' </span><br />
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© Richard Michael Parker 2015<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/IZx4pnEKOHc" width="420"></iframe>RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06368781750827270763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882105106820226705.post-29582173468963413352015-05-29T13:41:00.000+01:002015-05-29T13:45:00.175+01:00Swallow Tail<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1tz7AgCp8k4GOdLE8ODrLFkbtxg2gv6InrpN3JDikOP5yDptxYm_yBvQzph6eG-bHYhUQzLuA0uuyZlPO0YZtvMGXhwlF2cXuh-oUybfJOeqGEQJxHBBQO6EBom2ywsOx8HpdNWIn8DmV/s1600/butterfly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1tz7AgCp8k4GOdLE8ODrLFkbtxg2gv6InrpN3JDikOP5yDptxYm_yBvQzph6eG-bHYhUQzLuA0uuyZlPO0YZtvMGXhwlF2cXuh-oUybfJOeqGEQJxHBBQO6EBom2ywsOx8HpdNWIn8DmV/s640/butterfly.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b>Swallow Tail</b><br />
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Velvet butterflies brushing their gossamer wings,<br />
tremulous fluttering's inside my soul,<br />
lifting from the hearth to the whole.<br />
I feel them rise from the pit,<br />
swirling through incandescent skies,<br />
filling my heart with the warmth of your breath,<br />
slipping like silk ribbons caught in a breeze,<br />
the gentle ease, of all you have become to me.<br />
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Tickling sensations,<br />
these trembling emanations of light,<br />
surging through these rice paper gates,<br />
erupting upon my face with a smile.<br />
A brilliant star, in joyous release.<br />
<br />
I sat in blue corners once,<br />
masked in the mourning of some mottled solemnity, <br />
wondering what it was that you might have been to me,<br />
seeking that which was before my unsighted eyes,<br />
before my heart, the chase inside,<br />
blind to its light, in the depths of its hide.<br />
<br />
To cease the search, and in being, simply love.<br />
To curtail the endless courtship, the chase,<br />
the hunt from above, and in risen heart,<br />
watch the doe bound within the open meadow,<br />
free from her forest retreat,<br />
the supple greeting of each loving gracious fellow,<br />
the swallow tail swimming in the breeze,<br />
kissed between the sunlight's balmy phlox,<br />
and those distant oaken trees.<br />
<br />
Love steals my heart, and floods the plain,<br />
and on my tongue and in my ear, I hear<br />
this gentle wind whispering your name.<br />
The fluttering diaphanous flight,<br />
of these butterflies of love, <br />
caught between the chrysalis,<br />
and your bless'd light, above.<br />
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© Richard Michael Parker 2012<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ldwDvw99HHs" width="420"></iframe> <br />
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<br />RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06368781750827270763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882105106820226705.post-43436713235928297592015-05-23T22:02:00.003+01:002015-05-23T22:02:32.128+01:00There Is A Light<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUGTtUxHsWXfQP33DAeiEDGcNmC3Tcj3A1sw5cHUA9fUjif0rmMYTF8VQd8dRKagKPPLBXN3LG34fc7l0ewrI24JSFnW697R8tEvWvgyzWygZTDSLK-VuigznceeksXI7x_tOqxPayH1Pe/s1600/open+doorway.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUGTtUxHsWXfQP33DAeiEDGcNmC3Tcj3A1sw5cHUA9fUjif0rmMYTF8VQd8dRKagKPPLBXN3LG34fc7l0ewrI24JSFnW697R8tEvWvgyzWygZTDSLK-VuigznceeksXI7x_tOqxPayH1Pe/s640/open+doorway.jpg" width="414" /></a></div>
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<b>-There Is A Light-</b><br />
<br />
"I don't know what to tell you" he said.<br />
<br />
"I only know it gets harder every time. The world grows a little
darker, and the wind a little colder, and there comes a moment when you
wonder whether you ever felt at all. So dark and numbed by it all.<br />
<br />
Perhaps your standing at a check out, staring blankly at the head in
front of you, waiting for your turn to dance with the plastic bags and
fake food you have bought for dinner, and there comes a moment, in the
drab monotony of that emptiness, a simple moment when all the pain in
your heart and the blocks in your head are forgotten, lost in the mist
of that nothingness, when someone says something, or you do something
quite spontaneously, and for an instant the light that is within you
breaks through.<br />
<br />
Seize that moment. Know it for what it is, the truth of the light within you.<br />
<br />
For that light is never extinguished. Though it be dulled by scars that
have built upon your heart, with every betrayal, every sunken hope,
though it be obscured by the towers and walls you have built in your
mind to protect your heart from the withering assault of that pain, it
burns still. It's light kindled in the depths of the deepest darkness.
