When friendships ceases to display benevolence unending Take heed to mind your own affairs and heal all that needs mending Where mortal mirth yet still unbirthed cries out for its own kind And keeps itself away from fiends that knows not its own mind So says the words of knowledge lived among the wise of life Who heap not doom on days to live nor wallow in pointless strife Cast not these words far from your thoughts nor give them shove to go But place them close to every moment you wish your life to hold For so is lived the best of life, for so is life complete And so ends those who shirk the chance and thus their lives deplete
Jade JaspersSaturday, November 28, 2020
For So is Life
Not every writer writes for fame and fortune. As a matter of fact that class of people is a reserved group of people none of the rest of the world's simple word users will ever be able to liken ourselves to. Then again, that was never the idea when most people first began writing. It was something we were taught, something we learned, something we were instructed to use through out our lives to sort out ideas and follow a pattern of thinking that would lead us to communicating with our own thoughts in a healthier way.
Saturday, November 7, 2020
Is Then I Remember
It is then I remember the carefree days of gentility
Where the motion of winds were not
And the cool of the day challenged the night
Shining it's light brighter than all the stars
Into the face of my memory
Where no one has truthfully been as I know
Nor no one has seen as I've saw to describe it's ambitions
Realizing that as humanity kept time to it's schedule
Imagination lived on in wishes and prayers
Reaching ever outward to a far distant land
Where it remained untainted by obligations
Unharmed by loathsome jealousies or hostility
Providing for itself the sanctity of life
Well nourished and well kept
So that it may exist in all its innocence alive and loved
For the sake of no other reason than for it to thrive
In all of the places where it is welcomed unthreatened.
It is then I remember the magic of appreciation
The adoration of friendship, the godliness of living everyday given me
Without judgement or condemnations for wanting the explorations of life
Where no other journey is forthcoming in a predetermined world
Set in its own ways by its own values
Where the color of an autumn leaf is blended into all color
Rather than the individual shade, shape and distinctive decoration given it
By the many modes of the atmospheres where they gather on trees
Where patterns of gradual change are constantly creating the newness of another day
Into the eons of realities to be individually viewed by the partakers of its viewing
It is then that I remember the visions in sleep where once I am free
To be transported to where I can see unaided by human or hand
Aloft in the winds gently welcoming me into their presence
Unencumbered by depravities or realities, lighter than feather or molecule
Standing atop clouds in both day and night amidst stars and sun, sky and all else
Neither wearied or burdened by earths weight or expectations
Visually absorbed into the clearness about me as I move through corridors of extensional heavens
Lingering in the ethos where time is not, neither is concept of times nothingness
Alleviating the mindless toils of to (day, morrow, night)
Enlightening the senses of innocence bellowing weightlessness
Neither forced nor motioned among atmospheres of ever after and beyond
It is then I remember being alive full of life, eager and well rested
Ready for the moments that once again bring me into the realms of all others
Who depend on their need of me and I of them as we journey through times gates
Accepting our earthened lives as our greatest joys, our endless beings
Where living is the language both spoken and unspoken between understanding and appreciation
Knowing the moment is now where we are and leading to where we will be
Together or apart always aware of each the other beyond measure in our blending
Of thoughts, words and deeds so that we become whom we are in this our now living
Able to append as we are to each other so as to never short change our oneness
Relying on dedications and ambition to carry us ever onward to destinations
To keep well our own longings for the divinities inside us to ward away all harm
That would otherwise divide us from ourselves in solidarity as our self in individuality
It is then I remember blades of grass in their infinite sovereignty
Maintaining each their own existence, cool beneath feet on hot summer days
Holding the earth in its gentle grasp adorning both mountains and plains
Teaming with life under its shade springing with flora where wanted
