Love’s Lesson: Keep a Soft Heart. No matter what happens, never lose hope in the goodness of people. Keep believing, and keep a soft heart, even if someone has broken their promises to you.

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With just a word, a sound, a tender tone,

I'm transported to a time that's long since past,

A memory that lingers, never alone,

My mother's voice, a love that forever lasts.

A sound that carries with it pain and joy,

A melody that weaves through every thought,

A voice that's often filled with tender ploy,

A song of love that time has never wrought.

Through laughter and through tears, I hear her speak,

A voice that's etched forever in my heart,

A love that's endless, never to be weak,

A bond that nothing ever can tear apart.

Oh, mother dear, your voice is heaven-sent,

A reminder of a love that's truly meant.

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Across a field of roses Where Color Kisses Sky,

The perfume hovers over Scarlet heads for passersby.

But there, right in the middle Of the sea of regal red,

A single wildflower Lifts her defiant head.

Taller, much more supple Than the roses far below,

The wildflower knows things That Roses never know.

With nothing to confine her, She's free to dance and sing-

To move with every breath of wind, face turned to every breeze.

Exciting places she can see- Things she longs to try,

She dreams that wildflowers-- Will someday learn to fly.

She ponders all the wonders A flower never should, She yearns to learn the kinds of things That roses never could.

Dancing free above the rest, Heart filled with wind and sun, She'll spend her life out living, Like roses wished they'd done.

Joy, to those who dance the wind, Is found in their own power, And those- and only those- Are called a wildflower

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Emily Juniper

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Desiderata: Original Text

This is the original text from the book where Desiderata was first published.

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

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Part 1 of the Audiobook

Awakening of the Heart

By: Barbara Gianquitto

Narrated by: James Mooney

You can purchase the full audiobook on Audible via the link below.

https://www.audible.com/pd/Awakening-of-the-Heart-Audiobook/B0BHBY6C11?action\_code=ASSGB149080119000H&share\_location=pdp

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I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; So I love you because I know no other way than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

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Annabel Lee By Edgar Allan Poe It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea,

But we loved with a love that was more than love— I and my Annabel Lee— With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea,

A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling My beautiful Annabel Lee;

So that her highborn kinsmen came And bore her away from me,

To shut her up in a sepulchre In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,

Went envying her and me— Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea)

That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we— Of many far wiser than we—

And neither the angels in Heaven above Nor the demons down under the sea Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,

In her sepulchre there by the sea— In her tomb by the sounding sea.

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My dad, my guide, my shining light,

The one who taught me wrong from right.

With your love and patience, you raised me well,

And for that, my gratitude I cannot quell.

So here's to you, dear old dad of mine,

The one who should me how to shine.

I am forever grateful for all you have done,

And for the person that I've become.

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These are some of the best days of my life,

disguised by some of the hardest elements I will ever have to face.

The exhaustion to the bone that's real.

Just as is the love to the core.

It's a season of extremes.

The beauty and the beast.

And one day when I'm out of the take of it-- I know I'll see only the best of it.

-I'll see the beauty in the beast.

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When I was drowning in the despair, I found no better escape than the belief that one day,

someone would say to me, “my love show me all your wounds and tears.

I will kneel and kiss every pain that broke your heart. I will kneel and touch every tear that washed away your hope.

I will kneel and heal every blow you received. I will shower you a kisses.

I'm here only for you. I am here in your life only to love you.

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“Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop away from you like the leaves of Autumn.”

― John Muir

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I love her in a language I do not understand

in words my lips lack the courage to speak

I love her in the stolen seconds

the moments after hitting snooze where the soft morning light spills over her skin

and I love her in the vibrance of her laughter

how it leaps from her chest and slows me to a crawl

loving her is letting go-- of all assumptions all fears

breaking free of the demons that built up my walls

and loving her is giving in

it is overwhelming and terrifying and thrilling how her eyes rip me open and leave me exposed stripped of pride and the comfort of seclusion

and loving her is simple….

it is the steadiness of her breath as her fingers trace maps on my skin

it is the closeness and the comfort-- her body folding into mine until I do not know where hers ends and I begin.

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“I know things about you and would beg to differ.” He said, letting his words trail off as he kissed her neck. Having this secret off her chest-- and knowing that he still accepted and loved her unconditionally was all she needed to hear. She was his, all his. Her body went lax with cooperation.

