Thursday, September 30, 2010

Willow Manor Ball 2010 "I could have danced all night...and I DID with Zorro!"



psssssst: This little number is a circa late 50's Christian Dior. There were so many party-goers I felt like a wall-flower! Ha! NEVER! I really loved the mingle tingle with the regulars and the newbies! It was so nice to be partying through the night with the Willow band of merry-makers!
What a grand setting for the Willow Manor Ball! At the palatial Willow Manor!
Do you like this little samba number? Of course I had a change of clothes, doesnt everybody? Well, I had to impress Zorro, his attention span being rather limiting at times; nonetheless I had a most splendid time...Thank-you kind Hostess with the Mostest ~ Willow dahling...




I left my shoe at the ball. Wonder if Zorro would have found it by now? Probably asking Zsa Zsa if it fits. That's the problem with good-looking guys, their always everybody else's dance partner! Oh quiet my tempest heart! If you find my shoe please ring me; Willow, please look around the gazebo for me? You'll be a doll and do this for me dear; thanks!


"I could have danced all night"

Absolutely the most magnificent Ball of 2010. Everyone was extraordinary good looking and dressed to the nines. All in their finery, in tuxes and tails, ladies in luscious ballgowns. As the dancers swept a mean streak across the ballroom floor with the likes of Betty Davis, Humphrey Bogart to name drop just a few on this most exclusive evening of fun, frivolity and spirited song.

The ambiance of the evening with the gypsy melody Dance Me to The End of Time as all were entranced with the wonderful eternality of the evening. Leonard is such A Beautiful Loser, I couldn't take my eyes from his poetry in motion. Susan I heard took him down, to a place near the river. I wonder if that was the Scioto? I probably didn't spell that correctly! Oh well, another time, another ball, another try at spelling Rivers correctly. Give me a break!

And weren't those golden oldies reruns just much more fun than a run in the panty-hose? And werent they, no they couldnt be, those aren't really dead, those dead stars we were all you dancing with? Well, imagination is the better part of valor for the most part, and since I always wanted to be the valdictorian, in my dreams anyway, real-time means piddle. Let go, let live and let the dead live too I always say!

And that did not keep the young lady of the stairwell from imbibing in her favourite hobby making Mr. Simis do silly things. What a drag some stuffy ghosts get so jealous of other party-goers having a good time. You think she wanted in on it; Oh that card!

Lennie Lebowitz was in fine form with her new look and new fandagle camera. Certainly not a camera obscura as things were clearly focused by Ms L. I think we all were to be featured in Look magazine with the vogue pose; you know the pouty look, SASHAY?. (Remember no time barriers?). So as we all made a Dashiel Hammett Vogue-ish sultry air we moved into the dining room to chat it up with the recently departed partiers who returned as if by magic conjuring by the light of the silvery moon.

And there were even some with living flesh amongs the bodied. Oh boy and what a body the body Ms Marilyn! Nonstop, and non giggle. Oh I can understand that, Willow, very much too much at times, but I guess we cant have it all, Somethings Got to Give! Definitely! Hahahha!

I did think, yes, I thought Johnny did look a lot like Willow's profile and those gorgeous deep chocolate eyes, who needed desert? Hahaha!

Well the evening would have not been complete without the twins and their madcap mania! We certainly did appreciate the frivolity and the rocking good time. Who are the twins you ask? Need I say! I'm sure you've heard the gossip by now!

Zorro behaved himself rather poorly, which I thought "more's the pity" as I really hoped he would have let loose a little more with the Z pattern. Being a recent designer Zorro does cut a mean swathe across the dance floor. Oh that reminds me; Willow I hope you aren't too upset about the curtains? Call my people in the morning! Nonetheless Guy did imbibe a tad too much thinking The Last Word were Shirley Temples. Hahahah!

All in all the evening was magnificent and quite spectacular. Please enjoy my snaps I took whilst leaning heavily on the capped and masked Don Juan. I think he and Mr. Simic did discuss world affairs for a few moments as I could not find him for about half an hour. You know guys! Always playing hide and go seek! I really find the party-games were over the top! Hahah! Roaring good time!

As always Willow you looked MARVELOUS, absoultely heavenly, and so HAUTE couture. I wonder how you do it darhling, really. Those mousey blondes have nothin' on you! Of course I am talking about Marilyn and Zsa Zsa, or was it Eva. How can you tell the Gabor sisters apart? Oh yes, one beat up a policeman. Hahaha!

Well until next year I will be polishing my Tommy Cho Shoes and will be dancing the light fantastic. Bring back the silver screen magic for one more night? I can never get enough of the Willow Manor Ball. Thanks fellow party-goers for your unabashed mannerly way of being totally chaotic! Hahahah!

BTW the Scobie eggs were to die for! and the dessert? Oh........my! Delightful just the right panache with a twist of magic! I'll remember this forever! Tata and Tootles!

I'm off... to get a pedicure, although Guy looks light on his feet, he crtainly is NOT. Ouch the poor tootsies!

