Back in the Saddle Again

Dreams are illustrations... from the book your soul is writing about you.

 ~Marsha Norman

Well here I am nearing my 1,000th post. As many of you know, I took a little break from writing, but lo and behold, the writing bug is still in me and here I am, back in the saddle again.

I’ve had a few post here and there to keep my blog alive, but my writing came to a complete standstill and thinking I never wanted to write again due to upheavals, I’ve realized NO ONE can make me stop writing but me! People can sling mud, disassociate with me, toss me overboard, but writing is within me, not just an outer shell that people can peel away from me, in hopes of destroying my dream.

My dream is still alive and kicking; it just needed a rest. My muse needed to take a step back, drink in all that has happened over the many months of intimate soul searching, healing and growth. And healing and growing is what I’ve done. By the grace of God, my beau has gotten his sight back after being blind for two and a half years; my dental issues have been resolved, and my back issues are still on the mend, but all in all, HEALING is going around.

I didn’t do it alone, mind you. I have a church family that came through amazingly; I had a few internet friends that heard my cries, actually sympathized with me, and reached out to me. Without that cluster of people, whether it was monetary, or prayers, I would not be right here today writing to you telling you of my healing. I would still be in intense pain, and no healing would have taken place. Each one of you knows who you are. You have my undying gratitude, love and appreciation. I thank you from the bottom of my heart!

Now with a new understanding of ‘friendship’, knowing who and who is not my friend, I can move forward in my writing. I’ve said it before, and I’ll shout it out to all of you again; writing is within! When I hear people whine (yes, I whined!) about giving up on writing, or that someone hurt someone so much that they wanted to give up writing, I have to chuckle a little. NO ONE can you hurt you so much, that you can give up writing.

From experience, I’ve learned people can hurt you! They can be downright mean and cause you to go into isolation, but giving up writing? If you are a REAL writer, nothing and no one can take that away from you. Want some sage advice from this whole experience? It is better to pray for those people who caused your pain, isolate yourself from THEM, but never, and I mean never turn your back on your writing!

I knew my writing was there waiting for me like a warm blanket on a cold night; just sitting on the back of the chair anxiously awaiting my hands to embrace it and to envelop me in warmth. So to you my friends I say; when you fall off the horse, you definitely cannot watch Bullseye ride off into the sunset, you need your hand firmly on the reigns, and get yourself back in the saddle again! And don’t forget your blanket, it gets cold out here in this world and it is your source of heat and passion! Wink

That which the dream shows is the shadow of such wisdom as exists in man, even if during his waking state he may know nothing about it.... We do not know it because we are fooling away our time with outward and perishing things, and are asleep in regard to that which is real within ourself.

~Paracelsus

Poetry Sunday ~ Soul Dance

Soul Dance

***

I’m consciously aware of dipping my toes
into the stars yet no one knows.
They care to know all physical things
not wanting to dance where a soul now sings.

My soul is one that loves to prance;
jump right in and take a chance.
Free my spirit that quietly rests
among the earthly peasant guests.

I’m free as a bird that soars on high,
I mingle with lights spread through the sky.
I float on by with nary a care
of dogma drizzled in the air.

My spiritual quest on which I ride,
is out in the open no reason to hide.
My journey glides from idle distraction
into the unknown where rises reaction.

To one I am all and all I am one,
giving my soul to some or to none.
Within my essence is formed a quark
a barrier of light to protect me from dark.

Quotation Saturday~ Thanksgiving!

Lev. 22:29 And when ye will offer a sacrifice of thanksgiving unto the LORD, offer it at your own will.
***

If the only prayer you ever say in your whole life is "thank you," that would suffice.
~Meister Eckhart

Do not pray for easy lives. Pray to be stronger men. Do not pray for tasks equal to your powers. Pray for powers equal to your tasks. Then the doing of your work shall be no miracle, but you shall be the miracle.
~Phillips Brooks(1835 - 1893)

One single grateful thought raised to heaven is the most perfect prayer.
~G.E.Lessing (1729 - 1781)

Be not afraid of growing slowly, be afraid only of standing still.
~Chinese Proverb

You're alive. Do something. The directive in life, the moral imperative was so uncomplicated. It could be expressed in single words, not complete sentences. It sounded like this: Look. Listen. Choose. Act.
~Barbara Hall, A Summons to New Orleans, 2000

In the beginning there was nothing. God said, 'Let there be light!' And there was light. There was still nothing, but you could see it a whole lot better.
~Ellen DeGeneres, (attributed)

Any one who has common sense will remember that the bewilderments of the eyes are of two kinds, and arise from two causes, either from coming out of the light or from going into the light, which is true of the mind's eye, quite as much as of the bodily eye; and he who remembers this when he sees any one whose vision is perplexed and weak, will not be too ready to laugh; he will first ask whether that soul of man has come out of the brighter light, and is unable to see because unaccustomed to the dark, or having turned from darkness to the day is dazzled by excess of light.
~Plato (427 BC - 347 BC), The Republic

Poetry Sunday~ Double Dose~

For Him

***

I walk a straight and narrow path
this line I walk alone.
No one to hinder the road I’m on
yet nothing is set in stone.
*

I strive to be the woman that He
has cast out on the shore.
The one He made the perfect way
Until I yearned for more.
*

Something was swept away from me
that keeps me tied and bound
to this earthly crime for mercy’s sake
My soul to never be found.
*

I’m on my knees; arms are raised
I beg for you to hear
Shower me in your grace
to make it all come clear.

