I drove past a nearby stable today. The horses didn't seem to mind the light rain that was falling.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure…We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be?… There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do…as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same." ~M.Williamson
I am
- Osquer
- Gastines, Pays de la Loire, France
- I am trying to overcome my fear of speaking to the world.
I believe in faeries!
Looking Back
- December 2024 (47)
- November 2024 (33)
- October 2024 (46)
- September 2024 (45)
- August 2024 (47)
- July 2024 (53)
- June 2024 (57)
- May 2024 (60)
- April 2024 (60)
- March 2024 (66)
- February 2024 (51)
- January 2024 (55)
- December 2023 (79)
- November 2023 (49)
- October 2023 (69)
- September 2023 (41)
- August 2023 (60)
- July 2023 (87)
- June 2023 (78)
- May 2023 (86)
- April 2023 (128)
- March 2023 (82)
- February 2023 (62)
- January 2023 (60)
- December 2022 (38)
- November 2022 (26)
- October 2022 (41)
- September 2022 (55)
- August 2022 (17)
- July 2022 (9)
- June 2022 (7)
- April 2022 (3)
- May 2021 (1)
- April 2021 (11)
- March 2021 (2)
- January 2021 (1)
- September 2020 (2)
- September 2019 (1)
- June 2019 (1)
- February 2017 (1)
- January 2017 (1)
- April 2015 (3)
- March 2015 (3)
- January 2015 (1)
- October 2014 (1)
- April 2014 (1)
- March 2014 (1)
- February 2014 (2)
- January 2014 (6)
- July 2013 (2)
- June 2013 (2)
- May 2013 (4)
- April 2013 (9)
- March 2013 (9)
- February 2013 (7)
- January 2013 (3)
- December 2012 (1)
- October 2012 (6)
- September 2012 (8)
- January 2012 (1)
- May 2011 (1)
- April 2011 (1)
- March 2011 (1)
- February 2011 (2)
- August 2010 (1)
- May 2010 (1)
- November 2009 (3)
- January 2009 (1)
- December 2008 (2)
- November 2008 (1)
- October 2008 (2)
- September 2008 (1)
- August 2008 (1)
- July 2008 (4)
- June 2008 (3)
- May 2008 (7)
- April 2008 (5)
- March 2008 (4)
- February 2008 (7)
- January 2008 (8)
- December 2007 (3)
- November 2007 (6)
- October 2007 (34)
- September 2007 (32)
- August 2007 (29)
- July 2007 (21)
- June 2007 (64)
- May 2007 (70)
- April 2007 (70)
- March 2007 (83)
- February 2007 (91)
- January 2007 (92)
- December 2006 (75)
- November 2006 (96)
- October 2006 (109)
- September 2006 (156)
- August 2006 (139)
- July 2006 (131)
- June 2006 (134)
- May 2006 (23)
Pittsburgh Bloggers
Carnival of Souls
- Song In My Heart
- One Word - So Little Time
- Paperback Writer
- Captain Picard's Journal
- Samual Spade
- Maybe there is a dog?
- Rowan's Song
- Law Girl
- Daily Musings
- wooziee
- David W. Dietz III
- Past Tense
- Laughing Ghosts
- SAVE LIVES - IT'S FREE!
- Chowderhead
- Post Secret
- Motivated Motion
- Tikkis
- Ladybird Haiku
- Bea Yourself
- Specialty Painting by Melissa Tai
- The World According to EDW
20 comments:
This was no Southfork, it was no Ponderosa.
But it was the place that I called home.
They say they gave me compensation...
That's not what I'm chasing. I was a rich man before yesterday.
And what do I want with a million dollars and a pickup truck?
When I left my farm under the freeway.
With her phrase book in her silk soft hand
she spoke in riddles while the vodka listened.
I said, ``Let me look up love, if I might be so bold.''
She was the nearest thing to Rock and Roll
that side of the velvet curtain
that separates eastern steel from western gold.
In the dark of the city backwoods, something stirs then slips away.
Law and order in darkest Knightsbridge. Crime and punishment at play.
Hey, Mr. Policeman won't you come on over. Hook me up to the power lines
of your love.
Jump start, or tow me away.
See how she moves just like two angels (in white innocence).
Yet one of them is on the run.
The other's tapping at my car window
and I'm squinting through the sun
trying to see if she's some child of the nineties:
or just another dangerous fantasy of mine.
The cameras were all around.We've got you taped you're in the play.
Here's your I.D. (Ideal for identifying one and all.)