“Okay” she whispered in his ear, arms locked around his neck steam rising from her shoulders. He took her consent without hesitation and stood lifting them both water falling as if they were a ship departing the sea. Laughing, she wrapped her legs around him as he boldly stepped out of the tub arms around her, water pouring all over the tile. Giggling, she held tight like a little koala bear, as he slogged across the bedroom carpet and tossed her onto the bed. Seeing her skin prickle from the cold, he decided to lay over her to warm her up, his eyes dancing.

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We're born alone, we die alone

and in between, we spend our lives looking, for something eh connection

that's all we want

every once in a while we might find it, in a true friend

many friendships will come only to fade-- as quickly as a firework but some,

a rare and precious few

turn life up to 11 and keep it there

you gotta hold on to friends like these because, just like air, you'll miss them when they're gone

no one else gets it but they do

cause-- they know what's in your soul, your heart, your mind,

they can blind side you come out of nowhere but you'll know them right away you'll click

as perfectly as a Jack plug into an amp

they’ll know what you're thinking before you've thought it

anticipating your every move, they'll understand the demons, as well as the angels inside of you never judging you for it either

and together-- you'll uncage a thrill that makes you surge with life

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Happy the Man - John DrydenHappy the man, and happy he alone,

He who can call today his own:

He who, secure within, can say,

Tomorrow do thy worst, for I have lived today.

Be fair or foul or rain or shine

The joys I have possessed, in spite of fate, are mine.

Not Heaven itself upon the past has power,

But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.

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Someday I might have to leave this world without getting the chance to tell you goodbye

I just want you to know that, all my happiest memories are with you

and all the things I carry that hurt my heart

seemed to fade a little bit when I was with you

I love you

I love you forever

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I release you, with all the love that I have and all the love that I am I release you because what is mine will always be and what is not will never be and either way I will be OK I'll be more than OK I will be joy, I will be bliss I'll be a beautifully enlightened soul with or without you Become a member at https://plus.acast.com/s/thewanderingpaddy.

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I can still hear your voice in my dreams but I don't know if it's the real you.

So far away but for some reason I can still feel you.

I try to close my eyes but it doesn't help, I can still see you.

It's like the sweet smell of your fragrance never ends.

It's hard to pretend it's not there because it is. Enveloped in the air around me like an invisible mist.

I still remember the sweetness of our first kiss.

When time slowed down and I couldn't hear a single sound.

Had no idea what was happening around me.

I was just glad that finally, the piece of happiness found me.

Waking up in a cold sweat, your memories stick to my skin.

I swear some nights my dream begin with scene so vivid

I feel like I lose myself in the past and if I don't relive those moments, I'm afraid

that the few memories that I have left of you won't last. And you'll turn

into nothing more than a ghost. But of all the time we spent together

it was actually the beginning that I remember the most.

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I'm sick of being told not to give them the satisfaction

as if somehow keeping quiet about the terrible ways I'm treated is some sort of silent victory

I'm tired of pretending that hiding my pain will teach others a lesson

I'm tired of sparing them the guilt and the shame that should fall on their shoulders but instead falls on mine every time I choose to internalize their hate

I'm done being silent

let my voice be hell on their ears as I talk about how many years I've spent hating myself because I was learning the lessons meant for them

the only lessons my silence ever taught them was that I wasn't going to stop them

no more,

it's time my pain was public

it's time I stopped giving their darkness asylum and denying them the opportunity to see how they hurt me

I pray that it haunts them

when I say they could have killed me with their words if I was just a little weaker

it's time they own their actions

I'm not giving them the satisfaction I'm giving them the sound of the voice they tried to silence with all the words they never should have said.

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From the book 'I have to tell you something'

It's scary to put your hands in someone else's hands

to open every tender part of yourself to another

but it's scarier to keep it locked away

never allowing your shadows the chance to be loved.

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Maybe we are not meant to be together

maybe you and I are the sun and moon

we can only reflect each other

my midnight is your noon

maybe you light up the world from your end and I’ll light up the world from mine

and maybe that's the only way for each of us to shine

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How is it we feel joy and sadness on equal measure

Though our moments with you we will always treasure

The first time you opened yours eyes, the first finger cuddle

The tears that we've shed drowning us like puddles

The glimmer of hope now hanging by a thread

The gloom of our inner voices never wanting to be heard

The walls feel closer as they start to close in

As we try to stave off how this could all end

Yet there was always this tiny glimmer of light

As you continued to so valiantly fight.

Again and again you showed so much heart

The pain that we're feeling, where do we start

You are slowly slipping, edging away

Knowing we'll not be with you at the end of the day.

