Free Church Anniversary Program Templates

woman not to disturb the dreams of my wood


not disturb the dreams of a life that day,
who wake up when the rest sleeping.

In a crumb of bread
the awakening of the pigeon
the gutter where he made a nest

the last speech



Beatrice Niccolai
"do not disturb the dreams"

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Robin





Tell
whisper in the noise of a night
the secret of time.


Where do behind the eyes, the dreams.
Where we loved each other intensely
all our tomorrow.



Tell the sound of leaves that will fall on the bed of a weary day,
to bury pain,
for possible new wonders.


Be the robin of my woods, where nobody else has access
.


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builds up in me, disrupting all the time, your
plumage



Beatrice Niccolai
"Robin of my woods"

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Nothing remains



Nothing remains. Among the memories

yellowed, dried flower
only

remember where we came.


Beatrice Niccolai
"Nothing remains,"

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.
.

weigh certain silences in the lightness of the air knows the autumn.
.
Fall, the richest of the seasons
that tells of past summers,
a lightweight thoughts of
crowds and leave without reservations,
temple in the heart.
.
There is a season for everything
and a time to live it in a short stay inside or look

like being inside that broke your sweater, I should no longer suffer

the darkness of the cold.
. That
your sweater blue aviation
with your smell in
.
.
Beatrice Niccolai
"with your scent inside"
.
.

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in with your smell The smell of the return

.
.
The sadness of smoke unwillingly

life in solitude
distracted and one of the first falling leaves
still, your love.
.
I was beautiful in your eyes,
so beautiful that did not seem real.
.
Your eyes soft, divine
frightened by the wind.
.
braided hair
old smell of your skin
undermines the few defenses
tired and leaves from the branches.
. On the thought

as the desire for a cigarette
inspiro eagerly
.
smell return
.
.
Beatrice Niccolai
"The smell of return"
.
.

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not ask The last ship ever

.

.
Never ask at the hands of my time

your responses will be time to browse through the days of us
us what exists and what is due to us never to write
without removing the hand from the uncertainty.

.

Stay in doubt of a cause in my circles.
No, not ever ask me that, yes.
unpronounceable sentence all'esisterti
me no, I do not exist.

.
When the lights go down, the curtain rises on the words

life and that is the story

.

.

Beatrice Niccolai
"Never ask"

.

.

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.
.
If only listened
everything that the heart does not translate,
feel the wind whip on the shutters strong.
.
'll also hear the trees speak
and hear a timid voice.
.
I supported a whisper on the last
destiny.

I supported his head on the edge of a ledge.
.
Then where everything becomes already happened, you
Undock left the port without
Compulsory routes
.
the last ship
.
.
Beatrice Niccolai
"The last ship
.
.

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switch

.
.

Turn the darkness every time the electricity supply.
.
Brancolo
in the rubble so they built
my destruction.
.
Of all which is changed, only the
bowl is in place.
.
.
Beatrice Niccolai
"Switch"
.
.

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... Y cuando he grew up, his father said

- My son, not everyone is born with wings. And although you have no obligation to fly, I think it would be sad that you just walking, taking the wings that the good Lord has given you.

- But I can not fly - the son replied.

- True ... - Said the father and took him walking to the edge of the precipice in the mountains.

- You see, son, this is a vacuum. When you want to fly you to stand here, you're going to take a breath, you're going to jump into the abyss and spreading their wings, fly.

The son hesitated
- What if I fall?

- Even if you fall you will not die, only some bruises that will make you stronger for the next attempt - said the father.

The son came to town, friends, peers, colleagues with whom he had walked all his life. The smallest of mind said,

- Are you crazy? Why? Your old is half dislocated ... What will you look fly? Why do not you stop nonsense? Who needs to fly?

Most friends advised him:

- What if it were true? Is not it dangerous? Why not start slowly? Try throw you off a ladder or from the top of a tree, but ... "From the top?

Young listened to the advice of those who loved him. Rose to the top of a tree and, with courage, jumped ... Spread out its wings, fluttered in the air with all his strength but still crashed to the ground ...

With a large bump on his forehead, he passed his father

- I lied! I can not fly. I tried and look at the hit that gave me! I'm not like you. My wings are only decorative.

- My son - said the father - to fly, create air space needed to deploy the wings. It's like to jump on a parachute, you need a certain height before you leap.

To fly you have to start taking risks.

If you want, you may be better to resign and walk away forever.

