Love by Roy Croft

I found this poem I'd copied into a battered old notebook I've had since my freshman year in high school.  It's still a favorite and perfect for Valentine's Day.  I'm still in love with love.  For all my wonderful friends here in Blog land!!!!  xoxo  ~Marion

LOVE

By Roy Croft

I love you not only for what you are,

But for what I am when I am with you.

I love you, not only for what

You have made of yourself,

But for what you are making of me.

I love you for the part of me that you bring out;

I love you for putting your hand

Into my heaped-up heart and passing over

All the foolish, weak things that you can't help

Dimly seeing there,

And for drawing out into the light

All the beautiful belongings that no one else had looked

Quite far enough to find

I love you because you are helping me to make

Of the lumber of my life not a tavern

But a temple.

Out of the works of my every day

Not a reproach but a song.

I love you because you have done

more than any creed could have done

to make me good.

And more than any fate could have done

to make me happy.

You have done it without a touch,

Without a word, without a sign.

You have done it

by being yourself.

Perhaps that is what

Being a friend means,

After all.

My Heart by Kim Addonizio

<> 

My Heart
by Kim Addonizio

That Mississippi chicken shack.
That initial-scarred tabletop,
that tiny little dance floor to the left of the band.
That kiosk at the mall selling caramels and kitsch.
That tollbooth with its white-plastic-gloved worker
handing you your change.
That phone booth with the receiver ripped out.
That dressing room in the fetish boutique,
those curtains and mirrors.
That funhouse, that horror, that soundtrack of screams.
That putti-filled heaven raining gilt from the ceiling.
That haven for truckers, that bottomless cup.
That biome. That wilderness preserve.
That landing strip with no runway lights
where you are aiming your plane,
imagining a voice in the tower,
imagining a tower.

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A rare ice storm yesterday.  

Today the woods are made of melting glass, 

shimmering in the morning sunlight.

I am happy.

~Marion

Please forgive the fucked-up formatting.  Still having issues.  :-(

Romeo and Juliet Meet Van Gogh

'The Starry Night' by Vincent Van Gogh, September 1888

"Come, night; come, Romeo; come, thou day in night;

for thou wilt lie upon the wings of night

whiter than new snow on a raven's back.

Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-brow'd night,
give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die,
take him and cut him out in little stars,
and he will make the face of heaven so fine
that all the world will be in love with night
and pay no worship to the garish sun."


~William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, from:  Scene II, Capulet’s Orchard

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I saw a post similar to this one on another blog and realized I've been amiss by not posting Shakespeare.  Romeo and Juliet is my favorite play by the master.  Maybe because I saw the movie as a young teenager and instantly fell in love with love.  Ah, youth....wasted on the young!  :-)

My husband's favorite artist is Van Gogh and he has reproduced many of his paintings and sold them.  We have every letter, book, biography written by or about Van Gogh and many volumes of his art.  I feel as if he's a part of our family.  I have "Road With Cypress and Star" on the wall in my den painted by Ray.  He's a great artist and can paint almost anything (except walls...tee-hee...he detests 'honey-do's').  Our dream is to see one of Van Gogh's paintings 'in person'.  Hopefully we will one day soon.

I hope you all have a wonderful, happy weekend.

Love & Blessings,
Marion

Words for It by Julia Cameron

Rose Petal Heart by Marion

Words For It
By Julia Cameron

I wish I could take language
and fold it like cool, moist rags.
I would lay words on your forehead.
I would wrap words on your wrists.
"There, there," my words would say–
or something better.
I would ask them to murmur,
"Hush" and "Shh, shhh, it's all right."
I would ask them to hold you all night.
I wish I could take language
and daub and soothe and cool
where fever blisters and burns,
where fever turns yourself against you.
I wish I could take language
and heal the words that were the wounds
you have no names for.

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"For some of us, books are as important as almost anything else on earth. What a miracle it is that out of these small, flat, rigid squares of paper unfolds world after world after world, worlds that sing to you, comfort and quiet or excite you. Books help us understand who we are and how we are to behave. They show us what community and friendship mean; they show us how to live and die." ~Anne Lamott, from "Bird by Bird"

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I have no words of my own this week.  I'm January-ed out, blank, ready for February and the promise of Spring.  I love this poem by Julia Cameron from her amazing book, "The Artist's Way" and have it taped on my closet door.  It's exudes love and comfort to me and I hope it does the same for you.  xoxoxo

Love & Blessings,
Marion

Song for Going to the Water, A Cherokee Poem & Moondancing by Marion

I took this photo last night while outside moonbathing under the full moon and admiring the jet stream along side it. I brought my largest cup and filled it until it overflowed with moonlight. I drank it, then howled at the moon. I did. Really.

