tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50735622714746595782024-03-20T19:36:16.106-04:00Chrystal WatersA philosopher, poet, artist and scientist traveling the nexus where space, time and thought meet. I write haiku, short poems, and brief essays. As a visual artist I have created sculpture, paintings, and drawings. My work has been shown in distinguished galleries. My scientific work includes: medical and academic research, technical research, and software development. Please come again. You may return here using www.muskratchatter.meBarb Peasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353238570981244482noreply@blogger.comBlogger79125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5073562271474659578.post-22681626061639409982022-03-09T19:48:00.000-05:002022-03-09T19:53:02.885-05:00To a Soul in Painsit in judgement not<br />smile but in understanding<br />compassion's wisdom<br />brings love as balm for your soul<br />there is no need to compare<br />Barb Peasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353238570981244482noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5073562271474659578.post-20968677783039329512022-03-09T19:41:00.000-05:002022-03-09T19:53:31.132-05:00Mysteryautumn leaves falling<div>trees smile in wintry sunlight</div><div>wind whispering still</div><div>knowing of transformation</div><div>when blossoms surround birdsong
</div>Barb Peasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353238570981244482noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5073562271474659578.post-83508531071365638292022-02-27T17:11:00.020-05:002022-03-19T18:54:40.781-04:00<p> <b style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 16px;">A Raven Flies</b></p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>by Barbara Pease</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><br /></p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><br /></p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">A raven flies across wintry skies. The cold wind blows echoing cries.</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">People are shivering. The power is gone. Trains are full, and leaving town.</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I sit at home. Dreams still haunt me. In fear I search the darkening skies.</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><br /></p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Sirens sound. Men wait for guns. Brilliant flashes blind our eyes.</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">A father cries saying goodbye to a little daughter as he reaches down. </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">A raven flies across wintry skies. The cold wind blows echoing cries.</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><br /></p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">A courageous leader stands his ground, in a call for weapons, not a ride.</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Ordinary people learn to shoot. A brave army slows an invader down.</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I sit at home. Dreams still haunt me. In fear I search the darkening skies.</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><br /></p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Raisa said each day during the blockade six thousand people died</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">in the winter of '42. The young, fill the streets, ashamed, courage found.</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">A raven flies across wintry skies. The cold wind blows echoing cries.</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Why war? Your nation knows such suffering. Can you not hear their cries?</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">They ate glue to live. There was no food. A child ate peels she found.</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I sit at home. Dreams still haunt me. In fear I search the darkening skies.</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><br /></p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">A leader wandering lost, ambitions destroying him, in dark lit fires.</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Such passion brings its own destruction, as he walks along this ground.</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">A raven flies across wintry skies. The cold wind blows echoing cries.</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I sit at home. Dreams still haunt me. In fear I search the darkening skies.</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><br /></p>Barb Peasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353238570981244482noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5073562271474659578.post-23342712372198176682021-01-07T19:06:00.004-05:002021-01-07T19:21:46.717-05:00Run Rabbit Run<b></b>
