Matsuo Basho Translations



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The first soft snow:
leaves of the awed jonquil
bow low
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

Come, investigate loneliness:
a solitary leaf
clings to the Kiri tree
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

The cheerful-chirping cricket
contends gray autumn's gay,
contemptuous of frost
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

Whistle on, twilight whippoorwill,
solemn evangelist
of loneliness
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

The sea darkening,
the voices of the wild geese:
my mysterious companions!
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

The first chill rain:
poor monkey, you too could use
a woven cape of straw
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

This snowy morning:
cries of the crow I despise
(ah, but so beautiful!)
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

I wish I could wash
this perishing earth
in its shimmering dew
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

Dabbed with morning dew
and splashed with mud,
the melon looks wonderfully cool.
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch



Basho's Butterflies

The butterfly
perfuming its wings
fans the orchid
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

Will we remain parted forever?
Here at your grave:
two flowerlike butterflies!
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

Air ballet:
twin butterflies, twice white,
meet, match & mate.
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

Ballet in the air! ―
two butterflies, twice white,
meet, mate, unite.
―Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

A spring wind
stirs willow leaves
as a butterfly hovers unsteadily.
―Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

As autumn deepens,
a butterfly sips
chrysanthemum dew.
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch
aki o hete / cho mo nameru ya / kiku no tsuyu

Come, butterfly,
it's late
and we've a long way to go!
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

Dusk-gliding swallow,
please spare my small friends
flitting among the flowers!
―Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch



Basho's Famous Frog Poem

An ancient pond,
the frog leaps:
the silver plop and gurgle of water
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

An ancient pond sleeps...
untroubled by sound or movement...until...
suddenly a frog leaps!
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

Explosion!
The frog returns
to its lily pad.
—Michael R. Burch original haiku



Basho's Heron

Lightning
shatters the darkness—
the night heron's shriek
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

Lightning―
the night heron's shriek
severs the darkness
― Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

A flash of lightning―
the night heron's shriek
splits the void
― Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch



Basho's Flowers

Let us arrange
these lovely flowers in the bowl
since there's no rice
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

Like a heavy fragrance
snowflakes settle:
lilies on rocks
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

High-altitude rose petals
falling
falling
falling:
the melody of a waterfall.
―Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

Revered figure!
I bow low
to the rabbit-eared Iris.
―Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

Cold white azalea—
a lone nun
in her thatched straw hut.
―Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

Glimpsed on this high mountain trail,
delighting my heart—
wild violets
―Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

Disdaining grass,
the firefly nibbles nettles—
this is who I am.
—Takarai Kikaku translation by Michael R. Burch

A simple man,
content to breakfast with the morning glories—
this is who I am.
―Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch
This is Basho's response to the Takarai Kikaku haiku above
asagao ni / ware wa meshi kû / otoko kana

Ah me,
I waste my meager breakfast
morning glory gazing!
―Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

Morning glories blossom,
reinforcing the old fence gate.
―Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

The morning glories, alas,
also turned out
not to embrace me
―Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

Morning glories bloom,
mending chinks
in the old fence
―Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

Morning glories,
however poorly painted,
still engage us
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch
asagao wa / heta no kaku sae / aware nari

I too
have been accused
of morning glory gazing...
—original haiku by by Michael R. Burch

Curious flower,
watching us approach:
meet Death, our famished donkey.
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch



Basho's Poems about Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter

Spring has come:
the nameless hill
lies shrouded in mist
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

Spring!
A nameless hill
stands shrouded in mist.
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

The legs of the cranes
have been shortened
by the summer rains.
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

These brown summer grasses?
The only remains
of "invincible" warriors...
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

An empty road
lonelier than abandonment:
this autumn evening
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

Autumn darkness
descends
on this road I travel alone
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

Taming the rage
of an unrelenting sun—
autumn breeze.
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch
aka aka to / hi wa tsurenaku mo / aki no kaze

The sun sets,
relentlessly red,
yet autumn's in the wind.
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch
aka aka to / hi wa tsurenaku mo / aki no kaze

As autumn draws near,
so too our hearts
in this small tea room.
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch
aki chikaki / kokoro no yoru ya / yo jo han

Late autumn:
my neighbor,
how does he continue?
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

Winter in the air:
my neighbor,
how does he fare?
― Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

Winter solitude:
a world awash in white,
the sound of the wind
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

The year's first day...
thoughts come, and with them, loneliness;
dusk approaches.
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch



Basho's Temple Poems

Graven images of long-departed gods,
dry spiritless leaves:
companions of the temple porch
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

The temple bells grow silent
but the blossoms provide their incense―
A perfect evening!
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

See: whose surviving sons
visit the ancestral graves
white-bearded, with trembling canes?
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

Like a glorious shrine—
on these green, budding leaves,
the sun's intense radiance.
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch
ara toto / aoba wakaba no / hi no hikar



Basho's Birds

A raven settles
on a leafless branch:
autumn nightfall
―Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

A crow has settled
on a naked branch—
autumn nightfall
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

A solitary crow
clings to a leafless branch:
autumn twilight
―Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

A solitary crow
clings to a leafless branch:
phantom autumn
―Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

A crow roosts
on a leafless branch:
autumn nightmare
―Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

NOTE: There has been a debate about the meaning of aki-no kure, which may mean one of the following: autumn evening, autumn dusk, the end of autumn. Or it seems possible that Basho may have intentionally invoked the ideas of both the end of an autumn day and the end of the season as well. In my translations I have tried to create an image of solitary crow clinging to a branch that seems like a harbinger of approaching winter and death. In the first translation I went with the least light possible: autumn twilight. In the second translation, I attempted something more ghostly. Phrases I considered include: spectral autumn, skeletal autumn, autumnal skeleton, phantom autumn, autumn nocturne, autumn nightfall, autumn nightmare, dismal autumn. In the third and fourth translations I focused on the color of the bird and its resemblance to night falling. While literalists will no doubt object, my goal is to create an image and a feeling that convey in English what I take Basho to have been trying to convey in Japanese. Readers will have to decide whether they prefer my translations to the many others that exist, but mine are trying to convey the eeriness of the scene in English.

