Mad Hater {S}! // KINDNESS

“MAD HATER{S}!” a poem June 6, 2019 (Thursday) Identifying a misanthrope – is not always very easy, For often the typical hater of humans – acts soft and kind of “please-y,” Adopting “positivity” as their professed point of view, When their REAL mission is life – is: simply CHANGING YOU! They would like to change … Continue reading MAD HATER {S}! →

Source: // KINDNESS

Editor says #AceNewsDesk reports & #Brittius says are provided by Sterling Publishing & Media News and all our posts, links can be found at here Live Feeds https://acenewsroom.wordpress.com/ Ace News Services Posts https://t.me/AceSocialNews_Bot and thanks for following as always appreciate every like, reblog or retweet and free help and guidance tips on your PC software or need help & guidance from our experts AcePCHelp.WordPress.Com or you can follow our breaking news posts on AceBreakingNews.WordPress.Com or become a member on Telegram https://t.me/acebreakingnews all private chat messaging on here https://t.me/sharingandcaring

Seven dates 👍 // Try to get it!

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When a muslem gets up early in the morning..it is advisable to eat seven dates before eating anything else.

Seven dates will protect you from any passive energy inside or outside .

Prophet Muhammad advised us to do this daily routine because it is so important for your balance.

If you have diabetes…you can have one date or three or five.You can ask your doctor for advice.

Seven dates is so impotant for a good health and a good life.

Prophet Muhammad said:

He who has a morning meal of seven ‘Ajwah dates will not suffer from any harm that day through poison or magic.
حَدَّثَنَا عُثْمَانُ بْنُ أَبِي شَيْبَةَ، حَدَّثَنَا أَبُو أُسَامَةَ، حَدَّثَنَا هَاشِمُ بْنُ هَاشِمٍ، عَنْ عَامِرِ بْنِ سَعْدِ بْنِ أَبِي وَقَّاصٍ، عَنْ أَبِيهِ، عَنِ النَّبِيِّ صلى الله عليه وسلم قَالَ ‏ “‏ مَنْ تَصَبَّحَ سَبْعَ تَمَرَاتِ عَجْوَةٍ لَمْ يَضُرُّهُ ذَلِكَ الْيَوْمَ سَمٌّ وَلاَ سِحْرٌ ‏”

Peace ☺

Source: // Try to get it!

Editor says #AceNewsDesk reports & #Brittius says are provided by Sterling Publishing & Media News and all our posts, links can be found at here Live Feeds https://acenewsroom.wordpress.com/ Ace News Services Posts https://t.me/AceSocialNews_Bot and thanks for following as always appreciate every like, reblog or retweet and free help and guidance tips on your PC software or need help & guidance from our experts AcePCHelp.WordPress.Com or you can follow our breaking news posts on AceBreakingNews.WordPress.Com or become a member on Telegram https://t.me/acebreakingnews all private chat messaging on here https://t.me/sharingandcaring

where the horizon meets the sea // The Lonely Author

where the horizon meets the sea

let me meander through your hair
watch the sunset on your flesh
explore your limits and frontiers
from the borders of your whisper
to the edges of your dreams
let me claim sovereignty
over all this beauty I see
for together we will discover
my love for you will end
in that infinite place
where the horizon meets the sea

Source: // The Lonely Author

Editor says #AceNewsDesk reports & #Brittius says are provided by Sterling Publishing & Media News and all our posts, links can be found at here Live Feeds https://acenewsroom.wordpress.com/ Ace News Services Posts https://t.me/AceSocialNews_Bot and thanks for following as always appreciate every like, reblog or retweet and free help and guidance tips on your PC software or need help & guidance from our experts AcePCHelp.WordPress.Com or you can follow our breaking news posts on AceBreakingNews.WordPress.Com or become a member on Telegram https://t.me/acebreakingnews all private chat messaging on here https://t.me/sharingandcaring

A Moment of Grace // Micheline’s Blog

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The Family of Trees
Félix Vallotton – 1922

I did not intend to write an article today. But I just realized today the anniversary of D-Day and I have a story to tell. In fact, it is a story I have already told, but…

One of my uncles survived D-Day for reasons he cannot understand. He then went north to Holland where he was asked to accompany prisoners of war who were being transported. They were seated at the back of a truck. All was well.

