Cynthia A. Morgan's Blog, page 58

Waiting for Humankind – #Poetry of #Inspiration & #Hope

Pirouetting in my Mind,
A subtle, Transient, dizzying rhyme;
Countless stars that dance in the night,
Each one blazing, an Exquisite Sight.

Tumbling past my Languid gaze
Into the distant billowing Haze,
A Fiery sojourner, rending the sky,
Tempting the onlooker to question Why.

Seeking the Temple of the Dream,
Our Endless, Recurring, Speculative theme;
While Promise sits on yonder Morn,
Waiting for Humanity to be Born.

 

~Morgan~

What I Can Do – #InspirationalQuotes

I cannot do Everything,
but I Can do Something.
And I will not let what I cannot do
interfere with what I Can do.

-Edward Everett Hale

~Morgan~

A Thousand Souls Parading – #Poetry of #Faith & #Spirituality

Darkness reflects my Seeking Gaze
as I Stare Out Beyond this Staging,
And See the Shimmering, Dancing Lights
Of A Thousand Souls Parading.

Apathy Enfolds me as I Sleep,
The dark and friendless hours of Night,
Beyond the Touch of a single Human Hand
to Comfort me in my Plight.

Ennui Steals my Impetus,
Careworn and Desensitized I stare,
In the Echo of Insidious Thought,
Where All Purpose seems Stripped Bare.

Yet, Beyond where man has ever stood,
One Answer Exceeds the strife,
An Answer Accepted Keenly by my Heart,
Transforming the Tedium of Life.

Imposing no Proviso,
No Alteration Justified,
Just as Perfection formed Me
Loving All that was and is inside.

~Morgan~
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Beautiful artwork found on google

Shake It – Just a Few #Thoughts About What We Don’t Do

I used to go dancing a lot, nearly every weekend. Same place, certainly nothing fancy, but there was a proper DJ, a few good friends, and a fancy to flirt with. Oh it was fun! Yet, now, I don’t go as much. In truth, it’s been years, even though I love to dance, love to hear the driving beat matching my pounding pulse, love to shake what the Good Lord gave me. Yes, I know how. I don’t get out there on the floor only after I’ve had one too many making every step a misstep, every turn a potential disaster, and I certainly don’t do that “White Girl” dance that looks more like there’s a queue for the loo than an expression of rhythmic ecstasy going on.

So why is it, then, that I have abstained for so long? The place is still there, the friends are still about, even the DJ is still in attendance on his given night, but, for whatever reason, I stopped going. Too many late nights? No. That’s the beauty of Saturdays. Not enough “fundage” to foot the bill? Never. Dancing is free; it’s the drinking that is costly. Got bored with the same ol’ scene…ok maybe, but I never went to parade my assets to the flesh market; I only ever went to dance, have a good time and a lot of laughs.

Why, then, deny myself something I enjoy; something that made me giggle, something from which I have dozens of great memories, something that made me feel so good? Job responsibilities got in the way, boyfriend at the time had something to say, supposed spiritual antithesis made me feel I rather ought to pray, not sure which, but something wouldn’t let me play (sorry, it’s the poet in me!) Whatever it was, I simply stopped going.

This happens, though, doesn’t it. Whether it’s the club where we love to dance, or the gym where we work out (and prance? Sorry!) Whether it’s the afternoon game at school we always used to go to, or the local theatre meeting we just can’t find time for anymore, or the church service of a Sunday that we used to attend; there always seems to be something that we sacrifice in order to satisfy the demands and pressures of our lives. It’s the extra job so we can buy a new car, or the late hours at the office so we can pay our inflated mortgage; it’s the dinner party that keeps us from spending time with our children, or the sheer exhaustion of it all that keeps us from getting up off the couch to give our bodies a little physical stimulation (behave now, I mean working out here!)

In the end, though, what are we gaining? Stress? Hassles? Dissatisfaction? 30 extra pounds and borderline diabetes? Estranged loved ones? Lonely children? Insomnia? A Life without Purpose? The list can go on and on. You know what they say: All work and no play….All Stress and no Pray….

My Point? (yes, you and I both know I don’t really need one, but once again you are in luck) What I’m saying is simply this: Grab your i-whatever devise and go for a walk. Strap on a helmet and take a spin on that bicycle that’s been sitting (or hanging) in your garage for years. Pick up a ball or a doll and play with your baby before they grow up and don’t want you around. Or better yet, put on your little black dress (unless you’re a man, of course! In that case put on something sleek and sexy that shows off your best attribute), call up some friends and Go Shake Your Grove Thang!