Except for a woodpecker
tapping at a post,
the house is silent.
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

Swallow flitting in the dusk,
please spare my small friends
buzzing among the flowers!
―Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch




Basho's Insects

A bee emerging
from deep within the peony's hairy recesses
flies off heavily, sated
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

That dying cricket,
how he goes on about his life!
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

The cicada's cry
contains no hint
of how soon it must die.
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

Nothing in the cicada's cry
hints that it knows
how soon it must die.
—Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

The cicada's cry
contains no hint
of how soon it must die.
―Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch




Basho's Moon and Stars

Pausing between clouds
the moon rests
in the eyes of its beholders
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

The moon: glorious its illumination!
Therefore, we give thanks.
Dark clouds cast their shadows on our necks.
―Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

The surging sea crests around Sado...
and above her?
An ocean of stars.
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch
ara umi ya / Sado ni yokotau / Ama-no-gawa



Basho's Companions

Fire levitating ashes:
my companion's shadow
animates the wall...
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

Among the graffiti
one illuminated name:
Yours.
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

Scrawny tomcat!
Are you starving for fish and mice
or pining away for love?
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch



Basho's End of Life and Death Poems

Nothing happened!
Yesterday simply vanished
like the blowfish soup.
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch
ara nantomo na ya / kino wa sugite / fukuto-jiru

Fever-felled mid-path
my dreams resurrect, to trek
into a hollow land
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

Sick of its autumn migration
my spirit drifts
over wilted fields...
―Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

Sick of this autumn migration
in dreams I drift
over flowerless fields...
―Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

NOTE: While literalists will no doubt object to "flowerless" in the translation above ― along with other word choices in my other translations ― this is my preferred version. I think Basho's meaning still comes through. But "wilted" is probably closer to what he meant. If only we could consult him, to ask whether he preferred strictly literal prose translations of his poems, or more poetic interpretations! My guess is that most poets would prefer for their poems to remain poetry in the second language. In my opinion the differences are minor and astute readers will grok both Basho's meaning and his emotion.

Too ill to travel,
now only my autumn dreams
survey these withering fields
― Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch



New Haiku Translations, Added 10/6/2020

Air ballet:
twin butterflies, twice white,
meet, match & mate
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Denied transformation
into a butterfly,
autumn worsens for the worm
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Dusk-gliding swallow,
please spare my small friends
flitting among the flowers!
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Up and at ’em! The sky goes bright!
Let’***** the road again,
Companion Butterfly!
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

Higher than a skylark,
resting on the breast of heaven:
mountain pass.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

Farewell,
my cloud-parting friend!
Wild goose migrating.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

A crow settles
on a leafless branch:
autumn nightfall.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

An exciting struggle
with such a sad ending:
cormorant fishing.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Secretly,
by the light of the moon,
a worm bores into a chestnut.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

This strange flower
investigated by butterflies and birds:
the autumn sky
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

Where’s the moon tonight?
Like the temple bell:
lost at sea.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

Spring departs;
birds wail;
the pale eyes of fish moisten.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

The moon still appears,
though far from home:
summer vagrant.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

Cooling the pitiless sun’s
bright red flames:
autumn wind.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

Saying farewell to others
while being told farewell:
departing autumn.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  
Traveling this road alone:
autumn evening.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

Thin from its journey
and not yet recovered:
late harvest moon.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

Occasional clouds
bless tired eyes with rest
from moon-viewing.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

The farmboy
rests from husking rice
to reach for the moon.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

The moon aside,
no one here
has such a lovely face.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

The moon having set,
all that remains
are the four corners of his desk.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

The moon so bright
a wandering monk carries it
lightly on his shoulder.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

The Festival of Souls
is obscured
by smoke from the crematory.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

The Festival of Souls!
Smoke from the crematory?
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

Family reunion:
those with white hair and canes
visiting graves.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

One who is no more
left embroidered clothes
for a summer airing.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

What am I doing,
writing haiku on the threshold of death?
Hush, a bird’s song!
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

Fallen ill on a final tour,
in dreams I go roving
earth’s flowerless moor.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch

Stricken ill on a senseless tour,
still in dreams I go roving
earth’s withered moor.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch

Stricken ill on a journey,
in dreams I go wandering
withered moors.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch


New Haiku Translations, Added 10/6/2020

Air ballet:
twin butterflies, twice white,
meet, match & mate
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Denied transformation
into a butterfly,
autumn worsens for the worm
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Dusk-gliding swallow,
please spare my small friends
flitting among the flowers!
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Up and at ’em! The sky goes bright!
Let’***** the road again,
Companion Butterfly!
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

Higher than a skylark,
resting on the breast of heaven:
mountain pass.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

Farewell,
my cloud-parting friend!
Wild goose migrating.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

A crow settles
on a leafless branch:
autumn nightfall.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

An exciting struggle
with such a sad ending:
cormorant fishing.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Secretly,
by the light of the moon,
a worm bores into a chestnut.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

This strange flower
investigated by butterflies and birds:
the autumn sky
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

Where’s the moon tonight?
Like the temple bell:
lost at sea.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

Spring departs;
birds wail;
the pale eyes of fish moisten.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

The moon still appears,
though far from home:
summer vagrant.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

Cooling the pitiless sun’s
bright red flames:
autumn wind.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

Saying farewell to others
while being told farewell:
departing autumn.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  
Traveling this road alone:
autumn evening.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