I hold you in my arms as you feel the warm breeze on your skin

Absolutely heartbroken, I'll never get to do this again.

One last breath and you've passed in the blink of an eye

Like a bright shooting star across the beautiful night time sky

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do what is right for you

do it over and over again and lean into the light

keep going even when it is hard, especially when it is hard

Don’t let doubt stop you and trust the process when your mood is low

Let growth be your mission, healing be your reward and freedom be your goal.

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Shaylee Logan Become a member at https://plus.acast.com/s/thewanderingpaddy.

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Out through the fields and the woods

And over the walls I have wended;

I have climbed the hills of view

And looked at the world, and descended;

I have come by the highway home,

And lo, it is ended.

The leaves are all dead on the ground,

Save those that the oak is keeping

To ravel them one by one

And let them go scraping and creeping

Out over the crusted snow,

When others are sleeping.

Reluctance - Robert Frost

And the dead leaves lie huddled and still,

No longer blown hither and thither;

The last lone aster is gone;

The flowers of the witch hazel wither;

The heart is still aching to seek,

But the feet question ‘Whither?’

Ah, when to the heart of man

Was it ever less than a treason

To go with the drift of things,

To yield with a grace to reason,

And bow and accept the end

Of a love or a season?

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How many scars have you justified?

Just because you love the person holding the knife....

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I know that spending this much time alone is dangerous

bandages made from whiskey and nicotine--cannot stop the bleeding

ignoring another phone call now

leave it go to voicemail

maybe she has a better explanation

it is not that I want to be alone but rather, I do not know how to be myself without it

have you ever spent an entire day without speaking?

I have, hundreds of times

it feels like me in the most chilling way

like leaving a voicemail, for someone who is already dead.

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I stared into the fire

as if looking into my soulmates eyes and said out loud

with no one else around

babe-- losing you

is losing half my soul

and I'm not sure if I'll ever get over this- but I know that I'll love you forever

and I promise you I'll keep our children safe

love you baby

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Moments of Tangency

You and I have never met, many times before. Our paths might have crossed once or twice online, or passing in the street. We might have lived in the same neighborhood all our lives-- but against incredible odds, we just happen to miss each other.-- It's a big world, after all.

Our days must be filled with these chance encounters. That for a million tiny reasons, never actually take place. Accidental strangers, who just happened to miss their cue-- who share everything in common, except for time and place. For years, their stories might have been happening in parallel, harmonizing from somewhere across the world, but neither has any idea that the other even exists. If two lines are truly parallel, it means they'll never actually meet.

It's hard not to wonder where they are right now-- veering away on a tangent in some parallel universe. It’s hard not to glance at a stranger in a crowd and imagine the life you might have shared, if things had been different-- and feel a pang of missed connection as you carry on your separate ways, leaving nothing but an echo of something that might have been.

You never know how many things had to happen exactly right for you to meet the one you love. You never know how easily fate might have tipped you onto some other course, meeting some other person, who would feel like a soulmate. Maybe you'd still be telling your friends it was always meant to be, or maybe you'd look back at your life and realize, it was nothing personal, it's all just a coincidence. --You never know.

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The best loves are unexpected

you don't just pick someone and cross your fingers it'll workout

you meet them by faith

and it's an instant connection

and the chemistry you share, is just way above your head

you just talk

and notice the way their lips curve when they smile

or the color of their eyes

and all at once… you know you're either insanely lucky or totally fucking screwed

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My memory may waver

But my love will remain

In this world that is alien

I am still one and the same

I cannot remember sometimes

All the things that I should

However, I know I still love you

Like no one else ever could

So please do not forget me

Nor the person I once was

When you feel so frustrated

Please just stop for a pause

Look at the wonderment

And the fear in my eyes

Because of a world that is strange

Filled with whats, wheres, and whys.

Please put your arms around me

Guide me through the day and the night

And tell me, my sweet child,

That everything will be alright.'

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Fallen Limb Poem LyricsA limb has fallen from the family tree.

I keep hearing a voice that says, “Grieve not for me”.

Remember the best times, the laughter, the song.

The good life I lived while I was strong.

Continue my heritage, I’m counting on you.

Keep smiling and surely the sun will shine through.

My mind is at ease, my soul is at rest.

Remembering all, how I truly was blessed.

Continue traditions, no matter how small.

Go on with your life, don’t worry about falls

I miss you all dearly, so keep up your chin.

Until the day comes we’re together again.

