Category Archives: PEACE

He starts each day before it is a day, the little kitchen spreading buttered light across the yard while he stokes up the stove and warms his pot of porridge.

The Farmer – Philip Hodgin

2 nationalgeograp401921nati_0097


(seiko udoku)

clear sky, cultivate, rainy, reading
Farm when it’s sunny, read when it rains.

Read more:

Where did you come from, Baby dear? Out of the everywhere into the here. Where did you get your eyes so blue? Out of the sky as I came through. [George MacDonald (1824-1905), Scottish poet. At the Back of the North Wind

0 0 0 czanne00czuoft_0011

A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials, heavy and sudden, fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends who rejoice with us in our sunshine, desert us when troubles thicken around us, still will she cling to us, and endeavour by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness, and cause peace to return to our hearts.  

Washington Irving

Read more wishes and quotes:

Naething sae crouse as a new washed louse.

” Spoken of them who have been ragged and dirty, and are proud and fond of new or clean clothes.” — Kelly.

0 0 0 mycosmopolitanye00cran_0343

The new Era

The new era has begun.
This is an era of peace and prosperity, and light everywhere.
In each heart is hope, aspiration, a celestial desire to justify its own existence on this planet.
In this era of peace and content….. all have there own dreams and wishes…
And one day this age shall begin.
Where there shall be no losers but only winners.
One day each good heart shall be happy.
Each person will be born equal.
Each one shall have equal resources and none shall be considered to be greater than the other.
There shall be no bias of resources and opportunities.
And hence each one would get exactly that which he deserves.
What an age this would be …. Where god shall dwell in each good mans heart.

–Sagar Patil

The heron blames the water because he cannot swim.

0 grayladybirdssto00wrigrich_0101

by Wendell Berry

When despair grows in me
and I wake in the middle of the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting for their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

I like to sleep In a cosy bed, With a blanket for my feet And a pillow for my head.



“I’ve always envied people who sleep easily. Their brains must be cleaner, the floorboards of the skull well swept, all the little monsters closed up in a steamer trunk at the foot of the bed.”

― David Benioff, City of Thieves

“Peace?’ said Vetinari. ‘Ah, yes, defined as period of time to allow for preparation for the next war.” ― Terry Pratchett, Unseen Academicals

0 0 mudrasau00kata_0079

If we are peaceful, if we are happy, we can smile and blossom like a flower, and everyone in our family, our entire society, will benefit from our peace.
Thich Nhat Hanh

“A man is not called wise because he talks and talks again; but if he is peaceful, loving and fearless then he is in truth called wise.” Siddhārtha Gautama Buddha.


“The Yen Buddhists are the richest religious sect in the universe. They hold that the accumulation of money is a great evil and a burden to the soul. They therefore, regardless of personal hazard, see it as their unpleasant duty to acquire as much as possible in order to reduce the risk to innocent people.”

― Terry Pratchett, Witches Abroad


God changes appearances every second. Blessed is the man who can recognize him in all his disguises.


One moment he is a glass of fresh water, the next, your son bouncing on your knees or an enchanting woman, or perhaps merely a morning walk.  Nikos Kazantzakis1 1 1 1 1 bookoffairypoetr00owen_0010

A Blessing from Syria

May God, the unsearchable abyss of peace, the ineffable sea of love,
the fountain of blessings, and the bestower of affection,
who sends peace to those that receive it,
open to you this day the sea of His love,
and water you with plenteous streams from the riches of His grace.
May God make you a child of quietness, and heir of peace.
May God enkindle in you the fire of His love.
May God strengthen your weakness with His power.
May God bind you and me and everyone else closely to Him and to each other in one firm and indissoluble bond of unity.

-Adapted from a prayer from the Syrian Clementine Liturgy

While vile mutants still draw breath, there can be no peace. While obscene heretics’ hearts still beat, there can be no respite. While faithless traitors still live, there can be no forgiveness. Catechism of Hate Verse I of XXV. Silver Skulls




1 1 1 1 1 a2nthologiedartfr00saun_0071

Another Awkward Stage Of Convalescence

Drunk, I kissed the moon
where it stretched on the floor.
I’d removed happiness from a green bottle,
both sipped and gulped
just as a river changes its mind,
mostly there was a flood in my mouth


1 1 1 1 1 a3nthologiedartfr00saun_0071

Chronicle (Adelaide, SA : 1895 – 1954), Thursday 29 July 1954

1 1 1 1 1 1 Chronicle (Adelaide, SA - 1895 - 1954), Thursday 29 July 1954

1 1 1 1 1 anthologiedartfr00saun_0071



Underneath a tree I lie,
Watching with lack lustre eye,
All those little trivial things
Weakness after sickness brings;
Watching birds flit to and fro;
Watching how the grasses grow;
Watching how the leaves and trees
Blend in Autumn harmonies
And wise insects, taught by God,
Build their shelters in the sod.

Oh, how low the pride of men
Falls and grovels meekly, when
Convalescence comes at last
After long borne sufferings past,
E’en the arrogance of pain
That strange vanity – is vain
And he lies, a stricken thing,
Bereft of even suffering.

