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Muse in the Morning

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Muse in the Morning

Firestorm:



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The muses are ancient.  The inspirations for our stories were said to be born from them.  Muses of song and dance, or poetry and prose, of comedy and tragedy, of the inward and the outward.  In one version they are Calliope, Euterpe and Terpsichore, Erato and Clio, Thalia and Melpomene, Polyhymnia and Urania.

It has also been traditional to name a tenth muse.  Plato declared Sappho to be the tenth muse, the muse of women poets.  Others have been suggested throughout the centuries.  I don’t have a name for one, but I do think there should be a muse for the graphical arts.  And maybe there should be many more.

I know you have talent.  What sometimes is forgotten is that being practical is a talent.  I have a paucity for that sort of talent in many situations, though it turns out that I’m a pretty darn good cook.  ðŸ™‚  

Let your talent bloom.  You can share it here.  Encourage others to let it bloom inside them as well.

Won’t you share your words or art, your sounds or visions, your thoughts scientific or philosophic, the comedy or tragedy of your days, the stories of doing and making?  And be excellent to one another!

Muse in the Morning

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Muse in the Morning

Liquid Fire:



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The muses are ancient.  The inspirations for our stories were said to be born from them.  Muses of song and dance, or poetry and prose, of comedy and tragedy, of the inward and the outward.  In one version they are Calliope, Euterpe and Terpsichore, Erato and Clio, Thalia and Melpomene, Polyhymnia and Urania.

It has also been traditional to name a tenth muse.  Plato declared Sappho to be the tenth muse, the muse of women poets.  Others have been suggested throughout the centuries.  I don’t have a name for one, but I do think there should be a muse for the graphical arts.  And maybe there should be many more.

I know you have talent.  What sometimes is forgotten is that being practical is a talent.  I have a paucity for that sort of talent in many situations, though it turns out that I’m a pretty darn good cook.  ðŸ™‚  

Let your talent bloom.  You can share it here.  Encourage others to let it bloom inside them as well.

Won’t you share your words or art, your sounds or visions, your thoughts scientific or philosophic, the comedy or tragedy of your days, the stories of doing and making?  And be excellent to one another!

Friday Philosophy: Save the Trees

Disclaimer:  I am not a member of the Sierra Club.  I’m just a teacher at a small college and as part of the Women’s Studies Coordinating Committee attended a talk about a week and a half ago by Sally Malanga from that group.  After hearing her speak, I asked her to send me some information so that I could try to help her and her small group of committed volunteers fight City Hall.

People need help to save the ecology.  I figured this is what I could do best.  I’m hoping a few people out there are reading who can also lend a hand…in whatever way they can.

Never underestimate the power of a small group of committed people to change the world. In fact, it is the only  thing that ever has.

–Margaret Mead

Muse in the Morning

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Muse in the Morning

Bloom A:



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The muses are ancient.  The inspirations for our stories were said to be born from them.  Muses of song and dance, or poetry and prose, of comedy and tragedy, of the inward and the outward.  In one version they are Calliope, Euterpe and Terpsichore, Erato and Clio, Thalia and Melpomene, Polyhymnia and Urania.

It has also been traditional to name a tenth muse.  Plato declared Sappho to be the tenth muse, the muse of women poets.  Others have been suggested throughout the centuries.  I don’t have a name for one, but I do think there should be a muse for the graphical arts.  And maybe there should be many more.

I know you have talent.  What sometimes is forgotten is that being practical is a talent.  I have a paucity for that sort of talent in many situations, though it turns out that I’m a pretty darn good cook.  ðŸ™‚  

Let your talent bloom.  You can share it here.  Encourage others to let it bloom inside them as well.

Won’t you share your words or art, your sounds or visions, your thoughts scientific or philosophic, the comedy or tragedy of your days, the stories of doing and making?  And be excellent to one another!