Out of the blue, one of the prisoners leaped from his seat and lowered my uncle’s body. My uncle nearly fell and he lost his rifle. The prisoner of war then helped him get up and retrieved his rifle. My uncle could not understand what had happened. So, the soldier showed my uncle a metal wire the truck had just driven past. It would have decapitated my uncle had this enemy not seen it and acted promptly.

This was a moment of grace and innocence. It was a moment so precious that my uncle never forgot. In peacetime, the two young men would have enjoyed a long conversation over coffee. War had separated them.

It has been seventy-five years. Yet, tears still come to my uncle’s eyes when he remembers.

Schubert, Trio op. 100 – Andante con moto

https://youtu.be/e52IMaE-3As

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Chrysanthemums and Autumn Foliage
Félix Vallotton – 1922

© Micheline Walker
6 June 2019
WordPress

Source: // Micheline’s Blog

Editor says #AceNewsDesk reports & #Brittius says are provided by Sterling Publishing & Media News and all our posts, links can be found at here Live Feeds https://acenewsroom.wordpress.com/ Ace News Services Posts https://t.me/AceSocialNews_Bot and thanks for following as always appreciate every like, reblog or retweet and free help and guidance tips on your PC software or need help & guidance from our experts AcePCHelp.WordPress.Com or you can follow our breaking news posts on AceBreakingNews.WordPress.Com or become a member on Telegram https://t.me/acebreakingnews all private chat messaging on here https://t.me/sharingandcaring

The Greatest Generation // Trump:The American Years

#DDay75thAnniversary pic.twitter.com/GIsoLML4NP

— Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump) June 6, 2019

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My dad was one of those young men who fought in WWII against Nazi Germany and fascism. He saw theater in Italy and even the execution of Mussolini.(We heard the story enough times). While he was off fighting for the freedom of the world,mom was back home waiting for him in a country hopeful that they would defeat Nazi Germany and the war would finally end.

Back here food was rationed and people made enormous sacrifices to help the war effort.There was no short supply of patriotism. There was a lot at stake in this war.We had to win.

Dad was one of the fortunate ones who came back. He married mom and they started their life together.There was no generation like theirs.Both mom and dad knew the meaning of sacrifice-of putting others before self.They were tough. They had been through a lot.

Their freedom came at a price. The flag was the symbol of everything good about our country.When these people pledged allegiance to the United States they understood perfectly well you couldn’t take your homeland for granted.They had thought the ocean between our country and the rest of the world guaranteed they’d be undisturbed.Pearl Harbor changed everything.

Young people of that era grew up quickly.Yet,they waited until they got married to be intimate. Divorce was a bad word in those days.My mom & dad were 2 of those people who waited for marriage even knowing he might not come back from the war.I couldn’t imagine the people of that era burning the flag or taking a knee during the anthem. They tried to pass onto the next generation the values that got them through those times.

Let’s not forget they had survived the Great Depression prior to WWII. My dad had to quit school in 8th grade to take jobs so he could help out his family.He spent his whole life working.He wasn’t one to sit still,even after retirement.

He always had to be doing something.The one thing he enjoyed most was his garden. The people from his era probably remember how everyone and his brother had a garden back in the day. It wasn’t a hobby.You could feed your family.

On Sundays-the one day dad would not let you so much as mow the lawn-we went to church.
They were people of faith. I don’t remember anyone in our neighborhood who did not go to church. My parents were devout Catholics.
The Greatest Generation had strong faith,timeless principles and unabashed patriotism.They knew that nothing was going to be handed to them.There’s so few of them left. I wonder if they don’t look at our country today and worry that the present generation has forsaken it all and [that] the next generation won’t even know.

They courageously gave their lives fighting Hitler and the Nazis so today’s millennials can call everyone they don’t like Hitler and Nazis. #DDay75Anniversary pic.twitter.com/TYVVZ3ysAB

— Bob Torba, Jr.🇺🇸 (@BobTorba) June 6, 2019

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Dad’s last request was for us to get a new flag and put it on display for the 4th of July.Mom made sure he got one and we put it up on their front porch. Dad passed away on July 23rd.