It is just that, as time passes, and the tarnishing's of love set down
their slow decay, it gets harder to remember. So hard in fact that at
times, the blocks and the scars, the pain and the masks we build to
forestall it, halt the light, until, seated on the throne of our own
turbid mind, we can no longer see it's glory. No longer feel the warmth
of it's ray, as it passes inspection, obscured by all the tissues and
walls that lay between awareness and the truth.<br />
<br />
So, in those
moments, those simple moments in which love, or communion, laughter, or a
simple gesture erupt out of you, quite beyond your conscious control,
understand that this is your soul breaking through, this is the truth of
you, the light that shone so brightly before the world and all it's
infinite betrayals got a hold of you, and twisted your vision into
blindness. Know that you are more beautiful than you might ever have
suspected, and that though you can no longer see it, still, it remains,
and in those moments of emptiness, love has a way of opening a new door.<br />
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All that remains, is for you to walk through."<br />
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© Richard Michael Parker 2015<br />
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RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06368781750827270763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882105106820226705.post-33600991812305763382015-05-01T04:24:00.000+01:002015-05-01T04:45:55.578+01:00The Perigee Of Early Spring<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkZ3kO1QENqH2kVVyZ4F6ALDv2i35tmGvGErfrdcWgHrKRVS-taAvufj8aRSfYTfe4hr07w8w91hknXl1xiQpOndCvi0qAlAmQ349gXdJAIBya3MjAuF5LNgCqbPPPuPfgMYEgM4LJsYaT/s1600/Beltane+Fires.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkZ3kO1QENqH2kVVyZ4F6ALDv2i35tmGvGErfrdcWgHrKRVS-taAvufj8aRSfYTfe4hr07w8w91hknXl1xiQpOndCvi0qAlAmQ349gXdJAIBya3MjAuF5LNgCqbPPPuPfgMYEgM4LJsYaT/s1600/Beltane+Fires.jpg" height="475" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b>-The Perigee of Early Spring-</b><br />
<br />
The moon, she shines,<br />
without favour or disguise, both,<br />
upon the joyous and the bitter sunken eyed.<span class="text_exposed_show"><br /> The weeping pools,<br /> seeping between the corpulent shadows,<br /> tree wrung gargoyles,<br /> hung upon the bough of the midnight queen.<br /> Seldom seen, upon the fleck of cherried air,<br /> heavy in a dream, bare upon the sacred hill,<br /> where the drum and tambourine, beat upon the wind.<br /> 'I'll meet you there'! - 'I'll meet you there'! '<br /> Where the golly goblins sprawl,<br /> between the orange scented call; 'There'!<br /> Where your hair, all tangerine,<br /> flounced upon your green eyes, moonstruck,<br /> glared into the fires feckled hue,<br /> and plucked the rosy suckle bare,<br /> to shuck the huckleberry blue.<br /> Dancing on the naked hill,<br /> the parchment and dishevelled quill,<br /> dipped into the inky well, pounced,<br /> between your painted toes, and silver bell,<br /> all crackling groans of an ancient toll;<br /> The swollen dips, the sunken lips.<br /> We learnt it well;<br /> We learnt it well.</span><br />
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The moon, she shines,<br />
without favour or disguise;<br />
The road is long, and the way is dark, without her.<br />
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© Richard Michael Parker 2014<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/On2CgB_Ya9c" width="560"></iframe>RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06368781750827270763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882105106820226705.post-34419051093028246472014-03-29T14:18:00.000+00:002014-03-29T14:18:13.044+00:00Opalescence<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="userContent"><b>-Opalescence-</b><br /><br />The opalescence of your eyes,<br />shimmers in Novembers pale sun,<br />and all the world is stolen,<br />still, in the glint of this silver thread,<br />woven between us.<br /><br />The tethered serenade of a nightingale,<br />swims through the midnight branches,<br />an overhang of tenderness,<br />a canopy of moonlight,<br />dancing amongst the shadows, <br />the dipping lip,<br />creased in languid motions,<br />the teasing oceans of your warm breath,<br />swept upon the somnolence of this summers breeze.<br /><br />How solemn the death. <br />The madness and insanity,<br />the shattered revelry, <br />broken in the crepuscular awakening<br />of this suns shrill call.<br /><br />How fateful the fall of that larks sweet note,<br />the swollen throat of the broaching dawn.<br /><br />And still... I love you still,<br />though all the sea's lay between us,<br />and time jealously guard our secret.<br /><br />I close my eyes, and in that instant, <br />your summer moon invades the winter snows,<br />and all the frozen world about,<br />cannot keep me out of paradise.<br />The warmth of your touch,<br />an oasis of moonlight, <br />stark, against the harsh sun of reality.<br /><br />And still... I love you still,<br />and being still, you are with me.<br /><br />© Richard Michael Parker 2014</span><br />
