Monday, April 14, 2014

The Power of One

Often, I have thought and written about the power of words as well as the power of one person to make a change things.  The image of the ripple effect is used to show how Grace can touch one, then, radiate out to touch the multitudes.  

This week, I want to share a story and a poem.  The story was sent to me by my daughter, who is now nurturing daughters of her own. Together with her sisters, we have had many discussions on the recent trend to dress little girls (as young as infants!) in clothes that are totally, to us, inappropriate.  Don't get me wrong, I am not a prude, but seeing an infant in a black sequined diva dress, to me, sends the wrong message, as do the tight short shorts and skimpy tops for seven and eight year old girls. So, the following article was proof that even the little girls know that they are being exploited! (Click here to go to the article.)

Next up is a poem that also talks about the power of one and what I would do, it I had THE power.  This is from the Poem-a-Day challenge with Robert Lee Brewer on Writer's Digest.

If I Were the Power 

Things would be different - 
words meant to heal would turn a phrase 
into balm, washing over the sores caused 
by injustice, disease and pain. 
No one percent in my little world, 
all would equally enjoy the fruits of life - 
liberty and justice for all not merely 
a dream but a reality painted in humanity - 
rich dark chocolate, coffee latte, smooth mocha, 
butte red, buttery buff and vivacious vanilla - 
each tone, each shade unique in its own hue. 
If only I had the power to change hearts 
frozen by ego or greed or lack of tender hands 
gently guiding, the world would spin to the rhythm 
of ethereal music, cruising through space and time 
a shining example of the difference one could make 
if only they were power.

© Linda M. Rhinehart Neas 2014 

May we all see that we make a difference in this life...even when that difference is only to one person. May the ripples of our kindness, our creativity, our willingness to be there touch to the ends of creation and beyond.  NamastĂ©!

Monday, April 7, 2014

Vincent and I

 Starry Night by Vincent Van Gogh
Public Domain - Wikimedia Commons

Those that know me well, know that I have loved Vincent Van Gogh since childhood.  As a little girl, I believed that Starry Night was painted for me.  No one could dissuade me of this fact.

So as an adult poet/writer, it is not surprising that often my work become entwined with his.  Here are a few examples for your reading pleasure.

Alive with Color 
Like Vincent, I too am “alive with color.” 
With the artist’s eyes, 
I see the purple dark, 
Brightened by spiraling gold light. 
No monochrome existence - 
No shade of gray subsistence. 
I am a tropical village, alive 
With turquoise and salmon, 
Buttercup and lilac - 
Tones of singing color - 
Unafraid of my rainbow palate life, 
I paint the world! 

Linda M. Rhinehart Neas © 2014 

Vincent’s Sky 

In a life, long before now, 
you painted swirling lines of fire, 
scattered across a landscape 
of purple and blue. 
Your palate alive with opposites - 
Your brush creating words 
only the heart could read. 
Gifted master of untouched space, 
did you journey into the void 
in order to bring me this canvas 
filled with waking dreams – 
filled with illusory hopes - 
filled with the nomadic contemplations 
of a mind whirling into illusion? 

Linda M. Rhinehart Neas © 2014 

Your work forms 
a kaleidoscope of emotions - 
Sunflower joy 
illuminates the soul, 
like a white iris 
in a sea of blue, 
You stand - 
the sweetness of your soul 
hidden by the masses. 
The beauty of your touch 
fills blank space 
with whirling stars of light - 
winding through the groves of humanity.
You capture images of light and dark, 
space and form -
only to free them on canvases 
of perpetual vision. 

Linda M. Rhinehart Neas © York, ME 2000 


I was just a girl 
      when first we met. 
Your blazing Sunflower mornings
       Starry, Starry Nights 
filled my imagination - 

You took me 
      far from the brick 
and pavement of the city-

You opened 
      the door to dreams. 

I was just grown 
      when first I stood 
deep within the Olive Groves. 

Quiet conversations 
       on the Terrace CafĂ© at Night - 
             wind swept mountains 
and winding paths 
        led me home -
to you. 
© Linda M. Rhinehart Neas York, ME 1996