Men & Women

I read this on a Facebook page called Strange Art. I thought it was good so I’ll share it here…

strgart

Man is the most elevated of creatures, Woman the most sublime of ideals.
God made for man a throne; for woman an altar.
The throne exalts, the altar sanctifies.
Man is the brain, Woman, the heart.
The brain creates light, the heart, Love. Light engenders, Love resurrects.
Because of reason Man is strong, because of tears Woman is invincible.
Reason is convincing, tears moving.
Man is capable of all heroism, Woman of all martyrdom.
Heroism ennobles, martyrdom sublimates.
Man has supremacy, Woman, preference.
Supremacy is strength, preference is the right.
Man is a genius, Woman, an angel.
Genius is immeasurable, the angel undefinable.
The aspiration of man is supreme glory,
The aspiration of woman is extreme virtue.
Glory creates all that is great; virtue, all that is divine.
Man is a code, Woman a gospel.
A code corrects, the gospel perfects.
Man thinks, Woman dreams.
To think is to have a worm in the brain,
to dream is to have a halo on the brow.
Man is an ocean, Woman a lake.
The ocean has the adorning pearl, the lake, dazzling poetry.
Man is the flying eagle, Woman, the singing nightingale.
To fly is to conquer space. To sing is to conquer the Soul.
Man is a temple, Woman a shrine.
Before the temple we discover ourselves, before the shrine we kneel.
In short, man is found where earth finishes, woman where heaven begins.

See the original post here.

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The Broken Window

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The Broken Window

I’ve got a family of stray cats living in my basement
They sneak in through the broken window
I guess it’s ok since they kill all the rats
Although, I think the cats are more vexatious than the rats
My Annamese neighbors eat cats
Perhaps I can make some money here
And fix that broken window

photo credit: http://images.fineartamerica.com/images-medium-large-5/broken-window-david-bearden.jpg

Lost Arrow

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I wrote this poem a few years ago. It comes to my mind from time to time — every time I see a parent who doesn’t seem to understand that kids don’t raise themselves — or at least not well. And it reminds me to give my own time to my own kids.

Lost Arrow

I remember well the day you handed me the child
You smiled complacently and gave me your weight

Now you are as light as a feather, and you still wonder why
But you neglected to follow the far reaching arm, didn’t you

No matter, I have done a good thing; though you can’t see it
Perhaps he will bring you salvation one day

I can still see his eyes wide staring up at me
He was ghastly open, and gallantly looking to be filled

I filled him with a wisdom that is beyond your conception
I gave him a knowledge that is too wondrous; he’ll never let go of it

I loved him with an unnatural love, naturally, since he was not mine
But I would have died for him from the very first day

He is happy now, and strong; a foundation for many futures
The change around him has already begun

But you, even now, are in ruins; decaying
Perhaps he will bring you salvation one day