jj

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

~~~POEM~a~DAY~~~Emily Dickinson~~~It did not surprise me — by Emily Dickinson 39/1775


EASTERN SCREECH OWL


It did not surprise me — by Emily Dickinson


It did not surprise me —
So I said — or thought —
She will stir her pinions
And the nest forgot,

Traverse broader forests —
Build in gayer boughs,
Breathe in Ear more modern
God's old fashioned vows —

This was but a Birdling —
What and if it be
One within my bosom
Had departed me?

This was but a story —
What and if indeed
There were just such coffin
In the heart instead?

by Emily Dickinson

Friends of Emily! Emily's unique way of speaking in her poetic voice is quite established here. The return of "Emily-esque" symbolic words and themes plays heavily in this poem "It did not surprise me".

"She will stir her pinions
And her nest forgot"

Again the word "pinions" is a pivotal (pardon the pun) word for Emily. As we know, a pinion is not an often used word today. A pinion is a spoke in a wheel. Here the pinion is representative of stirring or movement and/or change. "Stir her pinions" similar to "revving her engine", or "spinning her wheels" itching for a change.

"She will stir her pinions" could also be a pun on the word "opinion". She will state her opinions and forget her home. As ever there is change in life, with humans and the birds of which she alludes to, but not whom I think this poem is entirely about. I believe Emily is again referring to herself or her best friend Sue Gilbert.

Traverse broader forests —
Build in gayer boughs,

The above two lines are easy enough to understand, that the young "birdling" is actually more than just a bird. This poem is a double-entendre or has a double meaning. So the young bird is looking for "broader forests" and "gayer boughs" and so is Emily's best friend, Sue Gilbert. Maybe Emily is speaking about herself, although I doubt this. Since Emily's nature, has proven time and time again in prior poems. Emily is often portrayed as being a home-body.

Emily being a person who perfers to be settled in a secure and unchanging domestic situation. This is proven in the fact that this is what Emily did, she did not embark upon the "greener" pastures or the far away shore.

And I am fairly certain that the person Emily is secretly referring in coded imagery is her best friend, Sue Gilbert. Emily does appear to feel somewhat betrayed by Sue Gilbert's brazen and wreckless abandonment of her feelings by leaving Emily. And Emily feels this in her heart, re: "bosom". We are conjecturing here only, no direct reference has been found to assume this assertion.

Breathe in Ear more modern
God's old fashioned vows —

Perhaps a bit of moralizing here; "God's old fashioned vows" these promises that Emily thought were "cut in stone" were actually impossible to attain. Emily does seem to be quite insistent that "modern" is not the same as "old fashioned". That "old fashioned" is better and requires a good standing with the vows and promises in the moral code of the Bible made this way by and of the Creator. There is something here which is upsetting Emily's good old fashioned moral values and virtues. And I believe this person is Sue Gilbert!

Did Sue Gilbert want something more "modern". It is a fact that Sue Gilbert married Emily's brother and built a "modern" for the Victorian age, a modern home upon the Dickinson estate lands; next door to be precise.

This was but a Birdling —
What and if it be
One within my bosom
Had departed me?

Emily appears to work through some serious emotions in her poems. Perhaps for emotional release or perhaps as a way she communicates with the person for whom many of her poems are written.

In this way Emily is trying to convince Sue Gilbert of her errant ways, and to come back to Emily's way of thinking. This should, in fact, could happen ifSue Gilbert figure out exactly what Emily means to say in her poems. I am not sure if these more "personal" poems were never to be released for the general public viewing. No matter as it is, at this late date, much too late now! Nonetheless, Emily is clearly trying to use a deceptive cover-up to hide her true emotions behind her natural imagery, in this poem, a birdling which is a symbol for Sue Gilbert.

Emily seems heart-broken by the fact that this birdling (Sue Gilbert) will leave by either flying away, and/or dying. Both seem to be the one and the same for Emily in this poem.

Once someone found their way into Emily's heart or "bosom" she has a very difficult time to let go and has stated her resentment for them to have "departed me". Interesting that Emily should leave out the grammatic predicate "from", this could be poetic license however.

This was but a story —
What and if indeed
There were just such coffin
In the heart instead?

Emily in the last stanza is being incredibly maudlin, and wholly remorseful. Her alluding to her heart being a "coffin" is somewhat "Edgar Allan Poe"-like, bordering on the macabre. Did Emily seem to be alluding to the fact of the many deaths that did happen to her did take away her heart? That death made her heart feel "entombed" or "dead" like the imagery of the coffin and Emily could not bear to part for a moment with her best friend. This will have to be a dissertation for the scholars of Emily Dickinson! It would "not surprise me" in the least bit either!

jj

Chiccoreal's Conjectures Into Emily Dickinson's "It did not surprise me"

Little birdling in the tree
spinning its wheels
so and so
waiting to free
pinion free
free of opinions too
Birdling Birdling
in the sky
Little Birdlings
just have to fly!
from the constraits
from the burdens
from the wicked heart of the matter
what's the matter?
Miss Emily?
Must you hold everything
you love so close to your bosom
as to never let go
til grave doth come?
Lighten up!

jj

Monday, September 27, 2010

~~Emily Dickinson~~Poem-A-Day "By such and such an offering" 38/1775

from Blackcordelia.com
Google Free Image

"By such and such an Offering" by Miss Emily Dickinson

By such and such an offering
To Mr. So and So,
The web of live woven —
So martyrs albums show!

by Emily Dickinson

This is truly a remarkable "short" poem. Packs a punch! It is at the same time mystical with religious references "martyrs", "offering" which transcend into the aesthetic of the everyday secular world i.e., nature.

Emily also jestingly (as Emily is wont to do)has fun with words here (very modern by the way and rather un-Victorian in her unique and witty humour) stating "by such and such" and "To Mr. So and So,". Emily's comedic talent diffuse the solemnity of the nature of this poem.

I think the third line almost sounds like a "typo" as we have noticed, this may be the case, that some of Emily's poems were scrawled rather quickly at her insistence and may have been misread by some of her devoted compilers after her death. Nontheless the line "the web of live woven" would make a lot more sense syntacally if this third line read "the web of LIFE woven". However, the astute ever changing the mundane idiom in her own thread, Miss Emily uses LIVE as maybe, an elusion to the LIVE which is all around her and which she has studied in Biology and which is so important in her Transcendental quest or way she is naturally.

I just figured out what the last line means! I think! "So martry'd albums show" may be referring to the dead bugs left on the web! Which may be like "Live woven" also our martrys show as their bones are remaining on this earth. Did I sink this one? Tell me if you see this poem in "another live light of day". Enlighten me! Thanks!

So what exactly is this short poem evoking? What is it moral? To me, Emily is stating that the web is woven with life and that all deeds are reflected upon the "woven" or "work" of humankind. That the reflection in the web of life (or web of LIVE" is indeed showing all, including the fate of the saints who become murdered and thus don the "martyr'd mantel". Do you find something else in this poem? Please tell me if you do...always much more than appreciated! It is somewhat expected...feedback, PLEASE! Thank-you Love-you!

Chiccoreal's Channelling Miss Emily's poem with a 21st Century Perspective

Oh What a Gift Live Has Woven

Together we have given
alms to the poor
time to the ill
spirit to the wind
we have come again
to view the web to find
all we do is reflected
upon
like a mirror the web
holds all our truths
holds all our lies
holds all our pain
We will one time soon
Find the way out
of deception
of confusion
of the spin-out flux
The Great Illusion
free of the web o' lies
and our moral coil
will finally then
recoil
loose our skin and die
then we've find
our ONLY LIVE way
back home again.

jj

(one has to wonder if Ms Emily is foreshadowing the "web" of the computer network?
An amazing poem!

Saturday, September 25, 2010

~~~Magpie#34~~~This Scent of A Man


The heated atmosphere of the square
lay heavily upon her heart
she tried to avoid the crowd
his deep gaze she would deflect
but she could not
for the life of her
bound her to the ground
she could only push past the heated bodies
held together
these lovers with silken cords
with rainbow colours
she longingly remembered
one another
this scent of a man

she recalled
his loving touch
felt his warmth
holding her for eternity
never to let go
never to let go
never to let go
this scent of a man

as once they were together
softly embrassed the days
spent the wasted hours
passing time suppine
clear to the horizon
often their ravishing earthen beauty
betrayed eternity's promise
held each other forever together
so suddenly this
stirring within her breast
her once heart broken without him
her once beating Soul nowhere to go
she knew he was there
here in her heart
felt his presence
This Scent of A Man

she cried the overflow
tears nonstop over him
who could possibly resist
her charms Bella Sophia
her insistence was complete
she knew
this scent of a man

as these latent energies
felt there ecstatic charge
as a crisp woodwind's plucky sound
murky and musky-scented pitch
As Parma's operahouse played
long into the forever
Arturo Toscanini climatic overture
clash of cymbals as they thrashed about
Nature Directing her Form to his
The Dance
a gathering of lovers
inevitable this Romance
this scent of a man

evoking the ancients
the sparks of a distant era
Supernatural Being Love
Heaven floating
on the still night air
sparking fires and sparkling waters
he was there waiting for her
beneath the deep blue ethereal
under this starry shell of a canopy
this scent of a man

in the crowded square
Angelo's apparition appeared
from the depths of forgotten memory
Sophia foretold the prophesy
soon his shadowy figure emerged
only for tonight's full moon
Etruscan soldier girthed in Armor
resounding triumphant he comes again
this scent of a man

thick mists mask
the play's the thing
surround the rare air found
Botticelli created her voluptuous
as she played nymph-like
in the fountain of love
splashing gentle the fine spray
cooled warm skin
blessed with her dear sweet Angelo
this Holy union
under the volcano these
sacred Holy waters
brewed an elixir
made Spirit fire
man came alive
only thing required
this scent of a man

She felt his kinship
his distinctive dialect
the still image by the camera obscura
captured in the storehouse
returned these magical powers
this scent of a man

tonights undulating rhythms
In the Piazza Duomo
In this Etruscan town
In this Tuscan night
in this triste he did trust
bathed by the luminosity
of her light-filled pool
this scent of a man

heard in fountains of love
the cheribs' muffled laughter
carried on an ancient breeze
returned to earthen form
a new lease on life
once unleashed by the Gauls
invigorated with renewed zeal
his uncommon resolve
The Birth of Mars
this scent of a man

