"The Oak" a poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson

So this book, "A Treasury of Poems: A Collection of the Most Famous and Familiar Verse" compiled by Sarah Anne Stuart, is in alphabetical order relating to each poem's theme. The first category is Aging  and I was really moved by a poem called "The Oak" written by Alfred Lord Tennyson.

The Oak

Live thy Life,
   Young and old,

Like yon oak,

Bright in spring,

   Living gold;

Summer-rich

   Then; and then

Autumn-changed,

Soberer-hued

   Gold again.

All his leaves

   Fallen at length,

Look, he stands,

Trunk and bough,

   Naked strength.

Alfred Lord Tennyson

I really enjoyed the simplicity of this poem. It has colorful imagery and I personally connected with it because I grew up in an valley that has many revered oak trees. My favorite verse is definitely the last one. I can really picture, though not a typically beautiful sight, a naked elderly grey-bodied man compared to a winter-bare-wrinkled-grey oak trunk, and see them as quite a pair. Even though, neither are at the most beautiful stages of their lives, you know that they have endured the joy and fight of life. The idea of "naked strength" to me is so compelling. To me, that simple line composed of two words, made me love and connect to the whole poem. That is a great lesson for me as a writer, sometimes clear and simple yet evocative communication can be best of all. 

Interesting Facts About the Author

Alfred Lord Tennyson 

There was a lot of very valuable information within Alfred Lord Tennyson's biography on poemhunter.com, but here are a few tidbits that I really found interesting. 

Some of Tennyson's phrases have withstood the test of time and become commonplace in contemporary English language, such as "Tis better to have loved and lost / Than never to have loved at all." This phrase comes from Tennyson's In Memoriam A.H.H., which is  a very long poem written to commemorate his late brother-in-law and friend Arthur Hallam. In Memoriam A.H.H.  is considered to be Tennyson's lifelong masterpiece. 

Tennyson began writing poetry at a very young age, inspired by other poets including John Keats. Tennyson published his first solo work while in college at Cambrige in 1827, entitled Poems by Two Brothers. He achieved early success with his first book, but his second book published in 1833, was not well received and discouraged Tennyson from publishing for 10 years! It is amazing what your inner "resistance" can keep you from accomplishing. Though he did still write during all those unpublished years.

In 1850, upon publishing his renowned In Memoriam A.H.H., Alfred Tennyson was appointed Poet Laureate which he held until his death in 1892. According to Wikipedia, the Poet Laureate is an "honorary position appointed by the monarch of the United Kingdom on the advice of the Prime Minister. The role does not entail any specific duties, but there is an expectation that the holder will write verse for significant national occasions." He became Baron Tennyson much later in 1884 as a result of Queen Victoria's admiration of his work.  Thomas Edison was also one of Tennyson's admirers and made multiple sound recordings of Tennyson reading his own poetry. 

 Alfred Lord Tennyson's biography on poemhunter.com said that he was a master in onomatopoeia, alliteration and assonance. I thought that is may be helpful to define what those literary terms mean. 

Helpful Vocabulary

Onomatopoeia - (n.) the formation of a word from a sound associated with what is named 
ie. buzz, whoosh, screech, bang, hiss, puff, fizz

Alliteration - (n.) the occurrence of the same letter or sound at the beginning of adjacent or closely connected words.
ie. Jumping Jehosaphat!, ardent anarchist, icy igloo, mourning mother

Assonance - (n.) in poetry, the repetition of the sound of a vowel or diphthong in nonrhyming stressed syllables near enough to each other for the echo to be discernible 
ie. Tonight I'll try to light your fire. (long "i" sound),  And so she rests in her hammock, depressed tears wet her tresses and stain her dress (short "e" sound).

Alfred Lord Tennyson's Works:

Poems, Chiefly Lyrical (1830):
Lady Clara Vere de Vere (1832)
Poems (1833):
The Lady of Shalott (1832, 1842)
The Palace of Art
St. Simeon Stylites (1833)
Poems (1842):
The Two Voices (1834)
"Ulysses" (1833)
The Princess; A Medley (1847)
In Memoriam A.H.H. (1849)
Ring Out, Wild Bells (1850)
The Eagle (1851)
Maud; A Monodrama (1855/1856)
The Charge of the Light Brigade (1854)
Enoch Arden and Other Poems (1862/1864)
Flower in the crannied wall (1869)
The Window – Song cycle with Arthur Sullivan. (1871)
Harold (1876)
Idylls of the King (composed 1833–1874)
Locksley Hall Sixty Years After (1886)
Crossing the Bar (1889)
The Foresters – a play with incidental music by Arthur Sullivan (1891) Kapiolani (published after his death by Hallam Tennyson)

You can also check out his entire biography here on poemhunter.com
http://www.poemhunter.com/alfred-lord-tennyson/biography/

"A Treasury of Poems" and New Goals!