Muse in the Morning

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket
Muse in the Morning

Pierce:



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The muses are ancient.  The inspirations for our stories were said to be born from them.  Muses of song and dance, or poetry and prose, of comedy and tragedy, of the inward and the outward.  In one version they are Calliope, Euterpe and Terpsichore, Erato and Clio, Thalia and Melpomene, Polyhymnia and Urania.

It has also been traditional to name a tenth muse.  Plato declared Sappho to be the tenth muse, the muse of women poets.  Others have been suggested throughout the centuries.  I don’t have a name for one, but I do think there should be a muse for the graphical arts.  And maybe there should be many more.

I know you have talent.  What sometimes is forgotten is that being practical is a talent.  I have a paucity for that sort of talent in many situations, though it turns out that I’m a pretty darn good cook.  ðŸ™‚  

Let your talent bloom.  You can share it here.  Encourage others to let it bloom inside them as well.

Won’t you share your words or art, your sounds or visions, your thoughts scientific or philosophic, the comedy or tragedy of your days, the stories of doing and making?  And be excellent to one another!

Muse in the Morning

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Muse in the Morning

Unblack Hole:



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The muses are ancient.  The inspirations for our stories were said to be born from them.  Muses of song and dance, or poetry and prose, of comedy and tragedy, of the inward and the outward.  In one version they are Calliope, Euterpe and Terpsichore, Erato and Clio, Thalia and Melpomene, Polyhymnia and Urania.

It has also been traditional to name a tenth muse.  Plato declared Sappho to be the tenth muse, the muse of women poets.  Others have been suggested throughout the centuries.  I don’t have a name for one, but I do think there should be a muse for the graphical arts.  And maybe there should be many more.

I know you have talent.  What sometimes is forgotten is that being practical is a talent.  I have a paucity for that sort of talent in many situations, though it turns out that I’m a pretty darn good cook.  ðŸ™‚  

Let your talent bloom.  You can share it here.  Encourage others to let it bloom inside them as well.

Won’t you share your words or art, your sounds or visions, your thoughts scientific or philosophic, the comedy or tragedy of your days, the stories of doing and making?  And be excellent to one another!

Muse in the Morning

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Muse in the Morning

Warping Out:



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The muses are ancient.  The inspirations for our stories were said to be born from them.  Muses of song and dance, or poetry and prose, of comedy and tragedy, of the inward and the outward.  In one version they are Calliope, Euterpe and Terpsichore, Erato and Clio, Thalia and Melpomene, Polyhymnia and Urania.

It has also been traditional to name a tenth muse.  Plato declared Sappho to be the tenth muse, the muse of women poets.  Others have been suggested throughout the centuries.  I don’t have a name for one, but I do think there should be a muse for the graphical arts.  And maybe there should be many more.

I know you have talent.  What sometimes is forgotten is that being practical is a talent.  I have a paucity for that sort of talent in many situations, though it turns out that I’m a pretty darn good cook.  ðŸ™‚  

Let your talent bloom.  You can share it here.  Encourage others to let it bloom inside them as well.

Won’t you share your words or art, your sounds or visions, your thoughts scientific or philosophic, the comedy or tragedy of your days, the stories of doing and making?  And be excellent to one another!

Muse in the Morning

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Muse in the Morning

A Transition through Poetry XXXIV

Art Link

Passage

Rites and Passages

(the latter years)

Isolating

Declaring

Bemoaning

Observing

Writing

Speaking

Affirming

Protecting

Finding voice

Initiating

Writing

Speaking up

Ghettoizing

Returning

Creating space

Confronting the beast

Writing

Speaking out

Helping

Representing

Taming the beast

Depicting

Moving on

Broadening

Writing

Spreading out

Identifying the larger beast

Combining

Proclaiming

Defending

Teaching

–Robyn Elaine Serven

–November 15, 2005

Friday Philosophy: progress report

I spent the morning and afternoon trapped in my apartment as workers painted the stairwell which leads to the only exit from the building.  The paint fumes were probably consuming my brain cells.  I  sacrificed brain cells in better ways when I was younger.