Source: // Trump:The American Years

Editor says #AceNewsDesk reports & #Brittius says are provided by Sterling Publishing & Media News and all our posts, links can be found at here Live Feeds https://acenewsroom.wordpress.com/ Ace News Services Posts https://t.me/AceSocialNews_Bot and thanks for following as always appreciate every like, reblog or retweet and free help and guidance tips on your PC software or need help & guidance from our experts AcePCHelp.WordPress.Com or you can follow our breaking news posts on AceBreakingNews.WordPress.Com or become a member on Telegram https://t.me/acebreakingnews all private chat messaging on here https://t.me/sharingandcaring

Journals // House of Heart

From the past I capture a light,

bring forward a globe of fire reflected

in the irides of my eyes

or an ocean pooling in my palm.

My nights are the darkest psalms,

your memoir etched into my heart.

One tender sway and suddenly I

remember.

art by Billy Knight

Source: // House of Heart

Editor says #AceNewsDesk reports & #Brittius says are provided by Sterling Publishing & Media News and all our posts, links can be found at here Live Feeds https://acenewsroom.wordpress.com/ Ace News Services Posts https://t.me/AceSocialNews_Bot and thanks for following as always appreciate every like, reblog or retweet and free help and guidance tips on your PC software or need help & guidance from our experts AcePCHelp.WordPress.Com or you can follow our breaking news posts on AceBreakingNews.WordPress.Com or become a member on Telegram https://t.me/acebreakingnews all private chat messaging on here https://t.me/sharingandcaring

Perla // Las crónicas del Otro Mundo

Para entender de lo que habla la presente entrada es más que aconsejable conocer el relato que se presenta en el anterior post, El recuerdo envenenado. Más que nada porque, sin dicha narración, las siguientes líneas carecen de sentido.

Como tantas otras historias, la plasmada sobre la tía Tere se basa en una vivencia real. De hecho, habla de la primera vez en la que mi tía Tere no me reconoció. Ella llevaba encamada muchos años, ya no podía valerse por sí misma desde hacía tiempo. Por lo que me contaba mi tío, su guardián, su roca, quién con una mínima ayuda se hacía cargo de ella a pesar de sus noventa y pocos años, Tere apenas reconocía a las visitas. Conmigo nunca había sido el caso. Ni siquiera hacía falta decirle quién era: ella saludaba con alegría a su sobrino conforme posaba sus vidriosos ojos sobre mí. Era automático. Por tanto, esa advertencia previa que mi tío espetaba, “no se si sabrá quién eres, ya no conoce”, me resultaba más bien una leyenda urbana.

Hasta que llegó el día. Arriba un momento en la vida en la que las fuerzas no dan para más, y te ves abocado a tomar decisiones que no deseas. Aquello le ocurrió a mi tío, que, a pesar de renegar en multitud de ocasiones, se vio obligado a delegar los cuidados de su esposa en las manos de profesionales de una residencia de ancianos. El último día de la semana del traslado, mi pareja y yo nos presentamos en el geriátrico, dispuestos a ver a mi tía Tere. Y yo vi a mi tía Tere.

Pero ella no me vio a mí.

Como en todas las tramas basadas en una historia real, aquí hay trampa. Es decir, es mentira que no llegase a reconocerme. Fue tras mucho batallar, tras mucho recordar parentela a una anciana exhausta, que supo quién era. Cuando ya nadie lo esperaba, más de media hora después de presentarnos en el centro. Me dijo que no me había reconocido por la barba, e instantes después volvió a olvidarme. ¿Veinte segundos, quizá? Probablemente menos. Logro o fracaso; entiendo que se puede entender de ambas maneras, en función del prisma desde el cuál nos asomemos.