Last summer when I was praying to My Muse and writing daily poems, I came across a book called "A Treasury of Poems: A Collection of the World's Most Famous and Familiar Verse." I discovered many new favorite poems from this giant anthology of over 400 poems, but I certainly have not read the whole thing. I was feeling a bit insecure the other day that I call myself a poet, and yet I cannot recite my favorite poem, nor do I have a favorite poet. The truth is, I didn't study poetry in school. I did study Lyric Writing from Barry Manilow's life-long writing parter, the hilariously candid and generous Marty Panzer. But truly, I have so much to learn and dissect from the great poets relating to form, figurative language, communication and creativity.

My goal is to study this book as I would if I were taking a poetry class for a semester in college. So for the next 16 weeks, this being week one, I will read between 25 and 30 poems per week. I am going to choose my very favorite poems to post on this blog, I will also include a bit of information about the poet. Perhaps once this study is done, I will have some of my favorite poems memorized and will have an idea of who my favorite poet is.

I hope you will all help to keep me accountable for my goal!

Thanks!

Jess

"Miracle Baby" lyrics by Jess Coffman

Yesterday I posted about my Muse, and the inspiration that I received when I was thinking about one of my best friends. I would like to share those lyrics with you, and I have to admit that I am pretty excited about them. 

First, I would like to tell you about my friend. She and I have a very special relationship though we have not lived on the same coast for 10 years, and we go sometimes months without talking. We were best friends in High School, and have many hilarious memories from those days. I am actually cracking up right now as I write this. We call each other "Fraggle Queens" which came from a night in ninth grade when we put our short layered hair up in high ponytails, and scotch taped our faces to scare her younger brother. Another time, we constructed a "poking device" made from a hanger and a wooden skewer, to squeeze through the window of my little red truck, to retrieve my keys which were in the ignition. We totally succeeded. 

She and her older brother would always make fun of my erect posture and would call me "Peter Pan," so one year I dressed up as "Peter Pan" at one of her parties and we ended up stealing "pirate booty" from a neighbor's yard. The "pirate booty" was actually just some multi-colored glass rocks that looked like jewels, and we returned them that night when things started to go awry. There are so many great memories from those days when we were incredibly inexperienced with boys, booze or anything else that could get us into trouble. We had mostly good clean fun, and we loved it. 

As we got older, we supported each other through separation, divorce, broken-hearts, questioning faith, cancer and sadly her grandmother and father's passing. But there have been some really wonderful things that we have celebrated together too, the marriage to her lovely husband and now her new baby boy. She has been the inspiration for three of my pieces that I am really proud of. 

The lyrics that I wrote yesterday morning were inspired by her Miracle Baby. Last year, after her father's struggle with cancer had taken his life, and her mother-in-law had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, she was devastated and feeling very hopeless. It was absolutely understandable, but so heart-breaking to see her so dispirited. She is naturally and ordinarily one of the brightest shining souls I know. It was during this time that she confessed to me that she was overwhelmed by so much sickness and loss of life, and that she just wanted to be able to create a life herself. She and her husband had been trying to get pregnant for months, but it hadn't worked out yet. When she finally got pregnant, it was such joyous news because it brought much needed hope to their families. 

Everything was going great with her pregnancy, until one morning at about eight months she had excruciating pain. Her husband took her to the hospital and the doctors recovered a forgotten cyst twisting on itself and engulfing her right ovary. They decided that it was necessary to do an emergency C-section birth of the baby, and then remove her right ovary. She was in shock, but the doctors reassured her that her baby would be fine, and she would still be able to have future children with her one remaining ovary. It was an unplanned and tense day, but everything worked out fine. The baby was healthy and the mother was recovering and feeling good too. 

Unfortunately, her doctors came to her a few days later with terrible news. They had biopsied her removed ovary which is a standard practice, but unexpectedly found ovarian cancer. Apparently ovarian cancer is one of those silent killers in much older women, it is not ordinarily something that younger women suffer from. Though it is not something that can be checked in a regular pap-smear, so  a woman has no idea when she has it. 

