Art thou pale for weariness of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth, wandering companionless among the stars that have a different birth, and ever changing, like a joyless eye that finds no object worth it's constancy? Thou chosen sister of the Spirit, that gazes on thee til in thee it pities. . . -Shelley (To The Moon)
Friday, January 1, 2010
It is the first day of the new year; we meet like new friends. Although I hope you come again, I hope it is always as a new friend. . . the best old friends are always new, in a way, because friendship is renewing? This is an old, stream of consciousness poem I wrote years ago called Treasure Stream, and I'm posting it anew here.
The above picture is La Morte D'Amour by A E Marty. The one on the right is Shells by Albert Joseph Moore.
Marigolds and eggplant, sunflower sprouts and thyme
exulting lombardies and shivering beeches
easy laughter by the stars over the sea
this blueberry wine, i'm here.
I stretch my supple side, bending with a sigh
point my toe towards the back, like a cat
I feel my own heart is better than feared it is leading.
adagio harmonies come to the fore
defeating dialogue and I am true.
all that happens glues together forces
rough and sweet like honeycomb.
i live better forgiven, i live better now, leading.
winds bring courage and humour
to the apex of faith and eroticism.
the lines of my hand etched
in clean pages, ageless, child-wise are my gifts.
on shelves, on walls, beauties and dusty findings.
in my wallet, the bills and coins to pay my fares and enable trade.
i am modern. i wear a pink and gold jacket like a home,
under the collar i wear the burn of a kiss.
it is always the same kiss now, it has been forever,
only changing winds of courage and humour.
the darkness becomes my friend.
i find knowledge here.
the night that is never truly dark,
but shaded contrasting blasts of white,
pleasant moons. when i ring a bell,
i think of my ancestors.
when i run in rain, i get younger.
- ▼ 2010 (14)