All is gone – the pain, the pride;
Arrogance is laid aside.
And he owes all things he’d do
To some worthier being, who,
Out of charity, shall seek
To assist the helpless weak
Out of charity to lend
Splendid strength he is to spend.

So beneath the tree I lie,
Reading with a languid eye
Views of that and views of this
In a world so long amiss,
And, by some strange alchemy,
Suddenly it seems to me
That, as Earth’s wild turmoils cease,
Comes convalescence now and peace.

Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis



1 1 1 1 1 a2nthologiedartfr00saun_0071

Relevailles home

Description: perinatal assistant or aide-mom went to the mother’s home in the weeks after giving birth to a half-day to listen, encourage, inform, answer questions, support in the the organization of daily life (food, maintenance) and offer respite.

“There is only one cure for grey hair. It was invented by a Frenchman. It is called the guillotine.” ― P.G. Wodehouse


1  1 1 1 1 1 drawingsofrembra00bell_0091

“When You Are Old”

WHEN you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.”

W.B. Yeats

And ev’ry morn he walked to town.




The Argus (Melbourne, Vic. : 1848 – 1957), Friday 30 May 1952The Argus (Melbourne, Vic. - 1848 - 1957), Friday 30 May 1952


Brown’s Tram

by C. J. Dennis (1876-1938)

Australian writer

A city clerk was Henry Brown,
Whose suburb knew nor tram nor train;
And ev’ry morn he walked to town.

From nine till five, with busy brain,
He labored in an office dim.
Each eve he walked out home again.

And all this tramping seemed to him
A waste of time, for, ‘mid the strife,
He could not keep his lawn in trim.

It clouded his domestic life –
This going early, coming late –
And much distressed his little wife.

Then some wise man declared the State
Should put in trams, and for this scheme
Brown was a red-hot advocate.

At last he realised his dream;
And daily in and out of town
He trammed it with content supreme.

For, though it cost him half-a-crown
A week in fares, the time he saved
Meant much to him and Mrs. Brown.

And so they lived and pinched and slaved
And their suburban happiness
Seemed all that they had ever craved.

The little wife began to bless
The trams; nor grieved their meagre dole
Was weekly two and sixpence less.

Then Brown’s employer, kindly soul,
Learned of this tram-car luxury,
And promptly rose to take his toll.

He sent for Brown and said that he
Should now contrive to come at eight
Since trams blessed his vicinity.

He also deemed it wise to state
That idleness begat much ill,
And it was wrong to sleep in late.

Yet Brown contrived to tram it still,
And trim his lawn with tender care,
And pay his rent and baker’s bill.

His little wife vowed it unfair;
But bowed to stern, relentless fate,
And smiled and sewed and worked her share.

Just here, the landlord wrote to state,
Since trams improved his property,
He’d raise the rent as from that date.

“Three shillings weekly will not be
Too much – an equitable rise,
Considering the trams,” wrote he.

What profit oaths or women’s sighs?
His “sacred rights,” of wealth the fount,
A landlord has to recognise.

To what do poor clerks’ lives amount?
An extra hour of slavery
Swells an employer’s bank account.

The wealthy boss thanks God that he
Has saved some money out of Brown.
The landlord smiles contentedly.

The trams run gaily up and down,
A sight Brown sadly notes as he
Plods daily in and out of town.

memory breathes her vesper sigh to thee. And, as I watch the line of light, that plays Along the smooth wave toward the burning west,


There is in every human heart,
Some not completely barren part,
Where seeds of truth and love might grow, 
And flowers of generous virtue flow;
To plant, to watch, to water there,
This be our duty, be our care.

– Sir John Bowring (English author, poet, political economist, and 4th governor of Hong Kong; b. 1792 – d. 1872), from Matins and Vespers: With Hymns and Occasional Devotional Pieces(1827)

In the moment of crisis, the wise build bridges and the foolish build dams. ~ Nigerian


foto of the urunga footbridge in nsw australia at the mouth of the kalang and bellinger rivers into the pacific ocean


Gumbaynggirr by Travis Blair

“Gather round me children

There’s a story I’ll tell you,

A story about our heritage

A place where we go for a chew.

This place once looked so different

Mangrove trees and river gums,

An abundance of fishing

I encouraged friends to come.

We’d go fishing for Flathead

With our bottle lines and dough

Trying our skills not to tangle

Our lines but we’d have a go.

As we fished the sun shone

We shared our stories and dreams

Hoping our children would continue

Our tradition and what it means.

The white man thought it was better

Destroying my family’s sacred place

Removing all trees and making it a park

And calling it a “community space”.

How can it be a community space?

When the families have left

The place lonely and uninviting,

It hurts inside my chest.

How can my children learn about

Their culture and family?

The laws of survival, the Dreaming

And becoming more manly.

The white man they say “sorry”

yet I still feel sadness and sorrow

I have let down my ancestors

But yet we’ll still live with it tomorrow.
Read more:

Your tenderness has given me love to keep nigh

Tenderness, a poem by Helen Margaret Crutchett, Australia

1 1 1 1 1 tenderness

“What is Christmas? It is tenderness for the past, courage for the present, hope for the future. It is a fervent wish that every cup may overflow with blessings rich and eternal, and that every path may lead to peace.” 

Agnes M. Pharo