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When you get what you want in your struggle for self And the world makes you king for a day Just go to the mirror and look at yourself And see what that man has to say.

For it isn’t your father, or mother, or wife Whose judgment upon you must pass The fellow whose verdict counts most in your life Is the one staring back from the glass. He’s the fellow to please – never mind all the rest For he’s with you, clear to the end And you’ve passed your most difficult, dangerous test If the man in the glass is your friend.

You may fool the whole world down the pathway of years And get pats on the back as you pass But your final reward will be heartache and tears If you’ve cheated the man in the glass.

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The Last Rose of SummerThomas Moore - 1779-1852

‘Tis the last rose of Summer,

Left blooming alone;

All her lovely companions

Are faded and gone;

No flower of her kindred,

No rose-bud is nigh,

To reflect back her blushes

Or give sigh for sigh!

I’ll not leave thee, thou lone one,

To pine on the stem;

Since the lovely are sleeping,

Go sleep thou with them.

Thus kindly I scatter

Thy leaves o’er the bed

Where thy mates of the garden

Lie scentless and dead.

So soon may I follow,

When friendships decay,

And from Love’s shining circle

The gems drop away!

When true hearts lie withered,

And fond ones are flown,

Oh! who would inhabit

This bleak world alone?

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He's not ignoring you

he's decompressing

he wakes up

he's all alone

he goes to work

his battles are still there

he gets home

he's hit with more

it never ends

there's a to do list a mile long

a partner who needs him

kids who need him

chores to be done, projects completed, bills to pay

he feels like with each passing day he has less and less to give

but he keeps going

he's not ignoring you

he's coping

trying to find strength and courage and stay determined even when he feels beat down

like there is no longer a reward for his efforts

he's trying not just to survive but to thrive

for his family and for himself

he can't quit

there are no timeouts

he's not ignoring you

he's trying not to explode

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S.K WilliamsSupport this show http://supporter.acast.com/thewanderingpaddy.

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Shelby LeighSupport this show http://supporter.acast.com/thewanderingpaddy.

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These I Can Promise by Mark TwainI cannot promise you a life of sunshine;

I cannot promise riches, wealth, or gold;

I cannot promise you an easy pathway

That leads away from change or growing old.

But I can promise all my heart's devotion;

A smile to chase away your tears of sorrow;

A love that's ever true and ever growing;

A hand to hold in yours through each tomorrow.

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“Life’s too short to wake up with regrets. So love the people who treat you right,

forgive the ones who don’t and believe that everything happens for a reason.

If you get a chance, take it. If it changes your life, let it.

Nobody said it’d be easy, they just promised it would be worth it.”

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I saw a young mother

With eyes full of laughter

And two little shadows

Came following after.

Wherever she moved,

They were always right there

Holding onto her skirts,

Hanging onto her chair.

Before her, behind her—

An adhesive pair.

“Don't you ever get weary

As, day after day,

your two little tagalongs

Get in your way?”

She smiled as she shook

Her pretty young head,

And I'll always remember

The words that she said.

“It's good to have shadows

That run when you run,

That laugh when you're happy

And hum when you hum—

For you only have shadows

When your life's filled with sun.”

Two Little Shadows

by

Author Unknown

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Letting go

Tonight I don’t want to be strong,

I want to be soft and vulnerable and just want to be held,

strong and tight in a way I know I won’t break, because you won’t hurt me.

I want to be saved and I don’t want to feel ashamed

or feel less of a strong woman for wanting so.

I don’t want to be Wonder Woman tonight,

running a house, single mum, working full time.

No. Tonight I want to be just a girl, no thoughts, no responsibilities.

I want to forget that I am 40 years old, divorced and lonely.

I want to be okay with being fiercely independent and still saying “I miss you”.

I want to melt in your arms and just breathe,

breathe until my heart slows down, as it does when I feel safe.

Tonight, I want to return to softness and love and warm feelings,

I want to ditch any logic.

Can we do that?

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Someone made you feel so small,

They stole your voice away. Made you sorry for being you.

Made you feel that the black eyes and purple evidence of pain that mark you,

are all your fault.

All your fault.

You were the one that made them hit you, hurt you, beat you black and blue, they say.

They put their virulent-veined faces too close to yours and screamed until spit splashed your face.

The late-night tears and heart cries at the doors of rooms you were locked out of,

tumbling tears puddled on the porcelain tile, making the floor wet with misery and your multiplied loss of dignity.

