PROMPT #231 – MOTIVATION: DISCOVERY

A new destination can provide great opportunity!

On a recent trip to visit my daughter up Ottawa way, I was reminded more times over that the motto of the province of Ontario is “YOURS TO DISCOVER.” How does a discovery motivate you? What discoveries have you made, or would like to make? It doesn’t have to be an earth shattering revelation. It could be as simple as finding out that you truly can stick a square peg in a round hole (if you hit it with a big enough hammer!). Take us on your exploration, and together we’ll discover what you uncover. Poetry is your Ontario. It is yours to discover.

MARIE’S TREASURE:

MAJORLY SIMPLE

I discovered the simple life I lead
does not lend itself to major discoveries. 

Or so I thought.

Then I discovered something major
in leading a simple life: 

Contentment.

Not as in settling.  As in
being settled.
No big dreams, met or unmet.

Then I discovered contentment
does not breed motivation.

Or so I thought.

But lo and behold,
contentment inspires thankfulness.
Then thankfulness – praise,
and praise – a relationship with my God,
and relationship with my God – contentment,
and contentment – thankfulness …

And I am content
with this

simple,

major,

inspiring discovery. 

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

 

WALT’S FINDINGS:

NATURAL DISCOVERY

Listen. My own natural voice speaks.
It was discovered quite by accident.
Far and wide have I searched
grateful for these unexpected blessings.
The moments could never be forgotten;
the search will be over and
it took only a lifetime of reaching to realize it.

Ponder the vision beheld and decipher the message.
A poet’s heart believes in all things,
the divine beloved had been waiting inside me all along.
I write to discover new worlds, to unearth buried emotions.
This is nothing new, no surprise;
I want to uncover, slowly discover
slicing through silence with clean, cold precision.

These moments of discovery are revealed at a slower pace
rife with love, they become a new reality,
a million tiny pearls; golden treasures.
I have learned buried treasures await to be found,
if only I could see the secret majesty
hidden among the azaleas with their purple blooms.
There are times that I’ve missed all that is around me.

Now without a moment’s hesitation,
I will long to find the far end of every rainbow,
peaceful natural beauty unfolding in a peaceful and natural way.
Loving freely, shared with new found friends.
The earth is filled with such glory.

63 thoughts on “PROMPT #231 – MOTIVATION: DISCOVERY

  1. Yes! Slow discovery. Awesome!

    Mine is about looking in the wrong places . . . .

    FALSE BOTTOMS

    I’ve made a career of excavation
    If only I could dig through my problems—
    And many have passed my way—
    And my weaknesses—
    Which increase in number as I grow older—
    I would find solid ground
    I could begin to truly live

    Until I reexamined my architect’s design
    Why did I want myself as my foundation?
    The Lord is my rock
    Unbreakable!
    I have survived—
    Even thrived—
    Inside His fortress

    What I see as weakness
    Arms me with iron man strength
    Unshakeable faith in a
    Never changing
    Always loving
    God who ever was and is and shall be
    Absolutes I swear to
    Me, who never gives anything
    A score of ten

    With God as my Ten
    And me as His instrument
    I bring new binoculars
    To my excavation
    What discoveries await

    • Darlene, this is one of my favorites of yours so far. The “excavation” analogy, God as my Ten … why WOULD I want myself as my foundation? Be still my heart …

      • Thanks, Marie. This is a rare free verse from me, and I had doubts (when is it poetry and when is it prose?) Analogy thanks to rereading one of my favorite authors, the Amelia Peabody mysteries by Elizabeth Peters

    • I love this – maybe because I have tried to be my own foundation one too many times. Such a good analogy.

  2. Truth

    When one is
    as imperfect
    as I am,
    it takes
    a lot of guts
    to try to
    spread hope,
    inspire faith,
    promote love,
    go for broke on
    what matters to Spirit.

    Still,
    having borne guilt,
    remorse,
    sadness,
    pain, and
    shame,
    I have discovered that
    I have no room for hate.

    I have also discovered that
    I use the word “I” quite often.
    Oh well,
    I am not to old to dream.

  3. Stirring

    An old dirt road, or dusty trail
    Fresh grain smell, in a dented pail
    First raindrop felt, on a summer day
    Crop of alfalfa, cut for hay
    Creak of wire, stretched on a post
    Small things that stir, my heart the most

    Great horned owl, calling its mate
    Rustles in the dark, testing fate
    Doe and fawn, on a midday walk
    Graceful soar, of a red tail hawk
    Roaring surf, on a rocky coast
    Small things that stir, my heart the most

    Sounds of laughter, little hands and feet
    Tastes of sour, balanced with sweet
    Steam wafting up, from fresh baked bread
    Contented smiles, of souls well fed
    Chimes from a glass, raised for a toast
    Small things that stir, my heart the most

