I hold it true

I hold it true, whate’er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
‘Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.—-Alfred Tennyson – 1850

Don’t underestimate the value of doing nothing, of just going along, listening to all the things you can’t hear, and not bothering.

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16 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Kim
    Aug 17, 2011 @ 15:05:40

    GOODBYE

    Why things have to end eventually?
    Do we need to go, or let them get away?
    Why do these stupid hearts stop beating suddenly?
    Existence of feelings doesn’t work technically
    Open this cage and let the bird fly away
    It will come back if this meant to you by way
    Just give a space to think it anyway
    Insatiability is not the reason by the the way
    Million of stars glimmerings up above the sky
    Just reach the special one and keep it by your side
    Who knows one day the road will cross our way
    Time would tell if we are meant to be Baby
    To wave goodbye is not the ending
    It’s a start of a brand new beginning

    Nancy Ando Seroy

    Reply

  2. Kim
    Aug 17, 2011 @ 15:15:06

    The Sad Mother by Gabriela Mistral
    Sleep, sleep, my beloved,
    without worry, without fear,
    although my soul does not sleep,
    although I do not rest.

    Sleep, sleep, and in the night
    may your whispers be softer
    than a leaf of grass,
    or the silken fleece of lambs.

    May my flesh slumber in you,
    my worry, my trembling.
    In you, may my eyes close
    and my heart sleep.

    Reply

  3. Kim
    Aug 17, 2011 @ 15:21:25

    My Mother’s Body by Marge Piercy
    1.

    The dark socket of the year
    the pit, the cave where the sun lies down
    and threatens never to rise,
    when despair descends softly as the snow
    covering all paths and choking roads:

    then hawkfaced pain seized you
    threw you so you fell with a sharp
    cry, a knife tearing a bolt of silk.
    My father heard the crash but paid
    no mind, napping after lunch

    yet fifteen hundred miles north
    I heard and dropped a dish.
    Your pain sunk talons in my skull
    and crouched there cawing, heavy
    as a great vessel filled with water,

    oil or blood, till suddenly next day
    the weight lifted and I knew your mind
    had guttered out like the Chanukah
    candles that burn so fast, weeping
    veils of wax down the chanukiya.

    Those candles were laid out,
    friends invited, ingredients bought
    for latkes and apple pancakes,
    that holiday for liberation
    and the winter solstice

    when tops turn like little planets.
    Shall you have all or nothing
    take half or pass by untouched?
    Nothing you got, Nun said the dreydl
    as the room stopped spinning.

    The angel folded you up like laundry
    your body thin as an empty dress.
    Your clothes were curtains
    hanging on the window of what had
    been your flesh and now was glass.

    Outside in Florida shopping plazas
    loudspeakers blared Christmas carols
    and palm trees were decked with blinking
    lights. Except by the tourist
    hotels, the beaches were empty.

    Pelicans with pregnant pouches
    flapped overhead like pterodactyls.
    In my mind I felt you die.
    First the pain lifted and then
    you flickered and went out.

    Reply

  4. Kim
    Aug 17, 2011 @ 15:22:31

    My Mother’s Body by Marge Piercy

    4.

    What is it we turn from, what is it we fear?
    Did I truly think you could put me back inside?
    Did I think I would fall into you as into a molten
    furnace and be recast, that I would become you?

    What did you fear in me, the child who wore
    your hair, the woman who let that black hair
    grow long as a banner of darkness, when you
    a proper flapper wore yours cropped?

    You pushed and you pulled on my rubbery
    flesh, you kneaded me like a ball of dough.
    Rise, rise, and then you pounded me flat.
    Secretly the bones formed in the bread.

    I became willful, private as a cat.
    You never knew what alleys I had wandered.
    You called me bad and I posed like a gutter
    queen in a dress sewn of knives.

    All I feared was being stuck in a box
    with a lid. A good woman appeared to me
    indistinguishable from a dead one
    except that she worked all the time.

    Your payday never came. Your dreams ran
    with bright colors like Mexican cottons
    that bled onto the drab sheets of the day
    and would not bleach with scrubbing.

    My dear, what you said was one thing
    but what you sang was another, sweetly
    subversive and dark as blackberries
    and I became the daughter of your dream.

    This body is your body, ashes now
    and roses, but alive in my eyes, my breasts,
    my throat, my thighs. You run in me
    a tang of salt in the creek waters of my blood,

    you sing in my mind like wine. What you
    did not dare in your life you dare in mine.

    Reply

  5. Dawgbert
    Aug 17, 2011 @ 17:53:35

    Rut Roe Jose:
    Florida Bar investigating Jose Baez over Casey Anthony probation issue
    http://www.orlandosentinel.com/news/local/caylee-anthony/os-casey-anthony-jose-baez-bar-invest20110817,0,3119012.story
    Rut Roe Lizabeth:
    Casey Anthony asks appeal court to vacate Judge Perry’s probation order
    http://www.orlandosentinel.com/news/local/caylee-anthony/os-casey-anthony-probation-appeal-20110817,0,4260800.story

    Reply

  6. Dawgbert
    Aug 17, 2011 @ 17:57:06

    The only smart thing that ever came out of Big C’s Mouth:
    “You need to get rid of Baez.”

    Reply

  7. Dawgbert
    Aug 17, 2011 @ 18:25:31

    Chaney Mason has made Lizabeth the human punching
    bag. I wish she would leave the dark side.

    Reply

  8. Dawgbert
    Aug 17, 2011 @ 18:31:25

    Little c is worth zero now!

    Reply

  9. Louise
    Aug 21, 2011 @ 08:56:52

    Except to all those Hustler mag hag readers.

    Reply

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