First, they take away your you-ness, then they strip you of your family and friends,

under the umbrella of wanting you all to themselves.

But there is escape, there is a way back to beautiful you.

to freedom. . . freedom from fear and feeling so low

and the soul-shaking knowledge that someone so hateful would hurt you,

just for being you.

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Thoughts of you…Saturday Morning in March

Our bodies fit together like a certain madness ,

like fingers intertwined and hidden under covers

On ‘we’ve no plans yet’ Saturday mornings when rain crackles—

like beach fires against the windows..

we lay there, just outside of anxiety’s reach.

Ours would be a beautiful sadness

it’s already there in your eyes

for now-- we fit at least

and the rain doesn’t bother us much at all

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Donna AshworthySupport this show http://supporter.acast.com/thewanderingpaddy.

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Epitaph

by Merrit Malloy

Original Language English

When I die

Give what's left of me away

To children

And old men that wait to die.

And if you need to cry,

Cry for your brother

Walking the street beside you.

And when you need me,

Put your arms

Around anyone

And give them

What you need to give to me.

I want to leave you something,

Something better

Than words

Or Sounds.

Look for me

In the people I've known

Or loved,

And if you cannot give me away,

At least let me live on your eyes

And not on your mind.

You can love me most

By letting

hands touch hands,

By letting

Bodies touch bodies,

And by letting go

Of children

That need to be free.

Love doesn't die,

People do.

So, when all that's left of me

Is love,

Give me away.

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RM DrakeSupport this show http://supporter.acast.com/thewanderingpaddy.

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May you never steal, lie or cheat.

But if you must steal, then steal away my sorrows.

And if you must lie, lie with me all the nights of my life.

And if you must cheat, then please cheat death,

because I couldn't live a day without you.

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I have always believed that love lives in the details.

penciled between life lines of poetic existence;

tiny messages of hope.

faint sometimes-- but left there by a former me,

one who knew-- that someday I would come looking,

and now I'm seeking.

I'm searching for reminders that love lives here.

sketched in graphite,

tattooed in blank pages tattered by life,

torn by heartbreak-- and dog eared from constant visitation to these simple words,

these words to live by.

I write you letters in thought form-- for you are the love that lives inside of my details.

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Dawn Lanuza Support this show http://supporter.acast.com/thewanderingpaddy.

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WHEN I GO

When I go,

don’t learn to live without me,

just learn to live with my love,

in a different way.

And if you need to see me,

close your eyes,

or look in your shadow,

when the sun shines,

I’m there.

Sit with me in the quiet and you will know,

that I did not leave.

There is no leaving when a soul is blended with another.

When I go,

don’t learn to live without me,

just learn to look for me in the moments.

I will be there.

By Donna Ashworth

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If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,

And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;

If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

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One day,

you’re going to kiss the love of your life good night… after a day of mundane activities,

But you are going to feel soft, and at peace inside,

Because, you get to do those things with your best friend.

You'll realize that the version of you that said… you would never love again… is gone,

because now you look forward to the days you get to be here,

loving someone fully,

and receiving the love you always deserved.

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Shelby Leigh PoetrySupport this show http://supporter.acast.com/thewanderingpaddy.

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raw with loveLittle dark girl with kind eyes when it comes time to use the knife I won't flinch and I won't blame you, as I drive along the shore alone as the palms wave, the ugly heavy palms, as the living does not arrive as the dead do not leave, I won't blame you, instead I will remember the kisses our lips raw with love and how you gave me everything you had and how I offered you what was left of me, and I will remember your small room the feel of you the light in the window, your records, your books, our morning coffee, our noons our nights, our bodies spilled together sleeping, the tiny flowing currents immediate and forever, your leg, my leg, your arm, my arm, your smile and the warmth of you who made me laugh again. Little dark girl with kind eyes you have no knife. The knife is mine and I won't use it yet.

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JLynn Poetry A poem on social anxiety, anxiety, depression and avoidant personality disorder

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"Mirrors of Time" This is a piece from @barbara.gianquitto.author new book Awakening of the Heart released today, link is in her bio. I will be narrateding this book, it will soon be available on Audible!

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1739588002/ref=sr_1_3?crid=3H31VEQCXWK87&geniuslink=true

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"Almost 150 years ago, in 1875, the late Victorian poet, William Ernest Henley, born in Gloucester, England, wrote the following while suffering from recurring illness. The poem has, ever since, inspired courage and strength in hearts."

"Invictus" by William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me, Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.