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<span class="userContent"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/VWPACef2_eY" width="420"></iframe> </span>RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06368781750827270763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882105106820226705.post-49198006356952041932014-01-15T05:46:00.000+00:002014-02-08T00:17:36.941+00:00The Crucible of Love<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<b>The Crucible of Love</b><br />
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The Lord of swiftness comes! <br />
seated upon the dulcet silence of the rainbow, <br />
and every naked shower that broke, <br />
in the belly of the tumult, eased again, <br />
clothed in the fading clouds of the thunderbolt.<br />
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How ragged the teeth, the jagged edge of death, <br />
that sweeps across the plain of loves devoured halo. <br />
How quickly it is rent, in the might of the foment, <br />
while every supplicant, illumed, is swallowed below.<br />
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For ever has it been the truth, that love abides no chain, <br />
nor bond, nor broken vow, nor frightened heart, nor shame. <br />
In formless might, it renders all control, conceit, <br />
to toss in fright, chaotic light, into the flame, deceit.<br />
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'Too late', I thought, 'Too late! we wait an age, <br />
and so it seemed all hell had ascended. <br />
Departing calm, defriended, no balm to ease love ended. <br />
I heard the willow whisper in soothing tones, <br />
in the midst of the yawning chasm of that fiery breech, <br />
and it was, as if, in moonlit speech, <br />
it soothed the tempests rage that burnt my breast, <br />
'Come rest' she said, in silent arms, <br />
to know that loves bequest is tranquil in it's gift. <br />
All slag burnt away, the inconsequential waste, <br />
tossed upon the pyre, the holy alters light, <br />
of loves devouring fire.<br />
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'It is only fear, burnt from out the crucible of love, <br />
that tears the soul in twain; It is only pride, <br />
severed in the rage, tossed into the flame, <br />
that sweeps away the thunderbolt and rain.'<br />
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How sweet the first sup of air, when smelted wroth, <br />
departs, stripping away all doubt and fear. <br />
How bright the dawn from out the dark well of night, <br />
the furies hour, leaving only the intimate truth.<br />
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Redoubled, the bond made brighter, Loves herald, <br />
seated in wing'd chariot, to descend upon each tormented lover. <br />
Joyous contentedness, effortlessly slips between the remnants, <br />
the salvaged sentiments, poured in mellifluous strains <br />
through the harp strings, the heavenly reigns, held sweetly.<br />
<br />
The Lord of swiftness comes! <br />
seated upon the dulcet silence of the rainbow! <br />
Loves tranquil sun, rising upon the ashes of the shadow.<br />
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<span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text">© Richard Michael Parker 2014</span><br />
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<span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text"> </span> <iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/GxlS-jULmbA" width="560"></iframe>RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06368781750827270763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882105106820226705.post-1370338521521976632014-01-03T21:31:00.000+00:002014-03-25T02:27:14.433+00:00Sweet Surrender<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="userContent">-Sweet Surrender- <br /> <br /> And if all the world resolved, <br /> to change the loving heart, <br /> to maim the union that bore it's breast, <br /> and burst upon the living land, would it rest? <span class="text_exposed_show"><br /> Could it turn the torment of the distance, <br /> For even one second into something other than what it is?