Postal Stamps

January 16, 2014

Postal Stamps

The regrets for embarrassing things you did will fade with time. Regrets over things you DIDN'T do are different because no matter how long you stare at the past, no matter how many times you call "what if", what if will never come to greet you again.

To all the what ifs I never met.

To all the should haves that were neglected and never go their awards.

To do justice to the scapegoats and underdogs before me that were put down against their will, that were put to sleep quietly.

For all those whose spirits were captured,

leaving them feeling lost and empty.

For the lost causes; I will find you.

I will search the world where lost things go, for it is better to have loved and lost than never loved at all.

I will draw a map and leave a trail of pieces of a broken heart like breadcrumbs so you can retrace my footsteps.

Together with our polar differences

and disagreements we will build a compass rose

to blossom from fertile imaginations,

 so we can migrate to a better place, but not forsake the place we once called home.

(***Date and time of this post was set, actually posted December 31, 2015***)

Introduction to 'Head, Heart & Hand

Often we are drawn to stories because they illustrate a conflict that we experience; those are the stories that seem to speak to us. In stories that written and read or experienced by people in personal lives, often there is an internal battle being waged between the head and the heart, or between power of reason and power of emotion. Nevertheless, the strongest characters are most often the ones that have the most personal motivation to overcome the most plaguing of conflicts. Revolutionaries must have facts to support their cause, however the most memorable is not necessarily a quantifiable piece of  evidence they presented, but people often remember and are inspired by a revolutionary's passion and conviction in the way they advocated for a cause outside him or herself. In a movement a harmony of facts and feelings creates the stronger current, and the greatest changes can occur when feelings and facts are in harmony. In the environmental movement this can be seen in many ways including respect for forces of nature, artistic expression, curiosity, and a love of living things.

(will be continued on naturenimbus.blogspot.ca)

Re(a)d all Over

Re(a)d All Over

A friend asked what's white and black and red all over

And it wasn't zebras being poached in the Serengeti.

This afternoon I stepped out the porch and knew the sun was up despite the overcast skies.

In comfy pants I picked up the paper from the ground

and threw the plastic cover away and wondered how long it would live in landfill.

I filled up a reusable mug that caused toxic byproducts to rise into the atmosphere,

with sustainably-grown tea that went on two trucks and a ship to get to my city and into the mug.

I sat on the porch and opened up the paper.

The intentions were presented pure as white snow

They were only trying to warn us about

What a terrible person Rob Ford is, but I already knew that from my class.

Then a few pages later there was a picture of black smoke

And a header about rebels who took over an airport in Ukraine.

Something I didn't hear about with people I couldn't see

Because they were all painted black,

and it beat my heart until I was blue;

'Educated' yet none the wiser on what I could do.

Reading of red-stained acts and guilt that ran up the sleeves of people

With blood on their faces and teary bloodshot eyes staring through paper at me

Sitting in the nosebleed section of the world,

Watching it all go by at a distance.

The content was red all over,

The paper was read all over,

But for them it was still all over.

The paper was white for

The news that beat my conscience black and blue

Seeing all the red all over.

It's read it all over.

But it made nothing over.

Today I read the news and then nothing happened.

Paper Stars (v2)

Burning alive yet noone knows

Where every falling star goes,

Let's paint a sky for a paper star

We can live in a house of cards.

Every night it'll all burn down

But that's okay we're far from town

No sirens will drown out the night

The rest will settle for "I'm alright".

Creasing pages 'til thumbs are numb,

Unfold again to find our sum. Is it

Worse to feel sad or nothing at all?

I'd rather jump and take the fall.

With paper planes and paper cars

We can float all the way to Mars,

You can't know if you won't learn,

Whenever we go crash and burn.

Catch on a wind wet paper wings,
Harmonize to the things is sings,
Fly for footed ancestral trees;
Making waves on the breeze.

Navigating paper boats,

Casting bottles with salted notes,

Where we wrote our "ifs" and "buts";

Hearts bleed out in paper cuts.

We'll go 'round an acid pond,

Ponder how alright's still wrong,

Yet here we are watching paper cranes,

Still trying to learn our own names.

Be a spark burning inside out,
Paper words speak and actions shout.
Clear the air and make it right
Unafraid to be part of a bigger sky.

Parting Lullaby

The melody is very simple, Bb major, 4/4 time, about 100 bpm. All words are held for a quarter note except the last word of every second line is held for four. Each note is one syllable of the word. The lower octave is represented by a - and the higher a +

Go to sleep now, please don't cry here

-B E F E +B -G F G

even though we part.

