Emily Dickenson, Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Phd.,Robert Bly, Wonder Woman, Sylvia Plath, Ken Gire, Pablo Neruda, Maya Angelou, Denise Levertov, William Carlos Williams, Stanley Kunitz, Galway Kinnell, Gerard Manly Hopkins, Robert Frost, Joseph Campbell, Richard Wilbur, Thomas Merton, Thich Nhat Hanh, Henri Nouwen - Oh, and the Santa Ynez - Los Olivos region of California.
Astralshepherd took this penname in 2003 and began
writing as a form of therapy. What resulted was a series
of poems both personal and painful but meaningful to
many who read this poets work. In 2006, Astralshepherd
began reading these poems aloud at open mic. sessions
and to anyone who would stop and listen.
A child of the 50's, a cancer survivor and married
with one daughter, this poet carries the voices
of more than five decades of life experience and unique
perspectives into a new millennium.
You can find many of Astralshepherd's poems at Allpoetry.com.
"To laugh is to risk appearing a fool.
To weep is to risk appearing sentimental.
To reach out for another is to risk involvement.
To expose feelings is to risk rejection.
To place your dreams before the crowd is to risk ridicule.
To love is to risk not being loved in return.
To go forward in the face of overwhelming odds is to risk failure.
But risks must be taken because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing.
The person who risks nothing does nothing, has nothing, is nothing.
He may avoid suffering and sorrow, but he cannot learn, feel, change, grow or love.
Chained by his certitudes, he is a slave.
He has forfeited his freedom.
Only a person who takes risks is free."
After you've finished here, you may like to hear this folk-carol on myspace... Poem 230 of 230, WalkaboutsVerse (see my blog for details): CHRISTMAS SUNG SIMPLY
As gospellers have said, Beneath signalling skies, On land dusty to tread, A trough in a stable Was the strawy first-bed Of a divine baby - The forgiving Godhead.
A season for new hope - There then and here now; The yuletide of goodwill - There then and here now.
In respect of this chance, Beneath bright or dark skies, Faith's the star that we glance Attending Christ's churches And trying to enhance, With singing and ritual, Our God-loving stance.
~ OPEN MIC RADIO ~ JOIN SPEAKEASY CAFE TONIGHT for the "SOUND OF INK" OPEN MIC POETRY RADIO SHOW! Show time: 4:00 pm West coast 7:00 pm East coast Call in number: 646-595-3965 Show site: www.blogtalkradio.com/speakeasycafe
After you've finished here, you may like to hear this poem sung on myspace...
Poem 162 of 230, WalkaboutsVerse (please see my blog): TEES TO TYNE: FIRST IMPRESSIONS - SUMMER 2001
Where traditions are not so rare; Sea, country and works scent the air; A multitude of monuments, Planted tubs and patterned pavements.
The longish pedestrian malls; The remnants of defensive walls; Historic buildings are a gauge Of the respect for heritage.
Wheat, rape and pines in the fields; Estuaries guarded by shields; Long sandy beaches and wide scenes; Romantic-ruin go-betweens.
Rivers in parts licked by trees, Or fringed by boat clubs, wharfs, gantries, And crossed by practical delights - Varied spans, forming pleasing sights.
Fine churches headed at Durham; Football kits ad infinitum; Kept castles - one for study; Masonry behind masonry.
And, with moulding-works out that way, It’s somewhere for a longer stay..?
After you've finished here, you may like to hear this poem sung on myspace...
Poem 2 of 230, WalkaboutsVerse (please see my blog): WALKABOUT WITH MY PEN
Once drove an old sedan, up north, From a place in Sydney to Cairns; Then to Kuranda I went forth, By train, to look without set plans.
I browsed through the trendy market, With fresh fruits of tropical kind; Walked to the creek through lush thicket - Nature’s hand giving peace of mind.
I dined in a scenic cafe; Then, outside, as I wrote for yen, Some passing Kooris called-out: “Hey, You go walkabout with your pen.”
Request or question, I don’t know - Assured voices, elderly men. That’s now several years ago, And I’ve seen the world - with my pen.
Hello, how are you? Written anything lately? I think it's a slumpy time for us all, even though that is sometimes inspiring. Not for me so much, you? I suppose reaching out to you is a start, it is Spring after all!
After you've finished here, you may like to hear this poem sung on myspace...