Incantations whose incadescent
Mona stepped into the picture
in the lamp-lit streets of Parma
harbouring unquenchable desire
her wait to linger so much longer
by the celestial waters
she followed the night into tomorrow
for this she knew it was he
this scent of a man

jj

Why not try This Scent of A Man by Acqua di Parma! Go Here for free samples of incredible talent; http://www.magpietales.blogspot.com/

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

~~~FINE ART WEDNESDAY~~~HENRY MOORE "The Archer"



A Chac Mool stone statue at Chichen Itza site, Yucatan Peninsula, Mexico. This reclining Toltec-Maya figure influenced Moore's sculpture.


Today's art work to be critiqued will be "The Archer" by sculptor Henry Moore.Henry Moore sculpture exhibited at the Toronto City Hall Plaza, View looking North, Image Probably Three Way Piece No. 2 (The Archer) (1964-65), bronze.

The ARcher is a strong abstract sculpture made of patina'd bronze, slightly greening like copper. This sculpture is outside the Toronto City Hall, north side.. The shape of the work is almost cubist-like, blockish. The Archer is a dramatic statement of a stylized rendering of the creative impetus of Sir Henry Moore.

The Archer is strongly Modern art, abstract Moore having been influence by the Parisian artists of the 20th century such as Picasso, George Braque, Jean Arp and Alberto Giacometti.

The one problem I have with the work is that there is not a lot of free space in the sculpture; in other words it is very blocky. The natural form of rocks that Moore models frequently seems to reflect the rock-like formation found in Moore's studio.

As a sculpture, the dynamics could be less "nuclear latent" and more fluid. It sort of powers me that the power is not more fluid. I don't know why I do not appreciate the pent-up energy as much as the "energy-in-flight" as I would have typically have considered most works with the title "Archer". However, the work is conveying that time in the 60's and is undoubtly making an artistic statement regarding the nuclear state of affairs in particular, the Cold War, and the seeming "ugliness" this promoted worldwide. To bad the art world had to pickup on the ugly shape of the unrealized piece of rock which is bronze. It would be invigorating to see something more linear and flowing but this is not Moore's style so I wont get too callous in this discussion.

As far as the technical side of the work it is par excellent. The man is a genius with bronze. A master. Seeing as he had studied with so many high caliber artists and being the world class artist that Henry Moore is certainly would call for nothing less. Technically Moore is impeccable. I particularly love the smooth flowing shapes of most of his work. Not so flowing, of course in the Archer, which I have mentioned before is too "blocky" to represent a true Henry Moore.

The song by Murray McLaughlin "Down By The Henry Moore" is either talking about The Archer or the other works outside on the lawn of the Art Gallery of Ontario. Please google this song! You'll find it may give me the answer (never mind, I'll do that!).

Go to Toronto, visit the AGO and the Toronto City Hall and view for yourself these dramatic works. Sense their fine sensuality. Enjoy the richness of being one with these anthropomorphic shapes, as I so do love the animal form found in nature. The personification of matter making inanimate somehow more human by creating an attachment through form is a sculptural idea handed down from the Greeks. Oh to be so bold as to suggest that Moore is not one of my favoured sculptors. I adore Henry Moore. Just not too crazy about The Archer! It's ok...

Please read the following important information on Henry Moore by Wikipedia...(of course I am doing much more research on Henry Moore since my first introduction in High School circa THE SEVENTIES. Ok! Enjoy Henry Moore; he's well worth it!

BELOW CP'D FROM WIKIPEDIA:

"Henry Moore Henry Spencer Moore OM CH FBA (30 July 1898 – 31 August 1986) was an English sculptor and artist. He was best known for his abstract monumental bronze sculptures which are located around the world as public works of art".Wikipediain

1919 he became the first student of sculpture at the Leeds School of Art (now Leeds College of Art),

In 1921, Moore won a scholarship to study at the Royal College of Art in London, where his friend Hepworth had gone the year before. While in London, Moore extended his knowledge of primitive art and sculpture, studying the ethnographic collections at the Victoria and Albert Museum and the British Museum.

The early sculptures of both Moore and Hepworth follow the standard romantic Victorian style, and include natural forms, landscapes and figurative modelling of animals. Moore later became uncomfortable with classically derived ideals; his later familiarity with primitivism and the influence of sculptors such as Constantin Brancusi, Jacob Epstein and Frank Dobson led him to the method of direct carving, in which imperfections in the material and marks left by tools became part of the finished sculpture.

Moore was in conflict with academic tutors who did not appreciate such a modern approach. During one exercise set by Derwent Wood (the professor of sculpture at the Royal College), Moore was asked to reproduce a marble relief of Domenico Rosselli's The Virgin and Child[8] by first modelling the relief in plaster, then reproducing it in marble using the mechanical technique of "pointing". Instead, he carved the relief directly, even marking the surface to simulate the prick marks that would have been left by the pointing machine.


In 1924, Moore won a six-month travelling scholarship which he spent in Northern Italy studying the great works of Michelangelo, Giotto di Bondone, Giovanni Pisano and several other Old Masters. During this period he also visited Paris, took advantage of the timed-sketching classes at the Académie Colarossi, and viewed, in the Louvre, a plaster cast of a Toltec-Maya sculptural form, the Chac Mool. The reclining figure was to have a profound effect upon Moore's work, becoming the primary motif of his sculpture.[9On returning to London, Moore undertook a seven-year teaching post at the Royal College of Art.
In 1932, Moore took up a post as the Head of the Department of Sculpture at the Chelsea School of Art.[12

Artistically, Moore, Hepworth and other members of the The Seven and Five Society would develop steadily more abstract work,

partly influenced by their frequent trips to Paris and their contact with leading progressive artists, notably Pablo Picasso, George Braque, Jean Arp and Alberto Giacometti. Moore flirted with Surrealism, joining Paul Nash's modern art movement, the "Unit One Group", in 1933.

Moore gradually transitioned from direct carving to casting in bronze, modelling preliminary maquettes in clay or plaster.


Moore turned down a knighthood in 1951 because he felt that the bestowal would lead to a perception of him as an establishment figure and that "such a title might tend to cut me off from fellow artists whose work has aims similar to mine

He was awarded the Companion of Honour in 1955 and the Order of Merit in 1963. He was a trustee of both the National Gallery and Tate Gallery.[31

jj

"Down By The Henry Moore" by Murray McLaughlin song

~~~POEM-A-DAY~~~Emily Dickinson~~~"Before the ice is in the pools -" 37/1775


Before the ice is in the pools —
Before the skaters go,
Or any check at nightfall
Is tarnished by the snow —

Before the fields have finished,
Before the Christmas tree,
Wonder upon wonder
Will arrive to me!

What we touch the hems of
On a summer's day —
What is only walking
Just a bridge away —

That which sings so — speaks so —
When there's no one here —
Will the frock I wept in
Answer me to wear?

by Emily Dickinson

This poem reminds me of the fact that it is, and somewhat coincidentally, some say most synchronistically an incredibly amazing connection to something intangible but almost close enough to touch. And yes, because today is the Autumnal Equinox and a Full Moon! As well Jupiter is closer than it has been in over twenty-three years. The fact there are also three celestial orbs in alignment does not do anything to dispell the great mystery of today. And my fascinating attachement to Ms Emily Dickinson.