B E F E C

Oh, Do not weep dear I will be near

ever in your heart.

Listen to the songs of starlight

sounding crystal Clear.

Lonely shadows, dreary hallows,

never shall you fear.

Go to sleep now, please don't cry here

even though we part.

Oh, Do not weep dear I will be near

ever in your heart.

(very old poem reposted to this site Dec 6, 2017)

Wild Horses on the Plains

There are wild horses on the plains.

They trot, gallop, and canter.

They live in a heard of pintos, chestnuts, more, and black,

With one of them leading in the center.

There are wild horses on the plains.

Nothing can compare,

To this wondrous sight I'm seeing,

If only you could've been there.

There are wild horses on the plains.

A speedy streak of blurry manes,

All running towards the destination,

Like a loud steam train.

There are wild horses on the plains.

Running wild and free,

The sound of hundreds of hooves on the grass,

You can feel the wind in the air, and hear their shrieking whinny.

(Such an old poem I can’t remember when I wrote it; reposted to this site December 6, 2017)

To Really Make a Difference

If you really want to make a difference, you must care more about people than about what people think of you.

It will make you a better, happier person.

Land of the Trees

You are invited to see

The oak in all it’s glory

The maple at it’s kindest,

And be part of their story.

Listen to to their tales,

and songs of the wind and sky.

Learn the stories of the Earth,

You can see them if you try.

Imagine the rolling hills

And forests that used to stand.

Close your eyes, breathe in fresh air,

Bring your heart to this other land.

Mountains piercing bluest mass,

Sky unstreaked by planes.

Winds chasing through the clouds

Crying joyful crystal rains.

Willow trees draping, waterfalls gaping,

Dance to the Earth’s heartbeat.

Sunshine gracing the mountain tops,

Running rivers at their feet.

Pristine water across the world,

Lively marble peaceful yet untamed.

Needs fulfilled, enough to share,

Without greedy games.

Roof of trees above your head,

Uncut grass between your toes.

Singing larks and sparrows singing

Words only they know.

Seabirds across the waters,

Waves named eternity.

A smiling man on the moon

And stars of infinity.

Countless shades of green,

Dancing wind over seas.

Open your eyes and take a stand

For the land of the trees.

JULY 1, 2012

A Seabird’s Wing

Lonely sailor so far from home

feeling so lost and forlorn.

Why must the lovely petrel

be named after the storm?

Why do we call the albatross

Lost Wandering or sad Tristan?

Meaning sadness and alone but still

Deeper meaning, just listen.

Ship tossed in furious waves,

fleeting hope in the wind.

Sobbing heavens black,

Fog cannot be thinned.

Little hope left in the storm,

Necessary for weather.

Still loneliness is not,

It is better together.

In the midst of the tempest,

Hope always will be around.

Somewhere in the salty air

A seabird can be found.

Guardians of explorers

a source of courage, a friend.

Ever loyal through any storm,

In any gale to the end.

So that is why the seabirds

Give sailors reason to sing.

Courage can always be found,

Upon a seabird’s wing.

OCTOBER 11, 2012

Inverse World

When violets are orange and roses are green,

Fall asleep to live and rise awake to dream.

When the Earth is amiss the sky is ground,

Cannot and don’t care to ever come down.

Feet pace the Earth with a head in a cloud,

Full of wondrous ruin with which to be endowed.

Rejuvenated ideas with each breath in,

Exhaling the words to paint a world within.

Where every sight is painted and ever scent described,

On a very soul this life is inscribed.

In a world of isolated thoughts, of both gift and curse,

Reality's less pressing with consciousness inverse.

(Revised from Sept 6, 2013 version)

Harvest Moon

(This is intended to be read aloud)

Autumn always leaves me with lots of things to think about, and this autumn more than most.

Whether it leaves more thoughts leaves is another story.

In the autumn the wind that once went around the corners of blocks comes back

To take back for the Earth the leaves it gave for the warmer seasons. 

At the same time the hidden pigments of the trees that stand so strong

Explode again,

And year after breezy year we say: "The colours are so beautiful",

And big the harvest moon is so beautiful.

You can learn more about my thoughts from the drafts

Of lines never drawn and never said,

Than from the fine a person pays every time they lie when asked "How are you?"

"I'm fine,

thanks."

