Glow ...

... by Thomas Baines

I remember it by the way your look touches me.
So clear.
No words are needed in the silences that hush the world away from here.
Hold on to this memory,
keep it locked inside.

I'll wait for you if you want me to.
I want your grow in me.
Cause I need you like I used to
and I bleed inside just for you.

I will not forget as the sun rises to the red.
I've been wrong.
Cause you exude the right whitest light that shimmers over me,
come switch it on.
Come and refresh this memory,
Light me up inside.

Wait for you ... wait for you ...

Tides ...

The evening advances, then withdraws again
Leaving our cups and books like islands on the floor.
We are drifting, you and I,
As far from another as the young heroes
Of these two novels we have just laid down.
For that is happiness: to wander alone
Surrounded by the same moon, whose tides remind us of ourselves,
Our distances, and what we leave behind.
The lamp left on, the curtains letting in the light.
These things were promises. No doubt we will come back to them.

~ Hugo Williams

I am not sure about the last line ... but I do love the picture it creates ...

Lemn Sissy ...

... is a poet I came across at the National Portrait Gallery the other day, and he wrote the following poem beside his portrait ...

"You remind me,
Define me,
Incline me,
If you died
I'd."

An intensively beautiful poem for a grey-sky-but-the-sun-may-still-come-out day ...

Ludwig Wittgenstein once said ...

... The limits of my language mean the limits of my world.

I am not sure if that is true, as there is often so much in this world which cannot be described by words or sounds, but maybe if something is to be shared, then language will be the limit of that experience ...

At Night ...

...

We are apart; the city grows quiet between us,
She hushes herself, for midnight makes heavy her eyes,
The tangle of traffic is ended, the cars are empty,
Five streets divide us, and on them the moonlight lies.

Oh are you asleep, or lying awake, my lover?
Open your dreams to my love and your heart to my words.
I send you my thoughts--the air between us is laden,
My thoughts fly in at your window, a flock of wild birds.

~ by Sara Teasdale

This poem captures the sense of closeness, even when one is apart ... and "My thoughts fly in at your window, a flock of wild birds" is something which cannot be replaced by modern technology ...

Sara Teasdale ...

...does express all types of emotions in such a simple way ...

I shall bury my weary Love
Beneath a tree,
In the forest tall and black
Where none can see.

I shall put no flowers at his head,
Nor stone at his feet,
For the mouth I loved so much
Was bittersweet.

I shall go no more to his grave,
For the woods are cold.
I shall gather as much of joy
As my hands can hold.

I shall stay all day in the sun
Where the wide winds blow,
But oh, I shall weep at night
When none will know.

I'll take you there ...

Chapter 21

The way out. To show the fly the way out of the bottle was the life's hope of Ludwig Wittgenstein but the truth is that human begins don't want a way out of the bottle; we are captivated, enthralled by the interior of the bottle; its glassy sides caress and console us; its glassy sides are the perimeters of our experience and our aspiration; the bottle is our skin, our soul; we're accustomed to the visual distortions of the glass; we would not wish to see clearly, without the barrier of the glass; we could not breathe a fresher air; we could not survive outside the bottle.

Or tell ourselves, in the glassy-echoing language of the bottle, that this is so.
~ by Joyce Carol Oates

I do wonder if we all have such bottles in our lives and if it is so devastating if one does not wish to have a way out ... It all depends on what we place our Hope in ...

Sonnet XLIV

You must know that I do not love and that I love you,
because everything alive has its two sides;
a word is one wing of the silence,
fire has its cold half.

I love you in order to begin to love you,
to start infinity again
and never to stop loving you:
that's why I do not love you yet.

I love you, and I do not love you, as if I held
keys in my hand: to a future of joy -
a wretched, muddled fate -

My love has two lives, in order to love you:
that's why I love you when I do not love you,
and also why I love you when I do.

- Pablo Neruda

... a poem I read last year, and I could not understand it until this weekend ... I think part of the anguish of this weekend can be explained by this poem - the conflicts of loving someone, the joys one experiences, the pains one encounters ... and one can become so so lost ...

But I also learnt something even more amazing this weekend ... the idea of to surrender, to trust ... all that you have to God ... so that He can comprehend, ponder, plan for you ...

The prayer ...