Thin from its journey
and not yet recovered:
late harvest moon.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

Occasional clouds
bless tired eyes with rest
from moon-viewing.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

The farmboy
rests from husking rice
to reach for the moon.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

The moon aside,
no one here
has such a lovely face.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

The moon having set,
all that remains
are the four corners of his desk.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

The moon so bright
a wandering monk carries it
lightly on his shoulder.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

The Festival of Souls
is obscured
by smoke from the crematory.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

The Festival of Souls!
Smoke from the crematory?
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

Family reunion:
those with white hair and canes
visiting graves.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

One who is no more
left embroidered clothes
for a summer airing.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

What am I doing,
writing haiku on the threshold of death?
Hush, a bird’s song!
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch  

Fallen ill on a final tour,
in dreams I go roving
earth’s flowerless moor.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch

Striken ill on a senseless tour,
still in dreams I go roving
earth’s withered moor.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch

Stricken ill on a journey,
in dreams I go wandering
withered moors.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch

OTHER POETS

Observe:
see how the wild violets bloom
within the forbidden fences!
—Shida Yaba (1663-1740), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

When no wind at all
ruffles the Kiri tree
leaves fall of their own free will.
—Nozawa Boncho (1640-1714), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Keywords/Tags: Basho, haiku, translation, Japan, Japanese, Oriental, Orient Occident, nature, season, seasons, waka, tanka, life and death, compassion, empathy, mrbhaiku, mrbbasho

The gods let this baby be born
As a thing they could reclaim
One day with cruel delay
Boils from black plague desecrated her skin
Right before her second birthday
A lesson on how a life can be stolen
Shortly after it begins
Or how we're without hope to the whims
Of the bored gods before us

To save the last of his kin
The father implored the science
Of the village sage and physicians
He was turned down at every door
Their medicine was not meant
To save the poor nor destitute
  
Resolute in his faith
there were good gods who gave grace
Unto children without sin
He next beseeched healing power
from varied institutions of the miracle men
Preyed over by priests, rabbis, and sheikhs
He sacrificed and spent
every cent he had saved
And their churches took his tithes
But did not take her pain away

Grief striken, defeated, with no recourse
Liquid sedated in a pub,he feels remorse
" our child will join you soon,
my dearest departed wife"
a pubhand overhears him saying,
"you can still save your daughter's life!"

"listen as I entail
The hidden trail you must trek
before the antelucan hour strikes
Her magiks are only ripe
in the dead of the night
Nestled within that loury forest
Her cabin obscured from mortal sight
Resides an occultist of such cunning:
A bog witch named Blight"

The pubhand helped him to more mead for free
Unprompted he then proceeds to lead
The father through that place he now seeks
-claiming his shift had come to an end
As they drew closer to the cabin
Something happened most curious and queer
The pubhand turned into a black cat,
Scurried off into the brush- to dissappear

Influenced by fermented spirits in his blood
He pays heed to their whisper
-Her cabin door is ajar
And they beckon he enter

Now in Blight's place of power with his offspring.

"oh hapless father when you sing,
How the gods do smile
You worshipped the very ones
who wish to **** your only child
they're vile and malcontent
All they know are delinquent tendencies
They'll torture her spirit for sport,
When she dies you see
But by my incantation
That needn't come be"

"drain the blood of a bat
with deviant intent
Recant the name of your gods;
You now resent  
The blood will brew all the while
-in my elixir
When the little girl drinks:
it will fix her
It will turn her pale white
You will fear she has perished
She will stalk this earth
Forever parched with ravenous thirst
And a stark aversion to sunlight
NOW YOU MUST CHOOSE:
A dead child!
...or a creature of the night?"

The father did as directed
He did not second guess
Unaware of the sorceresses subtle gesticulations
-Were creating a hex
He's blind to machinations set in motion long ago
The wiccan pours her will into a binding circle
As the child drinks the concoction slow

His daughter's vitality returns
The plague is receding
Fangs sprang forth
as she bites into her father's neck
Blood trickles down in specks
The girl keeps feeding
And feeding

all gods once assembled to fight Blight
The powerful mad goddess would direct
her sadistic debauchery at their human subjects
-human praise appealed to the god's vanity-
Her godhood sealed by the Parthenon
in a prison comprised of flesh
Divinity bound;
betrayed by other gods
There were too many for her to resist
A former god trapped in mortal form
Blight's punishment was to simply exist

For 300 years Blight had waited for a night like this
An ancient curse she could wield
As revenge for imprisonment
Finally obtaining the last two ingredients:
A child that was pure
And a father's consent

A direct strike of lightning sets Blight's cabin ablaze  
still in her binding circle, she's indifferent
And unphased
From threats of fearful deities who see
She's about to set her nocturnal creations free
Undeterred by their show of force
she releases her two vamps
with a flick of her wrist and no remorse

Iightning strikes within an inch of Blight
She leers at the heavens
Much defiance and mirth
In the distance a village screams
As her fiends burn it down to the dirt

The Parthenon replies:
Bellowing cumulonimbus clouds
decries her decision
Such chaos;
now her scheming REALLY has their attention
The.Ones.Who.Watch. Above

See all.

Throughout panoptic thrones they peer
pained fury for this village culling:
Blight jeers
Sanctimonius thunderstorm brings fervent rain
Their vain,pious tears-
The skies can not contain

The gods cry.

"Oh, how i wonder what will worship gods then,
When humanity dies?"

Luminous surges of lightning bolts strike
Tries to smite this emboldened bog witch
...Yet, in spite of their wish,
she somehow stays unhurt...

Blight smirks.

