Wednesday Words

"Replace yourself continuously. You are not enough for yourself. Be always unpredictable, even to yourself. Let yourself happen before your very eyes. Let your sensations be like chance events, adventures you stumbled into..."

The Selected Prose of Fernando Pessoa, translated by Richard Zenith

Wednesday Words

The Keeper of Sheep II

My gaze is clear like a sunflower.
It is my custom to walk the roads
Looking right and left
And sometimes looking behind me,
And what I see at each moment
Is what I never saw before,
And I’m very good at noticing things.
I’m capable of feeling the same wonder
A newborn child would feel
If he noticed that he’d really and truly been born.
I feel at each moment that I’ve just been born
Into a completely new world…

I believe in the world as in a daisy,
Because I see it. But I don’t think about it,
Because to think is to not understand.
The world wasn’t made for us to think about it
(To think is to have eyes that aren’t well)
But to look at it and to be in agreement.

I have no philosophy, I have senses…
If I speak of Nature it’s not because I know what it is
But because I love it, and for that very reason,
Because those who love never know what they love
Or why they love, or what love is.

To love is eternal innocence,
And the only innocence is not to think…

Alberto Caeiro (Fernando Pessoa)
Translation: Richard Zenith

Wednesday Words

Montage-a-google with the keyword "word".

Wednesday Words

"Human history becomes more and more a race between education and catastrophe."

H.G. Wells

Wednesday Words

A Tear and a Smile
by Khalil Gibran

I would not exchange the sorrows of my heart
For the joys of the multitude.
And I would not have the tears that sadness makes
To flow from my every part turn into laughter.

I would that my life remain a tear and a smile.

A tear to purify my heart and give me understanding
Of life's secrets and hidden things.
A smile to draw me nigh to the sons of my kind and
To be a symbol of my glorification of the gods.

A tear to unite me with those of broken heart;
A smile to be a sign of my joy in existence.

I would rather that I died in yearning and longing than that I live weary and despairing.

I want the hunger for love and beauty to be in the
Depths of my spirit,for I have seen those who are
Satisfied the most wretched of people.
I have heard the sigh of those in yearning and Longing, and it is sweeter than the sweetest melody.

With evening's coming the flower folds her petals
And sleeps, embracingher longing.
At morning's approach she opens her lips to meet
The sun's kiss.

The life of a flower is longing and fulfilment.
A tear and a smile.

The waters of the sea become vapor and rise and come
Together and area cloud.

And the cloud floats above the hills and valleys
Until it meets the gentle breeze, then falls weeping
To the fields and joins with brooks and rivers to Return to the sea, its home.

The life of clouds is a parting and a meeting.
A tear and a smile.

And so does the spirit become separated from
The greater spirit to move in the world of matter
And pass as a cloud over the mountain of sorrow
And the plains of joy to meet the breeze of death
And return whence it came.

To the ocean of Love and Beauty----to God.

Wednesday Words

... is wordless today.

Wednesday Words

Careless Love

Love, oh love, oh careless love,
You've fly though my head like wine
You've wrecked the life
Of many a poor girl
And you nearly spoiled this life of mine

Love, oh love, oh careless love,
In your clutches of desire
You've made me break a many true vow
Then you set my very soul on fire

Love, oh love, oh careless love,
All my happiness bereft
Cause you've filled my heart with weary old blues
Now I'm walkin' talkin' to myself

Love, oh love, oh careless love,
Trusted you now it's too late
You've made me throw my old friend down
That's why I sing this song of hate

Love, oh love, oh careless love,
Night and day I weep and moan
You brought the wrong man into this life of mine
For my sins till judgement I'll atone

I love Madeleine Peyroux. This is a feel-good song for me. Always brings a smile to my face and my feet like tapping away to the beat. Hope you enjoy!

Wednesday Words

"Poet, novelist and playwright Fred D'Aguiar was born in London, but grew up in Guyana before returning to England aged 12. His first collection, Mama Dot (1985) won numerous awards and established him as one of the most distinctive voices in English poetry. His most recent collection is An English Sampler: New and Selected Poems (Chatto 2001). He is finalising a new collection, Elegies, written in the wake of the campus shootings at Virginia Tech, where he teaches creative writing and literature.

The legacy of unfinished poems and how to approach them through the invention of a persona."

Check out this month's poetry workshop in the Guardian with Fred d'Aguiar.