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Song for Going to the Water
~Cherokee Poem

If your heart is not well,
If your spirit is not well,
These words may help you.

Wake in the hour
just before dawn.
Wake in the hours
before first light.
Wake when the animals of the night
have ended their songs,
when the animals of the day
have not yet begun their songs.

Walk without words.
Follow the path
that leads to the stream.

Then, as the first light
touches the stream,
bend to the water,
speak these words:

"Long Person, I come to ask your help."

Then hold up
a cup of that water
and drink the dawn.

~From an old high school Literature Book.

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I wrote this full moon poem in July of 2009 for my friend, Erin.

MOONDANCING
By Marion

There was I wearing just dragonflies
in my untamed, burgundy hair.
She all glistening, robed only in river silt,
shining just as fair.
Our skin glowing uncannily,
lit from within and without,
arms outstretched, heads thrown back
as we twirled and pranced about.
Faces upturned, filled with rapture as
round and round we whirled---
lost in the moonlady’s ecstasy,
entranced in our own dream-world.

Some said it were fairies dancing
up under the stars that night---
Crazed and drunk from the river reflecting
the full moon’s shimmering light.
But me and my friend knew better,
t’was our spirits’ mystical meeting,
celebrating the poetry of rivers and
the feel of the full moon’s heart beating.

7/7/09

God Says Yes To Me by Kaylin Haught

I've been listening to my record albums today. I have quite a collection, most like new. I made a major haul at a library sale several years back and got almost 100 albums in mint condition for fifty cents each. The one pictured is one of my very, very favorites with some awesome memories attached to it. :-)

I thought I'd share a favorite poem, too. This poem sings right off the page!

Enjoy,
Marion

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God Says Yes To Me
Kaylin Haught

I asked God if it was okay to be melodramatic
and she said yes
I asked her if it was okay to be short
and she said it sure is
I asked her if I could wear nail polish
or not wear nail polish
and she said honey
she calls me that sometimes
she said you can do just exactly
what you want to
Thanks God I said
And is it even okay if I don't paragraph
my letters
Sweetcakes God said
who knows where she picked that up
what I'm telling you is
Yes Yes Yes

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"Don't let the past remind us of
What we are not now
I am not dreamin'..." ~From: 'Suite: Judy Blue Eyes' by Steven Stills


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"Things ain't what they used to be and probably never was." ~Will Rogers

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I Am An Alphabet Woman by Marion

ALPHABET WOMAN
by Marion Lawless

Written after reading Beat poet Anne Waldman’s Poetry.
She was inspired by the shaman woman, Maria Sabina’s chants.....

I am an Alphabet woman, a magician with words.
I am a Book woman, reading to stay alive.
I am a Creative woman, forming art from garbage.
I am a Dragonfly woman, born of water, earth and sky.
I am an Earthy woman, friends with trees and flowers.
I am a Flying woman, soaring nightly in my dreams.
I am a Gardening woman, tiller of soil and soul.
I am an Herbal woman, creator of enchanted potions.
I am an Intuitive woman, looking beyond facades.
I am a Joyous woman, happy to be alive.
I am a Kind woman, treating others with respect.
I am a Learning woman, hungry for truth and knowledge.
I am a Moon woman, in tune with lunar cycles.
I am a Nature woman, hearing the earth’s heartbeat.
I am an Ocean woman, drawn by the pull of the tides.
I am a Poet woman, midwife to little poems.
I am a Questioning woman, every seeking mystery.
I am a Reading woman, devourer of words.
I am a Survivor woman, growing stronger with each challenge.
I am a Tattooed woman, wearing my spirit on my skin.
I am an Understanding woman, full of empathy.
I am a Victorious woman, overcomer of obstacles large and small.
I am a Wild woman, indefinable, spirited and free.
I am an X-ray woman, seeing through life’s illusions.
I am a Yin-Yang woman, ever seeking balance.
I am a Zealous woman, passionate about life, truth and love.