What a shame
When someone loses fame
For doing nothing
Because of a shortcoming

For days, he was liked
Taken care of and prized
But once he had to be away
Got forgotten and castaway

He was called a liar
To be put on fire
He was blamed
Accused and defamed

For, frankly speaking, no reason
Yet he was charged with treason
Days ago was a family member
Now he's put at stake of timber

Indeed, very odd is man
When he is subject to ban
When jealousy driven
And heart-striken

Lucky is a freeman
Who refuses to live in a can
Lucky is the man
Who is not fried on a pan.

Sam Burton(C)







Today is Friday, Oct. 11, the 284 day of 2014 with 81 to follow.

The moon is waning. Morning stars are Jupiter and Venus. Evening stars are Mars, Mercury, Neptune, Uranus and Saturn.
In 1845, the U.S. Naval Academy was formally opened at Fort Severn, Annapolis, Md., with 50 midshipmen in the first class.

In 1886, Griswold Lorillard of Tuxedo Park, N.Y., fashioned the first tuxedo for men.

A thought for the day:

We all should rise above the clouds of ignorance, narrowness and selfishness. -- Booker T. Washington


Quotes for the day:

A good traveller is one who does not know where he is going to, and a perfect traveller does not know where he came from.

------------------------

All women's dresses are merely variations on the eternal struggle between admitted desire to dress and the unadmitted desire to undress.

Lin Yutang

"What seems to us as bitter trials are often blessings in disguise."

Oscar Wilde

"It takes but one positive thought when given a chance to survive and thrive to overpower an entire army of negative thoughts."

Robert H. Schuller

My boyfriend and I broke up. He wanted to get married and I didn't want him to.

Rita Rudner

It is only by following your deepest instinct that you can lead a rich life, and if you let your fear of consequence prevent you from following your deepest instinct, then your life will be safe, expedient and thin.

Katharine Butler Hathaway


TIVIA


What made Lucky Lindy so special?

Charles Lindbergh was not the first man to fly the Atlantic. He was the sixty-seventh. The first sixty-six made the crossing in dirigibles and twin-engine mail planes. Lindbergh was the first to make the dangerous flight alone.

Can your brain hurt?

Only figuratively -- Pain from any injury or illness is always registered by the brain. Yet, curiously, the brain tissue itself is immune to pain; it contains none of the specialized receptor cells that sense pain in other parts of the body. The pain associated with brain tumors does not arise from brain cells but from the pressure created by a growing tumor or tissues outside the brain.


Where can you see a lot of magnets?

More than 7,000 magnets are on display at the Guinness World of Records Museum and Gift Shop, located on the Las Vegas Strip. The exhibit is a portion of the more than 26,000-magnet collection of Louise J. Greenfarb, dubbed "The Magnet Lady," whose accumulation was designated by the Guinness Book of World Records as the world's "Largest Refrigerator Magnet" collection.



Poetry

Evening Star

Edgar Allan Poe

'Twas noontide of summer,
And mid-time of night;
And stars, in their orbits,
Shone pale, thro' the light
Of the brighter, cold moon,
'Mid planets her slaves,
Herself in the Heavens,
Her beam on the waves.
I gazed awhile
On her cold smile;
Too cold- too cold for me-
There pass'd, as a shroud,
A fleecy cloud,
And I turned away to thee,
Proud Evening Star,
In thy glory afar,
And dearer thy beam shall be;
For joy to my heart
Is the proud part
Thou bearest in Heaven at night,
And more I admire
Thy distant fire,
Than that colder, lowly light.


Vocabulary

Strudel

noun

: a pastry made from a thin sheet of dough rolled up with filling and baked

Example:

Strudels are usually made with high-gluten flour to increase the malleability of the dough.

"The Supremes belted out a song on the radio, their voices as smooth and flawless as the ribbon of cream Kirsten poured from the pitcher onto her father's strudel, and the whole house smelled cheerfully of pork and spiced apples, laced with a note of butter. — From Rebecca Coleman’s 2011 novel The Kingdom of Childhood



Health and Beauty Tip

Mineral Water for greasy hair

If you have oily hair, use a shampoo that contains zinc. It's okay to condition if you feel you need it -- just don't use it on your roots and scalp.


JOKES

Funny News

From the Churchdown Parish Magazine:
"Would the Congregation please note that the bowl at the back of the Church, labelled 'For The Sick,' is for monetary donations only."

-o-

From The Guardian concerning a sign seen in a Police canteen in Christchurch, New Zealand:
'Will the person who took a slice of cake from the Commissioner's Office return it immediately. It is needed as evidence in a poisoning case."

-o-

From The Times:

A young girl, who was blown out to sea on a set of inflatable teeth, was rescued by a man on an inflatable lobster. A coast-guard spokesman commented: 'This sort of thing is all too common these days.'

-o-

From The Gloucester Citizen:

A *** line caller complained to Trading Standards. After dialling an 0891 number from an advertisement entitled 'Hear Me Moan' the caller was played a tape of a woman nagging her husband for failing to do jobs around the house! . Consumer Watchdogs in Dorset refused to look into the complaint, saying, 'He got what he deserved.'

-o-

From The Barnsley Chronicle:

Police arrived quickly, to find Mr Melchett hanging by his fingertips from the back wall. He had run out of the house when the owner, Paul Finch, returned home unexpectedly, and, spotting an intruder in the garden, had visiting Mrs Finch and, hearing the front door open, had climbed out of the rear window. But the back wall was 8 feet high and Mr Melchett had been unable to get his leg over.

-o-

From The Scottish Big Issue:

In Sydney, 120 men named Henry attacked each other during a 'My Name is Henry' convention. Henry ****** of Canberra accused Henry Pap of Sydney of not being a Henry at all, but in fact an Angus. 'It was a lie', explained Mr Pap, 'I'm a Henry and always will be,' whereupon Henry Pap attacked Henry ******, whilst two other Henrys - Jones and Dyer - attempted ! to pull them apart. Several more Henrys - Smith, Calderwood an! d Andrew s - became involved and soon the entire convention descended into a giant fist fight. The brawl was eventually broken up by riot police, led by a man named Shane.

