Phenomenal Woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

by Maya Angelou

Opportunity

They do me wrong who say I come no more
When once I knock and fail to find you in;
For every day I stand outside your door,
And bid you wake, and rise to fight and win.
Wail not for preciouschances passed away;
Each night I burn the records of the day;
At sunrise every soul is born again.
Laugh like a [child] at splendors that have sped
To vanished joys be blind and deaf and dumb;
My judgments seal the dead past with its dead,
But never bind a moment yet to come.
Though deap in mire wring not your hands and weep,
I lend my arm to all who say, "I can!"
No shamefaced outcast ever sank to deep
But yet might rise and be again a man! Dost thou behold thy lost youth all aghast?
Dost reel from righteous retribution's blow?
Then turn from blotted archives of the past
And find the future's pages white as snow.
Art thou a mourner? Rouse thee from thy spell;
Art thou a sinner? Sin may be forgive;
Each morning gives thee wings to flee from hell,
Each night a star to guide thy feet to heaven.

by Walter Malone

I will kid you not, I often have to repeat to myself as Lincoln did, "And this, will soon pass."

There is a lesson in every failure

We can turn failure into advantage and make them serve as a tow-line with wich to pull ourselves ashore if we observe and profit by the lessons they teach.

'Tis the human touch in this world that counts,
The touch of your hand and mine,
Which means far more to the fainting heart,
Than shelter and bread and wine;
For shelter is gone when the
night is o'er,
And bread lasts only a day,
But the touch of the hand
and the sound of the
voice,
Sing on in the soul away.

by Spencer M Tree

_______________________________

Who ne'ver has suffered, he has lived but half,
Who never failed, he never strove,
Who never doubted never thought.

I will never give up the battle!
For I rather go down like the great men of history, Socrates, Christopher Columbus, Thomas Paine, as one who was brave enough to place humanity above the individual and principle above pecuniary gain.

I am grateful for the defeats that most people call failure, because I know if I keep on keeping on (keep trying) in the end, I will get the chance to prove my ability and rise to heights of acheivement in my chosen field.

No one can call me a failure but myself and as the wealthy philosopher, Croesus, once said:

"I am reminded, O king, and take this lesson to
heart, that there is a wheel on which the affairs
of men revolve and its mechanism is such that it
prevents any man from being always fortunate."

When I look upon the many lessons life has brought me, I make it my mantra to say to myself:

I believe in myself and do your best as honestly and earnestly as you possibly can.

Anything good reguires a lot of sand

It takes courage and lots of courage to look upon defeat as a blessing in disguise; but any position in life that is worth having requires a lot of sand.

This poem, by an uknown author says exactly what I am thinking.

I observed a locomotive in the railroad yards one day,
It was waiting in the roundhouse where the locomotives stay;
It was panting for the journey, it was coaled and fully manned,
And it had a box the fireman was filling full of sand.

It appears that locomotives cannot always get a grip
On their slender iron pavement, 'cause the wheels are apt to slip;
And when they reach a slippery spot, their tactics they command,
And to get a grip upon the rail, they sprinkle it with sand.

It's about the way with travel along life's slippery track -
If your load is rather heavy, you're always slipping back;
So, if a common locomotive you completely understan,
You'll provide yourself in starting with a good supply of sand.

If your track is steep and hilly and you have a heavy grade,
If those who've gone before you have the rails quite slippery made,
If you ever reach the summit of the upper tableland,
You'll find you'll have to do it with a liberal use of sand.

If you strike some frigid wheather and discover to your cost
that you're liable to slip upon a heavy coat of frost,
Then some prompt decided action will be called into demand,
And you'll slip 'way to the bottom if you haven't any sand.

You can get to any station that is on life's schedule seen,
If there's fire beneath the boiler of ambition's strong machine,
And you'll reach a place called Flushtown at a rate of speed that's grand,
If for all the slippery places you've a good supply of sand.

When Nature Wants to Make a Man

There is no failure for the man or woman that fights on. A man or woman has never failed until (s)he accepts temporary defeat as failure. The is a BIG difference between temporary defeat and failure.

Here is a poem by Angela Morgan a turn of the 19th century poet. Her poems express the theory that adversity and defeat are generally blessings in disguise.