So there is a lot is going on, astronomically speaking, and now this poem is showing signs of being almost placed so carefully in front of me to speaking directly to me about the approaching winter at this pivotal time of the Autumnal Equinox? This is almost Transcendental is scope if not Divine Providence. It is too much, these worlds merging, this distant past, yet so close I can feel Emily's summer frock hem unravelling to reveal some truths about how she truly feels about life. Today I feel somewhat weak-kneed but am in a much better mood now since I Divine Love does sustains me as though Emily is reaching out through time and space to touch His hem, His countenance, His Being which is Our Being One In The Spirit. Too Much!

After I have collected my emotional rapture today I realize that Emily is being so knowingly thus coyingly elusive in this poem. One has to ponder why. I have to question the specific techniques and analogies, literary features of this poem as I afraid, I as of yet I do not fully understand exactly the gist of this poem!

Or any check at nightfall
Is tarnished by the snow —

What exactly does Emily mean here? I have NO idea. I think maybe Emily would have to check the chickens at nightfall and the "tarnished" by snow could be...I don't know what snow tarnishes? Does Emily mean frost? That things frost up. Is "tarnished" Emilese for "frosted"? I could hazard to guess it does. Ok I get it now. Emily is chilled to the bone at nightfall (which now comes early around 6 pm), the sun having set so early in the late afternoon now and she so longer for those summer days. Who doesn't! How many times I pray we have an Indian summer all the way til late November (at least). It did save me this late summer and sustain me. So maybe this happened to Emily too, Winter bringing an onslaught of pnemonias, disease, plight, cold frosty night where people freeze to death in a sea of sleep of winter which Emily sees as "no fun at all". Emily loves summer! Me too!

Also, I have no clue as to what the two last stanzas mean, no not at all!

What we touch the hems of
On a summer's day —
What is only walking
Just a bridge away —

That which sings so — speaks so —
When there's no one here —
Will the frock I wept in
Answer me to wear?

Again, I can only hazard to guess here. Miss Emily has mentioned "hems" before. As if she is "hemmed in"? Her soul wants to soar but it is anchored to the earth by her body? Or is this a biblical reference to Jesus' hem, when a blind man reached out to touch Jesus hem on his garment, the man was healed from blindness. Jesus said "Your faith has healed you".

And does the snow represent more than the approaching winter which tends to "hem in" Ms Emily into a cloistered world which is now dead to her, seeing as she is a "summer" person. Emily so full of life and love of life, watching all God's creature's, loving the nature's dance during those long summer months?

Emily and the "bridge" to the great "hereafter" is only a "bridge away".
And what about "that which sings so - speaks so -"? What does this mean? "When there's no one here -" Does she speak of the birds she misses during the summer. those dear birds who sing so sweetly over the plains or at least her state MA?

When all have gone to their happy hunting ground aka heaven; all creatures great and small? Is this the subject of which Ms Emily speaks? Or the songs and the speaking is all about what is professed at church, school, etc? Most elusive is the last two lines;

Making reference to the "hem" in the previous stanza Emily now brings back the couture/haberdashery/textile/clothing reference.

Will the frock I wept in
Answer me to wear?

What is Emily sayint? The frock being so unwanted now that it is winter, in this poem, is not a welcomed frock. Emily "wept" in this frock, and now is forced to wear like her mother saying kurtly, hurry up Emily; you better put on this warmer dress; I don't want to see you wearing that summer frock anymore this year!" and Emily abhoring heavier clothing wanting to be as light as her spirit, dreaded to wear the heavy woolen dresses that make her sweat and itch. Maybe Ms Emily was allergic to wool, or maybe wool reminded her of death or that dress she must put on again was worn during a funeral of someone dear to her and she cannot think of wearing that dress again. Do you think I've made any headway in understanding this poem today? Comments always much more than welcome!

Chiccoreal's Take on Emily Dickinson's "Before The Ice Is In The Pools - "

Oh could it be
Summer's dance
can continue
well past the fall
past yesterday's dreams
past life regression
I'm Emily!
that I could don
and dance til dawn
one more time
that frock made of summer's
liquid air
light as a feather
touched and tinged with golden
wing tips
dancing shoes
to dream again
honey sweet
this treat to last
forever

jj

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face was Today For my Grandpa Meddie King



A Sepia Saturday on Tuesday! BREAKING NEWS!
Today Was The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face; For my Grandpa Meddie King whom I got to see today for the first time! Ever!

Today was the first time, the first day
The First Time Ever I Saw Your Beautiful Face
Your Beautiful Lovely Face Shining Bright
Sparkling Like Diamonds this Lightness of heart

Our eyes met across the electronic blink of an eye
so Kodachrome today the mood of digging deep
for the first time ever since I was won

someone who could have been much larger in my life
than just a silver nitrate charm on a yellow'd paper back

Your beautiful face shining so bright
My eyes lit up this night as the day shone on and on
like a little star in your right eye
I was that gleam! Did you know what I've become? You!

All those long times ago when I wanted to know
Just how could I really know you, I could not breech
that love you had was so great being without you
made everything that was anything fall from the sky

you look so familiar as I see your physical characteristics
yet your character I have heard was more than just kind
you were the give em the shirt off your back kind of guy
as family what does that means, that I too, could touch the sky?

could you ever know what it meant in your absence?
I could hear your voice though I never heard it
Lost in the distance on a far off breeze
coming to me today louder than the rustle of the trees

to say I'd never have a chance
to see you,
to met you,
to hold you as I hug you so tight

never will I let this moment go
never will i hold back the tears from their flow
down my high cheeks that are so like yours
how many times told how wonderful you truly are

now I walk down the lane of remembrance
your love a legacy far more lasting
primerose garden and satin and lace
we take a this walk together forever
My Grandma Loretta I've always known and loved is with you now

Gramdpa King I just want to hear your voice and
thank-yo for you
will you and are you
willing to talk with me again?

now I see more of you as you wer
; I know who you are and that you're ok
Grandpa, you're not alone you know
you are in my heart, have been all along

As watching these old photographs; shadows on the wall
Sensing the Ascending Vibration Descending Bands of Snow
which made you so Canadian in Spirit Made Whole
Like a tiny snowflake fractal you flew away but never left

Interupted this lifelong test patterns
as pronto photo album finally reveal
you were somehow hidden to allay the heartfelt pain and grief
did I ever think you would ever be a part of my system of belief?
That I would find you one day, my dear Meddie?

no matter dead or alive
Grandpa King your a Spirit-filled soul
That never grows old
never ever dies or fades away; You Live Always!

recovered like old bones and Grandma's midday stew
long ago worlds;
I can smell the musty places you walked, the laughter your brought
I can taste the brew the tortierre the beets in the garden grown
way back back when

I can feel these things now as I walk in your dusty shoes
working hard for a living took a toll
you've finally found your peace in heaven
but you must have known we all feel so lost without you

As those memories made empty with there suspicious absence
To have felt you nearer to the heart as even though so long gone
poured tears today like a bubbling teapot, sputtering out of control
the more I cried the more I felt so much more than your memory

as I linger on the sentiment of knowing you today
feeling your ever emotion, action and intent
feeling the spirit within your heart of gold
We all know The Spirit of the Warrior Lives on and on

how could I have known all these years past
when you up and lefted everyone singing dirges
fee;omg the bottom fall out
only a huge gapping hole remains scattered pictures
tattered heart

never to land like the leaves today
the fall brought me the first glimpse of you
and as I sit and ponder your every thought
I see a man who died far too young; oh what you could have done!

closed like a sad chapter; only the tears and pain remained
once and for all life changed and rearranged the furniture in the hall
the place where we sit and wait on the Lord
hoping someday soon to gather us together; mend those walls

light like love surrounds you beautiful Grandpa
as my heart leaps through the screen to hug you
it wouldnt be a far!stretch down south
to say today I will never be the same

As Bright light Beams across the sky ignite my eyes
your image glares and imprints on my photographic brain
Sunshine and Starlight has come again
My Grandpa returns alive and well so good to to see you at long last!

what could I co to make you return for a day? Today is the Day
my Grandpa gave me away, gave me a new lease on life without the leash
Give me the feeling I could do all through HIm that strengthens me
Give me the inheritance of your Will, my son, my daughter, my grandchildren

The ancestors know and are knowing
gifted one my Grandpa
leaving small shells as presents
in return for your magnificent presence

For as the Tide quickly takes leave to return to the sea
She pauses but for a moment in Circadian rhythm and beat
Yet The Silent Shore is what I hear and slowly laps at my feet

Where were you when I needed you
did you know I needed you
you heard my silent tears
would you ever know how much I needed you
as you left before I was born
you were only 42?

you could have stayed longer, just a little bit?
your heart couldnt hold out was it too much pain?
as it burst forth through it's cage like a tiger
the joy of knowing love will always find its way back home!