To feed even the smallest creature hidden in its jungles of wilderness far from eyes view
Offering the visitations of many a being to pay it no mind in their travels hither and forth
As it bends beneath their weight then stretches out again to become once again itself
Frozen by winters waters while hovering close to its roots still maintaining its cycle of life
Older than passing clouds, stronger than ripping winds, cleansing the filth from the air
Enduring forever, covering the earth, keeping it alive as itself a single blade
Maintaining its individuality among all others conjoined with its likeness in all others
Reproducing generations for generations becoming and bequeathing itself to become anew
It is then I remember water in all it's various stages from solidity to fluidity
Evaporating and replenishing itself and all it touches, from mountains to seas
Through both fields and valleys, watering flower and tree, washing away heat
Ebbing and flowing, bringer of life to all people regardless their lot among the living
The carrier of human souls through every tongue and nation
Passing through our existence, ferrying imaginations in countless story and rhyming legend
In need of care as much as our lives so like us it may continue to gift universe and condition
With it's mystery of creation without contamination pursued for its values more than gold
Uncomplicated in its simplicity or its patience to shape our future,
It's purity our saving strength, it's weakness thereof our destruction
Pouring in streams, waving through lakes to channel through rivers
No living thing its enemy, all living things in its demand, awaiting its arrival
It is then I remember humanity of which I am a part
My breaths and steps along it my deliberate longing to live among it
In my own way, as everyone else, in my birthright given me by creation
As in tears so with laughter. as in anger so with my stoic nature
Through my insomnia to my longing to slumber among the softness of my own femininity
Where the gentleness of my thoughts are the truths that holds me softly
Cradling me in hours of restful wonders where no harm or hurt exists
No strength nor logic needed save only to relax and linger in the supple nature of my mind
Jade Jaspers
Not every writer writes for fame and fortune. As a matter of fact that class of people is a reserved group of people none of the rest of the world's simple word users will ever be able to liken ourselves to. Then again, that was never the idea when most people first began writing. It was something we were taught, something we learned, something we were instructed to use through out our lives to sort out ideas and follow a pattern of thinking that would lead us to communicating with our own thoughts in a healthier way.
Friday, September 25, 2020
To the Momentous
Little notes tinkling across piano keys Luring my mind to be at ease Allowing the plausible probabilities To be what they are for the now Little glimpses adrift in my mind In search of what I would want Dressed up or dressed down Illuminating the undefinable mind
Casual glances across a roomConversations in hushed tones
Or soon to become a day lived
Only a visionary's vision make
A lifetime of memories forsake
Mingle among the shores of the living
Expose your possible to the plausible
Focus and become the ink
Expanding beyond these realms
Mindful of all quirks and qualms
Lend yourself to the momentous
Indulge all your wanton needs
Until you've reached where you want to be
Jade Jaspers
Not every writer writes for fame and fortune. As a matter of fact that class of people is a reserved group of people none of the rest of the world's simple word users will ever be able to liken ourselves to. Then again, that was never the idea when most people first began writing. It was something we were taught, something we learned, something we were instructed to use through out our lives to sort out ideas and follow a pattern of thinking that would lead us to communicating with our own thoughts in a healthier way.
Little Words
Lilting Silky Eternity Reality Pondering Wondering Considering Inspire me
History
Prophecy
Reminiscing
Projecting
Momentarily
Creativity
Lucidity
Sensibly
Fluidity
Consciously
Diligently
Meticulously
Lavishly
Jade Jaspers
Not every writer writes for fame and fortune. As a matter of fact that class of people is a reserved group of people none of the rest of the world's simple word users will ever be able to liken ourselves to. Then again, that was never the idea when most people first began writing. It was something we were taught, something we learned, something we were instructed to use through out our lives to sort out ideas and follow a pattern of thinking that would lead us to communicating with our own thoughts in a healthier way.