It calms the fear until after the rays of sun give 

One last stretch of brilliance across a darkening sky

And it sets,

And while we cease to see our own shadows in that moment

As night sets in we remember all the mistakes that set us up for failure.

Before you know it, night has long fallen but you cannot fall asleep.

Between the glare of the harvest moon against the darkness of the night

It seems like both the light and the dark are up against you.

But if you go for a walk outside and commune with the moon,

You might remember how beautiful it is.

There is a dark side and it goes through different phases.

Unlike the moon however, we do not always know when this phase is going to end and

Sometimes it feels like the gravity of the situation is pulling you down more than anything else.

We've all been there, and maybe

It pulled you down to Earth.

But it didn't bury you.

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

This is a kind of a dual post. I've been experimenting lately and the above was my first attempt at spoken word, so thank you for bearing with me. In fact, the idea of speaking is was motivated this whole thing.

I'm might be up tonight regretting this, but here goes.

For a while I went through a shy phase and tried to come out of my shell a bit more, and one of the things I did to help was try a new type of social networking.

Despite sometimes managing to put something down into 141 characters or less I certainly didn't end up "speaking my mind" after all. There was always some reason to not post it: This is not interesting... It's too philosophical... Who would care to read this? What if someone actually reads it?

Although I didn't actually post about half of them, I learned a lot about the value of summarizing a thought or feeling in under 141 characters, and by the harvest moon I already had a small collection of unpublished drafts that I felt too awkward to post without context, but figured I could use in a poem or something somewhere else down the line.

And I will, but in a few different ways down the line on this blog instead.

The only one I'll let out now is this one:

If you feel like you can't speak your mind, then speak from your heart.

Too too bright for the dark side, too dark for the light side.

War of Fire and Wind

There is a war being fought,

Ranging across the land.

Two uncontrollable forces

Fighting hand-to-hand.

A single spark went astray

Drifting where it naught.

To a forest full of life

Where the trees were caught.

Relentlessly burning homes,

Desecrating the  wood.

Feeding off all in it's path,

Sparing nothing good.

"I bring warmth! I am so powerful!

I elucidate!"

The fire grows as it feeds

Itself with delusional glorious fate.

As the smoke rises up,

Polluting the atmosphere,

The east wind runs aground,

Brooding as it draws near.

This other force of nature,

Angered by flaming vanity,

Has come to salvage life,

And avenge every tree.

But the fire only spreads,

Rising and consuming breath.

Glowing with glowering pride,

Flames licking up the death.

"I am greater than you!"

The fire arrogantly bet.

In reply the wind whispered,

"I will stop you yet."

The battle rages on,

In a swirling mass of fury.

The fire burns the bridges,

The wind continues to hurry

The flame pollutes the air,

With smoggy, toxic stench.

But it cannot stop the wind,

From bringing rain to quench.

In tempestuous passion

The wind forgets the joy of a sun ray,

Gathering clouds and darkness crying,

"This is the only way!"

When fire is pushed too far,

And wind will not forgive,

The Father must intervene

So that a reason is left to live.

A Breezy-Enough Summer Night

Sitting at quiet elevation,

Light refracts (confused) in teary rains,

Streetlights for fireworks about

The beguiled sun it nearly maims.

Azure without sky, white not-so pure;

Can we see through corrupting pretense?

Red in the rose and green of new life,

Whistling wind's nocturne commence.

(Sitting) Still in motion all is beautiful

In nature's deeper vanity.

Natural purpose and human appeal

In finding pathetic felicity (fallacy).

To cry with rain and smile the sea,

Sing with the birds and wind in trees,

Waltz with the mountains and cirrus clouds,

To the three-four three-part harmony.

Ionically (ironically) above Arctic frost,

The glowing mural of northern lights.

Where tales of snow are given colour,

Light above every northern night.

We map our stories out in stars,

Hidden libraries, smog and streetlight.

So observe and explore ev'ry day,

Every breezy-enough summer night.

- Melody Tadeo, July 3, 2013

Breadcrumbs

It wasn't all we hoped for,

But that is still okay.

We might have journeyed nowhere,

But still made a friend along the way.

Someday I'll see you again

And replace those last words.

No need to retrace our steps,

Let's leave the crumbs for the birds.

Until the next crosswinds my friend,

Follow where the wind goes.

Moving on doesn't mean forgetting,

It's just forward's all it knows.

So I'll pack up my memories

And fold things we'll never know;

Save them for a rainy day and

Now it's time to hit the road.