Saturday, December 31, 2011


Tomorrow in the offices the year on the stamps will be altered;
Tomorrow new diaries consulted, new calendars stand;
With such small adjustments life will again move forward
Implicating us all; and the voice of the living be heard:
"It is to us that you should turn your straying attention;
Us who need you, and are affected by your fortune;
Us you should love and to whom you should give your word." –Philip Larkin

Source: via Nicole on Pinterest

Friday, December 30, 2011


There are men here and there to whom the whole of life is like an after-dinner hour with a cigar; easy, pleasant, empty, perhaps enlivened by some fable of strife to be forgotten—before the end is told—even if there happens to be any end to it” – Joseph Conrad

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Not Stupid

"Many hammer all over the wall and believe that with each blow they hit the nail on the head." -Von Goethe

Sunday, December 25, 2011

Wonder why

When the bond of love broke,
the respect born of affection withered,
good feelings fled,
and that man walked before me
like any other,
Good Friend,
I imagine all this,
think on days gone by
and wonder why
my heart hasn't cracked
into a hundred bits. – Amaru

Wednesday, December 21, 2011


Edith: This complete loveliness will fade. And we shall forget what it was like.
Edward: Edith, don't.
Edith: Oh, it's bound to. Just a few years and the gilt wears off the gingerbread.
Edward: Darling, answer me one thing truthfully. Have you ever seen gingerbread with gilt on it?
Edith: [laughing] Fool!
Edward: Then the whole argument is disposed of. – Reginald Berkeley

Thursday, December 15, 2011

I want

I want to be alone in a field of poppies,
Nurse, again, a newborn baby,
Forget I’ve
Ever seen a morning glory
And grasp the meaning of maybe.
I want to die in your arms but not tonight.
I want your truth without a fight.
I want no fantasy
but when I wish on a star
I ask that my pleas would need not
travel so far.

I need open space which  feels not cold
And when discerning truth,
Wisdom to be bold.
I want to feel the flesh of heart,
See roses, thorns and all.
Forget promises dead
And you to catch me when I fall.
I want to be alone in a field of poppies,
Nurse again, a newborn love
I want to forget the words to our story
And hear instead from what resides above.

Poetry Palace

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

A woman and man

A woman is a branchy tree and man a singing wind; and from her branches carelessly he takes what he can find.James Stephens

I nominate Morning

Margaret Atwood likens it
                To an amputation;
                             I would add that it’s a million experiences of death a day.
                                      Dry heaving, even vomiting, truly eventuates.
Forget painting on a smile – walking hurts.
Now you know what
It feels like and it’s so
much worse than imagined
I haven’t cried enough yet, only intermittently but I’ve died more than a million deaths.

Black and White Wednesday

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Rising River

The vines of her arms
didn't cling to the ends of his clothes,
or did she plant herself in the doorway,
hurl herself at his feet,
or utter the word "Stay!"
But as that fool began to go
at the time when it was dark with swarming clouds,
the slim girl blocked her lover's way
with only a rising river
made with her flood of tears. – Amaru

Monday, December 5, 2011


It's come to my attention that somewhere along the way, my self was hijacked.
But now I know.
I'm taking it back with force and I've got one thing going for me;
      though, I don't know yet who I am, I know whose I am.
I know
        who sees me, where the grace is, where the mercy is.
             And so....
I'm bringing to your attention that somehow from here on out, my self is breaking free.
And now you know.

She gave up beauty in her tender youth,
Gave all her hope and joy and pleasant ways;
She covered up her eyes lest they should gaze
On vanity, and chose the bitter truth.- Christina Rossetti

Sunday, December 4, 2011


I might show facts as plain as day:
But, since your eyes are blind, you'd say,
"Where? What?" and turn away. –Rossetti,C.

Friday, December 2, 2011

Telling (Raw) Stories

Angel of hope and calendars, do you know despair?
That hole I crawl into with a box of Kleenex....  – Anne Sexton

Ok, so I'm one of those now. One of those people who has a million blogs. But...I have to get it out somewhere. This.

I almost called this blog, "The Dark Side" but that was a little, too, well....dark.

So, this is it. The raw. The stuff I have to get out while I'm in the midst.

Descending daily, death desirous
Flickering forever, faith flames
honoring hourly, hope hovers
lying limitless, love lost
melting moments, magic missed
awaiting always, ardor assumed
reckoning ritually, rebirth resumes