Tuesday, September 22, 2020
Where I Walk With You
In the journals of my mind where I walk with you All is calm, all is well, all is as we choose. No tears to hold, no fears to know, no plight to struggle through In the gardens of my existence where I walk with you. A step we make, a waltz we dance, our smiles of mirth are true Keeping narratives in my mind where I talk with you. No adversary to oppose, no circumstance to bruise The gift of opportunity to share a walk with you. Our minds are freed to rummage life in search of all our dues To fill our time as we embark on the walk I walk with you. No need to falsify ambitions or feelings misconstrue In the woven threads of being where I walk with you. Jade Jaspers
Not every writer writes for fame and fortune. As a matter of fact that class of people is a reserved group of people none of the rest of the world's simple word users will ever be able to liken ourselves to. Then again, that was never the idea when most people first began writing. It was something we were taught, something we learned, something we were instructed to use through out our lives to sort out ideas and follow a pattern of thinking that would lead us to communicating with our own thoughts in a healthier way.
Thursday, April 23, 2020
My Life's Daily Log
Waking and sleeping, eating and thinking, delving in and out of proposals for purposing
Listless and restless, unmotivated and unentertained, confined and complacent
Yet always in the refrains...
Blending in moments of maybe I would
If only, whenevers, until then, before nows
Sweeping away boredoms with the I'll do it some-hows
Endless examples amidst droplets of ideas
Tinkering the ponderings of what to do if
I should embark on a wording to write
To fill up a day without needless contrites
Of picking and bickering and bugging myself
With all of the reasons in life I have left
Behind on the days when my mind was unexplored
And dragged through the similes of, "good lord I'm so bored"
Then stuffed in a closet like an old winter sweater
Forgotten until I'd wake up and would rather
Plug away thoughtfully to dredge up a write
To sling out of my mind to prove that life's right
With reasons no other than the doing of a thing
Can drive away worry and madness the same
And cast them like dust pigeons into the sky
Where the birthright of the living is shown there on high
Then inhale a refreshing deep breath within
And feel life anew where the words do befriend
My mind full of clutter that needs a deep cleaning
To find nothing particular except every thing with no meaning
Or depth of devotion other than to think
And type out a moment when my mind met the brink
Of a universal gifting in search of a mind
Who had opportunity, talent and time
To listen a while to a whispering thought
And cast out the rubbish that would make it all stop...
Waiting for tomorrow's morning sunlight
In a house with my cats and my cute little dog
While the heavens keep time of my life's daily log.
Not every writer writes for fame and fortune. As a matter of fact that class of people is a reserved group of people none of the rest of the world's simple word users will ever be able to liken ourselves to. Then again, that was never the idea when most people first began writing. It was something we were taught, something we learned, something we were instructed to use through out our lives to sort out ideas and follow a pattern of thinking that would lead us to communicating with our own thoughts in a healthier way.
Friday, November 22, 2019
A Heart of Gold
So be prepared for it to break, others always told But I'm indifferent to their words, reject their philosophies Because a heart of gold can live as it wants to be Unlike steel or platinum or tin of cans and foils A heart of gold is soft to touch, reshape and remold Its pliable, reliable, untarnished by life's harshness And always finds the shape it's in to be a daily presence To offer to itself a love no hand or man can take And manages the comforting to heal and mend mistakes That others forge upon its being without a second thought Using tear drops like a phoenix to fill in hurtful spots So it may shape, repair, remake a safe place for its loves Forgetting often thoughtlessness when moments it was roughed Beyond its delicate repose blinded from the truth A heart of gold may change its shape but never its value So take to mind yourself my friends, if ever you are told You have a gracious gift in life within your heart of gold Because its yours and true enough you will live to see A heart of gold will heal your soul and set your worries free Never let another mouth chastise or brand your fate That the way you know to love is a big mistake But also true with me and you and those of us who care Guard your heart of gold with diligence, keep it safe from snares Which would otherwise cast out the value of your soul Love yourself always the way you would a heart of gold
Jade Jaspers
Not every writer writes for fame and fortune. As a matter of fact that class of people is a reserved group of people none of the rest of the world's simple word users will ever be able to liken ourselves to. Then again, that was never the idea when most people first began writing. It was something we were taught, something we learned, something we were instructed to use through out our lives to sort out ideas and follow a pattern of thinking that would lead us to communicating with our own thoughts in a healthier way.