<br /> Love, incalculable, incorruptible love, <br /> the fire in our veins, the molten core of desolation! <br /> When all the walls we stoutly built, <br /> between the object and our doubt, <br /> have finally been erected, <br /> do you still believe they will stand?<br /> That they could ever have forestalled this Titans roar! <br /> this fury! What hubris! the proud mind, <br /> useless before the foments fiery breach, <br /> a fools fortress on the soil of some foreign land! <br /> Even proud Apollo, <br /> luminescent upon his bright ray of dawn, <br /> could not forestall loves glory. <br /> Though he build a universe to divide it, <br /> still the weft and the warp measure the weave! <br /> Even He! of such empyreal majesty, <br /> bows before the cherubs wing. <br /> What then of we? Mortal beings! <br /> Who vainly believe we control our destiny! <br /> What hubris destroys the tower? <br /> The triumphant hour, <br /> when every brick is smashed before the great amour, <br /> crashed upon the floor. <br /> And for what? <br /> Our choice is but to lament, <br /> or in humility, all resistance spent, <br /> sing! Surrender! Sweet Surrender!<br /> Surrender, the vulnerable truth, <br /> the tender mercy of mortal youth! <br /> Surrender, or fall... <br /> the fateful choice of lovers, all.<br /> <br /> © Richard Michael Parker 2014</span></span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/HT2FXqUJLls" width="420"></iframe><br />
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<span class="userContent"><span class="text_exposed_show">Artwork: Artist Unknown </span></span>RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06368781750827270763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882105106820226705.post-7139855637750930102013-12-28T22:37:00.001+00:002013-12-28T22:37:51.767+00:00Winters Cool Flame<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="userContent">-Winters Cool Flame-<br /> <br /> Winters cool flame,<br /> melts the frozen heart,<br /> the effulgence of snapping tongues, <br /> licking at the stars,<span class="text_exposed_show"><br /> an endless swirl, a giddy dance,<br /> suckled in the presence of our God.<br /> For love is the whole of the law.<br /> <br /> Inhale the fragrance,<br /> the heady residue of pollinated musk,<br /> slick between the petals of fire. <br /> Red velvet in your hand;<br /> The frozen land, <br /> melting to the warmth of your touch.<br /> <br /> The sallow hearth,<br /> rekindled in the depths at last... <br /> An incandescence of desire,<br /> tossed, like all those past regrets, <br /> upon the glowing embers of this pyre,<br /> consumed within the licking flame,<br /> the holy fire, the screaming of your name.<br /> <br /> And out that darkened frigid womb,<br /> the sacred seed, from heat exhumed,<br /> an ancient glow, renewed, reborn,<br /> a risen sun, a golden dawn.<br /> <br /> For even in the darkened depths,<br /> the frozen land of past regrets,<br /> Love calls your name.<br /> <br /> © Richard Michael Parker 2013</span></span><br />
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<span class="userContent"><span class="text_exposed_show"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/JQUNTJob078" width="560"></iframe></span></span><br />
<span class="userContent"><span class="text_exposed_show"><br /> </span></span><br />
<br /><span class="userContent"><span class="text_exposed_show">Photograph: Artist Unknown</span></span>RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06368781750827270763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882105106820226705.post-32398711862838132122013-12-27T00:01:00.001+00:002013-12-27T00:01:05.585+00:00-À La Carte-<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="userContent"><b>-À La Carte-<br /> </b><br /> Rest well your eyes,<br /> greedily feeding and freed, <br /> the disconsolate lies,<br /> blindly needing, <span class="text_exposed_show"><br /> desirously bleeding the seed.<br /> <br /> No longer chained to the banquet table, <br /> slipping between the sable seats;<br /> The fabled goblet of unending wine,<br /> suckled in the fire and the heat. <br /> The tantalizing taste of each dread morsel,<br /> quaffed in a bevy of lascivity.<br /> <br /> This licentious concoction imbibed, <br /> a boudoir buffet, the best of selections, <br /> served À la carte, each heart filled projection,<br /> crushed between the palette and the tongue,<br /> far flung, upon the soulful pyre,<br /> the solemn bell, wrung, with every lamb,<br /> slaughtered upon the alter of desire.