EMOTIONS: THE REAL DEAL ON ALL THE FEELS by Carolyn Glackin No emotion is inherently good or evil; rather, all emotions are teachers that have intrinsic value and unlimited learning possibilities. Through our emotions, we learn what to do as well as what not to do. They are meant to guide us, but not to dictate our whole lives. Again, there are no 'bad' or 'wrong' emotions, so long as we allow them to guide us in the right way of thinking, behaving, and conducting ourselves. A way that honors and respects all people, including ourselves, and harms no one. Jealousy, for example, is a passive emotion. It's essentially inactive and counterproductive; UNLESS, you allow it to spur you on to positive action. Actions such as the planning and attaining of whatever it is that you're jealous of. If you put all of your effort into accomplishing or attaining whatever it is, and it still doesn't come to fruition, be willing to consider the possibility that whatever it is, it's not part of your life's plan. That is not a sign of failure! It's a sign of a new possibility! The possibility of something that's not only meant for you, but also far better suited to you and your current life situation. It may take some time (patience is always key in these matters), as well as a willingness to 'go with the flow,' and the ability to surrender to what's in your highest good, rather than trying to control things based on what you think you want; but rest assured, your good awaits you. Take care not to micromanage how or when it'll arrive, and avoid prejudging the process or burying it under a deluge of preconceived notions or false expectations. Time, space, humility, and openness are vital and necessary so as to allow the Universe to deliver your good to you, unhindered and without delay. Admittedly, if you're stubborn and controlling by nature, making those changes and shifts in perception will undoubtedly prove to be very challenging; however, if the outcome is the attainment of all the good that awaits you, isn't it worth the Herculean effort?! Not only is IT worth it, but YOU are worth it. So leave jealousy aside. Focus on being genuinely happy for the accomplishments and achievements of others. Then, one day soon, they'll be celebrating your accomplishments and achievements with you. Copyright Carolyn Glackin 6/15/2019.
Occasionally I like to write my own lyrics to a song that already exists. It's challenging, but a lot of fun too. This is a lyrical rewrite I've penned for a song written and performed by the American country singer/songwriter Travis Tritt. The words '10 feet tall and bulletproof' are credited solely to Travis Tritt. All other words/lyrics are my own. Thank you for reading. Blessings, Carolyn
Through this word of the day piece (featuring the word 'dormant,' as provided by Mirakee), I've attempted to depict what a soul might experience in those first few moments post-mortem. Thank you for reading. Blessings, Carolyn
WHILE LOVED ONES WEEP by Carolyn Glackin And off I go while loved ones weep What life hath sown Now death shall reap And there ahead, a golden light That draws me near, in dark of night My body, dormant; my spirit, free I'm beckoned by eternity The earthly life, no longer mine I now return to the Divine As memories flood and fill my mind I think of those I leave behind Precious moments and timeless love Shall raise me up, beyond, above The dawn awaits, thus I must go My dear ones, please! I hope you know! That every moment, great and small I now take with me, one and all And in my heart a light shall burn For all I lived, and loved, and learned The glow of it shall not grow dim Not by wick, or trick, or whim And there ahead, through heaven's door I'll wait for you forevermore Goodbye at last. Adieu, adieu! Remember me, as I will you. Copyright Carolyn Glackin 6/14/2019.
Here's my entry for my 'Word Invention Wednesday' challenge. This is a piece I wrote back in January 2017. The word I invented was 'sereptitude.' In order to qualify for the @mirakee daily challenge, I've added an additional stanza which includes today's challenge word: 'multitude.' Thank you for reading. Blessings, Carolyn
For today's challenge, you need to invent a word of your own making that doesn't currently exist anywhere except in your own mind. BE SURE TO PUT YOUR WORD AND ITS MEANING IN YOUR CAPTION, and let us know whether it's a noun, adjective, verb, etc. Using your newly invented word, write an original piece of 25 lines or less.
-Please Google your word before posting to make sure it doesn't already exist. -English posts only. -Strictly NO plagiarism! -ONE submission per person only. -No foul/inappropriate words or images. -Be sure to put the hashtag provided below in your caption area. -Your submission must be no more than 25 lines.
DURATION: This challenge will expire 24 hours after the time of posting (ends at 8 pm on Wednesday my time). When it says '1d' in the upper right hand corner of the post, the challenge has ended. Please don't submit after that time.
This is my entry for the wonderful book title challenge hosted by the equally wonderful @laughing_soul, in which participants were asked to use five or more book titles to create their poem. I've listed the titles used below, and they are in all caps in the poem. The title of my poem is French for 'love story.' Thank you for reading. Blessings, Carolyn
Book Titles Used: ▪Gone with the Wind - Margaret Mitchell ▪The Sound of Music - Howard Lindsay, Russel Crouse ▪Snow Falling on Cedars - David Guterson ▪The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold ▪For Whom the Bell Tolls - Ernest Hemingway ▪The Fault in Our Stars - John Green ▪Beloved - Toni Morrison ▪Love story - Erich Segal ▪A River Runs Through It - Norman Maclean
HISTOIRE D'AMOUR by Carolyn Glackin Oh but how I was GONE WITH THE WIND As I listened to THE SOUND OF MUSIC Created by SNOW FALLING ON CEDARS My LOVELY BONES swooned at the sounds and sights in the eventide of such a celestial night I sat and pondered the age old question: FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS And searched for THE FAULT IN OUR STARS But upon reaching no conclusion, I realized that the entire universe is our BELOVED LOVE STORY And rather than question it, I would embrace it wholly and go with the flow, just as A RIVER RUNS THROUGH IT And so it was that I became one with the universe and allowed it to work its wonders on me for all time. Copyright Carolyn Glackin 6/10/2019.