Wednesday, November 20, 2019
Whimsical Redemption
From what I'm not sure, for a purpose obscured, I consider it more or less tinkling,
With words so I might, give reason a try, expanding imagination's plight,
That gathers in days, among sunlit shades, where my mind finds peace in a night,
Among stars out my windows, away from the fellows, who barter and bargain with banters,
So that I may be, alone with just me, to give myself into what matters,
To me as it is, nothing much, gee wiz, a turn of a phrase on a thought,
Not for a mention or anyone's attention, but to give life a glimpsing bright spot,
Where mind searching refrains, some free from quatrains, can ramble on never to mention,
Any disparity, or loves irregularity, that pulls me away from good intention,
Diving and sweeping, above all that deeping, that others can delve in all day,
To allow my mind freedom, because when I believe in, a moments escape I can soar,
Past all of the sorrow, and wishing tomorrows, a meaningful, meaningless what for,
Can you believe in, all this as it is, see here, read this, that's all this writing is, contour,
Gibberish, mix and mish, word bending, and styleless pitch, uncanny, but blending in phrases,
To fill up a cup of time, with all of this find a rhyme, just to expand my mind's basis
Never needing a topic, or subjected project, to wind up my worded ambitions,
Just something to say today, because my life lives that way, washed in its written redemption.
Not every writer writes for fame and fortune. As a matter of fact that class of people is a reserved group of people none of the rest of the world's simple word users will ever be able to liken ourselves to. Then again, that was never the idea when most people first began writing. It was something we were taught, something we learned, something we were instructed to use through out our lives to sort out ideas and follow a pattern of thinking that would lead us to communicating with our own thoughts in a healthier way.
Wednesday, November 13, 2019
When
So does the wishes of my life begin to then unfurl
In varied scenes of dreams and schemes in patterns vast and varied
Where I can sense the thrills of life beyond my mind that's wearied
With daily chores and routine bores demanding life's acceptance
Without remorse, without excuse, without recourse or repentance
When dreams of life call out to me from distant shores of thought
I'd rather follow where they lead than where that I would not
To see the living souls in search of treasured dreams of love
And watch them build their castles true in clouds way up above
The twisted thoughts of dimes and dozens the ilk of names and numbers
Where all that's wanted to be real is never lost in slumber
When I in solace can bequeath my mind to soar in stars
I place my faiths in all that's not instead of all that are's
So if my choosing does accept a gentle ride on wings
I upon a phoenix back can fly where no one sees
The awesome strength of graceful myth with wings defeating air
In glided flight where like the night I cast off all my cares
When childlike wonder fills my head with cotton candy clouds
Daring me to chase the wind as it shrieks and howls
I find myself among the lands of dancing twirling leaves
Entertained by nature's whispers lilting on the breeze
Showing me the secrets of it's gentle ways of life
Drawing me away from worries, angers, grief and strife
When I in trust can greet the place where dreams may ever bloom
And spin the yarns of loyal friends upon a spinning loom
I welcome all those unopposed to search for happiness
Into the realms where can be found the trueness of a bliss
That belongs among the throngs of what their heart's desire
Without the need of jealousies, hatred hopes or dires
When poet's voice from universe calls my thoughts to pen
The words of choice for a voice to comfort from within
I dedicate my mind to moments where it may be heard
In metered rhythms without a sound from music, book or bird
So that the ancient blessing flows into a new existence
Without an ego in it's path to keep it from acceptance
Jade Jaspers
Not every writer writes for fame and fortune. As a matter of fact that class of people is a reserved group of people none of the rest of the world's simple word users will ever be able to liken ourselves to. Then again, that was never the idea when most people first began writing. It was something we were taught, something we learned, something we were instructed to use through out our lives to sort out ideas and follow a pattern of thinking that would lead us to communicating with our own thoughts in a healthier way.
