If all you need is love
Then what is oxygen
And air?
What is food
And shelter
And safety?
What is security
And education
And support?
You do not need love
But crave it
And want it
But maybe that’s what necessity is.
Day: September 18, 2012
Old Hands
His old hands are ready. He lets out a sigh and reaches for his paintbrush. For him, painting has evolved from a hobby into an obsession.
His weathered fingers clutch the brush carefully, examining the shape and age. He views his subject. His grip tightens as he combines colors into the shades he desires.
His first stroke comes with a splash of a deep blue. The brush has become an extension of himself. He takes another stroke, slowly mixing in white paint until his deep blue has become as pale as the midday sky.
The cool air blows across his face. A face that has been weathered by a life lived and time passed. Each crevice in his skin is a symbol of his experiences.
The sand brushes against his legs, slowly aging the skin. Yet his painting continues, never ceasing.
His arthritic joints have become painful once again. He winces at every movement. His painting is near completion mere strokes away from finality.
His hands no longer obey him and he must begin to slow.
With a fine needle he signs his name and titles the piece.
His painting complete.
- “beach” by Stephen Giannetti, Paint on canvas
The Wind That Shakes the Barley
“I sat within a valley green
I sat with me my true love
My sad heart strove to choose between
The old love and the new love
The old for her, the new that made
Me think on Ireland dearly
While soft the wind blew down the glade
And shook the golden barley
‘Twas hard the woeful words to frame
To break the ties that bound us
But harder still to bear the weight
Of foreign chains around us
And so I said, “The mountain glen
I’ll seek at morning early,
And join the brave United Men
While soft winds shake the barley.”
While sad I kissed away her tears
My fond arms ‘round her flinging
The foeman’s shot burst on our ears
From out the wildwood ringing
A bullet pierced my true love’s side
In life’s young spring so early
And on my breast in blood she died
While soft winds shook the barley
I bore her to some mountain stream
And many the summer’s blossom
I placed with branches soft and green
About her gore-stained bosom
I wept and kissed her clay-cold corpse
Then rushed o’er vale and valley
My vengeance on the foe to wreak
While soft wind shook the barley
But blood for blood without remorse
I’ve taken at Oulart Hollow
And laid my true love’s clay-cold corpse
Where I full soon may follow
As ‘round her grave I wander drear
Noon, night and morning early
With breaking heart when e’er I hear
The wind that shakes the barley“
–Robert Dwyer Joyce, “The Wind That Shakes the Barley.”
This poem was written about the 1798 Irish Rebellion, a conflict opposing British rule in Ireland.
It is told from the perspective of a young Irish rebel, torn between his lover and his desire to fight for his country.Read More »
An Amazing Trio
Up until eight years ago, I was the younger sibling in my family. I had my brother up until then, who is two years older than me. When my mom told me that I was going to have a little sister, I was ecstatic. I always thought of my brother as being a meanie, so I was hoping that with some luck, Hope, my little sister, would be a great addition to the family. Turns out she is quite the trouble maker.
Before I had my little sister around, I was stuck with my big brother, Cole. Cole and I have never seen eye to eye. He was the annoying ten year-old bothersome brother that I think most sisters get stuck with. Anyways, Cole probably didn’t like me very much when I was younger. It would explain why he always smashed my Lego houses after I was done building them. Or maybe he just wanted his Legos back. The world will never know. I think Cole and I get along much better now that we are older. We still of course keep on calling each other names. I don’t think that is ever going to change.
Oh Hope. Where to begin with Hope? My little eight year-old sister who thinks that she is the boss of me. She was the sweetest thing alive until the age of two. I knew she would be trouble when she broke my nose with a flashlight. I got to give her credit for having such strength at the age of two. Somedays, I wish I could put her in a soundproof bubble though. Other days, she is the cutest thing alive. It mostly depends if I’m willing to play with her or if she has to jump on me to get my attention.
The three of us are pretty awesome together. At times, we want to kill each other, but that’s siblings for you. No matter how much you hate them that day, they are the best family you got. I love my brother and sister (most days) and I wouldn’t trade them for the world.
Americans stop blaming Islam
Americans are not known for being culturally sensitive or even having the slightest bit of knowledge about the world outside of America. This can be seen whenever the media begins focusing on Muslim Extremists. Since 911 Americans (in general) have had a backward view of all Muslims. This majority believes (incorrectly) that all Muslims are extremist and that their goal is to destroy western civilization.
The media of course does not help Americans get past their arrogant ways, this can be seen in the violence that has occurred at American embassies in the Middle East. In the wake of the destruction of the US Consulate in Libya wherefour Americans where killed, the US has been shutting down embassy’s in other Islamic countries. In Syria the American embassy has been closed and all non-essential personnel (we can assume the essential personnel are soldiers and spies) have been recalled back to America. Other embassies in these “danger” zones are sure to follow suit. There has already been reports of the US Embassy in Lebanon destroying classified documents in case of a breach.
Not only have these events attacks damaged Americans perception of Muslims but the US leaving these countries only lengthens the road to understanding and peace.
Backpacking Excursion
I spent my eighth grade year at the Aspen Middle School, which is not surprisingly in Aspen Colorado. In all honesty, Aspen is not my favorite place. I love warm weather and going to the beach all year long, instead of wearing three different jackets to school in the morning and being called a marshmallow.
But going into eighth grade was especially daunting. We all knew that the second week of school we would be leaving on a week long backpacking trip, where we would hike some thirty miles in three or four days and arrive at a small town called Marble.
Let me just tell you that we had not been thrown into something we weren’t prepared for. In seventh grade the ODE trip is a week spent on the Colorado River rafting. In sixth grade the students go on a hut trip, and in fifth they spend a week camping in Moab, Utah.Read More »
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