When Nature wants to drill a man,
And thrill a man,
And skill a man,
When nature wants to mold a man
To play the noblest part;
When she yearns with all her heart
To create so great and bold a man
That all the world shall praise --

Watch her method, watch her ways!
How she ruthlessly perfects
Whome she royally elects;
How she hammers him and hurts him,
And with mighty blows converts him,
Into trial shapes of clay which only Nature understands -
While his tortured heart is crying and he lifts beseeching hands!
How she bends, but never breaks,
When his good she undertakes...
How she uses whom she chooses
And with every purpose fuses him,
By every art induces him
To try his splendor out -
Nature knows what she's about.

When Nature wants to take a man,
And shake a man,
And wake a man;
When Nature wants to make a man
To do the Future's will;
When she tries with all her skill
And she yearns with all her soul
To create him large and whole...
With what cunning she prepares him!
How she goads and never spares him,
How she whets him, and she frets him,
And in poverty begets him...
How she often disappoints
Whom she sacredly anoints,
With what wisdom she will hide him,
Never minding what betide him
Though his genius sob with slighting and his pride not forgot!
Bids him struggle harder yet.
Makes him lonely
So that only
God's high messages shall reach him,
So that she may surely teach him
What the Hierarchy planned.
Though he may not understand.
Gives him passions to command.
How remorselessly she spurs him
With terrific ardor stirs him
When she poignantly prefers him!

When Nature wants to name a man
And fame a man
And tame a man;
When Nature wants to shame a man
To do his heavenly best...
When she tries the highest test
That she reckoning may bring -
When she wants a god or king!
How she reins him and restrains him
So his body scarce contains him
While she fires him
And inspires him!
Keeps him yearning, ever burning for a tantalizing goal -
Lures and lacerates his soul.
Sets a challenge for his spirit,
Draws it higher when he's near it -
Makes a jungle, that he clear it;
Makes a desert that he fear it
And subdue it if he can -
Do doth Nature make a man.
Then, to test his spirit's wrath
Hurls a mountain in his path -
Puts a bitter choice before him
And relentlessly stand o'er him.
"Climb, or perish" so she says...
Watch her purpose, watce her ways!
Nature's plan is wonderous kind
Could we understand her mind...
Fools are they who call her blind.
When his feet are torn and bleeding
Yet his spirit mounts unheeding,
All his higher powers speeding,
Blazing newer paths and fine;
When the force that is divine
Leaps to challenge every failure and his ardor still is sweet
And love and hope are burning in the presence of defeat...
Lo, the crisis! Lo, the shout
That must call the leader out.
When the people need salvation
Doth he come to lead a nation...
Then doth Nature show her plan
When the world has found - a MAN!


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Defeat talks to us in a language all its own; a language to which we must listen whether we like it or not.

The Dumb Language of Defeat

This language is the simplest and most effective language of all, and I am beginning to understand it. This language is natures way of say, "Hey Marla! Listen up girl! There is a lesson to be learned and there is no other way to learn it than by me cry out to you and making you learning through failure!"

I am glad that I have encountered much defeat in my life! Because it has given me the courage to undertake tasks that I would never have begun had I been surrounded by protecting influences. Influences that I have always had in my childhood, and have in adulthood.

Defeat is a blessing in disguise!

Joaquin Miller is an American Poet of the 19th Century (died in the early part of the 20th Century). He expressed a notable thought in the following poem:

"All honor to him who shall win a prize."
The world has cried for a thousand years;
But to him who tries, and who fails, and dies,
I give great honor, and glory, and tears.

Give glory and honor and pitiful tears
To all who fail in their deeds sublime;
Their ghosts are many in the van of years,
They were born with Time, in advance of Time.
Oh, great is the hem who wins a name;
But greater many, and many a time, Some pale-faced fellow who dies in shame
And lets God finish the thought sublime.

And great is the man with a sword undrawn,
And good is the man who refrains from wine;
But the man who fails and yet still fights on,
In, he is the twin-brother of mine.

There is no failure to a man or a woman who fights on.
A man or a woman never fails until he or she accepts temporary defeat as failure.

Horse Sense

‎"Flaming enthusiasm, backed up by horse sense and persistence, is the quality that most frequently makes for success." -- Dale Carnegie

So to be successful, one needs some horse sense. What exactly does this mean? It means looking beyond yourself to maximize your full potential through others.

I guess you can say that you cannot get anywhere worthy without other people helping you along the way.

I am learning I can't do it on my own.
Salve Maria... ayudame porque me muero! Me ahogo!