Poem cum song 2 of 230, walkaboutsverse.741.com: WALKABOUT WITH MY PEN
Once drove an old sedan, up north, From a place in Sydney to Cairns; Then to Kuranda I went forth, By train, to look without set plans.
I browsed through the trendy market, With fresh fruits of tropical kind; Walked to the creek through lush thicket - Nature’s hand giving peace of mind.
I dined in a scenic cafe; Then, outside, as I wrote for yen, Some passing Kooris called-out: “Hey, You go walkabout with your pen.”
Request or question, I don’t know - Assured voices, elderly men. That’s now several years ago, And I’ve seen the world - with my pen.
Thought you might like this from a very good friend of mine, although I sometimes think I have none:
Dear Lord: I thank You for this day, I thank You for my being able to see and to hear this morning. I'm blessed because You are a forgiving understanding God. You have done so much for me and You keep on blessing me. Forgive me this day for everything I have done, said or thought that was not pleasing to you.
I ask now for Your forgiveness. Please keep me safe from all danger and harm. Help me to start this day with a new attitude and plenty of gratitude. Let me make the best of each and every day to clear my mind so that I can hear You. Please broaden my mind that I can accept all things. Let me not whine and whimper over things I have no control over.
And give the best response when I'm pushed beyond my limits.
I know that when I can't pray, You listen to my heart. Continue to use me to do Your will. Continue to bless me that I may be a blessing to others. Keep me strong that I may help the weak... Keep me uplifted that I may have words of encouragement for others. I pray for those that are lost and can't find their way. I pray for those that are misjudged and misunderstood I pray for those who don't know You intimately. I pray for those that will delete this without sharing it with others I pray for those that don't believe.
But I thank you that I believe that God changes people and God changes things. I pray for all my sisters and brothers. For each and every family member in their households. I pray for peace, health, love and joy in their homes that they are out of debt and all their needs are met. I pray that every eye that reads this knows there is no problem, circumstance, or situation greater than God. Every battle is in Your hands for You to fight.
I pray that these words be received into the hearts of every eye that sees it.
religious ceremony takes you in without approval disregard the four letter words on your napkin this is recompense satisfaction, one of a kind trademarked, your sould defined supper bell rings four o'clock mother and her tiresome attire turn like water into wine stepping aside the lonesome cowboy into the night, rides his stern lonesome and abandoned on this earth in a meek meadow of sound thunder do the desperate sparrows plee in the summer alliance of winter and longing amidst the late night madmens hearkening in the shadow of adventure, premonition calls in time twist and seven dead angels, mellow applause in the corner of diligence and destitution digging like a mole striking oil and butter beans in a seventy foot hole bartender leans in for a kiss on the serpeants head drunk man whimpers his last breath and slowly begins to die sad moon fortune says the lady with a bell dancing on a rich mans grave, he swears he'll never tell argument in the plaintiffs home, resulting in a brawl some never seen such a mess i guess, others call it home left hand motion of the carpenters mid-wife, sending down the southern rain i never been before says henry, but i heard its all the same witch hunt draws on past dawn, the happy preachers wife stands with her head to the ground, holding henry's rusty knife the spell cast on the widow, leaves her feeling sick man with card steps in and says, i figured it was worth the chance three black cars pull in carrying the president, others run in fear i stand with my hands glued shut, hoping to draw a tear the cooks son grabs his daddies wheelchair and sunday dinners fork walks up to the security guard and attempts to push his luck in the county jail he sits, three strikes on his life never would have happened i guess, but now hes doing time i stand in the corner, all this going on thinking ive lost myself, with all this carrying on
when temptaion, between us released, when we've consumed our guises in lust i will gain strength for you, wildly entertain your trust when passion has eradicated reason, when desires, raging rivers become iron i will become for you, for you i will not rust when in flesh, one we become, when a quilt our spirits sew i will attest your beauty in song, your restlessness in my soul when age defines us, speech bearing the comfortable truth of years we exist always i will seek your spirit with mine, in your tears i will rest my head when still as summer calm we become, into our beds of eternal rest we climb i will never stop living for you, defending my passions refusal to die
A lost love is never forgotten. No matter how many seasons change, A persons' heart remains the same. True, as the years progress, a person can yet find love once again, though that harboring heart still remains. Love can open all sorts of doors, and heal many hidden sores. For my heart is one of many that still harbors undenying memories. So, to this comment I will leave saying to you kind Sir, Thank you for your kind words. For I am a poet by heart and can relate always to that sort of art.
