The Spark of Creativity

In the depths of our minds, a flame burns bright,

A spark of creativity, waiting to take flight.

It's the need to grow, to expand and elevate,

To bring innovation to the world, and participate.

 

Creative thinking, a journey we embark,

To arrive at a plan, that's new and sparks.

To push beyond the obvious, and explore,

To find unique ideas, and help them soar.

 

It's not just a thought, but a process we refine,

Examining, refining, and experimenting in time.

Every day, we create, perhaps without a thought,

But giving our brain space, to indulge and explore, is what we've sought.

 

Dedicate time, like exercise or healthy eating,

Make creativity a habit, and your brain will be speaking.

Try new things, diversify your experiences too,

Take a different route, read a book, and see what you can do.

 

Get moving, exercise your body and mind,

A simple walk or bike ride, can unlock ideas in kind.

Find something you love, that challenges and inspires,

And you'll find your creative spark, will set your heart on fires.

 

It's all about finding joy, and making it fun,

To challenge yourself, and see what you can become.

So, nurture your creativity, and let it shine,

And you'll find your spark, will ignite, and make it mine

In the realm where music dwells

 In the realm where music dwells,

Time unfolds its wondrous spell,

A raw material, pure and true,

For melodies to bloom and accrue.

The rhythm dances in its embrace,

Creating patterns, finding grace,

But time, dear friend, is more than this,

It grants a gift, a subtle bliss.

A song, a shelter in the storm,

In moments fleeting, it takes form,

It meets us, whispers in our ears,

Embraces us, allays our fears.

Within its notes, we find reprieve,

A respite from the world we leave,

Magnifying moments, deep and wide,

Anchoring them in life's great tide.

Each time we hear that sacred tune,

Our living selves, they are attuned,

Transported to the moments past,

Yet transformed, as memories amass.

For music has the power to heal,

To mend the wounds, to make us feel,

Through time's journey, it takes us back,

And gifts us with a different track.

So let us cherish this precious art,

The solace it imparts to the heart,

For music, in its sacred realm,

Transcends the bounds of the earthly helm.

Twas the Night Before Christmas By Clement Clarke Moore

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

 

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of sugarplums danced in their heads;

And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,

Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

 

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

 

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,

 

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

 

"Now, DASHER! now, DANCER! now, PRANCER and VIXEN!

On, COMET! on CUPID! on, DONNER and BLITZEN!

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

 

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,

So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,

With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.

 

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,

Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

 

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;

A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

 

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;

 

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a broad face and a little round belly,

That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

 

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

 

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

 

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!

The road less travelled...

Robert Frost, I could imagine him standing at the edge of a forest, thinking about how he wanted to reach the other side. As I watch as he pondered his path forward, I saw him think, would he walk along a straight line, going directly through the forest? Or, could he imagine a path that wandered and meandered in every conceivable direction, around rocks, between evergreens and deciduous trees, through meadows, along a stream. Could he himself, feeding the deer, the rabbits, and conversing with the owls, or roasting marshmallows?

I think he saw a path that wandered in every possible direction because this is how things are in a forest. Our paths in life are never straight, and many times we have to choose do we take the path directly to where we want to go, or do we wander through the forest and still get to the same path. For those that are in the process of deciding which path to take, a read of Robert Frost poem may help. 

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth; 

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day! 
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference. 

The English language is complicated

If you can pronounce correctly every word in this poem, you will be speaking English better than 90% of the native English speakers in the†world.

(This is not my poem!)

Dearest creature in creation,

Study English pronunciation.

I will teach you in my verse

Sounds like corpse, corps, horse, and worse.

I will keep you, Suzy, busy,

Make your head with heat grow dizzy.

Tear in eye, your dress will tear.

So shall I! Oh hear my prayer.

Just compare heart, beard, and heard,

Dies and diet, lord and word,

Sword and sward, retain and Britain.

(Mind the latter, how itís written.)

Now I surely will not plague you

With such words as plaque and ague.

But be careful how you speak:

Say break and steak, but bleak and streak;

Cloven, oven, how and low,

Script, receipt, show, poem, and toe.

Hear me say, devoid of trickery,

Daughter, laughter, and Terpsichore,

Typhoid, measles, topsails, aisles,

Exiles, similes, and reviles;

Scholar, vicar, and cigar,

Solar, mica, war and far;

One, anemone, Balmoral,

Kitchen, lichen, laundry, laurel;

Gertrude, German, wind and mind,

Scene, Melpomene, mankind.

Billet does not rhyme with ballet,

Bouquet, wallet, mallet, chalet.

Blood and flood are not like food,

Nor is mould like should and would.

Viscous, viscount, load and broad,

Toward, to forward, to reward.

And your pronunciationís OK

When you correctly say croquet,

Rounded, wounded, grieve and sieve,

Friend and fiend, alive and live.

Ivy, privy, famous; clamour

And enamour rhyme with hammer.

River, rival, tomb, bomb, comb,

Doll and roll and some and home.

Stranger does not rhyme with anger,

Neither does devour with clangour.

Souls but foul, haunt but aunt,

Font, front, wont, want, grand, and grant,

Shoes, goes, does. Now first say finger,

And then singer, ginger, linger,

Real, zeal, mauve, gauze, gouge and gauge,

Marriage, foliage, mirage, and age.

Query does not rhyme with very,

Nor does fury sound like bury. Dost, lost, post and doth, cloth, loth.

Job, nob, bosom, transom, oath.

Though the differences seem little,

We say actual but victual.

Refer does not rhyme with deafer.

Foeffer does, and zephyr, heifer.

Mint, pint, senate and sedate;

Dull, bull, and George ate late.

Scenic, Arabic, Pacific,

Science, conscience, scientific.

Liberty, library, heave and heaven,

Rachel, ache, moustache, eleven.

We say hallowed, but allowed,

People, leopard, towed, but vowed.

Mark the differences, moreover,

Between mover, cover, clover;

Leeches, breeches, wise, precise,

Chalice, but police and lice;

Camel, constable, unstable,

Principle, disciple, label.

Petal, panel, and canal,

Wait, surprise, plait, promise, pal.

Worm and storm, chaise, chaos, chair,

Senator, spectator, mayor.

Tour, but our and succour, four.

Gas, alas, and Arkansas.

Sea, idea, Korea, area,

Psalm, Maria, but malaria.

Youth, south, southern, cleanse and clean.

Doctrine, turpentine, marine.

Compare alien with Italian,

Dandelion and battalion.

Sally with ally, yea, ye,

Eye, I, ay, aye, whey, and key.

Say aver, but ever, fever,

\Neither, leisure, skein, deceiver.

Heron, granary, canary.

Crevice and device and aerie.

Face, but preface, not efface.

Phlegm, phlegmatic, ass, glass, bass.

Large, but target, gin, give, verging,

Ought, out, joust and scour, scourging.

Ear, but earn and wear and tear

Do not rhyme with here but ere.

Seven is right, but so is even,

Hyphen, roughen, nephew Stephen,

Monkey, donkey, Turk and jerk

Ask, grasp, wasp, and cork and work. Pronunciation (think of Psyche!)

Is a paling stout and spikey?

Wonít it make you lose your wits,

Writing groats and saying grits?

Itís a dark abyss or tunnel:

Strewn with stones, stowed, solace, gunwale,

Islington and Isle of Wight, Housewife, verdict and indict.

Finally, which rhymes with enough,

Though, through, plough, or dough, or cough?

Hiccough has the sound of cup.

My advice is to give up!