I had hoped to write about an attempt to save what has come to be called McClellan Forest in West Orange, NJ on the site of land once belonging to Major General George Brinton McClellan, organizer of the Army of the Potomac during the Civil War…and former Governor of New Jersey.

Whether anyone has a positive or negative opinion of McClellan is irrelevant.  What is relevant are the 250 year old trees…and the resolve the Archdiocese of Newark has to replace the forest with athletic fields to honor the current headmaster of Seton Hall Prep.

But the files I wanted have not as yet arrived from the woman from the Sierra Club who spoke about the efforts on Tuesday.

So I had to come up with something else for tonight.  Maybe the 8 by 10 glossies and maps will arrive before next Friday.

Then I realized it was October 9…one day after another anniversary of THAT day.  And I realized that Sunday is National Coming Out Day.  Maybe it is time for another progress report.

Muse in the Morning

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Muse in the Morning

A Transition through Poetry XXXIII

Art Link

Desert Tortoise

Survivor

When I was a small child

and life seemed so very hard

I was positive I could not survive

When things happened to me

that should happen to no child

I doubted I would survive

When the sins of my parents

were visited upon their children

I questioned whether I might survive

When I grew older, I somehow learned

to think of myself as a worthwhile person

I thought, I can survive

Faced with the cruelty of not living

in a world of my own making

I decided, I shall survive

I endured the harshest challenges

that I can imagine a life having to offer

As excruciatingly hard as it was, I survived

When life itself, cruel cellular biology

Seemed to conspire against me

Even then I did survive

Even age, that most vicious mistress

tries to slowly grind me into giving up

but I have still survived

I don’t care what life brings my way now

no matter what or who may come or go

I know that some way I will survive

–Robyn Elaine Serven

–April 28, 2006

Muse in the Morning

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Muse in the Morning

A Transition through Poetry XXXII

Art Link

Islands in the Storm

In Passing

Every year or so

I stop for a moment

grieve about the people

I met and befriended

as much as I knew how

My existence has flicked

from thought to precious thought

from spacetime to spacetime

those friends have become

painful fond memories

My life journey required

that I had to move on

though I could have settled

for the bittersweetness

and shared more time with them

–Robyn Elaine Serven

–December 19, 2006

Muse in the Morning

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Muse in the Morning

A Transition through Poetry XXXI

Art Link

Inner Light

Personal Evolution

(an unfinished poem about a life not ended)

Brief moments of awareness…

like the immersion

of a skipping shell

in the liquid

of another life.

Suppression…Submission…Denial

Insistence…Duality…Fear

Anger…Confusion…Dissociation

Coalescence of self…

the protecting shell

loses momentum,

ceases skipping,

and begins to sink.

Control…Struggle…Pain

Loss…Crisis…Acknowledgment

Hope…Death…Existence

Birth of identity…

the sinking of the shell

propels up a splash,

a pearl of dew,

which hangs suspended.

Trying…Failing…Crying

Learning…Knowing…Growing

Assimilating…Adapting…Being

Examination of soul…

while gravity stops,

the revealing lens

zooms through the wet,

uncovering layers.

Exhilaration…Disappointment…Loss

Pride…Necessity…Doubt

Honesty…Certainty…Change.

Assertion of gender…

Vibration of ego…

internal bonds break,

the mist that was dew

drifts on the wind,

scattering slowly.

Listening…Traveling…Speaking

Reading…Witnessing…Writing

Relocating…Suffering…Returning

Perusal of purpose…

catching an updraft

the mist attaches

to motes of dust

from other life paths.

Joining…Disclosing…Contributing

Attending…Despairing…Meeting

Enjoying…Loving…Committing

Analysis of life…

shifting perspective

the damp dust

provides fertile ground

for germs of wisdom

. . .

dot dot dot

–Robyn Elaine Serven

–January 17, 1997

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