[stylist] new poem: Living It

[KajunCutie926 at aol.com]

No problem at all, Ashley. I was the  youngest of six children and any 
number of cousins were drifting in and out of  the house as well.  I became so 
accustomed to being called by  another's name that I just answered to save 
everyone time.  It was like  going down a list and I just thought it was 
easier to answer than wait for the  right name to be added.  So it's not a 
problem at all.  And thank you.  It's simply my philosophy of life and living and 
also my gratitude to those who  helped mold me.
Myrna
 
 
In a message dated 6/11/2012 1:22:21 P.M. Central Daylight Time,  
bookwormahb at earthlink.net writes:

Myrna,
Thanks. and I got you and Atti confused.
This makes  sense though.

-----Original Message----- 
From: Myrna  Badgerow
Sent: Monday, June 11, 2012 1:10 PM
To: Writer's Division  Mailing List
Subject: Re: [stylist] new poem: Living It

Hi   Ashley
Yes the master can be God or whoever or whatever one's spiritual  guide is. 
And thank you for the kind words. I love a challenge and have  been so 
blessed to have been guided toward a positive outlook on  living.
Myrna

Sent from my iPhone

On Jun 11, 2012, at 11:36  AM, "Ashley Bramlett" 
<bookwormahb at earthlink.net> 
wrote:

>  Hi Atty,
>
> Good poem; a reflection on life and growing it seems  to be. Who is the 
> master conductor? I thought it might be God or a  spiritual being, but 
not 
> sure who you meant it to be.
>
>  Ashley
>
> -----Original Message----- From:  KajunCutie926 at aol.com
> Sent: Monday, June 11, 2012 9:36 AM
> To:  stylist at nfbnet.org
> Subject: [stylist] new poem: Living  It
>
> Last night during our division board meeting I   mentioned a poem I'd
> written that had really sprained the brain.   We were  given fifteen 
words 
> to
> choose from and at least  one of the words must be  included in a poem. 
> You could
>  use one word or all fifteen or any number in  between.  Well, in a  very
> fun-spirited email the gauntlet was thrown down  and like  the bull 
> charging the
> red cape I decided to give all fifteen  a  go.
> Here are the words we had to use, followed by the   poem.  It is both
> attached and in email.
>
> The  required words to choose from:  compare,  quality, brick, cookie,  
tea,
> division, arch, mortality, orchestra, substitute,  split,  diving, flat,
> juvenile, siding.
>
> Living  It
>
>
> How  does one compare the quality of  life
> to the quality of living it? Perhaps  there is
> no  comparison because the life we are given
> is not our choice but   the living of it is.
> There is a division, an imaginary arch that   will
> split the entities of choice and predetermined
> reality.  This will  impact the other but not always
> determine the journey  of our mortality.  Extraordinary
> circumstances may do this but  even then we are often
> given a  chance to change the seemingly  unchangeable path.
> The brick, on the hand,  would likely not  choose to be a brick,
> but it has no recourse, no offered   options. Nor does
> the cookie and tea have that choice as they are but  the  culinary
> products  of another's whim. Neither can  substitute a different path.
> Our avian friends  or their friends  of nature cannot truly conduct
> an orchestra of their  choosing  for the arias are already written
> and the conductor already  holds  His baton. But how fortunate are we!
> We  can choose  to go diving into life headlong knowing we may land
> on our feet  or  flat upon our backs. We can peel away the siding of
> our  juvenile dreams, our  adolescent schemes, allowing
> each to spill  into our adult truth, into the  life we have been
> handed, and  there the magic begins!
> We mold and we  sculpt. We paint and we  write. We tidy
> up some imperfections, leaving a few  to keep us  honest.
> And we live! We take each moment into our hands and   we
> breathe of it. We feel the wind and we touch sky. And we  thank
> the  master conductor for allowing us to offer our  own
> contributions to living and  leaving our imprint on a life  that
> we hope will be remembered well.
> How  very fortunate  we are, indeed!
>
>
>
>
>
>
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