We do not want to know<br />
what haunts us deep within.<br />
Run rabbit run. Shadow hide<br />
the truth of what you feel.<br />
<br />
Run through tree and branch.<br />
Rabbit lost and searching freezes.<br />
Terrain begins to ease the way.<br />
We now know the path ahead.<br />
<br />
Cougars fierce and graceful,<br />
running, fade to spirit light.<br />
Fear is gone. The path is clear.<br />
We now know where we go.<br />
<br />
Anguish sweeps through souls.<br />
We know how wisdom grows.<br />
It speaks to who we are<br />
and where we need to start.<br />
<br />
In God’s healing waiting now,<br />
we cast aside our running ways.<br /><br /><b></b>Barb Peasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353238570981244482noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5073562271474659578.post-77896688456747858722016-08-07T03:52:00.001-04:002016-08-07T03:52:09.734-04:00Shadow and LightDisappear<br />
into the world<br />
of our dreams,<br />
my ethical daemon,<br />
my spiritual healer.<br />
Together<br />
I am your poet.<br />
<br />
<br />Barb Peasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353238570981244482noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5073562271474659578.post-51860842040605863792016-08-07T03:29:00.000-04:002016-08-07T03:29:20.668-04:00Aqua DreamsUnder an umbrella tree<br />
where rhythm in waves<br />
of a jungle ocean<br />
crash the shoreline<br />
in hushed smokey foam<br />
reaching for driftwood and stone.<br />
I watch from a bamboo cafe<br />
aqua clouds and shadow gold,<br />
seeing you.<br />
<br />Barb Peasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353238570981244482noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5073562271474659578.post-26273470106311403132015-07-26T19:04:00.001-04:002016-08-09T18:12:58.896-04:00Our Land<span style="font-family: "helvetica new"; font-size: 12pt;">Harsh and clear<br />wild geese cry<br />alive with sound<br />against subtle grays<br />in a low winter sun.</span><br />
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<br /></div>Barb Peasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353238570981244482noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5073562271474659578.post-57794798534405743452014-11-07T16:21:00.002-05:002016-08-09T20:11:21.060-04:00Finding PeaceDo not fear your past or who you are.<br />
Forgive yourself and walk on.<br />
Accept others, as they are<br />
<br />
and forgive them<br />
all their wrongs.<br />
<br />
for they, too, like you<br />
are wounded.<br />
<br />
Accept the world as it is.<br />
Your restless ways belong to love.<br />
The caring comfort God can make<br />
will restore your soul in love.<br />
<br />
In your deepest longing know<br />
God can bring you home again.<br />
I understand you can not see<br />
<br />
this has always been:<br />
You are<br />
<div>
already<br />
home<br />
and<br />
have always been.<br />
<br />
You may live your life on earth<br />
You may even press for change,<br />
risking what you feel you can<br />
for yourselves and each other.<br />
<br />
Nevertheless, remember:<br />
Your life's meaning lies<br />
in my love for you.</div>
Barb Peasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353238570981244482noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5073562271474659578.post-14625723899837722722014-10-17T22:46:00.001-04:002021-09-20T15:18:01.878-04:00Snow Spring<span style="font-family: "helvetica new";">A wind rocks early buds.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica new"; font-size: 12pt;">I wrap my jacket closer.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica new"; font-size: 12pt;">Through a damp chill</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica new"; font-size: 12pt;">exhilaration smiles</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica new"; font-size: 12pt;">- anticipation.</span><br />
<br />Barb Peasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353238570981244482noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5073562271474659578.post-32185107129964984802014-10-16T20:27:00.002-04:002021-09-20T15:26:01.222-04:00Wind SongI sing crazy songs,<br />hoping all will hear.<br />
Wind sweeps the shore.<br />
Salty air touches me.<br />
Green shutters slam<br />
on a misty dawn.<br />
A thick storm rising<br />
