“The Child Angel” Gurudev Tagore

I must sleep now … I send you all Blessing for the day, the night, and the Love of Peace to kiss your dreams into sacred assurances …
FEBRUARY 28, 2015:

krishna_carried_over_river_yamunaLet your life come amongst them like a flame of light, my child,
unflickering and pure, and delight them into silence.

They are cruel in their greed and their envy,
their words are like hidden knives thirsting for blood.

Go and stand amidst their scowling hearts, my child,
and let your gentle eyes fall upon them like the
forgiving peace of the evening over the strife of the day.

Let them see your face, my child, and thus know the
meaning of all things, let them love you and love each other.

Come and take your seat in the bosom of the limitless, my child.
At sunrise open and raise your heart like a blossoming flower,
and at sunset bend your head and in silence
complete the worship of the day.

Rabindranath Tagore, The Child Angel first published in The Crescent Moon (1914)




Missing You As If Only Time Matters

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone I hope you are blessed today and always. This is an old piece and one of my favorites. May it bring you joy  … Peace and Love, Carla Dawn


The christened White Thorn stands reflected in still waters,

beside does nibbling grass at the edge of the tree line,

sheltered in the Oak shaded early morning of a Ginko verde summer,

as pebbles spell out whispered confessions only Spring can cause to blush so ripely,

to a listenable lake filled with schools of mystic Blue furcatus story tellers,

circling the carnival lights the Moon has been planting in their muddy beds,

where ringlets of nymphs are devising dragonfly daydreams.

I cradle singing Luna moths in my cupped hands by Night,

bringing them to my ear to hear the Universe’s memory through their wormholes,

the skies crying, the stars making fireworks of themselves to charm their spell.

The Beauty Bush is heavy with a butterfly brunch as Day approaches,

the memory of last season’s snow snakes lie still, hidden in my watercolor curtains,

tutoring the sunshine on how to paint a rainbow with Love’s shy smile,

the Wisteria babble a meandering bridge for Heaven to descend Earthward and upon.

My Noonsie teakettle sings of Dryads grafting roots to clouds Sylphs seed with baby tears slumber,

Come drift, sailing along the forgotten shore of an Autumn wonderland,

where flowers last into always in fairy tale hearts,

ever hanging on to the Last Rose of Summer.

For just one more day,

one more kiss,

one more moment of missing you,

as if only time matters.

© 2015 Carla Dawn Dunlap All Rights Reserved


I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou

World Is Africa

I know why the caged bird sings, ah me
When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,—
When he beats his bars and he would be free;
It is not a carol of joy or glee,
But a prayer that he sends from his heart’s deep core,
But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings —
I know why the caged bird sings!

  “Sympathy”  by Paul Laurence Dunbar

The caged bird “sings of freedom”, writes Maya Angelou in her poem “Caged Bird” – a poignant recurring image throughout her work, as she eloquently explores the struggle to become liberated from the shackles of racism and misogyny. This evocative first volume of her six books of autobiography, originally published in 1969 (1984 in the UK), vividly depicts Angelou’s “tender years” from the ages of three to 16, partly in the American South during the depression-wracked 1930s, while also…

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