#joseph
Today, the church celebrates the feast of St. Joseph, Jesus' foster father and the spouse of the Blessed ****** Mary. Precious little is known or mentioned about Joseph in the Bible. He was a carpenter, and he was a good man: righteous and honorable. He doesn't say a single word, has a few angelic visits in his sleep with instructions and promptly obeys, and dies quietly sometime between finding Jesus in the temple and when Jesus begins his public ministry. There are a number of times throughout the Bible where God speaks to people in or through dreams.
For The Dreamers
For all the dreamers and the ones who dare to dream
For all the times reality is more than what it seems
For all who listen patiently for the call to something more
Those who take the chance and walk through the open door
To find a piece of paradise where dreams become realized
A Heaven where our lives and selves are idealized
To those who want a better world and find a lasting peace
To those who quest for answers and those, for truth, that seek
For all the ones that doubted said "No. It can't be won!"
For the ones who still believed there was work yet to be done
For all who triumphed. The overcomers and the unsung heroes
For all the refugees who are more than ones and zeroes
From the Martin Luther Kings to the kid on the streets
The homeless and the hungry with no shoes on their feets
They too, have dreams, they have futures and a hope
The one who sings the one who paints so they can cope
Could be just the inspiration that someone so desperately needs
To dream, to grow, to rise up and do great deeds
Sometimes we wake up with a vision
An image or thought clear as day
Something inspired and amazing
Finding answers and solutions to things that previously vexed
The clarity when pieces fall into context
If you hear his quiet voice while you sleep
Answer: "Your servant is listening. Lord, please speak"
Trust that he will lead you and you will not go astray
Have faith in the Lord, take heart, listen and obey
Nov 18, 2024
Nov 18, 2024 at 8:26 PM UTC
Slow Joe
Have a heaven, the order, to sulk?
With the ought, a handsome moment
Considered an angel's heed, will we ever fall?
Why?
Avid as salt is, we are owed...
A pace of might, the times are real, to sigh's
Stirring a house for a flower, sincerity is our force?
Our salvation of promises, still a world
We made, with an overt harmony
Two of unity, one of vanity, and none blessing courage
With the muse we made, simplicity with legend, only?
Tired eyes, that came with life...
Saying if not saving, a chance meeting
With bared integrity, a fire striving
To be, the coming choice, of a worth's meaning?
The world owed, the world loved
Cares of omnipotence, fate to understate purpose
Passion is but a wish away, from a covenant's some
Promises found to be, a climate for what heaven knows...
Mar 28, 2024
Mar 28, 2024 at 7:01 PM UTC
When the paintbrush of the day
is tucked away
and the sunset dipped
in the forest of the night
the moon wanes and waxes
down the hills of stars
atop that shady wrap.
Who peeps in
where the sleeping beauty wakes
is any one guess
nor it's a amateur's business.
Far from the half lit astral canopy
any bucket lowered
deep down on the ground
into a barrowed well of colours
comes up with a Joseph of Cannon
the firesome story goes on.
The same fire burner
is also the same fire extinguisher
Alexander the Great intrigued life water
cool serene cup of Ab-e Hayat elixir!
Aug 19, 2022
Aug 19, 2022 at 11:55 AM UTC
I'm sending you an indigofera tinctora
plant it, water it, grow it
when it blooms
pluck a petal and hold it to your eye
look at me
through its vulnerable corolla
for when you need to see beyond the tangible
the little girl you created
Aubrey -
A not so ordinary girl or name
But who's to blame?
I'm sending you a stained glass dreamcatcher
careful it doesn't break
hang it over your bed
when you wake, hold it to your eyes
look at me
for when you need to see my truth
Joseph's coat of many colors
Aubrey -
A not so ordinary girl or name
But who's to blame?
I'm sending you the promise of a flood-free future
take a step closer
study it
place the promise between us
illuminate
for when you seed to my truth
hate-proof, judge-proof, water-proof
Aubrey -
A not so ordinary girl or name
But who's to blame?
Sep 16, 2020
Sep 16, 2020 at 10:57 AM UTC
I’m not a son or a grandson. I’ll say
Politely: I have not memories’ ton!
Only my soul is sad night and day
That our beloved poet is gone!
In New York he left at the dawn of years—
In January it was snowing hard.
I read his books of poetry and prose
From cover to cover for the mind.
I know even his number of phone
And his home address for writing.
But I’m afraid very much of bad form,
There’ll be no one letters reading.
His memory’ll be memorized, I believe,
So that the text in bronze runs
On home: “Never be sad, people, time treats grief,
Joseph Brodsky lived here, this memorize!”
{2020}
К 80-ЛЕТИЮ ИОСИФА БРОДСКОГО
Я не сын, не внук. Скажу учтиво:
У меня воспоминаний нет!