The term 'afterglow' is a noun referring to the light remaining in the sky after sunset, or the enjoyable feelings remaining after a pleasurable experience. Through this poem, I've attempted to combine and include both meanings. Thank you for reading. Blessings, Carolyn
AFTERGLOW By Carolyn Glackin Streaks of gold and crimson hues Adding beauty to their views The sun has set not long ago And so begins the afterglow
Warm night air, the stars out shining Hand in hand, two hearts aligning Their spirits high, their voices low Their heated passion starts off slow
Their loves plays out beside the fire Driven by a wild desire Where fools rush in, these two now go Headed toward the afterglow
A tidal wave with grand crescendo Started off by innuendos The flirty ways that lovers know Surround them in the afterglow
A thrilling rush, a wild ride Leaving them both satisfied Starry eyed, their dreams now flow Two lovers in the afterglow
Moon above shines gentle beams Day is done for now, it seems In love's embrace, to sleep they go While basking in the afterglow. Copyright Carolyn Glackin 5/6/2019.
We often wonder what happens to us in the moments following the death of our human existence; through this piece, I explore that notion. Thank you for reading, and please bare in mind that while I'm on break I may post occasionally, but I will not be reading and reposting the work of others. Thank you for your continued patience and understanding. Blessings, Carolyn
KARMIC CONTEMPLATIONS by Carolyn Glackin I was found in golden waters Of a crystalline lake In a land beyond time My human slate wiped clean There, I met neither tomb nor doom And faced not my destruction But rather, I was in a sense reborn Fresh, new, made whole by the Eternal As a seeker of truth and Light I sought out and visited The One who brings glory to All We spoke not through words, but visions And I listened not with mind nor ears But through my heart There, the truth was laid out before me Things I knew, things I'd forgotten And a few horrors Better left unmentioned I saw that all had their place in my life All had their purpose and reason Rather than to scoff and question I'd have greater peace If I instead chose to understand and know Memories continued to flood my consciousness They all fit together like a puzzle That had finally been solved I knew then that the crystalline lake Was borne of my tears Tears of anger, tears of rage Tears of loneliness, suffering, and confusion Collected from a multitude of lifetimes All of which had led to this eternal moment of now In which a new kind of tears Sprang forth from my eyes Tears of thanks, gratitude, and praise Tears of acceptance and humility And tears of overwhelming joy Yes, joy... for having the experience of being part of it all The blood, the sweat, the tears The struggles throughout the years The old, the young, the new And most certainly, for you And so it was that I wept and prayed and prayed and wept I sang hymns that glorified my Creator And after a time, I was sent back down to Earth A new body, hale and hearty, a new birth. Copyright Carolyn Glackin 5/30/19
I am the land above which the sky hangs, stiched bleeding in myriad hues; of whose bare chinar trees, shiver and shudder, yearning for leaves to cloak their cold skins, resting their tired heads gently against the crimson.
I am of the frail arms of mothers singing lullabies to their sons, lulling them to sleep forever, and then rocking pain in their laps, gently.
I am of the broken spines of fathers, caressing the pale face of their daughters, achingly blinded by tiny glass shards that pierce right through the fragility of skins, from windows that never saw the face of dawn.
I am of the wounded silence of recluses, and their voice lost somewhere in the back of their parched throats. I am of the words, dying a silent, agonizing death on the edges of barren mouths.
For they are yet to find a word describing the loss of a child, a word that encompasses within itself the manner in which he sits now, waiting for an escape that life seeks. an orphaned child of obscure sorrows.
A word which encapsulates within itself the way her life evaporates from her eyes, the way vapours condense, and a rivulet floods his soul with shallow essence.
A pallbearer, strong enough to carry the weight of broken sighs on its back. To breathe in the fumes of fire that ravages flimsy ribcages.
I am of a crest fallen valley, whose feet keep dangling between peace and terror, helplessly still; whose arms keep hopelessly swinging, like a damaged pendulum, between dreams yet to be dreamt, and loss that is already perceived.
I am of the Himalayan mountains, and the creases on their ice-cold skins, the wrinkles that make their way upto the the fabric of the crimson sky.
I am of the corroded essence of children, falling short of selling their honor, trading their sanctity for pleasure, not knowing the address of its accomplice, guilt. not yet.
I am of the flickering hopes of eyes that have seen ageless decades of darkness, and the rusted, smothered dreams of youth. The way pain tiptoes into houses, and carves homes out of them. The way regret sits on bosoms, and breathes from lungs, robbed of air.
I am of the mourning and the mouner. Of the flowers blooming beneath the graves, the tombstones etched on infertile soils, the heart that could never really yield hopes, and the bones straining under the heavy weight of lives. I am a heartwrenching masterpiece, painted in blood. I am of the brothers, carrying crumbled hearts, in a shattered meshwork of bones and the wounded sisters, cradling pieces of dreams, that perished on the altar of conformity.
I try to gather everything, there is no summary yet. My hands are always rendered empty empty. empty.
Their God, stands infront of me, his trembling hands drenched in indelible red, fragmented sentences cascading down his doomed mouth. Silence is his answer, tonight.
I am of the sighs, forsaken in the spaces of a poet's verse, in novels tainted sepia. I am a tortured poem - violence not spoken, but whispered;
A nation that bleeds.
I am an elegy written by the Greatest writers of all time.
- Kainat (Musings) // an elegy called Kashmir
Image edit to the respective owner of the photograph.