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“Life is amazing. And then it's awful. And then it's amazing again. And in between the amazing and awful it's ordinary and mundane and routine. Breathe in the amazing, hold on through the awful, and relax and exhale during the ordinary. That's just living heartbreaking, soul-healing, amazing, awful, ordinary life. And it's breathtakingly beautiful.”

― L.R. Knost

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Memory of My Father -Patrick KavanaghEvery old man I seeReminds me of my fatherWhen he had fallen in love with deathOne time when sheaves were gathered.That man I saw in Gardiner StreetStumble on the kerb was one,He stared at me half-eyed,I might have been his son. And I remember the musicianFaltering over his fiddleIn Bayswater, London.He too set me the riddle. Every old man I seeIn October-coloured weatherSeems to say to me"I was once your father."

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Don't go far off - Pablo Neruda

Don't go far off, not even for a day, because --

because -- I don't know how to say it: a day is long

and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station

when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Don't leave me, even for an hour, because

then the little drops of anguish will all run together,

the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift

into me, choking my lost heart.

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;

may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.

Don't leave me for a second, my dearest,

because in that moment you'll have gone so far

I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,

Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?

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Courtney Peppernell -

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Author :- Catarine Hancock

And I'd like to think that if we never speak again

One day you'll look back on me fondly as someone

Who didn't fear the future when they pictured you by their side I'd like to think you'll remember me as somebody who loved you the best they could

Even if it wasn't always what you wanted or needed...

I'd like to think you'll remember me as

Somebody you could've spent your life with,

If only the timing had been right

If only we'd worked for it just a little bit harder.

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I release you with a full heart, with love for the place you once held in my life. May you be happy in the life you have chosen. I now take back all the energy that has been taken from me or that I have given away and I return the energy that I still hold from you. May I be free from the ties that bind us. May all cords be cut, transmuted and dissolved. May all energy return to its original sender with power, peace and forgiveness. I ask that this is complete and sealed now. So it is.

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Pablo Neruda Sonnet LXVI: I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love YouI do not love you except because I love you;

I go from loving to not loving you,

From waiting to not waiting for you

My heart moves from cold to fire.

I love you only because it's you the one I love;

I hate you deeply, and hating you

Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you

Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.

Maybe January light will consume

My heart with its cruel

Ray, stealing my key to true calm.

In this part of the story I am the one who

Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,

Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood.

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You can travel the globe looking for memories,

and still find yourself standing behind a camera waiting for the world to hold still.

With every click of the shutter, you're trying to press Pause on your life.

If only so you can feel a little more comfortable moving on living in a world stuck on Play.

A part of you knows you can't take it with you but that doesn't stop you from trying.

"What if I could stay just a little longer?"

"What if we didn't have to go?"

We try to capture moments as if we're afraid they'll escape, but they'll get away eventually.

Take one last look.

One more shot.

So years from now you can flip back through, and try to relive it all over again.

But maybe even then, you'll be thinking to yourself, "Ah well. I guess you had to be there."

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These are my footprintsThese are my footprints, so perfect and so small.

These tiny footprints, never touched the ground at all.

Not one tiny footprint, for now I have my wings.

These tiny footprints were meant for other things.

You will hear my tiny footprints, in the patter of the rain.

Gentle drops like angels tears, of joy and not from pain.

You will see my tiny footprints, in each butterflies' lazy dance.

I'll let you know I'm with you, if you give me just a chance.

You will see my tiny footprints, in the rustle of the leaves.

I will whisper names into the wind, and call each one that grieves.

Most of all, these tiny footprints, are found in mummy's heart,

'cause even though I'm gone now, we'll never truly part."

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The Immortal Beloved (German "Unsterbliche Geliebte") is the mysterious addressee of a love letter which composer Ludwig van Beethoven wrote on 6--7 July 1812 in Teplitz. The apparently unsent letter was found in the composer's estate after his death, after which it remained in the hands of Anton Schindler until his death, was subsequently willed to his sister, and was sold by her in 1880 to the Berlin State Library, where it remains today.The letter is written in pencil and consists of three parts.