... by Celine Dion (she may not be my favourite singer, but I do like the first few lines from this song) ...

I pray you'll be our eyes,
and watch us where we go
And help us to be wise,
in times when we don't know
Let this be our prayer,
when we lose our way
Lead us to a place,
guide us with your grace
To a place where we'll be safe.

I pray we'll find your light
And hold it in our hearts
When stars go out each night
Let this be our prayer
When shadows fill our day
Lead us to a place
Guide us with your grace
Give us faith so we'll be safe

We ask that life be kind
And watch us from above
We hope each soul will find
Another soul to love
Let this be our prayer
Let this be our prayer
Just like every child
Just like every child

When we two are parted ..

...

When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted,
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.

The dew of the morning
Sank chill on my brow
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame:
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o'er me
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well:
Long, long shall I rue thee
Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met
In silence I grieve
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?
With silence and tears.

~ Lord Byron

Good enough ...

... by Sarah McLachlan ...

Hey your glass is empty
it's a hell of a long way home
why don't you let me take you
it's no good to go alone
I never would have opened up
but you seemed so real to me
after all the bullshit I've heard
it's refreshing not to see
I don't have to pretend
she doesn't expect it from me

Don't tell me I haven't been good to you
don't tell me I have never been there for you
don't tell me why
nothing is good enough

Hey little girl would you like some candy
your momma said that it's OK
The door is open come on outside
no I can't come out today
it's not the wind that cracked your shoulder
and threw you to the ground
who's there that makes you so afraid
you're shaken to the bone
and I don't understand
you deserve so much more than this

So don't tell me why
he's never been good to you
don't tell me why
he's never been there for you
don't you know that why
is simply not good enough
so just let me try
and I will be good to you
just let me try
and I will be there for you
I'll show you why
you're so much more than good enough...

Tennessee Williams ...

... pretty much sums up how I feel at the moment ... "There is a time for departure even when there's no certain place to go."

Longing ...

... by Matthew Arnold

Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again!
For then the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.

Come, as thou cam'st a thousand times,
A messenger from radiant climes,
And smile on thy new world, and be
As kind to others as to me!

Or, as thou never cam'st in sooth,
Come now, and let me dream it truth;
And part my hair, and kiss my brow,
And say: My love! why sufferest thou?

Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again!
For then the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day

When I am dead, my dearest ...

... by Christina Rossetti

When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt, forget.

I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain:
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget

I love the line - "Be the green grass above me with showers and dewdrops wet" ....

A Little fall of rain ...

... from Les Miserables ...

EPONINE
Don't you fret, M'sieur Marius
I don't feel any pain
A little fall of rain
Can hardly hurt me now
You're here, that's all I need to know
And you will keep me safe
And you will keep me close
And rain will make the flowers grow.

MARIUS
But you will live, 'Ponine - dear God above,
If I could heal your wounds with words of love.

EPONINE
Just hold me now, and let it be.
Shelter me, comfort me

MARIUS
You would live a hundred years
If I could show you how
I won't desert you now...

EPONINE
The rain can't hurt me now
This rain will wash away what's past
And you will keep me safe
And you will keep me close
I'll sleep in your embrace at last.

The rain that brings you here
Is Heaven-blessed!
The skies begin to clear
And I'm at rest
A breath away from where you are
I've come home from so far

So don't you fret, M'sieur Marius
I don't feel any pain
A little fall of rain
Can hardly hurt me now
That's all I need to know
And you will keep me safe
And you will keep me close

MARIUS (in counterpoint)
Hush-a-bye, dear Eponine,
You won't feel any pain
A little fall of rain
Can hardly hurt you now
I'm here
I will stay with you
Till you are sleeping

EPONINE
And rain...

MARIUS
And rain...

EPONINE
Will make the flowers...

MARIUS
Will make the flowers... grow...

... was my favourite song from the musical when I was 15, and still is now ...

A moment to remember ...

... by Alexander Pushkin may just answer the question asked ...

A magic moment I remember:
I raised my eyes and you were there,
A fleeting vision, the quintessence
Of all that's beautiful and rare.

I pray to mute despair and anguish,
To vain the pursuits world esteems,
Long did I near your soothing accents,
Long did I your features haunt my dreams.