Wednesday Words

The Garden

I fell in love with this youtube video while searching for infertility material. Just like this man, my garden was my fertile world during my infertile days. I was so proud of every little bit of life in my garden, even each weed, making up for the life I coudn't produce inside my womb.

Wednesday Words

The Flyer
Nanci Griffith

He was a flyer for the Air Force
On a plane from San Antonio
I was traveling to London
He was going off to Buffalo
Changing planes in Pittsburgh
We got grounded in a storm
Now, I would give anything
To be on that flyer's arm

We played cards, mostly blackjack
As we sat out on the tarmac
We sang songs we knew in Spanish
As we both loved songs of language
He'd heard me on the radio
I'd seen the flyers on San Antone
Now, I would give anything
To have that flyer for my own

God bless the flyer
Who would be flying home tonight
I would give anything
To see that flyer, flyin' tonight

He said he'd never married
Cuz, his heart was in the clouds
And I said I was too clumsy
That I broke the wings of the loves I found
He shouted out his name to me
As I ran to make my flight
Now, I would give anything
To see that flyer, flyin' tonight

One year I watched a war in London
In the airport leaving London
And I wondered if I'd know him
If I saw his wings in motion
Did I leave my heart in Pittsburgh...
In the lightening of that flight?
I wish that you could tell me now
Will he be flyin' home tonight?

God bless the flyer
Who would be flying home tonight
I would give anything
To see that flyer, flyin' tonight

God bless the flyer
Who would be flying home tonight
I would give anything
To see that flyer, flyin' tonight

My best friend just got back from the Winnipeg Folk Festival in Canada & I'm here green with envy. She got to see Nanci Griffith performing live. Grrrrr....

Wednesday Words

When in the uterine empyrean they told me

By Patrick Donnelly

When in the uterine empyrean they told me

of love, they named it a sickness, fever, impediment

to enlightenment. Some swore it could make you wail

over hills of hell in a long black veil, defenestrate

yourself in a Second Empire gown, or stand

wringing-wet at the intersection with a cup and a sign

reading COMFORT ME WITH APPLES.

There were a few, humiliated and exalted, who rose

like comets in yellowy tiers, to sing in Provençal

of the Name, the Name, the same longing Name.

But others warned that whom He loves, He corrects,

of "friendship with benefits," balcony scenes, mad scenes

in all-white restaurants, of the turned back in bed.

But when they said I could remain behind

if I chose, like an unlit lamp,

sounding my brass and tinkling my cymbal,

I didn't think, I seized

the bloody flag of my attachments

and tore down the tunnel of what I couldn't know

was my millionth birth.

Is there such a thing as memory from before birth? I wonder. This poem reminds me of The Famished Road and the spirit-children. Listen to Patrick Donnelly read this poem.

Wednesday Words

Barbecue Season Is Coming!

After the long months of cold and winter, we will soon be coming up to summer and BBQ season. Therefore it is important to refresh your memory on the etiquette of this sublime outdoor cooking, as it’s the only type of cooking a real man will do, probably because there is an element of danger involved.

When a man volunteers to do the BBQ the following chain of events are put into motion:

Routine..

• The woman buys the food.
• The woman makes the salad, prepares the side dishes, and makes dessert.
• The woman prepares the meat for cooking, places it on a tray along with the necessary cooking utensils and sauces, and takes it to the man who is lounging beside the grill - beer in hand.

Here comes the important part:

• THE MAN PLACES THE MEAT ON THE GRILL.

More routine…

• The woman goes inside to organize the plates and cutlery.
• The woman comes out to tell the man that the meat is burning. He thanks her and asks if she will bring another beer while he deals with the situation.

Important again:

• THE MAN TAKES THE MEAT OFF THE GRILL AND HANDS IT TO THE WOMAN.
  

More routine…..

• The woman prepares the plates, salad, bread, utensils, napkins, sauces and brings them to the table.
• After eating, the woman clears the table and does the dishes.
  

And most important of all:

• Everyone PRAISES the MAN and THANKS HIM for his cooking efforts.
• The man asks the woman how she enjoyed “her night off.” And, upon seeing her annoyed reaction, concludes that there’s just no pleasing some women….

http://www.bbqjunkie.com/bbq/bbq-humor/

Fact of the matter is that I'm married to the world's worst cook. Sorry, babe, but you know it's true! So, I decided to get a new fancy-schmancy gas BBQ cuz that's supposed to be male turf. Guess who ended up doing the cooking?

