A Mary Karr Poem & Famous Sunflowers

Sunflowers by Van Gogh

Sunflowers by Hockney

One of my favorite Mary Karr poems...Metaphors be with you.

xo,

Marion, 

sweating and dreaming of Autumn

 

The Weight of Oranges by Anne Michaels

One of my favorite books of poetry by an amazing poet.

For Annie

THE WEIGHT OF ORANGES
By Anne Michaels

My cup’s the same sand color as bread.
Rain’s the same colour of a building across the street,
its torn red dahlias
and ruined a book propped on the sill.

Rain articulates the skins of everything,
pink of bricks from the fire they baked in,
lizard green leaves,
the wrinkled tongues of pine cones.
It’s accurate the way we never are,
bringing out what’s best
without changing a thing.
Rain that makes beds damp,
our room a cave in the morning,
a tent in late afternoon,
ignites the sound of leaves we miss all winter.
The sound that pulled us to bed…
caught in the undertow of wind in wet leaves.

I’m writing in the sound we woke to,
curtains breathing into a half-dark room.

I’m up early now, walking.
Remember our walks, horizons like lips
barely red at dawn,
how kind the distance seemed?
Letters should be written to send news, to say
send me news, to say
meet me at the train station.
Not these dry tears, to honour us like a tomb.
I’m ashamed of our separation.
I wake in the middle of the night and see “shame”
written in the air like a Bible story.
I dreamed my skin was tattooed,
covered with the words that put me here,
covered in sores, in quarantine—and you know what?
I was afraid to light the lamp and look.

Your husband’s a good builder—I burned
every house we had,
with a few words to start the flames.
Words of wood,
they had no power of their own.
“The important” gave them meaning
and humble with gratitude
they exploded in my face.

Now we’re like planets, holding to each other
from a great distance. When we lay down
oceans flexed their green muscles,
life got busy in the other hemisphere,
the globe tilted, bowing to our power!
Now we’re hundreds of miles apart,
our short arms keep us lonely,
no one hears what’s in my head.
I look old. I’m losing my hair.
Where does lost hair go in this world,
lost eyesight, teeth?
We grow old like rivers, get shrunk and doubled over
until we can’t find the mouth of anything.

It’s March, even the birds
don’t know what to do with themselves.

Sometimes I’m certain those who are happy
know one thing more than us… or one thing less.
The only book I’d write again
is our bodies closing together.
That’s the language that stuns,
scars, breathes into you.
Naked, we had voices!

I want you to promise
we’ll see each other again,
you’ll send a letter.
Promise we’ll be lost together
in our forest, pale birches of our legs.

I hear your voice now—I know,
everyone knows promises come from fear.
People don’t live past each other,
you’re always here with me. Sometimes
I pretend you’re in the other room
until it rains… and then
this is the letter I always write:
The letter I write
when they’re keeping me from home.
I smell your supper steaming in the kitchen.
There are paper bags on the table
with their bottoms melted out
by rain and the weight of oranges.

Throwback Thursday- Indigo Poem

An unloved shotgun house in New Orleans...shining Indigo...

++++++++++++

Purple Kale

Purple glass

Grape.

                  Indigo

                                   Indigo book---

                                   Indigo kitchen stools---

                                   Indigo's mystery.

I drank Purple Russian Kale

in my plastic purple glass

and it transmogrified into

a misty, holy, Russian Mass

in a huge psychedelic cathedral with

melting stained glass windows.

                               ---imagiNATION

Modigliani was a poet;

his medium was paint on canvas.

He loved long-necked women

and Absinthe---green liquor

that took him to other worlds---

Dearest, I love you the way 

purple loves elusive indigo,

the way paint loves canvas and

the way words and ink love paper...

the way my fingers love

the feel of dirt as I plant

indigo eggplants and tomatoes.

I dream of touching your soft skin

the way morning sunlight caresses

the tips of the trees...

I think of your dark, long hair

tangled in a morning breeze,

your face upturned as words

come to you---pure & unfiltered.

I wake, eager to read them.

5/17/17 by Marion Lawless

God Will Make a Way

Isaiah 43:18, 19

Remember not the former things,
    nor consider the things of old.
19 Behold, I am doing a new thing;
    now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?
I will make a way in the wilderness
    and rivers in the desert.

^~^~^~^~^~

Isaiah 41:13

“For I, the Lord your God, hold your right hand; it is I who say to you, “Fear not, I am the one who helps you.”

*+*+*+*+*

Psalm 91

1 Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High
    will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.[a]
2 I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress,
    my God, in whom I trust.”

3 Surely he will save you
    from the fowler’s snare
    and from the deadly pestilence.

4 He will cover you with his feathers,
    and under his wings you will find refuge;
    his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.

5 You will not fear the terror of night,
    nor the arrow that flies by day,
6 nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness,
    nor the plague that destroys at midday.

7 A thousand may fall at your side,
    ten thousand at your right hand,
    but it will not come near you.
8 You will only observe with your eyes
    and see the punishment of the wicked.

9 If you say, “The Lord is my refuge,”
    and you make the Most High your dwelling,
10 no harm will overtake you,
    no disaster will come near your tent.
11 For he will command his angels concerning you
    to guard you in all your ways;
12 they will lift you up in their hands,
    so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.
13 You will tread on the lion and the cobra;
    you will trample the great lion and the serpent.  