Time passed. A rebel storm-blast scattered
The reveries that once were mine
And I forgot your soothing accents,
Your features gracefully divine.

In dark days of enforced retirement
I gazed upon grey skies above
With no ideals to inspire me
No one to cry for, live for, love.

Then came a moment of reinessance,
I looked up - you again are there
A fleeting vision, the quintessence
Of all that's beautiful and rare.

A question ...

... by Robert Frost

A voice said, Look me in the stars
And tell me truly, men of earth,
If all the soul-and-body scars
Were not too much to pay for birth.

... does ask an interesting question, but I sincerely do think (or maybe wish to believe) that the scars we do have, the burdens we do carry, somehow make us appreciate the stars in the sky more ...

Keeping Christmas ...

"A Short Christmas Sermon" ... by Henry Van Dyke ...

ROMANS, xiv, 6: ~ He that regardeth the day, regardeth it unto the Lord.

It is a good thing to observe Christmas day. The mere marking of times and seasons, when men agree to stop work and make merry together, is a wise and wholesome custom. It helps one to feel the supremacy of the common life over the individual life. It reminds a man to set his own little watch, now and then, by the great clock of humanity which runs on sun time.

But there is a better thing than the observance of Christmas day, and that is, keeping Christmas.

Are you willing to forget what you have done for other people, and to remember what other people have done for you; to ignore what the world owes you, and to think what you owe the world; to put your rights in the background, and your duties in the middle distance, and your chances to do a little more than your duty in the foreground; to see that your fellow-men are just as real as you are, and try to look behind their faces to their hearts, hungry for joy; to own that probably the only good reason for your existence is not what you are going to get out of life, but what you are going to give to life; to close your book of complaints against the management of the universe,and look around you for a place where you can sow a few seeds of happiness--are you willing to do these things even for a day? Then you can keep Christmas.

Are you willing to stoop down and consider the needs and the desires of little children; to remember the weakness and loneliness of people who are growing old; to stop asking how much your friends love you, and ask yourself whether you love them enough; to bear in mind the things that other people have to bear on their hearts; to try to understand what those who live in the same house with you really want, without waiting for them to tell you; to trim your lamp so that it will give more light and less smoke, and to carry it in front so that your shadow will fall behind you; to make a grave for your ugly thoughts, and a garden for your kindly feelings, with the gate open--are you willing to do these things even for a day? Then you can keep Christmas.

Are you willing to believe that love is the strongest thing in the world--stronger than hate, stronger than evil, stronger than death--and that the blessed life which began in Bethlehem nineteen hundred years ago is the image and brightness of the Eternal Love? Then you can keep Christmas.

And if you keep it for a day, why not always?

But you can never keep it alone.

(I love this sermon when I read it back in August, but I will like to add a verse to its ending ~ “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible" (Matthew 19: 16) ... Have a lovely Christmas as we reflect on God's amazing gift to all mankind on this Christmas Day ...)

Come here ...

... a lovely song from Kath Bloom, played in an even more amazing film ~ "Before sunrise" ...

There's wind that blows in from the north.
And it says that loving takes this course.
Come here. Come here.
No I'm not impossible to touch I have never wanted you so much.
Come here. Come here.
Have I never laid down by your side.
Baby, let's forget about this pride.
Come here. Come here.
Well I'm in no hurry. Don't have to run away this time.
I know you're timid.
But it's gonna be all right this time.

camomile tea ...

... is the tea of choice for one of my favourite people on the earth ... and Katherine Mansfield has written a poem on it ... I love the picture this poem draws and it reminds me so much of him ...

Outside the sky is light with stars;
There's a hollow roaring from the sea.
And, alas! for the little almond flowers,
The wind is shaking the almond tree.

How little I thought, a year ago,
In the horrible cottage upon the Lee
That he and I should be sitting so
And sipping a cup of camomile tea.

Light as feathers the witches fly,
The horn of the moon is plain to see;
By a firefly under a jonquil flower
A goblin toasts a bumble-bee.

We might be fifty, we might be five,
So snug, so compact, so wise are we!
Under the kitchen-table leg
My knee is pressing against his knee.

Our shutters are shut, the fire is low,
The tap is dripping peacefully;
The saucepan shadows on the wall
Are black and round and plain to see.