Cuando entramos por la puerta de la habitación, no comprendimos nada. Ni Tere ni nosotros. Para mi tía había aparecido una pareja de extraños, y tenían que ir a la farmacia. Estaba agitada, aunque, dada la poca vitalidad que atesoraba, un escándalo era lo último que habría podido montar. Intentábamos entenderla, pues el hilo de voz que apenas brotaba de su garganta era complicado de descifrar, y el contenido del mensaje no ayudaba a ello. Nuestra principal preocupación residía en que nos reconociese, pero aquello no parecía incumbirle. Lo perentorio era que acudiésemos a una farmacia a comprar algo para expulsar. Y nosotros nos esforzábamos por conocer la dificultad, pero no iba a resultar sencillo. Navegó entonces su divagación hacia una garrafa de vino que estaba vacía porque ella no se lo bebía, hacia unas flores blancas que tenía en el jardín pero se las habían arrancado todas, y hacia la conclusión de que teníamos que ir a la farmacia. Había que expulsar algo. Agotada tras el esfuerzo, cerraba los ojos. ¿Se iría a alguna parte o permanecería allí? Solo podíamos contemplarla y contemplarnos, intentando discernir por dónde iban los tiros. Cuando parecía que había conseguido reposar un rato, decidimos intentarlo de nuevo. ¿Nos reconocería esta vez? No, claro que no. Pero lo importante es que se había encontrado allí con dos personas que podían acudir a la farmacia.

Entendí dos cosas, una antes que la otra. La primera que llegué a comprender fue que la pobre creía que, en aquel lugar extraño al que la habían trasladado, la habían envenenado. La segunda, que la leyenda urbana era cierta: la tía Tere era susceptible de no reconocerme. La primera podía intentar solucionarla: le dije que la farmacia estaba cerrada, creyendo que eso agotaría aquella vía. La verdad es que, pensándolo ahora, no sé cómo pude ser tan ingenuo. ¿Qué pretendía que ocurriese? ¿Que una persona que se cree envenenada contestase “Ah, bueno, pues si está cerrada no pasa nada, qué le vamos a hacer, ya nos quedamos envenenados hasta que abra el boticario”?

Ya no conseguí reaccionar más al fracaso, pero, afortunadamente, mi pareja sí. Consiguió que Tere se refiriese a otros familiares, uno tras otro. Consiguió que se acordase de su sobrino Adrián. El único problema era que, cuando se lo presentaba, Adrián no se encontraba en aquella habitación, sino tan solo ese hombre que estaba al otro lado de la cama. Y como ese extraño seguía sin saber cómo reaccionar, me levanté y me asomé a la ventana. Quería alejarme un poco de esa realidad, pero la vista que me devolvió el exterior no me ayudó demasiado.

Perla

Una ubicación cruel para una residencia de ancianos. Un hecho que no llegué a reflejar en el relato porque, sinceramente, parecía acercarlo más a la ficción que a la verdadera existencia. Una calle separaba a mi tía “envenenada” del camposanto.

Supongo que no hacen falta más palabras para explicar el trasfondo de Perla. Perla era el nombre original del relato, y perla era el apelativo cariñoso con el que Tere nos llamaba de vez en cuando a sus sobrinos. En el relato dice que era como la llamaba su sobrino favorito, aunque ya os he dicho que sí, que es un relato basado en una historia real, pero también haciendo trampa. Aunque, por otra parte, tampoco es mentira. Mi tía pronunciaba perla con un acento valenciano que resultaba mucho más natural en ella que en mí, así que yo siempre le respondía como si fuese su eco, pero exagerando la apertura de las vocales y, por supuesto, el tono de la voz. Ella se reía, claro. Siempre había sido una persona muy alegre hasta que los años y los males la fueron postrando, aunque aún se guardaba algunas sonrisas para cuando la visitábamos.

Era su sobrino favorito, no he hecho trampa. Da igual lo que os puedan decir los demás… Adrián era por quien más preguntaba, es lo que afirma mi nonagenario tío, y lo cierto es que parece un enunciado bastante cabal. Era su sobrino más tímido, el que parecía que necesitaba más protección, y claro… Del nene que parece requerir más ayuda al favoritismo manifiesto no hay ni medio paso. Así que sí, soy culpable, dulce condena la mía. Además, mi tía era de esas personas que, llegada la ancianidad, te decían “tú que escribes, podías escribir un libro sobre mi vida”. La realidad es que no tengo tanta capacidad como para plasmar todo eso, pero, aunque fuese en tus horas bajas, hemos escrito un relato y hemos ganado, Perla. Fue la penúltima vez que te vi consciente, fue la antepenúltima vez que te vi con vida, fue la primera que no me reconociste. Pero el recuerdo de parte de tu vida ha ganado donde tenía que ganar. En tu pueblo, delante de los tuyos, hablando sobre ti.

