Elizabeth Melton Parsons

Writing~Art~Life


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10 Year Anniversary with WordPress

Today is my 10th anniversary on WordPress. Time does have a way of moving along, doesn’t it? Hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving. Below is a copy of my very first post from 10 years ago.

 

Another Blog? By Who?

First, I’d like to thank that wonderful lady from down under (Debbie Stevens) for putting me onto Word Press. Thanks, Deb.

Don’t you just love blogging? This is my fourth and I know people who have as many as ten. Amazing…! I haven’t decided yet what kind of blog this will be. I’m thinking along the lines of personal, rambling thoughts and day to day happenings in my life. Snooze……zzzzzzzz. Truly inspired, right? I live in a tiny rural community, so nothing of interest could possibly happen. Ah…not true. There have been some exciting, bazzar, and sometimes tragic occurrences around here. I doubt I will ever be at a loss for something to write about. And if ever I am, I’ll just blog about my dog, Charlie. Now there’s an interesting character.

Charlie is a seven-year-old 95 pound boxer, but he doesn’t know this. He has multiple personality disorder. Sometimes he imagines he’s Kudjo, sometimes a kitten or a human toddler, and at other times, he’s an opinionated politician. Charlie has more personality that I can sometimes deal with, but I love him inspite of that or perhaps because of it.

If you’ve stumbled onto my blog looking for something interesting and you’ve read this far without falling asleep–you are probably wondering who I am. If you’re bored and have nothing better to do, you can google me. That’s my real name up there on the top of the page, but I also write under the name E. G. Parsons. My coffee cup needs refilling, so I will say goodbye for now. Thanks for stopping by, come back any time. The door is always open.

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Song of the River

 

“SONG OF THE RIVER”

The snow melts on the mountain
And the water runs down to the spring,
And the spring in a turbulent fountain,
With a song of youth to sing,
Runs down to the riotous river,
And the river flows on to the sea,
And the water again
Goes back in rain
To the hills where it used to be.
And I wonder if Life’s deep mystery
Isn’t much like the rain and the snow
Returning through all eternity
To the places it used to know.

For life was born on the lofty heights
And flows in a laughing stream
To the river below
Whose onward flow
Ends in a peaceful dream.
And so at last,
When our life has passed
And the river has run its course,
It again goes back,
O’er the selfsame track,
To the mountain which was its source.

So why prize life
Or why fear death,
Or dread what is to be?
The river ran its allotted span
Till it reached the silent sea.
Then the water harked back to the mountaintop
To begin its course once more.

So we shall run the course begun
Till we reach the silent shore,
Then revisit earth in a pure rebirth
From the heart of the virgin snow.
So don’t ask why we live or die,
Or wither, or when we go,
Or wonder about the mysteries
That only God may know.

Clear Dotby William Randolph Hearst

More Acrylic Paintings

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This gallery contains 11 photos


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My Big Brother

I lost another brother this week. This poem is for John.

My Big Brother

with a personality larger than life.

Your big booming laugh and wild stories.

Your love of practical jokes

all played in good humor, not spite.

So daring, so bold,

So generous and kind.

The big brother every girl dreams of,

A brother to cherish and hold.

So many lessons learned,

You taught me to laugh, you taught me to love.

You treated me like a princess,

Protected and adored.

So many things shared,

So many things said.

Memories galore,

but never enough

never enough

copyright

Elizabeth Melton Parsons

 


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Deep in the Quiet Wood

Deep in the Quiet Wood

by James Weldon Johnson

Are you bowed down in heart?
Do you but hear the clashing discords and the din of life?
Then come away, come to the peaceful wood,
Here bathe your soul in silence. Listen! Now,
From out the palpitating solitude
Do you not catch, yet faint, elusive strains?
They are above, around, within you, everywhere.
Silently listen! Clear, and still more clear, they come.
They bubble up in rippling notes, and swell in singing tones.
Now let your soul run the whole gamut of the wondrous scale
Until, responsive to the tonic chord,
It touches the diapason of God’s grand cathedral organ,
Filling earth for you with heavenly peace
And holy harmonies.

Photo by Elizabeth Melton Parsons


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Blumen Baden~

I don’t often reblog, but if you love tulips, you need to check out Cindy’s post. Beautiful!


Baden-Baden’s spring bloom is just beginning.

The tulips on the Lichtenthaler Alle,

a strolling avenue and park,

that follows the River Oos,

are beginning their splendid spring bloom.


The park,

created in the 19th century,

is a wonderland of exotic plants and flowers.

Cheers to you from Baden-Baden’s glorious alle~

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