Because the fun you have and the inspiration you achieve will last a vast while longer than any false sense of accomplishment you may gain by working late or ignoring your mate.

~Morgan~

OH My Love – #LovePoems & #Poetry of #Passion

Where wilt Thou go
Oh My Love,
Where my Soul would not Follow?
Unto the very Ends of the Earth,
Past Orion,
Beyond the Seas of Stars,
Even there I shall Follow Thee,
Oh My Love.

For even as Time
Slips ever onward,
Entrapping and Enwrapping us
In Its Cosmic Web,
My Heart will Seek Thee, Eternally,
Questing after Thy Love,
Desiring only The Touch of Thy Hand,
Yearning for the Sweet Wine of Thy Loving Kiss,
Oh My Love.

In all my Life, as Truest Breath can tell,
I have Known Thee,
Loved Thee,
Waited upon Thee,
Longed for Thee,
Seen Thee in all others, who pale by comparison
To Thy Beauty.
Oh My Love.

Thine is my Heart,
Thine is my Soul,
Given Freely,
Yearning Ever,
Breathlessly Patient
For Thee,
Oh My Love.

~Morgan~
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Photography found at: http://www.mojan.com

Kissed by Light – #Poetry of #Spirituality and #Faith

Time is Waiting, standing still,
While Daylight pauses on the Terrestrial windowsill.

Night is Lurking, drawing Near,
While I lie here fighting perpetual Doubt and Fear.

The Moon is rising, Kissed by Light,
As I Pray to the Heavens to make Everything Right.

The Stars will track Erebus, and then fade,
As another Day breaks into Night’s Shade,

And I will Wait, with Breath bated,
For the Love that is Coming, Promised and Fated;

For even as Day turns ever to Night,
Faith Brings Heavens Blessings and Guided Sight.

~Morgan~
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Beautiful Image found at Dreamstime.com

Always – #LovePoems

Touch the Flame to the Burning Candle

And Brighten this darkness with Your Love,

For as Sweet as any Wine could Intoxicate,

You Bring Bliss to my Fragile state.

Caress my Senses with Your Softest Smile,

While the Moon steps Indistinctly onward,

For as Breathlessly as any Dream could Beguile,

You bring Abandon to my Pounding Heart.

Tempt my Imagination with Your Eloquence Sublime

And Stare into me like an Angel, Knowing All,

For as Divine as any Love could ever Be,

Are you, My Precious Darling,

Always,

To Me.

~Morgan~

My Love for You – #LovePoetry

My Love for You
is akin to Submersing myself
in the most Exquisite and Complex book,
Each page a Discovery more
Beautiful,
Entrancing,
Appealing,
Compelling,
Alluring,
Mesmeric,
Pleasurable,
Rapturous than the last,
Where I am Hungry for Each Word,
Each Delicious Phase,
Turning page after page after page,
Delighting in what I’ve tasted already;
Beguiled by the Intrigues yet to come;
Captivated by the Mystery Unraveling before my eyes;
Thirsting for more, and more, and more, and more.
My Love for You is like reading my Favourite book,
Impossible to lay aside;
Waking me in the dark of night;
Filling my mind with Fantastical Imagery;
Playing on my Emotions with Deliberate Skill.
My love for You is like the words of the most Eloquent Poet,
Tempting,
Entreating,
Dizzying,
Spellbinding,
Instilling in me an Endless Parade of Sensation,
Shaped by You,
Guided by You,
Lured by You,
Each Page a Treasure far more Prized than the last.
And when I reach the Conclusion,
When the final Phrase is Savoured to the Fullest;
I Close the book,
Sigh Prodigiously,
And Open it Anew,
To Endlessly,
Incessantly,
Perceive the Wonder of You.

~Morgan~
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Beautiful Photograph found on Pinterest. Credit Acknowledged to the Original photographer.

Making History Through #Music & #Handbells

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My Beautiful and Talented niece, Katelyn, studied Music Education and Sacred Music at Lebanon Valley College. In her senior year, one requirement of graduating with Departmental Honors is that she gives a musical recital. She performed the first half of the recital last week, in which she not only played 58 handbells in varying technical styles, which is impressive all by itself, but she also made LVC history. She was the first person to give a solo handbell recital since the college was founded in 1866! To say that I am SO PROUD of her is stating the obvious. To say that she did such a marvelous job that even her professor said she “blew it out of the water” is quoting the teacher (also the pianist) herself.

I hope you will take a few moments to check out her Amazing performance. Whether you love handbell music or not, I’m sure you will enjoy it.