Только где-то на душе тоскливо,
Что ушёл любимый наш поэт!
На рассвете лет ушёл в Нью-Йорке -
Снег тогда январский сильно мёл.
Книги все его от корки к корке
Я стихов и прозы перечёл.
Знаю даже номер телефона,
Адрес дома – чтобы написать.
Но боюсь я очень моветона –
Будет письма некому читать.
Память – верю я – увековечат.
В бронзе текст на доме чтоб гласил:
«Не грустите, люди! Время лечит!
Здесь Иосиф Бродский раньше жил!»
{14.05.2020}
Translator - I. Toporov
May 18, 2020
May 18, 2020 at 9:11 AM UTC
Ripped shirt,
but I am still
running with all my might
through this house who's doors are all locked,
to Light.
Aug 15, 2019
Aug 15, 2019 at 10:22 AM UTC
I tell ya.
Angels
are not as much of a flight risk
as you first may think.
The cherubim however
are flighty
and way more likely to fly off
at the baby's first cry
Like they've got somewhere else to be.
Just try. You'll see.
Not even a bye-bye.
But angels, oh man.
Angels -
I'm a fan.
You can set your Sat Nav
on an Angel.
Dreamtime or lunchtime,
they'll be your guide.
- Sublime.
Me and Mary
were fans.
- Jesus!
Put those nails down.
If your mum catches you with those, she'll go spare.
Dec 11, 2018
Dec 11, 2018 at 3:58 PM UTC
It was
the green
grass there
between dipoles
holes when
bare organic
meat the
harvest begun
their true
rein again
with a
notorious cut
of beef
ribeyes but
ranches nearby
her Swanee
River oak
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 3:43 PM UTC
There i(s)
a certa(i)n
place for you
(s)ustained
in my heart
by
bro(t)herly lov(e)
that you keep
(r)eplenishing
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 3:07 AM UTC
I'm not Joseph
no "no" to temptations
thy greatness, O' He
grant me a vision
to interpret
day dreams
may I know
how to sacrifice
me
for her kisses
on my forehead,
flee...
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 7:04 PM UTC
as Potiphar
meets despair
with his
dire wife
but highlight
in this
lustful affair
when her
dream died
and not
well in
court while
her accusations
finish rife
and Joseph's
crown wins
the right
Jun 3, 2018
Jun 3, 2018 at 8:18 AM UTC
Mary holds the lifeless body
As tears flow from her eyes
Does she also know that
Soon her son must rise?
Mary holds her baby's hand
So little and so frail
Does she also understand
That they would be pierced by a nail?
Mary holds her son close to her chest
When they find him teaching
Does she feel so blessed that
Even to death He is reaching?
Mary holds her son to wish him a good day
As he works with Joseph at his trade
Mary holds our hand as we walk the way
God says: see the work my hands have made!
Apr 20, 2018
Apr 20, 2018 at 8:36 PM UTC
Along the stairway to Heaven
The angels play their harps of gold
They sing hymns of ceaseless praise
To the prince of peace and king of kings.
He came down from Heaven to take his place as man
To pay the cost we could not pay was always the plan.
I walk along the stairway to Heaven
It is a long and challenging climb
But I keep my eyes fixed ahead and I make some progress.
I do not walk alone for there are many here with me
The way we make it up is to help each other.
Mary made a path for us and Jesus paved the way
Joseph walks beside us lending us his strength
Jacob dreams a ladder stretching from Heaven to earth.
The cross became the bridge with which to cross
The Grand Canyon that is between us and God.
Sometimes I feel like I'm close to you
Other times I'm miles away and in the dark.
Be with me Lord and help me on the way
Lord give me strength for the journey.
At times the climb is more like a battle
Fighting just to keep my feet from falling
But when I lose hope I think I feel you calling.
The stairway to Heaven will last a lifetime
There are many gone before us to help show us
To guide and encourage and challenge.
Following their light to the source of all light.
The stairway to Heaven is not always an easy climb
But it has been well worth the struggle every single time.
Mar 23, 2018
Mar 23, 2018 at 8:02 PM UTC
From nowhere with love, on the teenth of martober.
Dear madam, my darling, my sweet- but of no
Importance that is. For your features no longer,
To tell the truth, can be remembered. Not yours,
Yet no one's best friend. I salute you from one of
Five continents, which rests on the cowboys. Then
I loved you more than angles, and even "Omni...",
Hence, farther I am from you than- both of them.
Far away, late at night, at the bottom of valley,
In the town, where snow reaches the doorknob. I ,
Upon the sheet wringling, at least not as may be
Described somewhere in the further line,
I fluff up the pillow with "you" in a murmur,
Over the mountains, which have no bounds or end,
In the darkness, with the entire body, all your
Features, as would a crazy mirrow, I recreate.