<br /> <br /> Unhaltered greed, <br /> the famished hole, the fleshly treat,<br /> discarding the greens eating only the meat.<br /> The sickly sweet cake of unending frosting,<br /> churning, endlessly yearning for a substance<br /> that will never come. <br /> <br /> The flippant and fripperous wave,<br /> the obsolete depths, an intimacy betrayed,<br /> upon the wavelets of a passing shore.<br /> What more could a dolphin crave?<br /> Suckled upon the surface of things.<br /> <br /> Too far this sea, this ocean deep,<br /> that swells the fathoms bell far below me. <br /> Too far, too fleeting it's call.<br /> <br /> When all the world lay beneath your fingertips,<br /> supped upon some foreign lips,<br /> sucked into the void of thrusting hips,<br /> this oceans swell became a puddle, a pool,<br /> a shallow hell, born lightly, schooled,<br /> in the absence of faith.<br /> <br /> Even in the silent hour, I hear your voice,<br /> the shower of your bright body, tossed,<br /> every choice, lost, in the foment of desire,<br /> every cost, has its price.<br /> <br /> Rest well your eyes,<br /> greedily feeding and freed, <br /> the disconsolate lies,<br /> blindly needing, <br /> desirously bleeding the seed.<br /> <br /> © Richard Michael Parker 2013</span></span><br />
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<span class="userContent"><span class="text_exposed_show"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/EkhY4YXX6x4" width="420"></iframe><br /> </span></span>RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06368781750827270763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882105106820226705.post-31592634368807594652013-12-15T11:16:00.002+00:002013-12-22T00:36:42.725+00:00A New Home<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="userContent"><b>-A New Home-</b><br /> <br /> I have crossed the world for you... <br /> the vast reaches of time, <br /> only to be with you, <br /> only to form this soul anew. <span class="text_exposed_show"><br /> I have brushed off the darkest spaces, <br /> thrown out the past... <br /> the useless moments and endless stains, <br /> cleansed and waiting only for your touch. <br /> No spot has remained. <br /> No shadow unmoved remains to haunt us. <br /> Endlessly, tirelessly I have worked, <br /> to ready this heart for the knock, <br /> to greet you at the door, <br /> and welcome you home. <br /> To live together as one, <br /> to love in this place, <br /> the warmth and joy of the welcomed space. <br /> Filled with the bright light of loves sweet summer,<br /> Invading each window, a crystal sheen,<br /> spotlessly cleaned.<br /> The hanging frames of windows, <br /> shining in their luminescence.<br /> A rainbow of hope and promise, <br /> entwined and kissed upon the threshold. <br /> I love you with all that I am, <br /> all that I will ever be. <br /> Know that without you, <br /> this space is but a barren shell, a house, <br /> but you my love, have made this soul, <br /> a home.<br /> <br /> © Richard Michael Parker 2013</span></span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/2WzyJbUQyvI" width="420"></iframe><br />RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06368781750827270763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882105106820226705.post-10610130546487855692013-12-14T22:48:00.001+00:002013-12-14T22:48:33.030+00:00A Quiet River<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="userContent"><b>-A Quiet River-</b><br /> <br /> Could it be any deeper. <br /> This slow eminence of my heart, <br /> weaving between the fractured scars, <br /> a soulful melody that rings the chiming bell,<span class="text_exposed_show"><br /> the shadows released; <br /> Your soft skin gently lain upon my breast, <br /> a heartbeat easing within. <br /> I felt the sinking feeling again, <br /> crossed swords aching in a memory, <br /> and still your skin above me. <br /> The cooing dove that beckons, <br /> 'come out of your cave', <br /> 'come out into the sun my heart'. <br /> Struck by the moon, a dampened space, <br /> where only heartache has left it's fingerprints. <br /> Learning to trust again can be the hardest lesson of all. <br /> And still your softness surrounds me,<br /> and I feel the flood of this slow love,<br /> a quiet river, sipping at the banks of my heart.