“Late Fragment” by Raymond Carver

And did you get what
you wanted from this life, even so?
I did.
And what did you want?
To call myself beloved, to feel myself
beloved on the earth.

~ Raymond Carver~

Read in Good Poems by Garrison Keillor


“The Life of a Day” by Tom Hennen

“The Life of a Day”

by Tom Hennen

“Like people or dogs, each day is unique and has its own personality quirks which can easily be seen if you look closely. But there are so few days as compared to people, not to mention dogs, that it would be surprising if a day were not a hundred times more interesting than most people. But usually they just pass, mostly unnoticed, unless they are wildly nice, like autumn ones full of red maple trees and hazy sunlight, or if they are grimly awful ones in a winter blizzard that kills the lost traveler and bunches of cattle. For some reason we like to see days pass, even though most of us claim we don’t want to reach our last one for a long time. We examine each day before us with barely a glance and say, no, this isn’t one I’ve been looking for, and wait in a bored sort of way for the next, when, we are convinced, our lives will start for real. Meanwhile, this day is going by perfectly well-adjusted, as some days are, with the right amount of sunlight and shade, and a light breeze scented with a perfume made from the mixture of fallen apples, corn stubble, dry oak leaves, and the faint odor of last night’s meandering skunk.”

Read in Good Poems by Garrison Keillor

How to Make a Beautiful Life

Words can’t describe how much I love this. Really read it and let it speak to you …

How To Make A Beautiful Life

by Unknown Author

Love yourself.
Make peace with who you are
and where you are at this moment in time.

Listen to your heart.
If you can’t hear what it’s saying in this noisy world,
make time for yourself. Enjoy your own company.
Let your mind wander among the stars.

Try. Take chances. Make mistakes.
Life can be messy and confusing, but it’s also full of surprises.
The next rock in your path may be a stepping stone.

Be happy. When you don’t have what you want,
want what you have. Make do.
That’s a well-kept secret of contentment.

There aren’t any shortcuts to tomorrow.
You have to make your own day.
To know where you’re going is only part of it.
You need to know where you’ve been too.
And if you get lost, don’t worry.
The people who love you will find you.
Count on it.

Life isn’t days and years.
It’s what you do with time
and with all the goodness and grace
that’s inside of you.
Make a beautiful life…
The kind of life you deserve.

via Optimism Revolution on Facebook

Poetic Words of Freedom

These poems really spoke to me.  I found them via The Bittersweet End.  Please visit this page on the Recovering From Religion website to read more poems from Bart Phillips.

A Simple Slave
By Bart Phillips

Life was simpler as a slave
Doing only my unseen master’s will,
Devoting all my efforts to his work,
Trusting enigmatic promises made to me
More than a hundred generations ago
In foreign tongues no longer spoken.

“Sacred” texts of spurious origin
Tell me that I am truly loved—
They say that I am worthless, too!
They say that I can be truly free—
They tell me, too, I must yield myself
To take up my “cross” and dumbly follow.

What kind of man would chose to make himself a slave?
How big a fool seeks wisdom for his life in ancient myth?
How silly is the notion that ages past found deeper truths?
Are love and purpose found in succumbing to a “jealous god”?

I refuse forever to be a simple slave
Forsaking the only thing I rightly own:
My limited life on this natural world.
No more! I claim myself for me,
To give my life and love to those I chose,
To live for what my reason says is right.


The Voice Inside By Bart S. Phillips

I once believed the voice inside my head was God.
I once believed the voice in me that said
That taking things that are not mine is wrong,
That hitting and hurting others is wrong,
That saying things which are not true is wrong—
That simple voice was God.

But the voice said many other things as well:
That torture and slavery are savagely wrong,
That subjugating women is inhumanly wrong,
That building gilded shrines and lavish temples
While children suffer and starve is heartlessly wrong.
What voice was this?

This voice inside my head also cried out
That punishing people for working on a “holy day”
Or for having sex with someone they love
Or for denying belief in unbelievable things—
These punishments are undeniably wrong.
Was this a different voice?

I once turned to that voice to decide my path,
To tell me what I should live for,
To tell me what I must oppose,
To tell me who to marry, where to live, what to do—
I tried to pledge myself entirely to that voice.
At that, the voice seemed suddenly silent.

So what is this voice inside my head
That speaks in the accent of my ancestors,
That encourages me when I struggle,
That chides me when I come up short,
That dares me to question and to reason,
That compels me to be better, to know more, to grow?

I once believed the voice inside my head was God,
But now I recognize that voice
As it enunciates my humanity,
That voice of intellect, of passion and compassion, of imagination—
That voice is no one else’s.
That voice is humbly, proudly, simply…me.

Beautiful …

Got this from a friend on facebook.  Don’t know the title.


To look out upon the astounding universe

with eye unblinking and a face unblanched;

to ignore no truth and fear no fact;

to be ready to re-cast opinion in the crucible of experience;

to forgive without demanding apology;

to keep affection in spite of misunderstanding;

to set our thought upon the things of value

and spend our strength in the fulfilling of noble purposes;

to reverence the reverences of others

rather than what they revere;

to be alert to Nature’s pageantry of beauty,

though we dwell amid the city’s clamor;

to get the most out of Life

and give the most we can;

to be guided in our conduct by the angel of Intelligence

and not by the gaunt spectre of Fear;

to approach our last hour with the calm of a philospher and the gentleness of a saint,

and to leave the world enriched by a treasury of kindly deeds and a memory of love;

this is our Aspiration,

this is our Ideal.

-Dr. Arthur W. Slaten, 1927