Yes, Grandpa King, can I call you Meddie?
we were like peas in a pod
Two of a kind, hearts on fire
Making light when the going gets tough?

Thank-you Grandpa King for being my Spirit Grandfather that I know in my soul!
Grandma King hold on, I'm going to make a poem for you too very soon, and Unga Bunga too!

jj

Sunday, September 19, 2010

"Cloud Watching" Comments on Being: 600 years is along time so why am I shy?




So I listen to sounds of trees rustling today, their willowy dance, the oaks girth protects me, the clouds; ah the clouds.

As a young child I thought the clouds were the sky and the sky was the clouds! Sky Blue Clouds? I had to ask my Mom as she was making dresses for her three daughters. I remember asking this question as the cold early spring wind blew into the opened bedroom window. Maybe on a Pleidian star the sky/cloud setup was switched or I see
things differently!

Today I deliberately appreciated the clouds today. Being blown into the air by an upsweep strong November wind, tornado force as I rounded the corner of Transfiguration school. Wind has always been to me the power of the mighty; The Source of immense power.

*** P-O-W-E-R-F-U-L ~~~~ P-O-W-E-R-F-U-L ~~~~ P-O-W-E-R-F-U-L ***

Thinking of the past, as I am tending to do lately since I have become a "big girl" as my Dad called me lately, and being the "baby" of the family. There was this time in the school yard when a gust of wind blew my kercheif from my head and landed on the roof of the A-frame church next door. The scarf stayed there for a week and it was a sky blue scarf. Nothing seems to want to stay on my head for long! Escpecially not the first communion veil that kept blowing in the wind that came from where?

All of a sudden. This wind appears! It is always a mystery to me and I think I know that is why I felt the wind as a calling card like God is saying; hey! notice me! Remember me!? Do this in memory of me: I am!



I always do, and I am usually given an indication that it is God; there is the presense of the wind. Check the Bible! The Israelites always had God protecting the ark of the Covenant during the day a Cloud and at night a fire. The Holy Spirit Descended or Ascended. Still trying to figure out ascending and descenting not exactly the same thing in the meditative spriral effect; learning this as it is new to me. Maybe?

Always I've been fearful of tornados and remember hiding in the stairwell of St Marcellus, my sister trying to convince me not to worry about the pending tornado. And this too shall pass. Faith. Mustard Seeds. Mountains and their removal if they should bwe obstacles.

Much later, after realizing thought-intent-projection and prayer can stop or alter winds; especially tornadoes, I am not as fearful or feeling victimized by many impending disasters or looming chaos. Love being developed in such a way, through prayer meditations helped to create this strength within.



Two years ago we had a tornado a block from here,. I remember that Saturday in the afternoon. I was not feeling well as I always feel tornadoes, hurricanes, earthquakes. I am a human barometer. Not much fun! My ear aches and I have headaches of the ocular migraine kind.

This tornado came from on top of the hill; there seems to be this vortices around the Great Lakes and we get the brunt of the accumulation of this powerful winds; the winds spiral around the Lakes.

Once we had a huge winter storm on route to North of Lake Superior in early December near St. Ignace Michigan. Our trunk was ripped from my husban's gloved hands and like a huge tunnel the trunk flings open as a huge vacuum sucks high into the sky. And leaves us virtually cashless as the trunk blew open and the wind literally sucks the cash up into the air. Talk about the wind being a Grab and Go! The power of that wind was Supernatural. Clouds only form by the winds that surround them. The various classifications of clouds, be it Cirrus or Cumulus, etc.

Low Clouds:Stratus

Middle Clouds:Altostratus

High Clouds:Cirrus

Clouds with VerticalDevelopment:Cumulus

And Clouds wholly depend upon the wind for their form. No wind, or some wind or plenty of wind, the clouds can be changed by the wind; costantly pushing them to form and reform every few minutes or seconds.



Clouds never stay the same. Changeable; like water, but the same and often the same things I see. Is my mind only focused on these certain symbols? Perhaps.

Clouds are known to come out of nowhere in this area. In fact two men where blown a mile from Christie shore about ten years ago and had to swim back to shore. That's would be quite a swim, and very frightening. I'd have to float on my back; and be exhausted, not being a long-distance swimmer!! It would be a bronze-medal swimmer to handle that distance!

Clouds in this way are now thought projections. We can shapeshift clouds. Or change the weather! With intent. How? See the sky the way you want it to be and then project that image into the sky (or what I call the projection screen) and voila!

Today I got to see my beloved Unicorn, as well as a clover. I think the wind reminds me of Ireland where I have never been. It was always the windy days that brought out my imagination and when I would find little black boots I thought were leprachaun boots. And of course Mary Poppins always came breezing in on her magico umbrella when there was a change in the wind. I never could imagine Mary leaving.



Clouds would form these huge shapes, puffball mushroom clouds, I thought the third war had been declared. The power so much more when you see the force of the hurricanes. I believe this is the collected energy from the sun's magnetic protoplasm which is so powerful it wipes out all electronic commnication on this planet and maybe a few satelittes as far as Jupiter? Thank goodness the flares from the sun hit the largest object, Jupiter, in our solar system. Thinking "clouds of Magellian now and must get back to topic of earth; I do so love to float. In my dreams for now in reality soon! There; a cloudy prediction for you!
(clouds over Mt Shasta)

The Clouds show me the mood of the day, and I can somedays see forever in clouds and they speak to me like a story. Who needs tv? I cant begin to tellyou the things the clouds tell. Secrets. And all so obvious I get embarased for the sky! Certain seasons are better dreaming clouds, Spring and Summer my favourite!

Clouds morph and always do this when change occurs as always a constant state of change water and sky elements. This can be easily examined as clouds, sky mirror our world. There are days when nothing seems to change. The order of the day, the scribble, the idea, jotted down, picking up the energies; balancing them to make more ambient serrendipidy for all. Some make the world a dramatic place when it can stay balanced in ambient serrendipidy for a long time.



We need not always have the dramatic weather. Someone ordered this; it is not inevitable! We need to know how these subtle energies work and I beleive there are some, like ancient sundancers who know how to balance the sun's magnetic energies. Not a big task; just misunderstood; lost knowledge from ancient worlds that can be recalled when accessing the vast space between the ears!


Yes, the organizing of the thoughts and the allowance of the mind expansion into the multi-dimensional Universe allows this ability. Never say Never! Believe in the impossible and it shall Be! We have a part a BIG PART to play in all this!

