poem-in-your-pocket-day

The whole purpose of the construction of The Bridge of Silver Wings was to provide a path leading to The River of Winged Dreams, or to serve as a resting place until the river__ deeper and truer nature revealed itself.

Afghan GirlIce blue eyes that look to the morning sky as I knit the pieces and remnants of my life. I have No books, no paper, no pencils, and no black boards. I look at the holes in my life as I see the hills of the Appalachians that echo. I think to myself, who will I marry? Is my life-like Pari? These strings please come together. Snowflakes give me hope, and my dreams dance all around me. I__l put another log on the fire. I watch the brown paper bag over the broken glass pane letting the cold wind in; I__l take some of these remnants and stuff it.These strings are come together. Mama told me that life would be hard. I bartered for flour the other day, and the chickens ain__ laying no eggs. I struggle with life and these strings. My hands are worn and tired. Now, I have granny square hands. I am unclean, unblemished, and finished, Afghan girl.

Feet sandaled with dreams tread paths of vision leading to wisdom__ sharp peaks.

Poetry looking in the mirror sees art, and art looking in a mirror sings poetry.

The dancing vortex of a sacred metaphor clashes horns and halos to make wounded music set to the tempo of a new era in brilliant labor.

The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: A human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive. To him... a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create -- so thatwithout the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating.

There lived a poet in the lands of gold,Wrote along poems unaffected by warmth or cold,His words spoke truth and pen's stroke was bold,His only motive: lives to mould

Rainer Maria Rilke greeted and wrestled with the angels of his Duino Elegies in the solitude of a castle surrounded by white cliffs tall trees and the sea. I greeted most of mine in the solitude of a house that still vibrated with the throbs of a singular life that had helped shape many lives and with the ache of attempts to render useful service to that life. The River of Winged Dreams was therefore constructed as a link between dimensions of past and future emotions and intellect and matter and spirit.

Poetry, like jazz, is one of those dazzling diamonds of creative industry that help human beings make sense out of the comedies and tragedies that contextualize our lives.

Quote words that affirmall men and women are yourbrothers and sisters.

A bridge of silver wings stretches from the dead ashes of an unforgiving nightmareto the jeweled vision of a life started anew.

You were born a child of light__ wonderful secret_ you return to the beauty you have always been.

Individuals often turn to poetry, not only to glean strength and perspective from the words of others, but to give birth to their own poetic voices and to hold history accountable for the catastrophes rearranging their lives.

Dare to love yourselfas if you were a rainbowwith gold at both ends.

I loved you for a thousand years and missed you in all of them.

To create art with all the passion in one's soul is to live art with all the beauty in one's heart.

Your pain is a school unto itself__ and your joy a lovely temple.

Listen to the arts of kids, their hands when tied have wings.