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abandoned shadows, the thick walls, noise family, friendship books, the snuff, feathers, dried the ceiling; to fly away, desperately.
Below: in the dark, bitter cornices, the desolate streets, lanterns sleepwalkers, the dead chimneys rumors tired desperately.
Now everything was quiet, simulated disaster large pools of shadow, downpours, lightning, stray islets of unstable banks; but I kept flying, desperately.
A flash naked scorching light got in my way, I was fascinated death, but managed to escape of its deadly influence, to keep flying, desperately. Still
fate of worlds closed cases, disoriented my flight -of-stellar record with their vain parables and false halos, but I kept flying desperately.
I pressed the fluid, the clarity solid vacuum frosted inaudible the distance, the hollow soundproof, rest stifling but still flying, desperately.
already there was nothing, nothing was absent; nor darkness, nor fire, nor -heavenly-hands no life, no destination, no mystery, no death, but still flying, desperately.

(Oliveira Gironde)

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Defender joy as a trench,
defend the chaos and nightmares,
of crumpled misery and miserable
of brief absences and final, defending
joy as an attribute,
defend the awe and anesthesia,
of the few neutral and many neutrons,
of serious diagnoses and shotguns ,
defend joy as a standard,
defend the beam and melancholy,
of the endemic ills and academics,
the gentleman rogue and opportunistic defense
joy as a certainty,
despite defend God and the death
of the limited suicidal and homicidal,
and pain to be absurdly happy,
defend the joy as inevitable,
defend the sea and the warm tears,
of good manners and surnames,
chance and also .. también de la alegría.
(MB)

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begin by planting sunflowers, because they always raise his eyes to the sun wherever it is, and their spirit is never covered in clouds or darkness .. .. the sun gladdens their hearts ...

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I ever need to breathe the world that was in my eyes ...

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Foglie, tante foglie ....

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- Avrei bisogno di qualcuno che mi aiutasse ad Esser Piccolo. Credo sia il mio Sogno, Esser and Bambino.

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KALINIFTA

en Ti glicèa tusi NIFT, ie en Orri
c'evò e 'pplonno pensèonta s'esena
c'ettumpi' sti ffenestrassu, agapimu,
tis kardi'ammu su NIFT ie ppena.

Evo 'Article s'esena penseo,
old you are concerned, fsichìmmu, gapò
ce pu pao, pu breed, pu steo
sti kkardìa Article ancient vastu.

C'esù mai de 'm'agàpise, Oria-mu,
' of ssu pònise mai Puss 'mother;
cìtt'oria chili mai-su' en ènifse
us vloimèna agapi mu game drink!

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panu pu ce m'o fengo krifi'zzun nomèna
jelù ce ce mu leu: ston ànemo
to traùdia pelìs, the chchamèna.

Kalinìfta! Se ce finno Feo, ESU plàja
you 'vo pirta prikò,
ma pu pao, pu sirno,
steo sti pu panta sena kkardìa Vasto.

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"Una casa di vetro il Lungo River at night or behind a telescope, on a boat on the run in the sea ... there is no better place to dream, the dream is another way they look ... whatever land you can sea ... So we teach the elephants to get their wings, we teach you to put heavier wings, we call on parliaments to make the wings, teach commanders to get their wings, ricordardiamo to the musicians to get their wings, it is never too late, not never too old ... "
(N. Fabi)

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should be sold with a piano, sandwiched inside, the ability to play ...

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"I didn't know who I was - I was far away from home, haunted and tired with travel, in a cheap hotel I'd never seen, hearing the hiss of stream outside, and the creak of the old wood of the hotel, and footsteps upstairs, and all the sad sounds, and I looked at the cracked high ceiling and really didn't know who I was for about fifteen strange seconds. I wasn't scared; I was just somebody else, some stranger, and my whole life was a haunted life, the life of a ghost. I was halfway across America, at the dividing line between the East of my youth and the West of my future, and maybe that's why it happened right there and then, that strange red afternoon."
(Jack Kerouak - "On the road")

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Waiting for Godot

tarragon : What about us?

Vladimir : Excuse me?

tarragon : I mean, what about us?

Vladimir : I do not understand.

tarragon : What's our part in all this?

Vladimir : Our side?

tarragon : Not in a hurry.

Vladimir : Our side?

tarragon : Then do not you help me?

Vladimir : Sometimes it really seems to me that I'm getting there.
Then I feel all weird.

(Samuel Beckett)

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" Everything comes back as above, I was confused again. But this confusion I am, as I am, not as I would like to be, and I'm not afraid anymore, telling the truth, what we do not know, I try, I have not found it yet. Only then I feel alive. "

(Fellini, 8:30)

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the little prince


" Yes, the stars always make me laugh. And I like to listen to the night the stars are like five hundred million Rattlesnake ... I wonder if they are illuminated so that everyone can one day find her ... "

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... and be happy just to think where to get still will not get ...

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I took the stilts for walking at night, on balance highly critical of my thoughts.