This is where the Miracle Baby comes in. Her doctor told her that if she had not gotten pregnant, the cyst in her right ovary would never have grown. Furthermore, the unknown cancerous tumor in her right ovary would never have been detected and removed. Her son essentially saved her life. But her son's birth not only saved her from sickness, it also restored her faith and provided her with a new life perspective and love to share with her family. 

Though, I would like to share that my friend is not completely in the clear yet. The doctors are about 90% sure that she is cancer-free after a recent PET scan, though another surgery in a few weeks will take a closer examination to ensure that she is. I ask for your prayers or positive thoughts with her in mind as she awaits her fate. 

Thank-you!

Miracle Baby

I felt your presence there,

And suddenly magic!

You changed every thought in my head

from just me, to us both. 

I felt you move inside,

A miraculous, glorious gift 

That sparked much needed hope. 

On a beautiful day,

Your Dad took me to sea,

On a beautiful boat he made just with his hands. 

As we laid down to love,

Our young fingers entwined,

As the sun glimmered bright, our beloved wedding bands. 

And we breathed you to life,

As our breath slowed to calm

On that beautiful day,

When we basked in our love. 

What a beautiful way 

To begin a new life,

On the uncertain sea,

Before God up above.  

I never wanted more,

Than a family, richer in love over richer in means. 

And I finally  do. 

I never wanted more,

Than a baby to restore my hope,

But I've found more in you. 

On a beautiful day,

Your Dad took me to see,

All the beautiful you, growing inside of me.

As I laid down for birth,

My eyes swollen with fear,

But the Lord, stroked my brow and my purpose was clear. 

As we breathed you to life,

As our breath slowed to calm

On that beautiful day,

When you saved me from death.

What a beautiful way

To begin a new life,

To have healed all my pain. 

In your very first breath.

"A Prayer to My Muse" a poem by Jess Coffman

This morning, I was cleaning my room and thinking of one of my best friends. I began to say a few lines rhythmically in my head, and instantly I was overwhelmed with the need to write them down. I think that my Muse was hanging out this morning and gave me that  little nudge of inspiration. This might be a little wacky for some of you, but I believe that I have a creative Guardian Angel or Muse that helps guide me in my creative endeavors. The song that I wrote this morning, was something I was believe I was meant to write, to bring happiness and to tell a very important story. I know this is a little mystical, but I'll explain how I came to believe in my Muse. 

Elizabeth Gilbert, the author of "Eat, Pray, Love," kind-of opened me up to the idea of there being a "creative genius" outside of ourselves, that shows up to offer inspiration and help us with our creative projects. I learned about this idea years ago from her Ted Talk entitled "Your Elusive Creative Genius," which I have provided the link to below. It is about 20 minutes long, but her words have been so essential in my creative process. 

I was exposed to the idea of the "Muse," which is essentially the same idea as Gilbert's "creative genius." in a book called "The War of Art" by Stephen Pressfield. My immensely talented singer/songwriter friend Andy Grammer told me to read this book. It proved to be one of the best books I have ever read regarding grit, hard-work and creativity. I read it last summer and it is what inspired me to write, re-write and finish almost of the poems and songs that I am now posting on this blog. Before writing a single word, I would sit down with my pen in hand and say a prayer to my Muse asking for direction and inspiration with each poem. One day, I wrote down one of those a prayers...and here it is. 

A Prayer to My Muse

I come to you with extended palms

And a willing, unlocked chest.

I surrender my pride at your feet,

With the hope, that I'll be blessed.

No figment of the past shall invade,

To distract me from your dream.

Faith in your existence, eases my mind,

I'm strong with you on my team. 

Please reveal to me your daily truth,

That humanity must know.

Overwhelm me with finality,

Or forgiveness of a foe. 

I will follow every crafted task,

With my best, in mind and pen.

I'll honor you with each word I write,

In the hope you come again.

Elizabeth Gilbert's Ted Talk: Your Elusive Creative Genius
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=86x-u-tz0MA

"April's Fool" a poem by Jess Coffman

I actually wrote this poem on April 1st, 2013 and it's title reflects how I truly felt by the end of the day. That was the day of the Greater Philadelphia Annual Audition, and I had been looking forward to it for months. I had attempted to get an appointment, but had not been given one, so I was going to cross my fingers in line and hope to get seen. In order to audition, you had to have 60 headshots and resumes. This was so, because dozens of local theater companies came to this audition to do pre-casting for their upcoming season. It was a long awaited day for me, because if it was successful, I may finally be able to live and work in the same city as Billy.  At that point, we had only lived in the same city for 3 months out of the past year and I was anxious to be with him.