Gracias, Perla.

Video: https://youtu.be/mIVTGn9O91w

Source: // Las crónicas del Otro Mundo

Editor says #AceNewsDesk reports & #Brittius says are provided by Sterling Publishing & Media News and all our posts, links can be found at here Live Feeds https://acenewsroom.wordpress.com/ Ace News Services Posts https://t.me/AceSocialNews_Bot and thanks for following as always appreciate every like, reblog or retweet and free help and guidance tips on your PC software or need help & guidance from our experts AcePCHelp.WordPress.Com or you can follow our breaking news posts on AceBreakingNews.WordPress.Com or become a member on Telegram https://t.me/acebreakingnews all private chat messaging on here https://t.me/sharingandcaring

where the horizon meets the sea // The Lonely Author

where the horizon meets the sea

let me meander through your hair
watch the sunset on your flesh
explore your limits and frontiers
from the borders of your whisper
to the edges of your dreams
let me claim sovereignty
over all this beauty I see
for together we will discover
my love for you will end
in that infinite place
where the horizon meets the sea

Source: // The Lonely Author

Editor says #AceNewsDesk reports & #Brittius says are provided by Sterling Publishing & Media News and all our posts, links can be found at here Live Feeds https://acenewsroom.wordpress.com/ Ace News Services Posts https://t.me/AceSocialNews_Bot and thanks for following as always appreciate every like, reblog or retweet and free help and guidance tips on your PC software or need help & guidance from our experts AcePCHelp.WordPress.Com or you can follow our breaking news posts on AceBreakingNews.WordPress.Com or become a member on Telegram https://t.me/acebreakingnews all private chat messaging on here https://t.me/sharingandcaring

I still feel you // House of Heart

at the razor edge of madness,

the fierce break of waves

along the shore line.

In dark eyes that catch mine

in dusty corridors of dreams.

I feel you in the wild of wolves

the vigil of birds at my

midnight window,

in the sacred dust of bones.

Le Femme en Rouge

Source: // House of Heart

Editor says #AceNewsDesk reports & #Brittius says are provided by Sterling Publishing & Media News and all our posts, links can be found at here Live Feeds https://acenewsroom.wordpress.com/ Ace News Services Posts https://t.me/AceSocialNews_Bot and thanks for following as always appreciate every like, reblog or retweet and free help and guidance tips on your PC software or need help & guidance from our experts AcePCHelp.WordPress.Com or you can follow our breaking news posts on AceBreakingNews.WordPress.Com or become a member on Telegram https://t.me/acebreakingnews all private chat messaging on here https://t.me/sharingandcaring

Mediterranean nights // The Lonely Author

In a conversation with my good friend G at Short Prose I told her I always wanted to write a poem using “mandolin.” She encouraged me to give it a try. Please make sure you stop by her blog to admire her wonderful poetry.

.

Mediterranean nights

should I blame it on the stars
when Venus winked at me
signorina had amore in her eyes
as blind virgins prayed
in Saint Peter’s basilica
my imagination took them
to places they have never been
Mediterranean nights
tugged at my heartstrings
as if I were a lonely mandolin

Source: // The Lonely Author

Editor says #AceNewsDesk reports & #Brittius says are provided by Sterling Publishing & Media News and all our posts, links can be found at here Live Feeds https://acenewsroom.wordpress.com/ Ace News Services Posts https://t.me/AceSocialNews_Bot and thanks for following as always appreciate every like, reblog or retweet and free help and guidance tips on your PC software or need help & guidance from our experts AcePCHelp.WordPress.Com or you can follow our breaking news posts on AceBreakingNews.WordPress.Com or become a member on Telegram https://t.me/acebreakingnews all private chat messaging on here https://t.me/sharingandcaring