The Program she performs is:
A Sacred Harp Tune – Arr. Christine Anderson (1949)
If Thou Art Near (Bist Du Bei Mir) – JS Bach (1685-1750) Arr. Christine Anderson
Air – JS Bach (1685-1750) Arr. Christine Anderson
Sheep May Safely Graze – (Duet with Fellow Student) – JS Bach (1685-1750) Arr. Gumma
The Girl With Flaxen Hair – C Debussy ( 1862-1918) Arr. Brocker
Sabre Dance – Khachaturian (1903-1978) Arr. Liao

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~Morgan~

Translation: Journey to Elysium – An #Author’s #Perspective on #Acting

Some people love to read. They devour books in days, feasting upon them, one after the other like a box of chocolates left open in a room filled with hungry people. They are the speed readers, capable of interpreting 1000 words a minute; they turn pages like a camera snapping pictures, but do they truly enjoy the beauty of the written words? Do they share the emotions of the characters and grasp the subtle connotations being so generously offered by the writer or do they simple read, following the Get it, Got it, Good, Moving On mentality.

Believe it or not, I don’t read a lot of books. I tend to be a slow reader, painfully slow. I read to myself the same way I would read aloud to someone else, with inflection, with emotion, and often I re-read passages several times to be sure I understand what is being said or not said, shown or not shown, felt or not felt, it’s the writer in me. Therefore, I do not often read the book when there’s sure to be a movie coming soon, anyway. There are, of course, exceptions. I have read Tolkien’s glorious trilogy; I’ve perused many of the historical reenactments of Philippa Gregory, and I’ve savoured the challenges of Dickens, Austin, and Poe, but more often than not completing one book takes me, on average, a year. Particularly because I detest abridged versions; if I cannot sink my teeth into the sumptuous banquet the author has created, in its entirety, and relish each delicious morsel, then I’d really rather not, thank you.

Some of us take days and others take months to absorb what’s scribed upon the page; it’s a form of translation and at the end of the day, it really doesn’t matter how long the process takes. Perception of an idea, ideal, symbol, or suggestion: this is the desired outcome, the goal of all authors, but there are many forms of translation and many levels to reaching the ultimate objective.

A book can sit on a dusty shelf in a library, patiently waiting to be picked up. It can be deviated into a shadow of its former self by one company or another, reducing it into bridge notes. It might be fortunate enough to be adapted into a performance worthy of the stage or it may achieve the dubious distinction of being made into a movie.

Translating a masterpiece of words, phrasing, sub-text, symbolism and point(s) of view into film is a daunting undertaking that I cannot even begin to fathom and would never take on, not for any inducement; however, having said as much, there are those individuals who prefer this painstakingly complex ordeal over the actual reading of said work of genius and I give them credit. Granted, there are far fewer remarkably stunning adaptations than there are second-rate disappointments, but this is the danger inherent in translation. Often, simply too much of the scope and magic of the original is lost in the conversion, for whatever reason: low budgets, creative differences, mediocre photography, deficient acting.

A perfect example of the blunder of taking an extraordinary book and slapping it in front of a camera with seemingly little forethought is the 1990 film Lord of The Flies. I LOVE the book, to me, it is unquestionably a magnum opus and I’ve read it more times than I care to mention. The intoxicating descriptions and profusion of symbolism throughout are enthralling. They are also the essence of the book, but when it was adapted for (this particular) film, those composing the translation seemed to pay little heed to the book’s all important imagery.

Simple things, like the colour of the characters hair, were disregarded. In the book, the protagonist, Ralph, is blond…and for good reason: he is the representation all that is good, light, and right in society. The book’s antagonist, Jack, has red hair and is described as quite unattractive…again, for a purpose. He represents all that is dark, savage and unbridled in the world. Two significant representations, but in the movie they are reversed. In fact, nearly ever symbol of the book was inverted or ignored in the movie and the result was utterly, devastatingly disappointing.

But for all the travesties of injustice that exist, there are also tour de force demonstrations of the exquisite magic that is possible when masterful and insightful directing, collaborative production, skillful artistry, breathtaking cinematography, and incomparable acting unite. When the final translation of a single idea, conceived in the mind of the author, takes on physical, emotional, and spiritual manifestation through the eloquence of an actor who is fully committed to the embodiment of the charade, all else pales by comparison.

For a book, and, often, for me, this is the moment Valhalla opens, the instant when Elysium comes into view, this is the Attainment of Utopia and the Achievement of Enlightenment. When the supreme privilege of witnessing the brilliance of perfectly executed translation brings us to the Gates of Heaven and we watch the magnificent spectacle in awe and adoration.

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~Morgan~