<br /> <br /> © Richard Michael Parker 2013</span></span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/bYyK922PsUw" width="420"></iframe><br />RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06368781750827270763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882105106820226705.post-21550558648129986812013-12-13T22:52:00.001+00:002013-12-13T22:52:45.200+00:00A River Deep<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>-A River Deep-</b><br /><br />Our love is like a river deep,<br />it flows from off the highest peeks,<br />frozen in the ice of winters chill breath.<br /><br />At times we wonder where the warmth has gone,<br />the summer sun, suckled amidst a warm kiss,<br />vanishes in the mists, a silky dew of loss and remiss,<br />leaving only the memory of each naked breast,<br />teased between soft fingertips,<br />lain upon the frigid climbs to rest.<br /><br />We doubt the fire, the passion of summers past,<br />in these days of coddled hibernation,<br />Yet, natures ways arouse even in the coldest season.<br /><br />The thaw of springs first melt,<br />the frozen heart, felt, beneath the rapids tilt,<br />the chaos and the roar,<br />the thrusting hilt released upon the risen Tor.<br /><br />All doubt consumed in the rolling hills of chaos,<br />a flood from off the mountain top.<br />We need only wait, with faith and patience,<br />a kinder fate, for minds locked in icy anticipation.<br /><br />The river runs, a foments might,<br />amidst the rocks and scraggy boulders,<br />this love, one year older.<br /><br />Widening out into summers, lark sweet meadows,<br />the somnolence and crush of sated flesh,<br />two souls reclined on sunlit bowers, no shadows,<br />compete with dew dropped lips, in heat, enmeshed.<br />The moistened fingers dipped in waters sweet.<br /><br />Fear not the frozen hour,<br />Know only that nature has her seasons,<br />her reasons for the silent moment.<br />The quiet too is a balance of divinity.<br />An Angels silent wings,<br />brushed, across the surface of things.<br /><br />And all too soon again we plunge,<br />rush, revel in the waters crush,<br />even the wide shallows are embraced,<br />a quiescent grace, sucked into the air,<br />to shower down upon the mountain peaks,<br />the gathering drifts, cuddled snowflakes,<br />to rest again, and sleep beneath emotive cliffs.<br /><br />This ice and glory, the fire and the frigid flame,<br />are but natures endless cycles, the seasons change,<br />but the stories the same.<br /><br />Our love is like a mountain thaw,<br />the river runs deep,<br />in timeless circles, evermore,<br />one love, with you, complete.<br /><br />© Richard Michael Parker 2013<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/aUA_hGs6tB4" width="420"></iframe><br />RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06368781750827270763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882105106820226705.post-6754916978414673542013-12-03T14:13:00.001+00:002016-02-26T21:53:54.648+00:00Come As You Are...<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Come As You Are...</b><br /><br />Come as you are... My Heart;<br />Wrapped in the night and dressed with stars,<br />that we may swoon upon the whispering tails of comets,<br />and dance upon the silver lighted moon.<br /><br />Come as you are... My Soul;<br />Dripping in the glow of incandescence,<br />the showering meteor's throw of sensual essence.<br />heaving upon the world, a bursting glory,<br />the dazzling illumination of this lovers story.<br /><br />Come as you are... My Flesh;<br />And I shall build a tower of skin to hold you,<br />enfold you, in a silken supple lair,<br />to rock you, endlessly, in the cradle of my stare.<br /><br />Come as you are... My Whole;<br />Until in dreams we drift upon a beach,<br />the lunging surf of each eternal instance,<br />the golden sands crushed beneath our reach.<br />A flood of love enjoined from out the distance.<br /><br />Come as you are... My Breath;<br />And we shall drape our souls entwined,<br />drunk upon the honey and the wine,<br />of lips no distant that the parting of each wave,<br />a unity of breath, a sun from out the grave.<br /><br />Come as you are... The Music and the Dance.<br /><br />For all the world has heard the trumpet and the lyre,<br />the cymbals and the horn, the rapture of desire.<br />The swirling giddy grace of love triumphantly reborn, <br />entranced within a sweet embrace, to dance upon the dawn.<br /><br />Come as you are... My Love<br />for as you are, Am I.<br />Come.<br /><br />© Richard Michael Parker 2013</span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/NrCsyN-fZ94" width="420"></iframe>RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06368781750827270763noreply@blogger.com0