cries a wind song<br />only periwinkles hear.Barb Peasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353238570981244482noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5073562271474659578.post-76333254333759873102014-05-11T02:30:00.001-04:002014-05-11T02:30:39.389-04:00Flying<div>I<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> dreamed I was dead. My friend was dead, too, only she didn't know it. She still tried to do things in the physical world. She stepped into the elevator. I did too, to keep her company. Her spirit moved as if she still breathed. I had stopped all that. I was dead and knew it. We both remembered her little daughter was still on the roof alive. Terry frantically tried to press the up button. I could get there faster, because I knew I was dead. I passed through the elevator wall. That worked extremely well. I was encouraged. I flew up through rooms and ceilings at an angle allowing me to reach the little toddler directly. The shortest distance between two points is a straight line. Going where doors and stairs would take me was no longer necessary. I had the power of speedy arrival. The tiny toddler played on the flat roof of our tenement building while I hovered protectively above, wondering. What on earth could I do now, if the tiny girl tried to fly?</span></div>Barb Peasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353238570981244482noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5073562271474659578.post-15800510769821305992014-04-12T15:05:00.001-04:002016-08-09T18:33:54.038-04:00Muskrat Studio Home of muskratchatterCheck out my website. It is awsome. I am displaying photography right now - chapbooks of my best tweets in the future. www.muskratstudio.com<br />
<br />Barb Peasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353238570981244482noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5073562271474659578.post-32917319896769415272014-03-06T21:34:00.001-05:002016-08-09T18:39:15.284-04:00Senryu: Reflection on Desire<div style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px;">
wandering through life</div>
<div style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px;">
attitude formed in desire </div>
<div style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px;">
she gives her advice</div>
<div style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkBkffpoalfY2AILw6_0ervyYd5jguqR-wf8Xo9Mgqtd1Ck_8PBvv6Qh5o7_JNnwVxaDW_duYX19wrmhnjXZMCXhCCIEB8n9g3Vrg5ZpLinfw5MGyUYH9e-SpZ54paSukDZShHkAilvug/s640/blogger-image--1582808312.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkBkffpoalfY2AILw6_0ervyYd5jguqR-wf8Xo9Mgqtd1Ck_8PBvv6Qh5o7_JNnwVxaDW_duYX19wrmhnjXZMCXhCCIEB8n9g3Vrg5ZpLinfw5MGyUYH9e-SpZ54paSukDZShHkAilvug/s640/blogger-image--1582808312.jpg" /></a></div>
Barb Peasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353238570981244482noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5073562271474659578.post-12425511359490331822014-02-16T00:42:00.001-05:002016-08-07T15:21:26.540-04:00Despair<br />
Brittle leaves swirling,<br />
branches stripped bare,<br />
grey fingered limbs<br />
reach to hollow despair.<br />
Empty I stare.<br />
<br />
Stones whisper.<br />
I sit among them,<br />
a wisp of fire smoke,<br />
embers glowing then gone<br />
in incidental frailty.<br />
<br />
A heart with no love<br />
knows despair.<br />
Its richness<br />
swept to crumbling leaves<br />
on a chill November day.<br />
<br />Barb Peasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353238570981244482noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5073562271474659578.post-50846871583349118622014-01-03T23:11:00.001-05:002014-01-03T23:45:33.034-05:00Hunters' FrustrationOur group yields to marshland grass, gold in the afternoon sun. Snow crunching as we shuffle our boots. Ducks fly in from the tree line over the water. In the distance hunters patiently wait behind blinds in their hip boots. The ducks grow near. The hunters fire. The ducks elude bird shot, flying just out of range. More ducks fly in and this simple scene repeats itself again and again attesting to the wisdom of ducks.Barb Peasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353238570981244482noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5073562271474659578.post-26878639000000151762013-12-02T00:49:00.001-05:002014-10-19T01:49:41.113-04:00Returning to God<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">We are spirit beings having a physical experience here as human beings. </span>When we are ready to go home we know nothing here will distract us further. A silent mind will help us as the healing begins returning us to God.<br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">When we can walk away from our notions where we see ourselves finding the perfect friends, the perfect partner, the perfect family our souls are ready. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">When a soul at last knows nothing here will bring the perfect love, understanding and comfort sought, and under no pile of riches will that love, immense joy and happiness be found, then that soul returns to God ending all sense of separation. In God we then find what we seek.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Centered in Gods love and knowing our own we can be a peaceful strong gentle caring friend, partner, family member.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">The process begins when an energy awakens pouring through channels in our souls untangling of the knotted parts within. God returns us to Him one tangle at a time. A silent mind prevents our thoughts from interfering. It was our thoughts with their feeling putting the tangles there in the first place.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Mind body and spirit are one and inseparable. Untangling the spirit can change what we believe, what we feel and how we see ourselves. It can impact our bodies. God's work within proceeds at a pace we can tolerate. A silent mind is what we provide along with our willingness.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
Barb Peasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353238570981244482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5073562271474659578.post-75735672665552068032013-10-22T21:03:00.001-04:002013-10-22T21:04:58.983-04:00A Little Humor Trending<br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj76ElZEv-xvNHz4g1jJffTjyLL9LOGaBuZPF-jSpVR3VenxP7DXkGd06EMPRpW93z3as00F6hZN6LtLIMKk7l2h2CQ07qEZoh4kc5onpZMbll35gy_c10mDvfPlKeaJvnGygp4G7ndi7I/s640/blogger-image--986511885.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj76ElZEv-xvNHz4g1jJffTjyLL9LOGaBuZPF-jSpVR3VenxP7DXkGd06EMPRpW93z3as00F6hZN6LtLIMKk7l2h2CQ07qEZoh4kc5onpZMbll35gy_c10mDvfPlKeaJvnGygp4G7ndi7I/s640/blogger-image--986511885.jpg"></a></div>Barb Peasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353238570981244482noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5073562271474659578.post-21678381190131870142013-09-04T21:49:00.001-04:002013-09-04T21:50:42.359-04:00Let's Give War a Chance<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">Melissa Tuckey shared this poem with us today. A friend of hers shared it on Facebook. She was struck by the timeliness of it as our country considers widening its involvement in war. Faiza Sultan is an Iraqi Poet living in Seattle. </span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Let’s Give War a Chance by Faiza Sultan<br>1<br>كَيْ<br>يَمشِي الحُبُّ<br>حافِياًيَطرُقُ<br>أبوابَ الخَنادِق<br>So that<br>Love can walk about<br>Barefoot, knocking at<br>The doors of trenches.<br>2<br>كَيْ<br>تَلبسَ الفَراشَةُ<br>واقِيَة الصدرِ<br>عِندَ بوَّابَةِ كُلِّ زَهرة<br>So that<br>Butterflies can wear<br>Chest armors<br>At the gate of every rose<br>3<br>كَيْ<br>تُكَشِّرَ الشمسُ<br>عن أنيابِها<br>ويَحتَرِقَ الليل<br>So that<br>The sun can bare<br>Its teeth<br>And the night can burn away<br>4<br>كَيْ<br>نَبدَأبِالعَدِّ<br>كم رَأساً<br>نحتاجُ لِنُفِيضَ نهر<br>So that<br>We can start counting down<br>The number of heads<br>We will need to overflow the river<br>5<br>كَيْ<br>نَحْكِيَ<br>قِصَصاً لِأَطفالٍ مُشوَّهِين<br>عن "مُفَخَّخةٍ فِي بِلادِ العَجَائِب"<br>So that<br>We can tell the tales<br>Of disfigured children<br>About “A booby-trap in the lands of wonders”<br>6<br>كَيْ<br>نتَعَثّرَ<br>بِأجسادٍ مُنتَفِخَةٍ بِالأحلام<br>على أرصِفَةٍ سَوْداء<br>So that<br>We can stumble over<br>Corpses bloated with dreams<br>On dark sidewalks<br>7<br>كَيْ<br>نرى الوَطَنَ<br>مِثلَ السَفَّاحِيَطعَنُ أيَّامَنَا<br>على فِراشِ الحُلُم<br>So that<br>We can witness the nation,<br>Like a murderer, stab our lives <br>On a blanket of dreams<br>8<br>كَيْ نرى<br>الدُولارَ يتَسَكَّعُ<br>مع امرأةٍ جميلة<br>فِي ليلةٍ خانِقة<br>So that we can see<br>Dollars flirting<br>With a beautiful lady<br>In a choking night<br>9<br>كَيْ <br>تَفرِشَ الأمُّ<br>جناحيها علىأطفالٍ مَذعورينَ<br>وتَلتقِطَ القنابِلَبِأدعِيَتِها<br>So that<br>A mother can<br>Spread her wings over her petrified children<br>And catch bombs with her prayers<br>11<br>كَيْ تتَسَلَّلَ الوحدَةُ<br>وتحتَضِنَ الأرامِل<br>So that loneliness can sneak in<br>And hold the widows in its embrace<br>12<br>كَيْ<br>نَسمَعَ العَويلَ<br>مِن عَصافِيرَ<br>حُرِّقَتأعشَاشُها<br>So that<br>We can hear the wailing<br>Of sparrows<br>Whose nests have turned to ashes<br>13<br>كَيْ<br>نتَخَثَّرَمعَ الدمِ<br>ونُترَكَكأرقامٍ<br>فِي سِجِلٍّ بارِد<br>So that<br>We can clot with blood<br>And be left as numbers<br>In a cold record<br>14<br>كَيْ<br>يُوشَمَ السِياسِيُّون<br>عاهاتٍ سوداء<br>على جبينِهِمُ<br>المُتَدَيِّن<br>So that<br>Politicians can be tattooed<br>With dark blotches<br>On their foreheads<br>Of religiosity<br>15<br>كَيْ<br>نَلتقِطَ<br>قنابِلَ بشَرِيّة<br>خلفَأسوارِ الدين<br>So that<br>We