Wednesday Words

Both Sides, Now

by Joni Mitchell (1969)

Rows and flows of angel hair

And ice cream castles in the air

And feather canyons everywhere

I've looked at clouds that way

But now they only block the sun

They rain and snow on everyone

So many things I would have done

But clouds got in my way

I've looked at clouds from both sides now

From up and down, and still somehow

It's cloud illusions I recall

I really don't know clouds at all

Moons and Junes and Ferris wheels

The dizzy dancing way you feel

As ev'ry fairy tale comes real

I've looked at love that way

But now it's just another show

You leave 'em laughing when you go

And if you care, don't let them know

Don't give yourself away

I've looked at love from both sides now

From give and take, and still somehow

It's love's illusions I recall

I really don't know love at all

Tears and fears and feeling proud

To say "I love you" right out loud

Dreams and schemes and circus crowds

I've looked at life that way

But now old friends are acting strange

They shake their heads, they say I've changed

Well something's lost, but something's gained

In living every day

I've looked at life from both sides now

From win and lose and still somehow

It's life's illusions I recall

I really don't know life at all

I've looked at life from both sides now

From up and down, and still somehow

It's life's illusions I recall

I really don't know life at all

I seem to be devoting this week to Joni Mitchell. This is an extrordinary song, written back in 1969 (I was just a baby) by a 21-year-old girl. "The first song that got fussed over was 'Both Sides Now,' which I thought was a failure," she said. "Because it was such a big meditation, you know. I've looked at these things from both sides now. I do clouds from up in the air looking down and down on the ground looking up and all the things that they do. You know, and love and live. And I was 21 when I wrote that. And I got mostly ridiculed from people, from 'What do you know about life? You're 21,' you know?" Mitchell continued: "Well, actually at 21 I had experienced quite a lot of life. I'd had a rough childhood. I looked so innocent. But I'd had life and death struggles and things." Some people are pretty grown up at 21. that's when I was just about to start my infertility battle.

Have a look at these 2 videos, spanning 30 years (1970 & 2000). Pretty amazing, eh?

Wednesday Words

The Spider Knows

The spider knows

his centre

Like a sure

compass he paces

out the bounds of his decided

universe, remembering

which side of him is

centre

Narrowing in he fastens

often

back to the centre where he

rests or plots, he doesn't know

about mistakes

our spider sleeping

tight round his centre

though the thunder

blow

Marvyne Jenoff, 1975

Wednesday Words

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you

But make allowance for their doubting too,

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,

Or being hated, don't give way to hating,

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,

If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breath a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,

If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,

And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!

Rudyard Kipling

And now it's time for some Irn Bru!

Wednesday Words

After pain, a formal feeling comes

After great pain, a formal feeling comes --
The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs --
The stiff Heart questions was it He, that bore,
And Yesterday, or Centuries before?

The Feet, mechanical, go round --
Of Ground, or Air, or Ought --
A Wooden way
Regardless grown,
A Quartz contentment, like a stone --

This is the Hour of Lead --
Remembered, if outlived,
As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow --
First -- Chill -- then Stupor -- then the letting go --

Emily Dickinson

Wednesday Words

The Keeper of Sheep XXXIX

The mystery of things – where is it?
Why doesn't it come out
To show us at least that it's mystery?
What do the river and the tree know about it?
And what do I, who am no more than they, know about it?


Whenever I look at things and think about what people think of them,
I laugh like a brook cleanly plashing against a rock.
For the only hidden meaning of things
Is that they have no hidden meaning.
It's the strangest thing of all,
Stranger than all poets' dreams
And all philosophers' thoughts,
That things are really what they seem to be
And there's nothing to understand.


Yes, this is what my senses learned on their own:
Things have no meaning: they exist.
Things are the only hidden meaning of things.

Alberto Caeiro
Translation: 1998, Richard Zenith
From: Fernando Pessoa & Co. – Selected Poems


Apologies for "Wednesday Words" being a day late. I honestly lost track of time.

Wednesday Words

Wednesday Words

He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven

by WB Yeats

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,

Enwrought with golden and silver light,

The blue and the dim and the dark cloths

Of night and light and the half-light,

I would spread the cloths under your feet:

But I, being poor, have only my dreams;

I have spread my dreams under your feet;

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

Wednesday Words

A little late (it's just after midnight). And time for bed!