(cloud like ufo on mt shasta ca usa)


May you always have SUNSHINE ON A CLOUDY DAY and FIND THE INSPIRATION FOR YOUR FINE ART created BY YOU...all of a sudden INSTANT INSPIRATION clouds do this, as into a life "a little rain must fall" and it is this way to balance, and we accept this, and become understandig of this, and allow our being to be carved in the way the Creator wants it to be. Because, as much a we can do all things.

It is only THROUGH that which is the Creative force that makes it so, and we must work with these INCREDIBLE forces; not against them, and know that it is all about BALANCE...

Now to truly understand this balance and make the long term BIG PICTURE HAPPEN. The Big Picutre is A UNITY OF LOVE; THEN AND ONLY THEN DO things FUNCTION and the dna triggers start to fire, turn on, and become the song that we truly are; and that song is the love song in our heart. Hold it; strengthen this , let it go and begin again this power filling up of the spirit to release Love force from the heart into realms unknown. And as to do so freely letting go of this heart-love power convergence which emaniates outwards and inwards. I am gettig this now!




And into the atmosphere to give everywhere and fill in the voids that were lacking. This is the human's true business here on earth and it is life changing energy for the positive; greater good! These heart cycles like the beat of the Universe heal the world and Universe. This is our mission; this is powerful knowledge.


To see Love light in the clouds at first slowly revealed as if a curtain or veil were lifted to reveal the wonders of the universe and the mechanics of the way it works. It is like this. Slowly surely, in God's time. We wait patiently for this knowledge to be wholly revealed; and we meanwhile attend to the immediate need of the heart of the matter. Soon the matter will be all heat; all Divine Love. Soon children, soon...




No Clouds exist in The doldrums. So they? I should attend to this question; it is important. No water, no clouds. No clouds no water. Then just a dull grey day haze of just existing not really living. Many feel they are living a life in this sealed tomb of fatedness or nonchange, ineptitude, lingering doubt looming, negativeity. But with a breeze and a new cloud, the Lord gives us this need change, theis break from a holding pattern to nowhere. which makes one become reflective of the past; not recreating the cloud futures.

When life, like clouds goes through it's various positive and negative phases we feel lack of control over life's events; like we are witnessing a slow-motion disaster. The way though this negative thinking could be as simple as letting the mind drift upon a cloud to get a new perspective; take a walk and watch the clouds; get a new lease on life.

We can get negative thoughts and act on a negative way of being and thinking unless change happens to remove the barriers of negative thought. Had the wind not blown at will, and if all is due to the fact of our adherence to our BELIEF SYSTEMS.

that I indeed believe in this magic of wind.-cloud-change. It is the Supernatural. The clouds are like a crystal ball to discover another way of being, another way of seeing another way of doing and making this world our own the way we have deliberately made INTENTION a priority, have made our positive Spirit-filled thoughts our world, our Universe, OUR DESTINY. Yes, and often a way of being completely free of thoughts and we can allow our surface thoughts to merge into a cloud-image.

Angels always appearing in the clouds, around Easter and when my Grandparents died. Clouds are like angels wings and remind me of a huge painting and so much can be envisioned in them.



Clouds are, scientifically rain formed into shape. Clouds merge at least two elements; water and sky. Recently I have been told that there was a ring of water around the earth and it did fall to earth causing the flood. The rainbow is the promise of no more fear of water disaster for the earth because water is such a prevalent element on the earth; yet dangerously coming close to evaporating with the ozone holes. Those we can fix with intent. Much can be done to balance through envisioning the earth's gaps. We can make whole again.

The archer in the sky; the power chi of this degree, to be one with everything is to understand the forces can come from within without at the same time and the discernment of knowing how to use these spiral descending and ascending powers for great benefit; Spiritual growth with all the many qualities that come with such dreams of cloud development.

Today I felt like a child again, seeing things like I did as a child, thorough my child's eyes. I thank my Guide for this. As I sense the protection of my allies. Quite a group of well-wishers today I sense who are looking deep into the well of spirit. As the pupil of the awakening my world isis enlarging; expanding from being closed to open and sparking with these given gifted energies that are unique to each individual, a whole bunch of talents that defy an easy description! Thanks to the talented muses of magic from the Supernatural Source of all this that is; the Great I am Eye in the sky watching me be free showing me the way to this intrinsic knowledge of being one with the Universe. No longer separated into parts per zillion, now a wholeness and a smooth flowing positive attracting the like Love.

This morning I took the neighbour's dog for a walk and I began, yes, I started skipping down the Lane! Haven't done that for a long while! Being the feelig that fed my spirit, being the Love that I remember that I am! So as not to discourage my Gifts from God, how have I often over-looked these gifts of the Spirit.

Always known was the Spirit so special the Gift bestowed to us All can access! In the Sprit of the Spirit which is Divine Love.

Always, I was so happy to be one with nature, flying in the clouds. "My head in the clouds" known by teachers as a "daydreamer". I liked that even though they did not! Only some appreciated those gifts in me, some teachers hated me for being "air-headed".

Seeing the sky I could sing to the tunes in my head and on the radio. Feel the oak tree I love beside my house, hug the tree, wait to gather her leaves when she is willing to give them to me. Swapping spit. We are one.

Enjoy your own skywriting in the sky today! As your mind forms the clouds you are learning how to become the one consciousness that makes all this contruction of invention, the creative artist, the imagineer, the concepts, the deep thinking, the light thinking and the ability to be completely the non-thinking absorber sponge taking in cloud energy; the ephemeral mystic world of lightness of Being. A Floater!

As you recreate the world with your thought clouds taking in all the breath of nature, you are making something wonderful, and not doing anything but sitting back on the ground and looking up at your own etch a sketch in the sky. And have fun! You SkyWriter you make me do this writing in the sky.

Reproduced from FB as per request? Who asked me to do this? A Little Cloud? (from B Little Cloud)

The vision forms in the clouds. The fertile imagination replacing my plausible pause that is rso efreshing now because I found the key to Be~ing. Why give a carp about something I cannot control, like the aging process. Although I know there is a cure for the slow death process. The Mother Cell Soul is our eternal soul and once we locate it; we will have ETERNITY but then, if we get hit by a bus; then what? Oh well...we just get our wings that much faster!




This new being allowed to release from the logical sequence it's been trained to conform. Forming now to the clouds, metamorposis, changeable, free floating; to be a cloud! That is what I aim to be! And my intent this week!









cloud heart I saw while viewing the sky in the East and it was from you I felt this. and I know. I am knowing. Why? I dont know Just am I guess! And...I love you too! We share this divine love and IT IS AMAZING!!! THANK-YOU GOD!



WHAT DO YOU SEE IN THIS CLOUD FORMATION BETTER THAN The Rorschach test! Some days it's all Visions! Tell me yours and I'll tell you mine!


AJ Casson Canadian Artist Group of Seven...The Clouds in Spring are moving...Fall winds are changeable and can motile easily into any shape or thing you want; you're the artist! Go Paint Clouds!