I had spent the morning at Kinkos, printing out headshots, cutting off that stupid 1 1/2 inches of paper so my resume would fit an 8x10 photo and stapling them all together. I took the time to make sure that everything was perfect, my hair, my voice, my confident yet peppy disposition. I got there in the later afternoon and was nervous, though feeling great. Unfortunately,  I had completely misjudged the thriving theater scene in Philly. Although there was about 2 1/2 hours left of the audition day, they were not allowing any other people to audition. The helpful monitor explained that actors without an appointment had lined up before 9am to get a time to be seen that day. I had missed my chance.

I was pretty devastated and went to Billy's work because it was right around the corner from the theater.
I ordered a "Derby" which is a twist on a Mint Julep, and some tofu buffalo wings. I felt so unaccomplished and sluggish, yet buzzing with unfulfilled energy. I knew that I had to get it out of my body somehow, though I definitely did not feel like exercising because then I would mess up my perfect hair :) So I sat Charlie Brown style at the bar, wrote this poem and ate blue cheese to cure my blues.


April's Fool

All dressed up,
But no one to sing to.
No nervous laughter,
No interested brow raised.
No energy shift,
No inner voice phased.

I had hopes,
To reap what I'd worked for,
A balanced future,
Relief for a crowded mind.
The chance to stick around,
To avoid the grind.

I sit here,
With nothing to drink to.
No satisfaction,
The sting that makes one humble,
Eating blue cheese tears.
Trying not to crumble.

For my "Arrested Development" fans!

"Dear Daddy" a poem by Jess Coffman

I wrote this poem last year for my Dad for Father's Day. My Dad is truly one-of-a-kind, one to be celebrated and thanked. 

Dear Daddy

A Daddy is someone who tickles you in bed,

Then tucks you in tight from your feet to your head.

But when dreams are scary and give you a fright,

Daddy let's you sleep in his armpit all night.

A Dad is someone who sings you awake,

Who makes you laugh after a dreaded earthquake.

He'll give you a ride on the back of his bike,

And teach you that life is a wonderful hike.

A Father is someone who shows the right way,

And keeps you in line when you're starting to stray.

He scares all your dates,  He only wants the best.

Though you felt confined then, Now you see you were blessed.

A Friend is someone who travels to see,

You fulfill your dreams without fame or money.

He listens to your thoughts and helps explain boys,

He shares his life wisdom and shares in your joys. 

My Dad is someone who I'll love all my days,

For his strong, supportive, and humorous ways.

He's one-of -a-kind, and I thank God above,

For his leadership, loyalty and unending love. 

" On the other side of 'Sometimes' " a poem by Jess Coffman

This poem is written as a follow-up to my last poem entitled "Sometimes." It is stunning,  the kind of clarity you can get regarding forgiveness when you find yourself needing it. 

On the other side of 'Sometimes'

Elbows brush,

Tension stings through,

I have no idea what to do.

I cannot sleep,

I long to touch,

But I've hurt you just a little too much.

I wish to blink.

To find morning here,

The silent storm passed,

The sky clear.

But instead I wait, 

Now on the other side,

Without Victory, without pride. 

I whisper apologies,

in your hair,

I've been stubborn, 

I've been unaware. 

Awaiting Relief,

In need of Forgiving,

What a lesson in Love,

What a lesson in Living. 

These photos are of the same bronze statue within the Rodin Museum in Philadelphia. I unfortunately did not write down the name of this statue, but her prominent elbows and conflicted form created the perfect image to accompany this poem for me. 

"Sometimes" A poem by Jess Coffman

Sometimes

Sometimes, it is so hard for me to forgive you.
Sometimes, forgiving feels like I'm saying that I approve of the hurt that you have caused me.
Sometimes, after I forgive, my pain still lingers and turns into other emotions.
Sometimes, it feels like I can't bring up my hurt feelings anymore after I have forgiven you.
Sometimes, the pain fades, but the memory of that pain can't be erased.
Sometimes, I feel like I am nagging, if I tell you that you have hurt me again.
Sometimes, I feel that forgiveness is letting you off  the hook, when you don't really deserve it.
Sometimes, you don't make a deliberate attempt to right your wrongdoing clearly to me.
Sometimes, I make excuses for you.
Sometimes, I'm afraid that I have forgiven you for something that you might hurt me with again.
Sometimes, forgiving you, makes me feel that I have lost and you have won.
Sometimes, I feel that forgiveness is weakness.