can catch<br>Human bombs<br>From behind the walls of religion<br>16<br>كَيْ<br>نقترِبَ مِن الموتِ<br>ونتَحَسَّسَأظافِرَهُ البَشِعةِ<br>فِي ظُلْمَةِ الوطَن<br>So that<br>We can draw closer to death<br>And feel its disgusting claws<br>In the nation’s darkness<br>17<br>كَيْ نبقى<br>مَحصورينَ<br>في نُقطَةِ دَمٍ<br>سقَطَت مِن سُرَّةِ<br>التاريخ<br>So that we can remain<br>Trapped<br>In a drop of blood<br>That has fallen from the navel<br>Of history<br>18<br>كَيْ<br>ننامَ ونَحلُمَ<br>بِحُروبٍ جديدة<br>So that<br>We can sleep and dream<br>Of new wars<br>19<br>كَيْ<br>تبقى أغانِي الحرب<br>كعُشِّ الزنابِيرِ<br>في ذاكِرَتِنا<br>So that<br>The songs of wars can remain<br>Echoing in our memories<br>Like a hornet’s nest<br>20<br>كَيْ<br>نَسرِقَ لحظَةَ حُبِّ<br>سقَطَت سَهْواً<br>مِن جُثَّةِ مجهولةِ الهَوِيّة<br>So that<br>We can steal a moment of love<br>That fell off inadvertently<br>From an unidentified body<br>21<br>كَيْ<br>ننشُرَ الذُّعرَ<br>في قُلوبِ اليَماماتِ<br>وهِيَ تُصلِّي<br>So that<br>We can spread horror<br>In the hearts of doves<br>As they pray<br>22<br>كَيْ<br>نُلصِقَ وردَةً<br>على جُثّةِ كُلِّ شهيدٍ<br>لم يَتَمنَّى الشهادة<br>So that<br>We can stick a rose<br>On the corpse of every martyr<br>That did not wish for martyrdom<br>23<br>كَيْ<br>نُلوِّنَ العالَمَ<br>بِلونٍ جديد<br>خَلِيطٌ<br>من الدمِ<br>والقُبحِ<br>والجُنُون<br>So that<br>We can paint the world<br>With a new color<br>Blended with<br>Blood<br>Ugliness<br>And Insanity<br>24<br>كَيْ<br>نستَقبِلَ في بُيُوتِنا<br>ضُيُوفاً<br>لا نَعرِفُهُم<br>يحمِلونَ نُعوشَنا<br>So that<br>We can welcome in our homes<br>Guests<br>Unknown to us<br>And who carry our coffins<br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></div>Barb Peasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353238570981244482noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5073562271474659578.post-37703196081692274172013-08-16T21:25:00.001-04:002015-07-26T19:31:01.881-04:00Summer LightningMy arms and hands tingled during a thunder storm a little over a week ago, as I had to run several hundred feet through water along a dirt road back to my house during a torrential downpour. The tingling didn't stop until I arrived on my front porch under the porch roof. Lightning flashed with instantaneous thunderous claps. I was the only little spiky thing sticking up in the middle of an open area when all the tingling began. Feeling like a small lightning rod I kept moving. Some of my neighbors lost routers and other electronic equipment.<br />
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Here is some of the science behind all of that. For the purpose of this blog I am concerned only with cloud to earth electrical activity. You do not need a solid understanding of electromagnetism or thermodynamics to read this post.</div>
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Much research is still needed to nail every thing down as fully understood. However, what I write here is fine for us mere mortals.</div>
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A large dark grey cloud had just rolled in overhead. A charge separation had taken place within the cloud aggregating the negative charges at the bottom of the cloud. These charges induced a shift in charge placement within the earth's surface, placing the positive charges (positrons) near the earth's surface under the cloud.</div>
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A positron streamer found its way up me. Likely the trees, and the building in the area were sporting streamers, as well. My streamer is what caused the tingling sensation in my arms and hands.</div>
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Now the thunder cloud sends out negatively charged leaders. These can strike downward towards a streamer. The air contains an uneven distribution of impurities creating paths of varying resistance to electrical current. The leader will follow the path of least resistance creating the branched step leaders of what we think of as lightning. When leader connects with streamer a plasma channel is formed. Keep in mind plasma is what constitutes stars. Owing to resistivity considerations the leader may ignore the forty foot tree's streamer in favor of the tiny human being running up the muddy dirt road.</div>
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Once the plasma channel is formed a blinding flash occurs as positrons flow from the ground up to the cloud to equalize the charges. The temperature is close to that of the sun's surface. A shock wave extends from the lightning strike outward knocking anyone in the vicinity out cold. To complicate matters a lightning strike sends out an electromagnetic pulse (EMP) scrambling electronic equipment. Sometimes shutting the equipment off completely before restarting will restore proper hardware state, if nothing is completely fried.</div>