Comment ·UnlikeLike · ShareYou like this.
Ja-Len Jones Mountains are only clouds! There is no spoon...matrix-like web of the illusion...and you've got the key gated one.
2 hours ago · LikeUnlike · Ja-Len Jones Tootsie roll?
8 minutes ago · LikeUnlike · Ja-Len Jones I see two cheribs holding a placard. There is a mirror being held up by two cheribs! We are too look at ourselves, our hearts. Are we happy with what image our heart is showing us? Are we doing all we can to make everyone heart-felt lions; stronger than the physicalness that only defines us partially? What do you see in the clouds?
2 minutes ago · LikeUnlike · Write a comment...I see two cheribs holding a placard. There is a mirror being held up by two cheribs! We are too look at ourselves, our hearts. Are we happy with what image our heart is showing us? Are we doing all we can to make everyone heart-felt lions; stronger than the physicalness that only defines us partially? What do you see in the clouds? ...
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~~jj

~~~Poem a Day ~~~"Snow flakes." by Emily Dickinson


Snow flakes.

I counted till they danced so
Their slippers leaped the town,
And then I took a pencil
To note the rebels down.
And then they grew so jolly
I did resign the prig,
And ten of my once stately toes
Are marshalled for a jig!

Poem by Emily Dickinson

Dear Fans of Emily: Good Sunday morning! Today I am here in the early Sunday morning light streaming through the kitchen window near blinding me, as I try to shift my position to type abit of what I think this poem is all about; again! Only number #36 of 1775. Ms Emily; You are so prolific!

This little gem of a poem is the first snow of winter, be it early fall or early winter. The snow upon first dance is a splendour to witness. It dances! Emily notices this!

I remember the first snow as being an exciting time, and always around Christmas so much desired as to make snow incantations! Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow. Not now! At Christmas!

So snow flakes do dance. However, they NEVER float upwards unless by heavy wind. When you watch some movies you can tell the fake snow because it always flies "up". That is the stage styrofoam snow. Fake. And not appreciated by knowing Canadians. What you think you can fool us about snow? Hah! The native Innuit have hundreds of names for various "kinds" of snow. Yes, there definitely are different kind of snow, wet snow, dry snow, pea-like snow, etc, etc.

It is very important for the Innuit to know the type of snow they are going to have to face because they can be prepared for the worst winter has to dish.

Winter...ugh I say now. However, living in a ski-zone of the Blue Mountains area WE LOVE SNOW HERE. (just not slipping and falling, that's not fun). Yes I have skied! Not so well! But I did try! And I want to snowboard like the kids around here, probably Miss Emily would be game! I get that distinct feeling!

So we make the best of the best of the snow! It is fun! Reminds me of being a kid(well have NEVER grown up) and I sense Ms. Emily has never grown up either as she dances un-priggish like with the dancing snowflakes.

"And ten of my once stately toes
Are marshalled for a jig!"ED


A dandy of a poem. Light and airy; much like Ms Emily!

A Prig is: A person who demonstrates an exaggerated conformity or propriety, especially in an irritatingly arrogant or smug manner. 2. Chiefly British A petty thief or ..." from thefreedictionary.com

Chiccoreal's "take a picture it will last longer" take on the Emily Dickinson poem "Snow"

Snow

Snow you make me want to dance
when like magic you first appear
and sing and fly
Above the sky
to less priggish places
where as a child again
For now and evermore
Fraggalrockalistic to Happen
Not Just Once
Rather A Lifetime of SnowFlake Dances to You
As Squire Nutkin recounts
Quote The Snowflake Forevermore!

jj

Thursday, September 16, 2010

~~Emily Dickinson~~Poem-A-Day~~"Nobody knows this little Rose" 35/1775


Nobody knows this little Rose — by Emily Dickinson

Version 1
Nobody knows this little rose;
It might a pilgrim be,
Did I not take it from the ways,
And lift it up to thee!

Only a bee will miss it;
Only a butterfly,
Hastening from far journey,
On it's breast to lie.

Only a bird will wonder;
Only a breeze will sigh;
Ah! little rose, how easy
For such as thee to die!

[edit] Version 2
Nobody knows this little Rose —
It might a pilgrim be
Did I not take it from the ways
And lift it up to thee.
Only a Bee will miss it —
Only a Butterfly,
Hastening from far journey —
On its breast to lie —
Only a Bird will wonder —
Only a Breeze will sigh —
Ah Little Rose — how easy
For such as thee to die!

[edit] Version 3
Nobody knows this little Rose.
It might a pilgrim be
Did I not take it from the ways
And lift it up to Thee. -
Only a Bee will miss it -
Only a Butterfly,
Hastening from far journey
On it's breast - to lie -
Only a Bird - will wonder -
Only a Breeze will sigh,
Ah, little Rose!
How Easy, for such as thee, to die!

Dear Fans of Emily! This is a fairly straightforward poem with basic reference to a small rose. The rose represents either a "rose" or the symbolic "rose" as reference to spiritual attainment. To me the rose represents Emily as a "pilgrim" in Massachusetts.

Emily being ever the naturalist is looking at the entire cylce of life here. The rose represent life "unplucked" from the bush. However, once plucked the rose dies.
"How Easy, for such as thee, to die". It is Emily's usual mode of creating a friend from the rose, since in her loneliness, she tends to give inanimate objects a human personified touch. Emily really sees the whole life-cycle of this little rose, and feels empathy towards the flower's plight. The rose, so beautiful, is hardly noticed in the massive world and scheme of things. Emily feels the rose will not be noticed by butterflies or bees when it is no longer.

When I read this poem I sense a very frilly embroidered lace with bees and butterflies and plucked rose. The rose being very fragile only lasting a few days when taken from the bush. So everything in life must die. Emily is reiterating this fact as if she has to convince herself as to the fragility of all life. As if her life is in fact very fragile and temporal.

Emily too senses she, like the young rose bloom will die without notice, without her life meaning a thing. Maybe she felt this way when her poems were rejected earlier in her poetry career. Maybe someone close to her is dying, or Emily is feeling alone in her belief system; perhaps not relating as well to others as she should? Difficult to say for sure, and whether or not any diary could verify this. And Emily is pondering all of life's mysteries while gathering this rose. For whom is this rose for, one of her friends she tries to bribe with poetry and nose gay? Certainly it would depend upon when this poem was written and if we can, in fact, place this poem's sympathetic and empathetic tone to any one event in Emily's life at the particular time when this poem was written. Subtle and sweet poem, Miss Emily! Oh I'd love to know what mystery this poem did reveal to you and what exactly was happening in your life when you wrote it! Secrets are always held close to the heart it seems; a beau? Will we ever know?

Chiccoreal's Take on the poem "Nobody knows the little rose"

Nobody Knows this little Emily
If I were not to chance upon
Her poetry on the pilgrim's web
lift up this life it shall remain in me

Only a bee will miss it ~maybe~
Only a butterfly poet who has crossed
On a Journey bound to the stars

As on it's side it slide
teetered atop books
Only a bird may wonder then wander ~maybe~
Only a breeze may sigh then resigned ~maybe~
Oh little rose
For thee is all there is to be or not to be
"A Rose By Any other name would smell as sweet" Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet
"A Rose Is A Rose Is A Rose" Gertrude Stein

jj

~~Magpie#32~~The Never Ending Tale of Time Lost in Manhours




The Never Ending Tale of Time Lost in Manhours

Seconds
Minutes
Hours
Days

Weeks
Months
Years
Millenia

Gogaplex
Finite
Infinite
Eternity

Big~Bang
Start Again

Anymore Questions?

If you are needing to reset your clock, sundial or eggtimer, please feel free to go here; http://www.magpietales.blogspot.com/ and set the time to your "finest hour". Enjoy all Magpies!

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

~~~POEM-A-DAY~~~Garland for Queens, may be — by Emily Dickinson~~POEM~A~DAY~~~


Version 1
Garlands for Queens, may be -
Laurels - for rare degree
Of soul or sword -
Ah - but remembering me -
Ah - but remembering thee -
Nature in chivalry -
Nature in charity -
Nature in equity -
The Rose ordained!