"Forgiveness gives us the capacity to make a new start.. And forgiveness is the grace by which you enable the other person to get up, and get up with dignity, to begin anew..." - Desmond Tutu

Helpful Vocab. 

Grace (n.) - 1. courteous goodwill

                    2. the free and unmerited favor of God, as manifested in the salvation of sinners and the       bestowal of blessings  

Synonyms - 2. courtesy, decency, respect, manners, 

                    3. favor, approval, regard, acceptance 

Dignity (n.) - 1. the state or quality of being worthy of honor or respect

                      3. A sense of pride in oneself; self-respect

Synonyms - gravity, self-worth, self-esteem, pride 

"The Unexpected Kind" A poem by Jess Coffman

It is so weird how things work out sometimes. 

Last night at work I served two gentlemen from Salt Lake City, Utah. They came in early and the restaurant was slow, so I was able to chat with them for a bit. They were delighted to hear that I had worked for Tuacahn last summer, which is a beautiful outdoor amphitheater in Utah. Some members of their family had taken the four hour drive from Salt Lake to St. George to see the two productions that I had performed in. These men smiled frequently, were respectful and relaxed, and it brought back a flood of beautiful memories from last summer. 

Later in the night, four women sat down in the exact same booth as the guys from Salt Lake. It was a lively group of young women, so I asked them if they were celebrating anything special. A beautiful woman with a slicked tight bun and bangs,  said that they were celebrating her new job and move to Salt Lake City! I told her of the kind men from Salt Lake that were in that same booth earlier in the night. She said that it must be a sign that going to Salt Lake was the right thing to do. That is totally what I thought too. 

So at some point last night while I was reminiscing of blazing hot performances in a red rock canyon, gorgeous hikes at Zion National Park and laying under millions of stars at late night parties, I remembered this poem. But, it was a smiling picture posted on Facebook this morning of my cast last summer, that warmed my heart and made me really want to post this poem. 

There is this amazing restaurant in Ivins, Utah called Xetava where I would get brunch with my friends last summer. Truth be told, alcohol is a scarcity in Utah and Xetava was one of the only places that you could get a much needed Mimosa or homemade Sangria with brunch. That is what brought us out there at first, but what kept me going back was this amazing artistic, desert beauty, free-flowing awesome vibe that it had. On the day that I wrote this poem, I was going out to the Xetava area to get my brakes replaced on my car. So my plan was to drop off the car and then walk to Xetava to chill out until my car was ready. Well, I had completely underestimated the distance between the repair shop and Xetava. It was really only about 4 miles, which is not that big of a deal, but I was walking along a somewhat lonely desert highway in over 100 degree heat. Honestly, when I arrived at Xetava I really felt like I had gone through something. That hour or so that I was walking was an hour of absolute fear and regret. I had been so afraid of either getting bitten by a rattlesnake, stepping in some poisonous desert bush, getting run over by a speeding car, attacked by an army of scorpions or simply melting to death under the sun where no one would find me for hours. When I finally got to Xetava, I was exhausted and relieved. This is where I met the sweet stranger who inspired this poem.  

The beauty inside Xetava. 

The Unexpected Kind

An Unexpected act of Kindness,

Is Honestly my favorite kind.

When a total Stranger cares for me,

It Feeds my Soul and Blows my mind.

There was no favor to repay me.

This woman didn’t know my name.

She had never seen my face before,

We had no past that I could claim.

She saw the drops of sweat on my brow,

And wiped her wetted brow too.

But an unlucky day had left me without,

The money for a hot brew.

So, I found the best seat by a window.

The cactus stayed still in the breeze.

I wrote of the desert’s dry beauty,

My pen took the challenge with ease.

Then all of a sudden she tapped me,

And asked if I’d like to enjoy

A hot mug filled with understanding,

Though the foam was milk and not soy.

Of course I accepted it gladly,

And was so grateful for her grace.

It inspired me to spread kindness,

To the next unfamiliar face.

"Monsters In the Closet" a poem by Jess Coffman

So, I was thinking of things that I uniquely find beautiful in the world, and my mind rushed to this Youtube video of my friends Jesse and Sebastian. As a friend, artist, dancer and person in love, this was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IySnMIKNVtw

Jesse and I met last summer when we were both working for Tuacahn Amphitheater. We started a weekly "Sunday Night Dinner," with a few other friends, and over those home cooked meals, warm summer night walks and bottles of wine, we found out that we are quite similar people. We are similar in the way that we love our significant other, our sometimes jealous tendencies, our creative dreams, our calm, our hard-working natures and our love for food and friends.

