Tuesday, July 17, 2012

My Indigo by Li-Young Lee

Angel Trumpet flower - Artist Unknown


My Indigo

It's late. I've come
to find the flower which blossoms
like a saint dying upside down.
The rose won't do, nor the iris.
I've come to find the moody one, the shy one,
downcast, grave, and isolated.
Now, blackness gathers in the grass,
and I am on my hands and knees.
What is its name?

Little sister, my indigo,
my secret, vaginal and sweet,
you unfurl yourself shamelessly
toward the ground. You burn. You live
a while in two worlds
at once.
Li-Young Lee

I planted a Sacred Datura Moonflower last year from a tiny seed.  It grew into a large bush with woody branches and fragrant white bell-like flowers that hung under the leaves, upside down.  I could not believe I had grown this amazing being.  This year I found two more flowers of this variety...one is pale pink and the other is pale yellow.  I planted the seeds.  The plants are now over five feet tall with leaves larger than my hands.  One of them has what looks like string beans hanging under the leaves.  I await the first opening of the first flowers each night.  Did I not tell you they only bloom at night?  They are night creatures, like the moon...shy and unassuming.  How is it that these amazing creatures appear from such tiny seeds?  It is a mystery.  I do not want to know the whys of it or the hows.  I watch the night butterflies (moths) drink from my flowers.   They know the mystery but are not talking.
"Look at us, said the violets blooming at her feet, all last winter we slept in the seeming death but at the right time God awakened us, and here we are to comfort you." ~Edward Payson Rod

Saturday, July 14, 2012

I'd Love To Be A Fairy's Child by Robert Graves

For John Milton's "Good Luck Befriend Thee" by illustrator Warwick Goble


“If you want your children to be intelligent, read them fairy tales. If you want them to be more intelligent, read them more fairy tales.”  ~Albert Einstein

“I am enough of an artist to draw freely upon my imagination. Imagination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world.”  ~Albert Einstein

I'd Love To Be A Fairy's Child
Robert Graves

Children born of fairy stock
never need for shirt or frock,
never want for food or fire,
always get their heart's desire:
jingle pockets full of gold,
marry when they're seven years old.
Every fairy child may keep
two strong ponies and ten sheep;
all have houses, each his own,
built of brick or granite stone;
they live on cherries, they run wild--
I'd love to be a Fairy's child.


I have been blissfully lost for the past few weeks immersed in reading several books.  I re-read "A Discovery of Witches" by the talented historian/novelist, Deborah Harkness, and the sequel, "Shadow of Night".  I fell into this brilliant tale and only came up for a bit of sleep and food.  Oh, the inexpressible joy of reading/experiencing a well-written book!  I have to wait a year or more for the last book in her "All-Souls Trilogy", but it will be worth the wait.  She's an amazing writer with a magnificent imagination and her writing is pure prose.

After reading her books I felt a bit lost until I discovered that one of my favorite authors had a new book out:  "Some Kind of Fairy Tale" by Graham Joyce.  I own all of his books and highly recommend them each and every one.  We've had rain for a week or more, but the sun came out for a few hours today.  What better weather for reading than a rainy day?  

Wishing you blessings & a good book to read.  ~Marion

Thursday, July 5, 2012

Forgetfulness by Billy Collins

Willow Rose and Molly Mace, two of my Blythe girls

By Billy Collins

The name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read,
never even heard of,

as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones.

Long ago you kissed the names of the nine Muses goodbye
and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag,
and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,

something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps,
the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.

Whatever it is you are struggling to remember,
it is not poised on the tip of your tongue,
not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.

It has floated away down a dark mythological river
whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall,
well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those
who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.

No wonder you rise in the middle of the night
to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.
No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted
out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.


I forget my seven Blythe dolls' names.  I have them written in a notebook to refresh my memory.  Sometimes forgetfulness is a good thing.  But sadly, it can't be selective.  I'd love to make a list of things I'd LOVE to forget.  Wouldn't that be awesome?  I have been re-reading quite a few books I'd read years ago.  That's a plus for forgetfulness.  I get to read my entire book collection and it's all new.

It's been a hot, hot, humid summer here in the swamps, but at least we're used to it.  I feel for those of you up north who are experiencing the heat and aren't used to it.  I'm pretty much hibernating indoors and reading except when I go outside every day to water my plants and new trees.  Maybe, if I'm lucky, we'll take a vaction to the beach before summer is out.  I hope so.