    Touch of love walking, hand in hand
    Sharing the beauty, of this land
    Trials and triumphs, that we’ve crossed
    Memories of, the ones we lost
    Quiet night lit, by starry hosts
    Small things that stir, my heart the most

    Bow to a string, that draws a tear
    March to a beat, ignoring fear
    That cherished song, heard just in time
    Telling a story, mixed with rhyme
    Feeling strength, from the Holy Ghost
    Small things that stir, my heart the most

    Sounds of leather, with gentle sigh
    A sea of grass, near shoulder high
    Clop of a hoof, a subtle bray
    Moment of silence, while we pray
    Knelt at the foot, that old cross post
    Small things that stir, my heart the most

    https://rustymidnightramblins.wordpress.com/2019/01/20/stirring/

  4. You know that sometimes a prompt make for instant ideas, but when one sits down to put those ideas on paper (or a hard drive), the direction changes and something completely different springs forth. Well, this prompt did that. But, then, it could be the tangled and twisted synapses in my brain that’s to blame. Either way…..

    Along the Way

    Along the way I’ve learned so much
    I could write a book or a series
    Or maybe a never-ending tale of tales
    About the fickleness of humanity
    The total hypocrisy of beliefs
    And the mystery of the human mind

    Why are we so differently wired?
    When did we part ways with reality?
    Where is the line between real and not?
    What will it take to wake us all up?
    How will we make our way back to God?

    We’re all made in the Creator’s image
    Given one power to get us through life
    A power abused and misused by many
    That power to choose right or wrong
    Used every single step along the way

    We used to learn from our mistakes
    Now we blame and repeat our follies
    And blame again to evade the guilt

    Where did God go in our thinking?
    When did we get to be in charge?

    I guess we dumped Him along the way

  5. This might be a little closer to the prompt.

    But, don’t bet on it, don’t you know. haha

    Life

    Life
    Live it
    Every day
    And discover
    At every new turn
    Something interesting
    New exciting adventures
    Untraveled roads of pure wonder
    All waiting for me to take that step
    Daring me to break free from the safe path
    Taunting, tempting, with mysterious glee
    Should I venture off the proven path?
    Or stay the course with the masses?
    The untraveled road calls me
    And I answer the call
    Watch over me, Lord
    Show me the way
    I am Yours
    You are
    Life

  6. Looking For Friends In All The Wrong Places

    I have discovered that my truest
    Friends can not be found floating
    Around in cyber-space, recognized
    By their latest selfies, or snapshots

    Of their pets, or plates of food
    My friends, the ones who care,
    Are found, instead, at the other
    End of the telephone line

    (you know what I mean)
    They are in a card delivered to
    My mailbox in snow or rain or heat
    They are across a table sharing laughs

    My true friends are the ones who
    Know the stories of my heart

  7. Discoveries Are Found Anywhere

    Magic lies in discoveries
    you do not recognize
    as such. Had I turned
    my eyes inward, I would not
    have spotted an aquamarine
    jellyfish like a blown bubble,
    on a Florida beach.

    Without pets, I would not
    have discovered their various
    personalities and habits–
    smiling, snoring, that trick
    of staring at you until
    they wear you down. Result–
    a treat.

    Most amazing are the diminutive
    discoveries I make about myself
    every day.

  8. Meet My Friends

    My sweet friend Curiosity
    Is blamed for killing cats.
    But she enjoys the feline sort,
    though they may have their spats.

    I’d like you to know my dear friend,
    so don’t be judgmental.
    If kitties die because of her,
    it’s just accidental.

    Curiosity and Learning
    turn practice into play.
    Explore with Creativity,
    meet Fun along the way.

    A bully, Perfectionism,
    likes everything just so.
    Shoves Curiosity and friends
    and tells them where to go.

    But when my friends pay him no mind,
    they become very strong.
    When Big P doesn’t have his way,
    they’re free to sing their song.

  9. Teeming, twinkling, transcendent
    Life lingers on its travels
    Both tender and triumphant
    Teasing me with its tendrils

    Trust and try the Creator
    Touch and taste of His goodness
    I’m true treasures curator
    Thankful tunes bear my witness

    Not for things that tiltillate
    Have I taken trips outside
    But for charms that cultivate
    Deeper, dearer, to abide

    Darlene Franklin

  10. I read a poem the other day
    That led me on a joyous way
    Helped me see this spinning orb
    As bursting joy to be absorbed
    Full of goodness and of grace
    The sun, a kiss upon my face

  11. Discovery

    If a mushroom speaks
    describing dew,
    can I be silent long?

    If a moon sings softly
    in my ear,
    can I not re-sing its song?

    When a tree in wind
    interprets a storm
    thru dance in the rushing rage,
    how can I not write
    the story it tells
    on a poet’s anxious page?

    Discovering
    the hand of God
    where I’ve never seen it before
    motivates my writer’s soul
    and so,
    I write
    some more.

    © Damon Dean, 2018

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