-o-

From The Daily Telegraph:

In a piece headed "Brussels Pays 200,000 Pounds to Save Prostitutes": "[T]he money will not be going directly into the prostitutes' pocket, but will be used to encourage them to lead a better life. We will be training them for new positions in hotels."

-o-

From The Derby Abbey Community News:

We apologise for the error in the last edition, in which we stated that 'Mr Fred Nicolme is a defective in the police force.' This was a typographical error. We meant of course that Mr Nicolme is a detective in the police farce.

-o-
From The Guardian:

After being charged 20 pounds for a 10 pounds overdraft, 30 year old Michael Howard of Leeds changed his name by deed poll to 'Yorkshire Bank Plc are Fascist! *s.' The Bank has now asked him to close his account, and Mr *s has asked them to repay the 69p balance by cheque, made out in his new name.

-o-

From The Manchester Evening News:

Police called to arrest a naked man on the platform at Piccadilly Station released their suspect after he produced a valid rail ticket.

-o-

An Austrian circus dwarf died recently when he bounced sideways from a trampoline and was swallowed by a hippopotamus. Seven thousand people watched as little Franz Dasch popped into the mouth of Hilda the Hippo and the animal's gag reflex forced it to swallow. The crowd applauded wildly before other circus people realized what had happened.

-o-

An elderly woman at a unit for sufferers of senile dementia passed round a box of mothballs thinking that they were mints. Eleven people were taken to hospital for treatment.

Confessional Etiquette


The new priest is nervous about hearing confessions, so he asks an older priest to sit in on his sessions. The new priest hears a couple confessions, then the old priest asks him to step out of the confessional for a few suggestions.
The old priest says, "Cross your arms over your chest and rub your chin with one hand."

The new priest tries this. The old priest suggests, "Try saying things like, 'I see,' 'yes,' 'go on,' 'I understand,' and 'how did you feel about that?'"

The new priest says those things, trying them out. The old priest says, "Now, don't you think that's a little better than saying, 'Whoa... What happened next?'"

So Funny

A guy purchased Willie Nelson's hair for $37,000. ***** removed his braids and the guy bought them for $37,000. This is the kind of decision you make after spending the day on Willie's tour bus.

David Litterman

Did you hear what happened to Willie Nelson's hair? They sold it. There was an auction this week and a pair of Willie Nelson's braids sold for $37,000. It's a good deal because each braid has a street value of $80,000.

Jimmy Kimmel

Quick Blonde Jokes

Q: Why did the blonde keep putting quarters in the soda vending machine?

A: Because she thought she was winning.

Q: Why did the blonde take 16 friends to the movies?

A: Under 17 not admitted!

Q: Why did the blonde bake a chicken for 3 and a half days?

A: It said cook it for half an hour per pound, and she weighed 125.


Have a very nice Saturday!

Theres an original Aussie lingo
That out there one can hear~
Most of all when you are in the country
And places like that you love so dear~
RIPPA RITA , An aussie bush expression of rejoice~
When something really goes so well
And usually not by choice~
FAIR DINKUM means simply for real
Are you fair dinkum mate~
STRUTH another real Aussie expression
A bush word for something that you hate~
Just a few words of real Aussie lingo
You might hear now and again~
SEND HER DOWN HUGHY they'll cry
When they reall do need rain~
STONE THE CROWS you'll hear them yell
When something happens by surprise~
Often in the country
When they can't believe their eyes~
HOWZ ZAT a bloke will often call out
when he manages to do something better than right~
And very indeed proud of himself
Without trying to skite~
RIGHTIO dad will call out to mum
When she hollows don't forget to get the bread~
TOO FLAMEN RIGHT he'll say back to her
When she says well ... did ja get it ted~
YA GREAT GALLOOT is what they'll call you
When you do something really wrong~
So much original Aussie lingo
They should put it all within a song~
SHIELA'S are of course suingle women
Who often are as well called BIRDS~
All this fantastic Aussie terminology
How I miss all these words~
Ocker's are usually blokes in shorts and thongs
They call thongs Japanese riding boots~
CODJA'S are older blokes
Sometimes they call them COOT'S~
COCKIES are blokes that own properties
STRIKEN A BLOW is a term for work~
BLUDGERS are those that don't like do do it
And being lazy is to of course SHIRK~
All that age old aussie lingo
I miss it so I do~
Can't wait to say HOWZ YA GOEN MATE
And G DAY to a mate or two~
It's all got a sound of it's own
One gets used to it in life~
Like the LITTLE WOMEN and THE BETTER HALF
Is what they call a wife a wife~

( Was'nt game to use spell check lol )

https://youtu.be/PT331BRkkP0

Terrence Michael Sutton
Copyright 2018

There is a place where words lie dead
And buried forever more
Hurting words, that someone said
That we've chosen to ignore

Words like cheater, adultery and liar
They simply no longer exist
Words found guilty, tried by fire
Words that won't be missed

Words like lonely, sad and grief
Are striken from our mind
Words like sorrow, heartbreak and thief
Words of every kind

Words like pain, tears and death
Will soon forever perish
The only words found on our breath
Are words like love, honor and cherish

Words like broken, lost and cry
Are no longer necessary
For all of these words will forever lie
In the sad poem cemetery

I'm sorry about the blood I left on your shirt, on your arms, on your neck, on the hood of your car, on the leather interior. I'm sorry you had to see it. I know you never wanted to see me.

I should have known from the beginning that I was in this all alone, because that's how it always goes, isn't it?

Here I am, a stretch of skin over fragile bones, tear-striken and bleeding for you and there you are, all cold eyes and statuesque.