***

***I am Forgiven***
***

Will He still love me
when all is said and done?
the blood of my sin drips
as I walk on sandy
shores leaving footprints
on souls .
I watch as they wash away
with the tide and wonder
will He still love me when
He sees me bare? I’m naked
running to Him yet I turn away
as my shame keeps me from ever
grasping the true love.
I hear the whisper; then the
resounding echo, "You are
forgiven!"
I turn to him as my wet tendrils cling
to my face; I run for him. He is my love
My one and only true love who knows
all that I am and ever will be.
Will he wash away my sin?
He already has.
I am forgiven!

Poetry Sunday ~ Soul Storm

Soul Storm
All rights reserved: copyright © Joni Zipp
Beyond the tempest storm I see
a rainbow waiting there for me
clouds they merge then pass me by
my eye always on the erupting sky.

The storm boils over without warning
lasting through the mumbled morning
I wait with hope for the sun to win
against this beast the angry kin.

He gnaws and gnashes, biting trees
he shreds the land then heads for seas
Finding joy in causing pain
Unleashing torrential slashing rain

I think destruction is his friend
he takes away the ability to mend.
But does he know you have more power
within your grasp through every hour?

The more he taunts and tries to break
the more you seek the rainbows wake.
You know its there; it’s in your view,
holding hope and all that’s true.

The rays burst out of the hidden shell
Erasing the storms evil spell.
the arc of promise rears its head
the rainbow shows your faith’s been fed.
All rights reserved: copyright © Joni Zipp

Poetry Sunday

Life’s Chained Prison

Am I alone in this chained prison,
all by my own fruition?
Do I idly cower in fear,
it's never clear;
problems have nearly risen.

To heights unforeseen, I am alone;
on a quest not yet shown.
Do I scamper all about,
I try to shout.....
but silent is my tone.

Confusion has impeded my sight.
I often buckle; no strength to fight.
Will anyone hear my cries,
unveiled lies,
The blind now see the light.

Free me from these sheltered walls,
I hear the sacred angels calls.
Not alone I am defeating,
now completing;
HIS arms will catch my falls!!!!

Poetry Sunday

I Asked My Soul A Question
***
I asked my soul a question.
What am I searching for?
Gently holding onto the knob,
It opened up a door.

Cascading tiny showers of love,
Embellished an aching heart.
Agony, ecstasy, shame and sorrow,
Each had there own part.

Strings of light came shining through,
Appearing as a sword.
Strumming sounds of destiny,
Each a blazing chord.

Prisms on the meadow.
My heart now plays a song.
The sword now clutched in my hand.
I know where I belong.

I asked my soul a question.
I found what I came for.
Gently holding onto the knob.
It closed the open door.

Quotation Saturday

Quotation Saturday is for you to sink your thoughts into, so you can find a quiet place to relax and meditate on the beauty surrounding you. ~joni

"Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night."
~Edgar Allan Poe

Truly fine poetry must be read aloud. A good poem does not allow itself to be read in a low voice or silently. If we can read it silently, it is not a valid poem: a poem demands pronunciation. Poetry remembers that it was an oral art before it was a written art. It remembers that it was first song.
~Jorge Luis Borges

And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.
~Sylvia Plath

The maker of a sentence launches out into the infinite and builds a road into Chaos and old Night, and is followed by those who hear him with something of wild, creative delight.

~Ralph Waldo Emerson

A perfectly healthy sentence, it is true, is extremely rare. For the most part we miss the hue and fragrance of the thought; as if we could be satisfied with the dews of the morning or evening without their colors, or the heavens without their azure.

~Henry David Thoreau

Publication - is the auction of the Mind of Man.

~Emily Dickinson

Words are but the vague shadows of the volumes we mean. Little audible links, they are, chaining together great inaudible feelings and purposes.

~Theodore Dreiser, 1900

The coroner will find ink in my veins and blood on my typewriter keys.

~C. Astrid Weber

Many books require no thought from those who read them, and for a very simple reason. They made no such demand upon those who wrote them.

~Charles Caleb Colton

Poetry Sunday

The Revenge of the Sea

I set ‘asail a calming sea

it called to me one day.

I went to find a peace within

I knew would come my way.



I mellowed on the deck below

my tiny boat was swaying.

My mind was playing tricks on me

with thoughts that I was weighing.



The blackened sky whispered sounds,

a rumbling from afar

It sounded as if God Himself

had left the door ajar.



I rushed up top just in time

to see the clouds were rippling.

The thrashing of the eager waves

made guidance very crippling.



The squall was just above me now;

clouds seemed to descend

upon this tiny boat of mine,

On which I now depend.



Droplets of rain grazed my face

I began to sense a peace.

For in this shroud of turmoil.

The sea's revenge will cease.



A glimpse of golden streams I see.

A beacon to hold my stare.

All at once I realized,

The storm was never there.



Copyright © joni zipp