Dec 12, 2017
Dec 12, 2017 at 12:03 PM UTC
a planter
was vaulted
in Joseph
an architect
with ******
Mary's grace
when their
only secret
in vantage
with antichrist
these sprigs
where she
was Queen
of Plantagenet
and ever
so paramount
hereby in
glamorous rouse
Nov 20, 2017
Nov 20, 2017 at 11:36 AM UTC
White whiskers rooted above the trumpet player's lips;
his body moves like a sci-fi parasite, as he spits out songs
at the big bellied, Skecher-chic, boardwalk children.
The kids give a moment's interest before passing by like
armored flies, if armor were cheap cotton shirts and
helicopter parents.
Sooner or later, the sunset meets the brim of his hat.
It's a mystery as to the speed of the trumpet dropping
from his lips to its case, but you'd have to find someone
who cares about those types of things.
His brown, leather, Payless feet jut outward; away from
one another and towards American stores reflecting themselves:
Italian restaurant, Thai restaurant, Car Insurance, Dollar Store.
Quicker than you'd think, his denim hips are clamped by
the wooden arms of a misplaced deck chair, relocated to
a dining table as small and low-income as the man who
saw the dreamlike orange and purple sky drift away
behind the cemetery gray blanket of smoke, rising from
a fractured ground littered in mud-bathed, leaking bodies.
When the night has only begun to settle in, the man's
thick hands carefully adjust her picture, for he fears
the paleness of his fingers will leave more of a residue
than he is accustomed to.
Kept within the copper and green borders, she has
only begun life; twenty-three and never having to apologize,
there is still so much left to the imagination; her olive grey
cheeks are sided to his eyes, ready to be jammed with
baby, mommy, and daddy fragments of windshield;
waiting for the last embrace of a sturdy steering wheel;
her hair still dry and not dampened by insides coming out
or the flying weaker-than-you-think half-gallon of whole milk
that covered -- or washed, depending on your attitude -- the
back of her fifty-three year old head; the eggs fortunately
missing twelve times, hitting what was left of the windshield,
leaving an image comparable to the wall of a bar that not only
has a dartboard but also a man with terrible aim or who had as
much alcohol as the man who slipped his car into Margaret
and Joseph's life.
Joseph looks away from her picture, as his glass eyes begin
to shatter. Running fat palms and bulbous fingers through
the white, over grown lawn on his scarred scalp,
he says her name three times before retiring to the mattress
Margaret picked out.
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 6:24 PM UTC
Joseph is a gifted mind, given a coat by his father, and visions by God.
After getting out of prison, Joseph is brought before the Pharaoh , as the Pharaoh believes that Joseph is a "dream interpreter".
Joseph explains that he does not interpret dreams, he just tells what he sees in his visions, and that the visions are from God.
Pharaoh continues on to tell the 2 dreams he's had constantly:
One of 7 good ears of corn eaten up by 7 bad ears. And the next of 7 healthy cows being swallowed up by 7 sickly cows.
Pharaoh has had so many of his royal interpreters try to decipher his dreams and none of them could do it. So when he heard about Joseph, he found himself all out of options.
And Joseph delivers with this interpretation.
The 7 good ears of corn and healthy cows represent 7 years of feast, 7 years of plenty. And the 7 bad ears and sickly cows represent the 7 years of famine that will follow after. And Egypt may not survive if nothing is done.
So what can be done?
Joseph comes up with this plan:
During the years of plenty, take all the grain that Egypt has and store 1/5 of it underground. And then during the years of famine, give the 1/5 back to the people.
The plan saved Egypt from starvation and Joseph was made second in command to Pharaoh, and he continued to lead Egypt to great success.
This concept of "storing the fifth" can be applied to happiness as well.
When things go wrong, or the world is completely against you, find something you know makes you happy...
And store it somewhere you can find it later.
A good movie, your favourite comfort food, a conversation with an old friend. Something that calms you down and brings you back home.
And right now, I may not be in the middle of a 7 year famine, but I am working through a starvation of my own. So I am picking up the nearest shovel and I am digging for my stored fifth.
Problem is...
I still have no idea where it is.
Apr 20, 2017
Apr 20, 2017 at 4:49 AM UTC
A guy who hates cussing with a girl with turrets
A girl with ocd with a guy who's a mess
A guy who likes to wing it with a girl with a schedule
A girl who wakes up early with a guy that sleeps without rule
They're too different to remain together
But maybe they'll be perfect for each other
Apr 13, 2017
Apr 13, 2017 at 11:03 AM UTC
Saint Joseph the Just
for every man
Saint Joseph in a dreary winter night
Took to himself a Newborn not his own
Yet who is always his, the Child of Light
Whose crib Saint Joseph knew to be a throne
Saint Joseph shows men truth: each child is ours
Adopted by each good man upon birth
True fatherhood ordained in starlit hours
And ratified in Heaven and on earth
Saint Joseph is the man who looked into
The eyes of Mary in her happy youth
This strong man looked into her eyes and knew
She bore within her all eternal Truth
Our witness is Saint Joseph, ever just:
God calls each man to take each child in trust
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 8:59 AM UTC
He was a galaxy, she was part of every song
He was in my bed, she was in my head
He could give me the future I want, she can give me the excitement I need
He was happiness and she was pleasure
He was hope and she was nostalgia
Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 12:39 PM UTC
A thing of the graved past
Is not relevant at all.