I'm sorry for vying so hard for your attention, for affection that you are so incapable of giving.

I'm sorry for trying to know you, for wanting to learn you, all before I gave you a chance to know me, if you ever wanted to know me at all.

I should have known from the beginning that this was all for nothing, that you'd never want someone like me, so quiet, so unkept. I fooled myself into thinking I had a chance, and maybe I did at first but I lost that, didn't I?

Here I am, a mess of broken bones and pieces of glass sticking out of my chest. I'll take it out and hand it to you, make a chandelier out of my broken glass heart and I'll light up your bedroom with my affection the way your lack of affection lit up a fire within me.

And there you are, leaning against your car with smoke billowing from your lips, eyes in my direction but looking past me; me on the pavement, shivering and bleeding in the moonlight but you're so cool, so coolly pretending that I no longer exist.

Congratulations, you got your wish.

dear cerrupted angel, you've been through far too much,
i see the barbed wire your tangled and mangled, in. you're so lost and out
of touch. you awkwardly stand with sad blue eyes and shaking hands, and no one understands how you feel, your so striken with fear, that parts of you dissapear, underneath your shield made of steele .

I love you too baby....

My daughter takes of her wig. She's cancer striken. Tell her go play while I hold in my hands what's now her hair. Put it to my face and tear. She hates to see me cry. Always says "I'm suppose to be the tough guy." That's when I see it. An angel in my kitchen. Not what you expect no wings but draped in white lenen. I fear it as It ask me "is all worth it? To not be able see my seed grow. To join the game that that turned your mom to a fiend though and put my two brother six feet under, am I trying to make Lucifer 's trilogy?" As I turn around to wash my face in the kitchen faucet I see another one. Just as beautiful as the first except this one has the mark of the beast triple six. "There's no other way to eat you're a felon. Did seven on a ten year bid. Came out on good behavior? Hahaha  ain't no place going to take you. This is how God loves you? Keep your nine by your waist always off safety. You don't have no friends on this game as your mother or your brother Davis." As my phone starts vibrating. Is Johnny from around the way. ...

For the boy who sleeps
In the early hours
Of the sun-soaked Earth
I'm sorry your mind kept you from dreaming

For the girl who cries
At the very sight
Of herself
I'm sorry your mind kept you from self love

For the child who wishes
For something more
Than a poverty striken
Sense of imagination
I'm sorry your mind kept you from reaching more

For you
The one who waits
For life to be more
To be better
I'm sorry your mind kept you from creating it

Aghast was the feeling within,
the moment I heard saying,
"The grudge in me never ceases,
If I look at you, it upsurges."
What was that? Hatred or Jealousy?

Together we grew,
Together we played,
Together we enjoyed,
But she was loved more.
What was that? The age or Comparison?

Appreciated for her appearance,
Admired for the best smile,
Pampered for the sweet talks,
Gradually grew the inner bitterness unaware,
Igniting in her, the spark of arrogance uncompared.
As I was placed ever in contradiction.
What was that? Seed of praise or despise?

The child in us possessed the love,
while in the name of maturity the gap stretched,
The silence took deep breaths
Between each conversation
We, the alike thinkers
Now parted with difference.
The daughters of two sisters,
Misunderstanding cultivated the distress.
What was that? Distance or Belief?

The question still perplexed
Whose fault was that?
The childhood innocence ripped with arrogance?
Or
The comparison that planted the vengeance?
But ultimately, it is the misconception established with pride.

Now after these many years,
the love in me for her never faded
but grew more when we by chance interacted.
What was that? The pure love or move on?

Having the belief that our thoughts were alike,
My heart ceased not to pour my inner feelings,
As my childhood pal, my sister, my twin.
But still the ignorance in me continued to control,
My maturity to understand the completely changed person.
It took sometime to get in my senses
that her eyes looked hither and thither
with lies unrelated,
and conversations proposed,
not to share but to grasp
whenever connected virtually.
What was that? A changed self or Gossip Monger?

The vengeance inside gradually
turned to revengeful remorse.
And the love had turned to blame,
With pierce striken words she poked
Of accusations and falsehoods,
But none seemed to disturb me.
What was that? Mellow in me or Her immaturity?

With composed tone, I did stand for me,
confidently, a new me,
neither raised my voice,
nor reacted losing my poise,
but assured that in her life,
"Never could you forget to remember me and never, remember to forget me."
What was that?
A blessing from a mellowed soul.

————————————————

Have you Ever Felt Like You aren't a success because you feel rather less than the best.
Well please Listen to my request:
TRUST THE PROCESS!
For it shows that you are Making progress.
God is prepping you for A favorable outcome.
So hold on tight because he is not yet done.
These Additives are a requirement
To bringing you out of the old and into your new environment.
Out of Obedience I give to you the following Ingredients:

Add a teaspoon of hopelessness with a pinch of replusiveness
Pour a cup of Persecution, and  Mix it with neagtive thoughts invading the mind with pollution.
Next Add a spoonful of Despair.
Just a dash of feeling loneliness here and there.
Sprinkle in the feelings of failure and doubt
Because day in and day out you don't see things working out.
Stir in a pint of Suffering.
Just enough to leave you Uttering, "LORD, I NEED YOUR GOVERNORING"
Add a gallon of Sorrow with
Prayers and hopes of the pain ending tomorrow.
Mix in a few drops of Tears
As You seek Counsel from The Big Man Upstairs.
Put in a hint of Embrassment from the harassment due to impaired judgement.
Stir in the Dissapointment for You need to Go through this to get your anointing.