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All ended well for me, but not so well for some neighbors who lost routers and switches.</div>
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Barb Peasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353238570981244482noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5073562271474659578.post-44784215477495744002013-07-08T10:09:00.001-04:002013-07-08T10:40:27.487-04:00My Reason for Joining One Billion Rising for Justice<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Oppressing half the world's population is the largest and most pervasive form of oppression there is. Rape and beatings are symptomatic of how greatly we as women and girls are devalued. We must change this as our priority. For in liberating ourselves we liberate all. When people over the world value women and girls as themselves it will be impossible to maintain any oppressive system that would devalue anyone. Here are some other heartfelt and remarkable views:</span><div><a href="http://bit.ly/1aSt0AT">http://bit.ly/1aSt0AT</a></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Barb Peasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353238570981244482noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5073562271474659578.post-87364707708593476332013-07-03T19:37:00.001-04:002016-08-09T18:44:12.373-04:00The SolutionGod will work with each of us bringing us home to Him one tangle at a time.<br />
Barb Peasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353238570981244482noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5073562271474659578.post-52434779349676172552013-07-03T19:36:00.001-04:002016-08-07T16:26:52.211-04:00A Wiser SolutionPerhaps we can turn to God for unconditional love and understanding, sparing our friends and family.
Barb Peasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353238570981244482noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5073562271474659578.post-89518197309569623262013-07-03T19:35:00.001-04:002016-08-09T18:46:35.786-04:00Undercurrents<div style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">In a relationship we hold expectations both known and unknown without agreement on either side. Do we have the wisdom to forget our needs and simply love?</span></div>
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Barb Peasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353238570981244482noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5073562271474659578.post-13746540493504392022013-07-03T19:34:00.001-04:002016-08-09T20:01:08.511-04:00The Game of Image<div style="font-family: Times; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">We see in others</span><br />
<span style="font-kerning: none;">what we want to see</span><br />
<span style="font-kerning: none;">and others show us</span><br />
<span style="font-kerning: none;">what they feel</span><br />
<span style="font-kerning: none;">we may love.</span><br />
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">We conceal</span><br />
<span style="font-kerning: none;">our tender </span>selves<br />
within our forts,<br />
behind our walls.<br />
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Can we ever </span>know<br />
<span style="font-kerning: none;">one another. Can we see</span><br />
<span style="font-kerning: none;">in another's eyes</span><br />
<span style="font-kerning: none;">the flow </span>where pretense<br />
does not speak.<br />
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">When we fall </span>in love,<br />
or make a friend<br />
<span style="font-kerning: none;">do we love a portrait</span><br />
<span style="font-kerning: none;">in the end - </span>a collaboration<br />
<span style="font-kerning: none;">of two? Can we grow</span><br />
as we discover who<br />
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"> lives</span><br />
<span style="font-kerning: none;"> within?</span></div>
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<br />Barb Peasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353238570981244482noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5073562271474659578.post-22301814608713784532013-07-03T19:31:00.001-04:002016-08-07T16:28:39.090-04:00Patience<div style="font-family: Times; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">In mindfulness focusing on steps to a goal, anger melts. Tasks rest in each working moment. The end arrives in understanding patience.</span></div>
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Barb Peasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353238570981244482noreply@blogger.com