But things you did not disclose
Is a deep dark nightmare call.
There was this noble boy
Who you've said have courted you.
You said he's a good friend
And he liked you.
I see he loves cars and travel
More often than you do,
A noble inheritor of a family firm
With an atlethic frame and hue.
But, the way you describe him
Sounded like he has no mere value.
And me: I believed in the light
Of your tongues' sweet fondue.
Of all this precious time,
My mind have held your stories
Grasped and chained
Optimistic and unworried
Of all this time, doubts.
Yes doubting was never an option
Nor an attempt to juice
Even the slightest blood potion
Until Unexpectedly time came,
Yes on your twentieth birthday,
Expectant was not in the thoughts
Of positivism I've had for years.
Unaware and extremely honest
Smiling with a chance to navigate
Your smart phone's veins
Having a funny faith.
Until someone peeped and popped
From the large screen landscape.
And I never knew
That it was the pivot of my life
Nor a wrist sliding through a knife.
The SMS said, "I love you".
Then blah blah, "missed you"
And all of the mumbled I've seen,
Numbed my soul and ego.
I got wounded. Deeply wounded.
Every word, there's a stab
In my heart, cutting every veins
Feeling the friction and I rub
My eye, it has water I see flowing,
You loved him more than the sun
And I see the young persona of you
Blinkering infront the gun
Like a gun, Pointed at my temples
I've found my self humbly destroyed,
As I knew you missed the guy,
And how you were overjoyed.
Devasted in every word
Knees are trembling with grief
I never knew that I could,
Incorporate you with disbelief.
And as you came in the room
I immediately handed your phone,
And pulled the "surprise" curtain
And greeted you with a nice tone.
"Happy birthday, Darling"
I love you so much. With tears,
Streaming, spine shivering,
Caught off guard by the latch.
Then I stayed. Yes I'm invinsible
And strong as a boxer in the ring.
I've faced your family
Despite of the heavy sting.
Then the lights activated
And someone whispered me
And said "hey sweetie"
"The breakfast is ready"
I quickly jumped up out the bed,
And sip my good coffee
As I think of memories
Escaping the reality.
Looking at the kids
My heart beats faster than the bullet
As I look at your picture
In my treasure box's closet.
Then my wife whispered to me,
"Hunny, who is she?"
I said she is an ex giflfriend
Who cheated me nasty
As my wife and I are alone
She asked me, "why?"
I wrote this poem,
And I almost died.
Then I woke up again
Realizing it was just another dream;
I've found my 26 year old self
Decided to empty this bin
A bin full of trash
From memories who hurted my home
My heart and my brain woke up
Feeling pained and all alone.
May 14, 2016
May 14, 2016 at 4:32 AM UTC
So it's us against ourselves.
The mind is the adversary.
And what is that?
A mere dream within a dream.
What does forever mean?
Some hazy lines...
A blur of self,
A little talk,
Between you and me?
*A heart lost in translation is in me, while forever is to be free of wonder.
Humans hungry for home and hopeful for hunger.
Life is one long plunder
For the lost ones of
Silent thunder.*
Are these lost ones so lost?
Or will these sons of thunder
Flash like lightning?
How far do you have to go
Before no one understands at all?
*As far as the fog found clouding the light that sits quiet in the souls of the stormborn.
The light that breaks the beaten barriers of sound and gives life to the lifeless.*
That distant light called Hope by some;
A hope that may only protract disharmony.
A skillful prolongation
To the battered.
It is said that hurt is proof of love,
But what's left to prove
When the uncalmed storm
Engulfs us?
*By light I live, but by love I die.
Pray to every god that we are left in the eye.
The only proof we need is meaning, something bold to live by.
But we crave happiness, and there can only be one,
So what could anyone do but try and cry?*
Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 8:04 PM UTC
It's been a long and lonely daylight.
There was nothing but the sun
Then you came and lit my sadness apart
With your bubbly smile.
Darling you don't have to tell me,
Just a signal and it's done.
I don't really know the reason you exist,
But tell me it's worth your while.
But tell me it's worth your while.
I never really know
if we can get a conversation
but every bit of you makes me high
It's been a long and fruitful friendship
I'm heading north, you're going east.
But you know that I will never forget,
that our times have got you high.
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 7:46 PM UTC