Then, Humbly we come to seek you in despartion
Bringing to you our circumstances and current situation.
Blend in the Senation of Humiliation
Now watch the beautification and Wonders of your transformation To His Marvelous  Mastepiece: His Beautiful Creation.
This was all a part of The Process
So his love you could gain access to and possess, dwell within you just so you could be blessed and exchange for our heavy burdens for Rest.
These are The Ingredients For Success!
If you never Experience poverty, being striken and ill health
You would never know the true meaning of  prosperity, riches and Wealth.
SO I DARE YOU to Trust Yah as he guides you on this journey to finding your true self.

As a walk down this path of death. My mind cannot comprehend the sights. It's not the blood, the guts spilled, the head cracked open, the beaten bodies, the decapated bodies or the disease striken.
Well actually I'm lying I hate blood, but that's besides the point.

It was a life, a life that once had hope, a future, a life to share, caring, loving, and giving person. It was a life.

That hurts me a lot,  but the toughest part for me is the pain and suffering of that person and their family went through. The chaios it brings into lives.

Don't ever think it can't happen to you or somebody you may know, because it can.

We can never prepare for things like this, but life is not all roses.

Know that where in the 21 centry and were in this fast pace life, don't take life for granted. Enjoy everyday, tell your friends and family everyday that you love them.

I'm not trying to upset anyone, all I'm trying to say is live everday like it's your last.

The worde expressed are not my own
For never is it me alone
That determines what
Emotions make their way into this blank
canvas that can only hold
So much in simole words alone
Many find it misleading
When my works have an undertone of pleading
Pleading that is not my own
Remember this is never me alone
That jots down thought on a digital page
As I painfully hold back the rage
The rage built at suffering and loss
The pleasure that comes from this cost
My feelings never make their way
Across this blank page for they lay
With those who are not near my home
For a family that does not belong to my own
For sisters that I hold so dear
And for sisters whos cries I hate to hear
Their tear striken faces my fear
For though I want to help I am stuck here
The only comfort I can give
Is across this blank page
Where words must take the place of actions
And bridge the gap between us

screem die please,
and maybe he will stop it
An excuse for crime or treason
****** damage is opening up
Or killing due, rhyme and reason
To those things within we crave
A reckoning of justice
Striken with our judges cane
Leaving only a mark or stain
Dye on the bedding of life
Red wine spilled in pursuit
Of irreversible  rectitude

Like the wheels on my first tricycle
I am broken
Used and worn as my rustic soul sits
Beside the growing weeds
At my parents house
I watch you waste away over the years
Growing tired
Blood red peels from your core
Scattered around for all to see
Maybe one day I'll return
To find you've moved on
From those sun striken rays
Pumbling your existence
And hopefully it gives me the strength
To move foreward as well
And understand that the past
So beautiful and joyous to the senses
But Nothing will put me on the wheels
Of that lonesome bike ever again

******* does loving someone ******* up
On the inside, on the outside
Everyday of the week and twice on Sundays
It’s always the same
High heights
Followed by low blows
The kind of pain no one ever prepares you for
And it always feels like a funeral
And ******* does loving someone ******* up
Everyday of the week
It becomes your comfort
And it becomes your safety
And it becomes pain
And band aids on spiderweb striken thighs
It becomes the type of pain no one ever sees
Unless they’re brave enough to look beneath the surface
But my god does it feel like home
My god does it feel like falling in light
And ******* loving someone will ******* up for good.

(v.m)

There is a cigarette smoldering 
 amidst the early southern, Spring sun:
 firmly seized between these fingers 
 whose winter worries have,
seemingly, wept away.

Changing of seasons has begun unfolding
 and I still have yet to treat my lungs
to a vacation: from the smoke that lingers-
yes! they're crying for a bath:
obviously, ignored each day.

Fully knowing the winter worries 
are just stored away,
for a snowy day,
he attempts to enjoy
the grandeur of grass growing green. 

Skeptical, of course: awaiting flurries.
"Now, it'll be any day!"
    "Just you wait!"
I know the coldness will only,
my heat striken labor, come to destroy.

Oh, if only she were my Queen!
Then, things would be a dream!

Text: Act 2:1-21; Isa. 28:11
Intro: Speaking in tongues was a special gift given to  special men, for a special purpose for a special people for a special period of time.

Now read 2:1-12; Isa.28:11 The first truth I want you to know, is that the tongues in Acts 2, was an actual human language, not some heavnly language.

The day of Pentecost of the apostles preaching the Gospel in a gentile language, of which they had never learned, was prophesied by the prophet, Joel and Isa.

Note in the Isa.28 passage,vs.11 that the Apostles would speak win a stammering lips and another tongue i.e. another language, the Gentile language.

A. Stammering lips , compared to the Jewish lanuage which is an
     easy flowing language, the Gentile language is staccato sounding
     language, or as this Scripture renders it "stammering" sounding.
B. So Scripure has established that the original speaking in tongues
     was a specific human language, given to special men - the 12
    Apostles.
       ....and note also,  these men had not been striken in the spirit or
       had someone lay hands on them and utter heavenly words over
      them, and declare  they had just been baptized in the Holy
     Ghost.
     ans declare he or she jad just been baptized in thr Holy Ghost.
C. Next take note, that this  speaking in a language  which they had never peviously learned, was for a special purpose -the proclaiming the wonderful works ofGod -Acts 2:11 and God's plans for the future Acts 2:17-20., and the most important purpose , V.21 to proclaim God's salvation - "Whosoever shall call upon the Name of the Lord, shall be saved."

Now I want to pull over to the side of the road, and park for awhile and talk to you,  who-so-ever-you are  who  thinks you have talked in tongues - have you ever used that gift to proclaim the Word of God, the Word of salvation? Of course  you haven't; because as I Corth. 14:9 says "Except you utter by tongue (a language) words to understand, how shall it be known what is spoken? For you shall speak in the air."
                               Personl Illustraion
At one time I worked among sme Mexican men who did not speak or uderstand the English language. I and a particuler Mexican man and I became friends. I invited him to church,which he refused, Why? As he said, I could not understand laguage or the music.

