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live it to give it is all about love and connection. Being authentic. Living our lives and sharing it with others. Life is messy and so is this blog. Somedays my organized coach self shows up. Other days it's my vulnerable author. There's a mom that lives inside me alongside a wife, friend, creative muse, ponderer extraordinaire, and multitude of others. I'll introduce you to people who inspire me and offer a peek into my world that very likely intersects with your world. In other words, I will share life in its full, glorious mess with you. I'm honored you're here and I hope you'll come back soon!!  Cheers! Kayce 


Entries in Other Poets (47)


better late than never

Of those who draw them to
the extreme verge,
the edge
that crackles:
that is
your beauty:
that is what
you do.

-Hilda Morley, “The Wild Cherry Tree”

a little late to the poetry party, i still wanted to share how these two images from abbey of the arts came together for me.


a little space

Come near, that no more blinded by man's fate,
I find under the boughs of love and hate,
In all poor foolish things that live a day,
Eternal beauty wandering her way.

Come near, come near, come near--Ah, leave me still
A little space for the rose-breath to fill!

--William Butler Yeats

the sun is shining
the fog is lifting
words of beauty speak again
my eyes have opened
my heart is grateful
friends have drawn near &
still left me space for breath to fill.

blessings to all who read here today. peace.


a sign perhaps?

At the crossroads,
where one could go either direction;
she chose the road less traveled
and that made all the difference.
It might have been easier
to take a conventional path
of relative safety and comfort;
of predictability and routine.
But she wanted to fly to the far edges of things,
to venture beyond the horizon
where adventures beckoned,
curious and irresistible,
shaped by constant change.
No set boundaries
for this small town girl,
always longing for excitement
and new discoveries.
Even if the road proved bumpy and long,
pearls of wisdom produced along the way:
unexpected blessings.

© Tara Bradford @ paris parfait

see related post here as well as more visual journal pages at lucy creates!!!


Guest House

I have been away for a few days only returning last evening. My desire is to connect and touch my friends through this space, but I am feeling the need to stay with myself for a bit longer. Nevertheless, this poem greeted me today and it speaks much to where I am. So, this is my offering for the day along with this fabulous new photo by bill.

This being human is a guest house
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.



Wobbling Well

Lots of thoughts stirring around today in the pondering pool. My post of Thursday, Harmony, brought out some wonderful responses and therefore many more thoughts to consider on this topic. One sentence particularly resonated with me from Country Parson who said, “Maybe holy sanity is more about wobbling along in the right direction and hitting that moment of balance now and then without being consumed by staying there.”

This was a statement that felt particularly true and doable and sane to me. I hope that I can manage to wobble along through this life well. Wobbling well. ☺ I think I’ll ponder on that one a bit more.

“Hitting the moment of balance” also reminded me of a lovely poem by Denise Levertov. So, here it is:

Once Only

All which, because it was
flame and song and granted us
joy, we thought we’d do, be, revisit,
turns out to have been what it was
that once, only; every initiation
did not begin
a series, a build-up: the marvelous
did happen in our lives, our stories
are not drab with its absence: but don’t
expect now to return for more. Whatever more
there will be will be
unique as those were unique. Try
to acknowledge the next
song in its body-halo of flames as utterly
present, as now or never.

google image photo

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