Saturday, September 7, 2019
To Cast My Dreams
Gentle are the words that free my woeful queries
When all the world is fast asleep I gather my consolements
Like what it feels like to belong to something I have planned
And give myself a time to soar in clouds of worded dreams
Where what is real and what is mine is always one the same
Regardless if I can describe a colorful refrain
As others do or done before by worded gates through open doors
I take my time to put in words the all I want and more Like a mind who knows a life is more than scheduled doings
And finds pleasure in the ways of verbally construing
Waiting for a loving soul who’s open to the thoughts
Of being wooed away from strifes that hold us from a plot
As piano keys are played to sounds of cheerful sights
Blooming in a melody that lifts our thoughts and minds
From the days filled with others who steal our joyful hearts
And pry us from the goodness of the ideas we impart To rinse the cares of the world back out to the seas
And bind ourselves to the present where we are at ease
In the pleasures of our gathering to share a loves repose
To appreciate the sight of such a face so fair
And give our other our attentions to every want and care
Knowing we are safe to build our bond without scorn
Keeping silent vows we wed to keep our self from harms
Pledging always our best life to the other true
Forgiving faults, denying doubt its place among us two So delicate this time is now when I in night do linger
To cast my dreams upon a page where they are free to tinkle
Among the stars as silence night plays haplessly about
The walls around my living room while I am here without
The pleasure of your face to see, the sound of your soft voice
The moment where you call my name and make me yours by choice
Because the others that you met were so slight of a thing
To meet your inner needs of calm and bring your life the dream
Of finding your mind sated from a world that knew you know
Would try to steal your happiness and bury deep your soul Be still now love don’t fret yourself from others casting loss
To bring your life back to the places you too often conceded
Giving others all your good without your own rewards
So that they could feel alright in the chaos of their world
Worry not for younger years or days long gone and past
Clothe your mind with the hopes of love that always lasts
And gives to you the times of day and night that your love craves
And brings you once again to me to wash away your madness
So you can inhale life anew and feel again the pleasures Of the giftings in our dreams to heal us forever after Jade Jaspers
Not every writer writes for fame and fortune. As a matter of fact that class of people is a reserved group of people none of the rest of the world's simple word users will ever be able to liken ourselves to. Then again, that was never the idea when most people first began writing. It was something we were taught, something we learned, something we were instructed to use through out our lives to sort out ideas and follow a pattern of thinking that would lead us to communicating with our own thoughts in a healthier way.
Sunday, September 1, 2019
While In My Mind
Winds of nonsense through your mind, cast them out and reach to find,
The moments where a soothing sound, stopped the madness all around,
Picked you up and carried you, through the dark skies casting hues,
Of shadows lurking, of hearts forsaking, of menacing words that are belating,
Find a love to love with haste, make no excuse for its grace,
Wrap it ‘round you feel its care, enjoy every pleasure there,
In the moments while it’s near, giving you such joyful cheer,
Make it yours in every way, color in every display,
Fill your mind with all it gives ,so that you both shall surely live,
Not every writer writes for fame and fortune. As a matter of fact that class of people is a reserved group of people none of the rest of the world's simple word users will ever be able to liken ourselves to. Then again, that was never the idea when most people first began writing. It was something we were taught, something we learned, something we were instructed to use through out our lives to sort out ideas and follow a pattern of thinking that would lead us to communicating with our own thoughts in a healthier way.
Wednesday, August 28, 2019
Our Always Us
Wrapped in sheets of comfort, your face fresh in my thoughts
Early morning hours, tomorrow a day away
Rest your mind and body, I hear your quiet voice say Don’t linger in the could be or what might be tomorrow
Love now these tender moments, this place of you and me
Remember life is always in every breath you breathe Take time to linger with me as night fades into day
And greet each star with open hearts as if they guide our way
The moments needed now in life, to feel a lover’s blessing
As you try to ease the pains that keep you from your resting Close your eyes dear lover, put off the weight of care
Not every writer writes for fame and fortune. As a matter of fact that class of people is a reserved group of people none of the rest of the world's simple word users will ever be able to liken ourselves to. Then again, that was never the idea when most people first began writing. It was something we were taught, something we learned, something we were instructed to use through out our lives to sort out ideas and follow a pattern of thinking that would lead us to communicating with our own thoughts in a healthier way.