In one of our talks, Jesse told me that he had had to keep his relationship with Sebastian a secret from some of the members of his family for years. This is before he posted his proposal video on Youtube for the world to see :) When his family came to visit for the show, he took down his vision board in his room because it would reveal that he was gay. One of his roommates put a hat on to look more like a "dude." I was in disbelief and so sad that people who I respect and care for very much, aren't allowed to share their love freely. I couldn't imagine not talking about the one that I love to my family. And not only that, I couldn't imagine having to lie everyday about who I really am to the people who are supposed to support me the most.

This poem is for Jesse, Sebastian and every other homosexual friend in my life.

Monsters In the Closet

There are many ignorant people,

In name of submitting to Grace,

That set the boundaries of another's life,

Without ever seeing his face. 

I know of grown men who go untouched,

Because they've been told they are tainted.

The woman who dreams in the breast of another,

Is a woman that's never been sainted.

So, she surrenders her body with disgust,

And he contemplates a bleeding wrist,

Surrounded by the screams of intolerant voices,

For this we raise our fists, for life saving choices.

So little children, all ears,

Monsters in you closet aren’t your fears,

Unless your preference is your Same,

Then You are the Monster locked up with Shame.

Beauty and Bravery

"Differences are not intended to separate, to alienate. We are different precisely to realize our need of one another." -Archbishop Desmond Tutu

It has come to my attention that I may have a different definition of beauty and a different lifestyle than some of my readers. My thoughts and opinions are uniquely my own, just as yours are uniquely your own. The goal of this blog is to post my poems, which are personal and important to me. This is also a place for me to share inspiration that I have found and a place where I can quietly speak my mind. I am not posting anything, that I am not comfortable with the world seeing. If my posts have caused a stir of emotion in you in anyway, I consider that a success for me. I believe that the point of art is to connect people, stir emotions inside of us, help us to become aware and empathetic with one another and to potentially cause shifts in perspective and beliefs.

I invite anyone who feels moved and brave enough, to post a comment on my blog and let me know firsthand. I will consider and respect all opinions, even if I don't agree with them.

Thank-you.

"Don't Follow the Sheep" A poem by Jess Coffman

Happy June 3rd!

Today is my Dad's 55th birthday making him officially a senior citizen! Though you would never guess it from his comedic  "Zumba Dad Killin' It" video on Youtube below: 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ZjbUMfpuBE

If you took the 37 seconds to watch that video like 286 people have before you, you would conclude that this Dad is probably a blast. And you would be right. He is a very passionate, wacky, hard-working, loyal, sometimes outrageous  Dad, who I love very much. 

We weren't always the best of friends when I was a kid. It was stressful in my house growing up, and passion has many different definitions. Meaning, that he could feel passionate about making us crack-up and successfully do so, or work himself into a fit of angry passion. But as we have both gotten older our relationship has flourished and I now call him with joys, fears, advice and good conversation. Though we do differ greatly on so many social issues, we are learning to respect each other's views. He is not only my Dad, but actually my best straight guy friend too :) 

This poem is inspired directly from some unique advice that he has given me in my adult years. He always says "Don't follow the sheep," meaning don't be like everyone else. He says that wherever the "sheep" are going, go in the complete opposite direction. He says to " put exactly what you want out into the universe" and if I believe in the power of the universe and God, I will get it. 

On his birthday, I dedicate this poem to my Dad. 

Don’t Follow the Sheep

A man who I love, once said to me… 

“Do yourself a favor... 

Don’t follow the sheep.

If the sheep go North…go East, South or West.

Go alone, Find your own,  to become your personal best.”

Seek an Unknown path, letting Fear point the way.

He'll majestically lead you forward each day. 

Dismiss those who lovingly cry out with doubt,

If you steer from within, you won't be without. 

I also wanted to include this beautiful quote that I heard today. 

"Coming true is not the only purpose of a dream, it's most important purpose is to get us in touch with where dreams come from, where passion comes from, where happiness comes from. Even a shattered dream can do that for you." 

- Lisa Bu 

Watch Lisa Bu's short and sweet Ted Talk about the power of books to uncover dreams. 

http://www.ted.com/talks/lisa_bu_how_books_can_open_your_mind.html

Thanks for reading and have a beautiful day!