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I've posted this old poem several times. It's one of my favorite poems by one of my favorite poets...moi! LOL!

It's colder than a well-digger's ass here in the deep South (that's one of Mama's sayings) and I'm hunkered down wearing my sock hat, toe-socks, flannel pj's, scarf and sweat suits...plural. I am so not a cold weather girl. I went outside to break the ice on my birdbaths and it was so thick I had to bang it with a shovel then pour hot water over it. Poor little birdies. I filled all my bird feeders and that was my outdoor adventure for today. Thankfully, the sun is shining and it's slowly warming up. Kudos to my Canadian friends. I sincerely do NOT know how y'all do it.

Blessings,
~Marion

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Winter is nature's way of saying, "Up yours." ~Robert Byrne

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"I was just thinking, if it is really religion with these nudist colonies, they sure must turn atheists in the wintertime." ~Will Rogers

======================

"O, wind,
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?" ~Percy Bysshe Shelley

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A New Poet by Linda Pastan

A New Poet
By Linda Pastan

Finding a new poet
is like finding a new wildflower
out in the woods. You don't see

its name in the flower books, and
nobody you tell believes
in its odd color or the way

its leaves grow in splayed rows
down the whole length of the page. In fact
the very page smells of spilled

red wine and the mustiness of the sea
on a foggy day - the odor of truth
and of lying.

And the words are so familiar,
so strangely new, words
you almost wrote yourself, if only

in your dreams there had been a pencil
or a pen or even a paintbrush,
if only there had been a flower.

from Heroes In Disguise, 1991

I can't barely recall my life before I met Erin or my Annie, two of my favorite poets/writers/people/friends... Finding a new poet often leads to finding an amazing, sparkling new friend. For sure.

Love & Blessings,
~Marion

"But oh! the blessing it is to have a friend to whom one can speak fearlessly on any subject; with whom one's deepest as well as one's most foolish thoughts come out simply and safely. Oh, the comfort - the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person - having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are, chaff and grain together; certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then with the breath of kindness blow the rest away." ~Dinah Craik, A Life for a Life, 1859

Dead-Winged Blackbirds, A Symphony

Dead-Winged Blackbirds: A Symphony
By Marion for Magpie Tales 48

Red-Winged Blackbirds
fallen from the sky,
everyone guessing
none knowing why---

Red-Winged Blackbirds
falling like rain,
some say it’s normal,
I think it’s insane---

Red-Winged Blackbirds
never again to sing--
I’ll mourn your silence
With my tears, come Spring.

Dead-Winged Blackbirds
never to fly
back into their ocean
Of lapis blue sky---

~1/11/11


Inspired by the Beatles song, "Blackbird", and sadly, the mysterious death of thousands of Red-Winged Blackbirds recently...

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"A skylark wounded in the wing,
A Cherubim does cease to sing." ~Walt Whitman

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The Wind Blows Through the Doors of My Heart by Deborah Digges

"Dragonflies" by Marion

The Wind Blows Through the Doors of My Heart

by Deborah Digges

The wind blows
through the doors of my heart.
It scatters my sheet music
that climbs like waves from the piano, free of the keys.
Now the notes stripped, black butterflies,
flattened against the screens.
The wind through my heart
blows all my candles out.
In my heart and its rooms is dark and windy.
From the mantle smashes birds' nests, teacups
full of stars as the wind winds round,
a mist of sorts that rises and bends and blows
or is blown through the rooms of my heart
that shatters the windows,
rakes the bedsheets as though someone
had just made love. And my dresses
they are lifted like brides come to rest
on the bedstead, crucifixes,
dresses tangled in trees in the rooms
of my heart. To save them
I've thrown flowers to fields,
so that someone would pick them up
and know where they came from.
Come the bees now clinging to flowered curtains.
Off with the clothesline pinning anything, my mother's trousseau.
It is not for me to say what is this wind
or how it came to blow through the rooms of my heart.
Wing after wing, through the rooms of the dead
the wind does not blow. Nor the basement, no wheezing,
no wind choking the cobwebs in our hair.
It is cool here, quiet, a quilt spread on soil.
But we will never lie down again.

From:  "The Wind Blows Through the Doors of My Heart:  Poems" by Deborah Digges, 1950 - 2009

A beautiful, soulful, fantastic book of poetry.

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