I'm saying very bluntly to anyone reading this who thinks you have a special gift of speakig in tongues,  except you speak in a language they understand, proclaiming the wonderful works and wonderful work of God, you are fooling yourself or have been fooled by someone else that you have the gift of speaking in tongues.

"But Preacher, I know I was speaking in a heavenly language because I had no control over my tongue."

"I understand that, and will address it in a few minutes."
But right now I want to review what we have leaned thus far.
1. Speaking in tongues is an earthly known language, not
    some heavenlylanguage.
2. Speaking in a unleaned language was specia gift of the Holy Spirit
    given to some special men for a special purpose.
3. That purppse was to proclaim the Word of salvation to some
   special people the Israelites, IOW the Jewish people.
a.Isa. 28: 11,12 says "Yet thet would not hear" so now go to the New
   Testament I Cor. 14:21 which subsatuates Isa,  28: 11-12,In the law
   it is written,  with men of other tongues (languages) other lips,  
  will   I speak to this people, and yet for all that they will not hear
  me, saith the Lord" I Cor. 14:22 says "Tongues are for a SIGN, not to
  them that believe but to them that believe not." and John 1:11 tells
  us who the unbelievers are "Jesus came unto His own but His own
  recieved Him not"

Now I'm going to address those who say "I know I'm speaking in tongues, because I have no control over my tongue,
You are not going to like me for what I am going to say, but you really need to hear it.
Look at Acts 16:16-18 and pay attention to details. This girl had no control over her following Paul around and actually was sayimg some things we today, might have easiy been drawn in to her, "These men are the servants of the most high God which show us the way of salvation."

But Paul recognized her for what she was, a demon possessed
person, and even though she was saying some wonderful things, Paul said,"I command you in the name of Jesus Christ, come out of her" and she came out the same hour.

OK< now what I am about to tell you, if this young girl  had no control over her tongue, just as this damsel had no control over her tongue, is it possible you are being controlled by an evil spiirit. If you have no idea of what you  are saying, has it ever entered your mind that a satanic spirit is cursing Jesus, using your tongue to do so

Remember, tongues are a known human language, and you have no idea wht you are saying, so its a very possiblity that an  evil spirit is speaking in some forign laguage through the use of your vocal chords,  Not to Praise Jesus, But curse Him.

Now I know there are several passages that have to do with speaking in tongues,(An unlearned language), but keep in mind that tongues was a SIGN FOR THE JEWISH PEOPLE and in every pasage where tongues were spoken, they were always  speakin in a Gentile language that the Jewish people had lerned, and always the were proclaiming the Gospel to a, or, some Jews.

In closing, I am going to show you from Scripture, that the gift of tonges was for a SPECIAL PEOPLE for a SPECIAL PERIOD OF TIME and that time has long ago passed on, SO speaking in tongues
is not for today ICor. 13:8 "...whether there be tongues, they shall cease."

When did they cease? Look at 13:10  "When that which is perfect (complete) is come, then that which is in part (incomplete) shall be done away,"

"When "that" which is perfect is come" is not a reference to Jesus' return, as some have taught, Why? Because the word "that" is a neuter word, neither male nor female and so is talking about the completion of the Scriptures. Besides, Jesus is not a "that".

Ok, you may ask, "When was the completion of the Scrptures?" Look at the last word in Revelation. With the salutation of John's writings, came the end of many of the speaking gifts, such as the gift of tongues.

Today with the completion of thr verbal insp[iraion ofmScriptre, tongues are no longer needed; We hve God's last wrd to the world of humanity in writtn form. God has laid aside His daligs with Israel, so the SIGN of tonges is no longer needed for them; everyone gets the Gospel of God's Word the same way......through the written Wrd of God.
           From Jerry Howarth's Book of Sermons

Dancing in a snow storm
Again
it was below freezing now it feels warm
Emotional sin
Watching like a flower before bloom
The time spent together, Like unscripted conversations before I love you
Smile in your presence all surrounded by
I like you
You like me too  
Little things that seem to excite you
Personality
Like musicality
In my senses
And how when I come close your body tenses
As if I could spot you coming towards me in a distance
Spoken words in a soft voice
Listen like a cool mist that’s not too moist
I can only say you make me feel like a laugh
And intrigue me like equations in difficult math
A feeling I only like when your around
It’s sickening to have and beats in my mind like loud thunder sounds
Like emotions Comes the lightening and it’s striken me down
It took me one time to get close just wanna be near you now
I’m simping think about you all the time like right now
And I don’t like the Cold you make it warm like do I need to pipe down

Now I’m dancing in a snow storm again
How I turn my back on motions and let you walk right on in
And when our lips lock it’s like a blend
Of everything I wanted when I passed you back then

Look at me dancing in a snow storm again

paranoia.
guilt?
shame.

shadows dancing down the stairwell.
wide-eyed side glances toward the hall.

flashback:

slouched
like a crescent moon.
vulnerable like never before,
i allow myself to be seen
as i sink further into the brown fabric.

"you just sunk your ship deeper."

fear-striken eyes.
no . . . used to the defeat.

trembling fingertips
aimlessly yet methodically
tapping at glass.
hopeless.
useless.

tear-stained cheeks,
rubbed-raw skin
& bloodshot eyes.
hallows beneath my
chocolate brown
windows.

a heat-kissed flush
paints my face
as i gingerly sweep
a curtain of hair
from my view.

my view of my
nightmare.
only i'm not asleep.

fast forward:

frozen.
silent.
listening for footsteps.
coward
no . . .
guilt?
no . . .
shame.

i just sunk my ship deeper.