Invest your life in the memory bank ours the interest and we thank you.
The ice-cream lady wets her drawers, to see you in the passion play.
Take the prize for instant pleasure, captain of the cricket team
public speaking in all weathers, a knighthood from a queen.
Well the lush separation unfolds you --
and the products of wealth
push you along on the bow wave
of their spiritless undying selves.
And you press on God's waiter your last dime --
as he hands you the bill.
And you spin in the slipstream --
timeless -- unreasoning --
paddle right out of the mess.
Tie me down with your ribbons
and sulk when I ask you why.
Your Sunday paper voice cries
demanding truths I deny.
The bitter-sweet kiss you pretended
is offered, our affair mended.
Sossity: You're a woman.
Society: You're a woman.
In her fairy-tale world she's a lost soul singing
in a sad voice nobody hears.
She waits in her castle of make-believing
for her white knight to appear.
Pusy Willow - down fur-lined avenue
brushing the sleep from her young woman eyes.
Runs for the train - see, eight o'clock's coming
cutting dreams down to size again.
The rowan, the oak and the holly tree
are the charges left for you to groom.
Each blade of grass whispers Jack-In-The-Green.
Oh Jack, please help me through my winter's night.
And we are the berries on the holly tree.
Oh, the mistlethrush is coming.
Jack, put out the light.
Lend me your ear while I call you a fool.
You were kissed by a witch one night in the wood,
and later insisted your feelings were true.
The witch's promise was coming,
believing he listened while laughing you flew.
Come, let me play with you, black satin dancer.
In all your giving, given is the answer.
Tearing life from limb and looking sweeter than the
brightest flower in my garden.
Begging your pardon --- shedding right unreason.
Over sensation fly the fleeting seasons.
Thin wind whispering on broken mandolin.
Bending the minutes --- the hours ever turning on that
old gold story of mercy.
Desperate breathing. Tongue nipple-teasing.
Your fast river flowing --- your northern fire fed.
Come, black satin dancer, come softly to bed.
It's a lonely life I live and I live this life to go
and if I leave you with one thing
it's just that I want you to know
I'll still be loving you tonight.
I left flowers on your table, left the lock on your door.
Staked a claim in your heartlands, put grain in your store.
I'll still be loving you tonight.
Got fingers on the button of that telephone dial.
Call in and move your mountains, fill your spaces while
I'm still loving you tonight.
You want to know how I can leave you?
How can I move along this way?
Too much of a good thing can make you crazy
and it's a good thing that happened to me today.
I'll still be loving you tonight.
Tip-toes in silence `round my bed
and quiets the raindrops overhead.
With her everlasting smile
She still my fever for a while.
Oh, nursie dear,
I'm glad you're here
to brush away my pain.
Wond'ring aloud
how we feel today.
Last night sipped the sunset
my hands in her hair.
We are our own saviours
as we start both our hearts beating life
into each other.
Wond'ring aloud
will the years treat us well.
As she floats in the kitchen,
I'm tasting the smell
of toast as the butter runs.
Then she comes, spilling crumbs on the bed
and I shake my head.
And it's only the giving
that makes you what you are.
Orion, light your lights:
come guard the open spaces
from the black horizon to the pillow where I lie.
Your faithful dog shines brighter than its lord and master
Your jewelled sword twinkles as the world rolls by.
So come up singing above the cloudy cover
Stare through at people who toss fitful in their sleep.
Happy and I'm smiling,
Walk a mile to drink your water.
You know I'd love to love you,
And above you there's no other.
Well go walking out
While others shout of wars disaster.
Oh, we wont give in,
Lets go living in the past.
She rises before me, reading me clearly.
Empty nest left pressed in the pillow.
She can shift, she can sway
and bend like a willow.
I'm swept in the riptide. Caught in a fish trap.
Gift-wrapped in my soft self centre.
Summer sun leaves me as one who can only taste winter.
She's a good, a good God-send... she can bend like a willow.
I'm a tiger when I want love,
but I'm a snake if we disagree.
Just say a word and the boys will be right there:
with claws at your back to send a chill through the night air.
Is it so frightening to have me at your shoulder?
Thunder and lightning couldn't be bolder.
She's a nice girl, but her bad girl's better.”
We had to cozzy up in the old gymnasium
dusting off the mandolins and checking on the gear.
She was helping out at the back-stage
stopping hearts and chilling beer.
Yes, and her legs went on for ever.
Like staring up at infinity
through a wisp of cotton panty
along a skin of satin sea.
Hot night in Budapest.
Post a Comment