In its original wording.

good Morning on the 7th of July-- already in bed my thoughts go out to You, my Immortal Beloved, here and there joyfully, then again sadly, awaiting from fate if it will hear us--I can only live wholly with you or not at all, yes, I have resolved to wander away from you for so long until I can fly into your arms, and send my soul, enwrapped in you, into the land of spirits--yes, unfortunately it must be--you will console yourself, all the more as you know of my faithfulness toward you, never will another possess my heart--never-never--O God why must (one) remove oneself from the one whom one so loves, and yet my life in V. is a wretched life--Your love has made me the happiest and unhappiest of men at the same time--at my age I would need a constant sameness of life--can that exist in our relationship!--Angel, I have just learned that the post leaves every day--and therefore I have to close so that You will receive the L. right away--be calm, only by calm consideration of our existence can we reach our aim to live together--be calm--love me-today--yesterday--what tearful longing for You-You-You-my life--my all--farewell--oh go on loving me--never misjudge the faithful heart of your beloved. forever thine forever mine forever us.

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Funeral Blues W.H. Auden

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,

Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,

Silence the pianos and with muffled drum

Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead

Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.

Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,

Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,

My working week and my Sunday rest,

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;

I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,

Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;

For nothing now can ever come to any good.

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Frodo : I can’t do this, Sam.

Sam : I know.

It’s all wrong

By rights we shouldn’t even be here.

But we are.

It’s like in the great stories Mr. Frodo.

The ones that really mattered.

Full of darkness and danger they were,

and sometimes you didn’t want to know the end.

Because how could the end be happy.

How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad happened.

But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow.

Even darkness must pass.

A new day will come.

And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer.

Those were the stories that stayed with you.

That meant something.

Even if you were too small to understand why.

But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand.

I know now.

Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back only they didn’t.

Because they were holding on to something.

Frodo : What are we holding on to, Sam?

Sam : That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo. And it’s worth fighting for.

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Igor OroSupport this show http://supporter.acast.com/thewanderingpaddy.

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Halle Rae PoetrySupport this show http://supporter.acast.com/thewanderingpaddy.

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Ellen EverettSupport this show http://supporter.acast.com/thewanderingpaddy.

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Lang LeavSupport this show http://supporter.acast.com/thewanderingpaddy.

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P.S. I Love You The MovieSupport this show http://supporter.acast.com/thewanderingpaddy.

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b.oakmanSupport this show http://supporter.acast.com/thewanderingpaddy.

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"Find Me" This is my version of this beautiful piece of work... Hope you enjoy it. Check out Forest Blakk and the rest of his amazing work. Written by: Forest Blakk

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10 year old Benjamin Giroux, expresses what it’s like to live with Autism. When you’re different you don’t shout it from the rooftops. Benjamin Giroux #oddtoo

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ASMR style narration of The Last Goodbye in time with the music. I'm planning on putting more of this out as a type of sleep mediation aid? What do you think?

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My thoughts on love extend deeper and deeper with each passing minute. I often wonder what it all means or where it all goes when we close our eyes for the long awaited sleep. Do we awake in another space and time? Do we remember those we’ve left behind or those who have left before us? Like breadcrumbs carefully placed between two hearts can we make our way back to one another? Before a story can be told it must first begin, that is what “Find Me” is: the beginning. If by chance we get lost in this life or the next...Find me, where I first found you!

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Written by Michela StrattonSupport this show http://supporter.acast.com/thewanderingpaddy.

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To My Mother by Edgar Allan Poe‘To My Mother’ by Edgar Allan Poe is a thoughtful poem that addresses the poet’s personal losses, such as the death of his biological mother, and what high esteem he now holds mothers in.

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Shaylee Logan PoetrySupport this show http://supporter.acast.com/thewanderingpaddy.

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From the move The HobbitSupport this show http://supporter.acast.com/thewanderingpaddy.

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David RomanoSupport this show http://supporter.acast.com/thewanderingpaddy.

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Erin HansonSupport this show http://supporter.acast.com/thewanderingpaddy.

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Is it real love if you have to fight for it?Support this show http://supporter.acast.com/thewanderingpaddy.

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Nikita Gill PoetrySupport this show http://supporter.acast.com/thewanderingpaddy.

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When they ask, how and why? Now you have the answer...Support this show http://supporter.acast.com/thewanderingpaddy.

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The great ones never do...Support this show http://supporter.acast.com/thewanderingpaddy.

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Give yourself and little more time and love.. you're worth it.Support this show http://supporter.acast.com/thewanderingpaddy.

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Rain on a Tent, from one of my overnights in Wicklow, I spend a lot of time wild camping. I recored this on a stormy Autumn night in one of my favorite spots.

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Adaptation of the Wolfe Tones Song.Sending to Ukraine and all the innocent souls on both sides

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Taken from the book Where Hope Comes From: Poems of Resilience, Healing and LightbyNikita Gill

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Head up my friendSupport this show http://supporter.acast.com/thewanderingpaddy.