Because he  loves me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue him;

    I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name.
15 He will call on me, and I will answer him;
    I will be with him in trouble,
    I will deliver him and honor him.
16 With long life I will satisfy him
    and show him my salvation.”

^~^~^~^~^~^~^

Graves Into Gardens
Elevation Worship

I searched the world
But it couldn't fill me
Man's empty praise
And treasures that fade
Are never enough

Then You came along
And put me back together
And every desire
Is now satisfied
Here in Your love (Hey)

Oh, there's nothing better than You
There's nothing better than You
Lord, there's nothing
Nothing is better than You (Oh)
(Yes, I know it's true)
(Come on, stand up, hey)

I'm not afraid
To show You my weakness
My failures and flaws
Lord, You've seen them all
And You still call me friend

'Cause the God of the mountain
Is the God of the valley
There's not a place
Your mercy and grace
Won't find me again (Come on, now)

Oh, there's nothing better than You
There's nothing better than You
Lord, there's nothing
Nothing is better than You
(I know it's true)

Oh, there's nothing better than You (Somebody testify)
There's nothing better than You
Lord, there's nothing
Nothing is better than You

You turn mourning to dancing
You give beauty for ashes
You turn shame into glory
You're the only one who can (Come on)
You turn mourning to dancing
You give beauty for ashes
You turn shame into glory (Tell 'em now)
You're the only one who can (Let's turn the graves)

You turn graves into gardens
You turn bones into armies
You turn seas into highways
You're the only one who can (He's the only Lord)
You're the only one who can

Oh, there's nothing (Come on, choir), better than You
Oh, there's nothing better than You
Lord, there's nothing
Nothing is better than You (Search and not found)

Oh, there's nothing better than You
There's nothing better than You
Lord, there's nothing
Nothing is better than You

Oh, come on, if He turned your grave into a garden, say

You turn graves into gardens
You turn bones into armies
You turn seas into highways
You're the only one who can (Turn to graves)
You turn graves into gardens (Turn bones into an army)
You turn bones into armies (He's makin' waves through the seas)
You turn seas into highways
You're the only one who can
You're the only one who can
You're the only one who can

Somebody give Him praise in this house

I don't think we're finished yet, come on
I think He's turning some things over tonight

You turn my mourning into dancing, come on

You turn mourning to dancing (Yeah)
You give beauty for ashes (Shame into glory)
You turn shame into glory
You're the only one who can (Oh, He's turnin' my grave)
You turn graves into gardens
You turn bones into armies (He's makin' waves through the seas)
You turn seas into highways (You're the only)
You're the only one who can (Come on, one more time)
(You turn my grave into a garden)

You turn graves into gardens (You're resurrectin' bones)
You turn bones into armies (You're makin' waves through my sea)
You turn seas into highways (Shout it out, You're the only)
You're the only one who can (You're the only)
You're the only one who can (You're the only)
You're the only one who can

Jesus, You're the only one
Come on, give Him one more shout of praise

Source: Musixmatch

Songwriters: Christopher Joel Brown / Steven Furtick / Brandon Lake / Tiffany Hammer

Graves Into Gardens lyrics © Be Essential Songs

Freedom Isn’t Free - God Bless America

*+*+*+*+*+*+*

The Star Spangled Banner

Oh, say can you see by the dawn's early light
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?
Whose broad stripes and bright stars thru the perilous fight
O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?
And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air
Gave proof thru the night that our flag was still there

Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes
What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam
In full glory reflected now shines in the stream

'Tis the star-spangled banner! Oh long may it wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave

And where is that band who so vauntingly swore
That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion
A home and a country should leave us no more!

Houses I Love in New Orleans & Two Poems

THE SECOND COMING
By William Butler Yeats

Turning and turning in the widening gyre   

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere   

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst   

Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;

Surely the Second Coming is at hand.   

The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out   

When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi

Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert   

A shape with lion body and the head of a man,   

A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,   

Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it   

Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.   

The darkness drops again; but now I know   

That twenty centuries of stony sleep

Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,   

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,   

Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

…………………………

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

By  Dylan Thomas

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day; 

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right, 

Because their words had forked no lightning they 

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright 

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, 

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, 

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, 

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight 

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, 

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height, 

Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. 

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Hurricane Season...

HURRICANE CHILD, A MAM POEM

By Marion

I were born a hurricane child

strong 'n furious, dark 'n wild.

Come here ass first, bloody & gleamin'

not cryin' but laughin'; Mam were screamin'.

Windows imploded, spewin' glass,

wind was howlin', (it wouldn't last).

Rain was peltin' like fallin' knives

cuttin' out ditches & stealin' lives.

My face were masked with a glistenin' caul,

Mam's was faded a peculiar pall

She be a special one, the midwife said---

Shut yore hole, cried Mam from the bed,

Ain't no gift, it's a burdensome curse

a'knowin' most things & havin' no thirst

fer mystery. Havin' the sight can be a fright

and thieve the best years from yore life!

And a'top all this the moon she's full

so my babe here daily will feel her pull.

She'll be called crazy, lunatic, insane

oftener than folks say her given name.

Hurricane Audrey, she blowed outside

a whippin' & a shriekin'---were we safe inside?

The floor were sparklin' with glass & rain

& I were birthed feet-first in the Hurricane's pain...

July, 2015