Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Monday, October 11, 2010
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Innocent When You Dream
The bats are in the belfry
the dew is on the moor
where are the arms that held me
and pledged her love before
and pledged her love before
It's such a sad old feeling
the fields are soft and green
it's memories that I'm stealing
but you're innocent when you dream
when you dream
you're innocent when you dream
Running through the graveyard
we laughed my friends and I
we swore we'd be together
until the day we died
until the day we died
It's such a sad old feeling
the fields are soft and green
it's memories that I'm stealing
but you're innocent when you dream
when you dream
you're innocent when you dream
I made a golden promise
that we would never part
I gave my love a locket
and then I broke her heart
and then I broke her heart
It's such a sad old feeling
the fields are soft and green
it's memories that I'm stealing
but you're innocent when you dream
when you dream
you're innocent when you dream
Thursday, September 16, 2010
With Family
Writing of love...of love and family...of relationships and of mirrors. What seems to be missing..what I ache for and yearn for and know now, that there need not be a resolve for. Irrefutable in its strength of bond there is joy and sorrow in the greeting of eyes. In the familiarity of this gathered kin, we celebrate and we share stories from the ancient battlefield.To be with family is not contingent on sharing physical space in the same geographical location. I am with you family at every moment. Presently you are here, on rain dampened city streets and bridges, by the river..with wind and the soft deliberate flight of evening birds. Watching this beauty unfold together.
Together.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Vanda Scaravelli
"Like Gods, we must have time, infinite time. Gods are not limited or restricted by time as they have a different perspective.
For them, a whole life can last only a few minutes. To have time implies that quality of elegance and ease which gives poise to our movements and wisdom to our action.
Pushed by rush, most of the time, we are compressed, mean, and narrow-minded. Why not open the doors and let air, wind and sun penetrate into our hearts?"
Thursday, July 1, 2010
The Queen's Lands
Outside
the benevolent hum of commuting automobiles
buzz saws
hydraulic cranes and
wailing children
persuaded
an exhausted spine,
aching for reprieve,
to curl
rapidly
towards the cushion.
A mind clenched in disordered thoughts
warily moved into sleep.
Shadowed forms cloaked and hooded
in
blackened vellum
danced
the steps of
beguiling lies
as the drifter
abdicated from the throne.
Walking
in humid meadows that had once been flood plains
she couldn't hear a thing.
Hopelessly exposed
to a light
that relentlessly plunged into ancient spiderwebs
and beheaded
the most alluring
of nettles,
the walking turned to plodding
and
as milky air parted between the footsteps,
there was before her
A heart.
Yes!
A heart
This heart!
It could be seen on the horizon of
a blushed cream sunset.
And this heart
was envenomed
in envious threads
and this heart
was guarded by
nefarious ivy.
Yet what was realized
what was made very clear to the onlooker
was that this heart was as any other
this heart was not special
this heart was not different.
This heart longed only for a mother
a mother with a thousand hands
a mother who hears all the cries of the world
this mother.
And what came forth,
before,
and after
was a
great
heavy
sigh.......
one that could awaken
and
as the dust from shattered concrete
swirled
and began to settle
in the doorways
eyelids softly murmured open.
A pale hand held open
in a vulnerable gesture
and in the palm
a fly
resting,
in a tiny heap
of shattered armour
weighed heavily .
Her eyelids stopped flickering and settled
to feel
the end of its life.
She arose and cupped the fly
in her hand
and as she brought this hand
towards her mouth
she whispered a few
careful words.
Outside
the trains had ceased running
streetlights began their nightly duty
shhhhhhhh.......
come on
let's go.
the benevolent hum of commuting automobiles
buzz saws
hydraulic cranes and
wailing children
persuaded
an exhausted spine,
aching for reprieve,
to curl
rapidly
towards the cushion.
A mind clenched in disordered thoughts
warily moved into sleep.
Shadowed forms cloaked and hooded
in
blackened vellum
danced
the steps of
beguiling lies
as the drifter
abdicated from the throne.
Walking
in humid meadows that had once been flood plains
she couldn't hear a thing.
Hopelessly exposed
to a light
that relentlessly plunged into ancient spiderwebs
and beheaded
the most alluring
of nettles,
the walking turned to plodding
and
as milky air parted between the footsteps,
there was before her
A heart.
Yes!
A heart
This heart!
It could be seen on the horizon of
a blushed cream sunset.
And this heart
was envenomed
in envious threads
and this heart
was guarded by
nefarious ivy.
Yet what was realized
what was made very clear to the onlooker
was that this heart was as any other
this heart was not special
this heart was not different.
This heart longed only for a mother
a mother with a thousand hands
a mother who hears all the cries of the world
this mother.
And what came forth,
before,
and after
was a
great
heavy
sigh.......
one that could awaken
and
as the dust from shattered concrete
swirled
and began to settle
in the doorways
eyelids softly murmured open.
A pale hand held open
in a vulnerable gesture
and in the palm
a fly
resting,
in a tiny heap
of shattered armour
weighed heavily .
Her eyelids stopped flickering and settled
to feel
the end of its life.
She arose and cupped the fly
in her hand
and as she brought this hand
towards her mouth
she whispered a few
careful words.
Outside
the trains had ceased running
streetlights began their nightly duty
shhhhhhhh.......
come on
let's go.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)