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My Future Self.. words from the wonderful Shelby Leigh Poetry https://shelbyleigh.co/

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Words from the wonderful Shelby Leigh Poetry https://shelbyleigh.co/

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My Future Self.. words from the wonderful Shelby Leigh Poetry https://shelbyleigh.co/

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Brianna Wiest QuoteSupport this show http://supporter.acast.com/thewanderingpaddy.

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Elizabeth Barrett BrowningElizabeth Barrett Browning (1806 – 1861) was an English poet of the Victorian era.

Born in County Durham, the eldest of 12 children, Elizabeth Barrett wrote poetry from about the age of six. At 15 she became ill, suffering intense head and spinal pain for the rest of her life. Later in life she also developed lung problems, possibly tuberculosis.

Her first adult collection of poems was published in 1838 and she wrote prolifically between 1841 and 1844, producing poetry, translation and prose. She campaigned for the abolition of slavery and her work helped influence reform in the child labour legislation. Her prolific output made her a rival to Tennyson as a candidate for poet laureate on the death of Wordsworth.

Elizabeth's volume Poems (1844) brought her great success, attracting the admiration of the writer Robert Browning. Their correspondence, courtship and marriage were carried out in secret, for fear of her father's disapproval. Following the wedding she was indeed disinherited by her father. The couple moved to Italy in 1846, where she would live for the rest of her life.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight

For the ends of being and ideal grace.

I love thee to the level of every day’s

Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.

I love thee freely, as men strive for right.

I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.

I love thee with the passion put to use

In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.

I love thee with a love I seemed to lose

With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,

Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,

I shall but love thee better after death.

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I sit beside the fire and think of all that I have seen,

of meadow-flowers and butterflies in summers that have been;

Of yellow leaves and gossamer in autumns that there were,

with morning mist and silver sun and wind upon my hair.

I sit beside the fire and think of how the world will be

when winter comes without a spring that I shall ever see.

For still there are so many things that I have never seen:

in every wood in every spring there is a different green.

I sit beside the fire and think of people long ago,

and people who will see a world that I shall never know.

But all the while I sit and think of times there were before,

I listen for returning feet and voices at the door.

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i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

my heart)i am never without it(anywhere

i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done

by only me is your doing,my darling)

i fear

no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want

no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

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Mary Elizabeth Clark Frye (1905-2004) was born in Dayton, Ohio, and was orphaned at the age of three. A housewife and florist who lived in Baltimore, Maryland, after marrying, she wrote this poem after learning that a friend's mother had died. Because Mary was not a recognized poet, and because this poem was never officially published or copyrighted, there has been much debate over its origins and many different people have tried to claim it as their own or have written variations on the original. Extensive research has generally, if not fully, confirmed Mary to be the author. Based on a CBC Radio interview with Mary Frye in 2000, the above is believed to be the correct, original version of the poem.

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Poem that perfectly describes the grief process

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8 Daily Affirmations to help enjoy a more balanced life.

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“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; So I love you because I know no other way than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.”

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Robert Frost was an American poet who depicted realistic New England life through language and situations familiar to the common man. He won four Pulitzer Prizes for his work and spoke at John F. Kennedy's 1961 inauguration. - The Road Not Taken masquerades as a meditation about choice as the poet turns something as irrational as an “impulse” into a triumphant, intentional decision.

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The Wind That Shakes the Barley" is an Irish ballad written by Robert Dwyer Joyce (1836–1883), a Limerick-born poet and professor of English literature. The song is written from the perspective of a doomed young Wexford rebel who is about to sacrifice his relationship with his loved one and plunge into the cauldron of violence associated with the 1798 rebellion in Ireland.[1] The references to barley in the song derive from the fact that the rebels often carried barley or oats in their pockets as provisions for when on the march. This gave rise to the post-rebellion phenomenon of barley growing and marking the "croppy-holes," mass unmarked graves into which slain rebels were thrown, symbolizing the regenerative nature of Irish resistance to British rule. As the barley will grow every year in the spring this is said to symbolize Irish resistance to British oppression and that Ireland will never yield and will always oppose British rule on the island.[2]

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Affirmation "I think its brave"

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TheWanderingPaddy: Recent Episodes

TheWanderingPaddy

Let Me Go

Christina Rossetti

Desiderata: Original Text

Awakening of the Heart

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; So I love you because I know no other way than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

“Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop away from you like the leaves of Autumn.”