[edit] Version 2
Garland for Queens, may be —
Laurels — for rare degree
Of soul or sword.
Ah — but remembering me —
Ah — but remembering thee —
Nature in chivalry —
Nature in charity —
Nature in equity —
This Rose ordained!

by Emily Dickinson

This poem to me is very synchronistic as to what is happening in my life right now. As I embark on a Transcedentalist experience in nature I am reminded that the rare art beauty of Ms Emily is transforming. Thank-you Miss Emily!

One has to wonder exactly what Emily is referring to here. I think she may be looking at a picture (not described) or a stained glass window, or reading a book about Camelot. There is much romantic imagery here; chivalry (knights of the round table or knights of the garter or knights of the cross. The rose may mean the rose of the Knights of the Rose. Since Rose also represents Mary in some religions, maybe this is the spiritual reference, but in this case it is very personal in regards to Emily's unique lexiconography. It almost sounds like a rosecrucian type poem? Esoteric knowledge? Very elusive, and eclectic verse here!

Chiccoreal's "take" one on the poem by Emily Dickinson "Garland for Queens, may be ~"

The Queen garland'd
The Scholar laurel'd
Rare degree of Battle of Soul
Save Thee For Me
Save Me For Thee
Nature is Chivalrous
Nature is Charitable
Nature's Equality
The Rose of Life
Within the Pedal'd
Garland'd
Laurel'd
The Mystery Unfolds

jj

Monday, September 13, 2010

~~Emily Dickinson~~Poem~A~Day~~"Oh if remembering were forgetting" 33/1775 -


Version 1
Oh if remembering were forgetting -
Then I remember not!
And if forgetting - recollecting -
How near I had forgot!
And if to miss - were merry -
And to mourn were gay,
How very blithe the maiden
Who gathered these today!

[edit] Version 2
If recollecting were forgetting,
Then I remember not,
And if forgetting, recollecting,
How near I had forgot,
And if to miss, were merry,
And to mourn, were gay,
How very blithe the fingers
That gathered this, today!

[edit] Version 3
If recollecting were forgetting,
Then I remember not.
And if forgetting, recollecting,
How near I had forgot.
And if to miss, were merry,
And to mourn, were gay,
How very blithe the fingers
That gathered this, Today!

Dear Friends of Emily Dickinson: This is a very contrary poem. Mary Mary Quite Contrary! Or Lazarusian backwards. Emily is mournful. She has picked flowers for a grave "How very blithe the fingers That gathered this, Today". Emily wants to not remember but forget because of the pain that remembering the dearly departed remembrance is causing her; emotionally she is quite upset.

And like the important adjective "blithe" Emily seems to be confusing her readership even more in the choice of "blithe" Since there are two distinctively different; almost diametrically opposed meanings to this word. It is fitting that this word "blithe" be used in this poem, however.. Here is this double entendre and opposite meaning with the word "blithe". Please note;

"blithe/blīT͟H/Adjective
1. Showing a casual and cheerful indifference considered to be callous or improper.
2. Happy or joyous." Dictionary.com

The word "blithe" in this instance is a homoymn;

"homonyms - definitions and examples of homonym
Two or more words that have the same sound or spelling but differ in meaning.
grammar.about.com"

So the meaning of "remembering" as "forgetting" or "forgetting and "recollecting" "mourn were gay" and "miss were merry" are also opposites, although not homonyms. Wouln't this be a wonderful method to use to s; but we must feel; emotions are not respecter of feelings, bad or good; unfortunately. With some amount of control, we can master how we respond to depressing feelings. We do not have to be slave to negative emotions. Maybe Emily is training us how not to become overtly depressed as I am sure the entire Victorian age had taken on depression as the mantle or crutch. Depends how one sees the virtue of overt mourning and mourning ritual; so very prevalent in Victorian life. Many persons died en masse, from plague, etc. Mourning ritual (I am sure Emily would prefer "morning") seemed to be etched into the fabric of life for many persons of the Victorian age. Emily is reporting this mourning routine with dramatic flair, as I doubt many would have questioned the obtuse gloom and doom they were forced to experience on a daily basis. Emily, by adding her astute comments created a pillow of comfort for herself, as a vivid reminder how a vivid imagination can change the ordinary to extraordinary; the doom to a new way of seeing life, and reacting to it. Emily describes, point-blank exactly how she, wished she could react to the cloak of gloom she must portray each day while visiting those dearly departed at the cemetery, etc. It was a way she could deal with this very real emotion which seemed as much a plague as the plague; only lasting longer, with many residual side-effects.

Emily seems to want to not have to feel the feelings she must face while visiting loved ones at the cemetry during her visits.

It is odd that we are not told "that gathered this" are flowers. However, we allow for a way of figuring out this poem what else is being "gathered with fingers"? Emily often gave her friends her poems with a small bouquet of flowers or what was then known as nosegays; flowers like a corsage worn on the label, often fragrant flowers. Emily seems to feel like a missed "miss". I am definitely getting a sad feeling here but Emily, with her lovely "blithe" spirit skirts away the gloom and makes us see the hope in the hopelessness of death. Quite a feat indeed!

Chiccoreal's Take On Emily's Poem: "Oh If Remembering Were Forgetting"

To forget by remembering
I would certainly not feel the pain
of the moment I must remember
that which I wish to forget

And by feeling Happily Gay
I confuse the emotion that paralyses me today
with gloom and doom continued mournful forevermore
burying me alive in Blithe; this sad doomed state of remember
necessary to recall for the pain like a knife to cut
once more the twist
as I bleed a little more
over those that time will never forget
for love never dies; do not lie!
may I forget forever like it were never
for I will always never forget or remember
because simply I love you
knows no memory or no bounds

jj

Friday, September 10, 2010

Magpie#31 The Captives


The Captives

Thoughts convergence through warped and rippled
allowance of shifting sands now glass
fragments of mind shattered and torn worn thin
time is lost to logic and space is utter uselessness

As the ancestors return their reflective incantations
smudge pots brew on fire lit skies
lined row by row they flash in time to yesteryear
Midnight Etched like indelible ink for tomorrow just past

Old ghost sheets flap silently in a dead breeze
lifeless leaves leave nothing to chance or dream
this is the only remmanent left of life
this half-shelf image of time in a bottle

relaying truths
rehearsing dirges
replaying the silent song
over and over again
Remember me
The Captives call

Heightened imagination recalls
no sound of rustlin' nor blowin' only still
the world aswirl in auburn crimson as we bone chill
switch the tempo up a notch

here's the dead drunk sailor dancing the dirvish
and Great Aunt Molly knows how to get her Jollies
Grandpa Jones sits back and lights his pipe
Uncle Albert plays the flute all day; no tripe


As all caught in this alchemist's sandtrap glass:
bubbled sheets echoes ages and dead poet's flowers way past
nightcapped images; long flowing gowns; flickering candles
glow with such eerie ephemereal if not a bit sentimental light

glimpsed from the blindside now a sudden gust
cold breeze blows up between
conjured altered images suddenly The Otherworldies appear
never actively sought but thought woke the dead
those who taught us will teach us once again how to play dead

the windows closed ought naught to have opened
it shouldn't have happened
yet these captive shadow images emerge
from the brachish depths of the soul

from the cold cold ground
to reappear frozen in time this entity on glass
a tell-tale sign of what we're to become?
whose to find us or talk to us then?

images caught in a frozen world sandwiched in time
between this world haunting us til kingdom come
for posterity this wierdness wired for unsound
when all is said and done; there is no reason, no rhyme

The Wind died down caught in this moment of quiet reflection
this motion
this momentum
this measure moved

As window urns and polished brassl worn and torn curtains suddenly open
as we with Otherworldly eyes peer through to see the return of the Ghostly
thought it was my night off oh no! these iconic images slowly seep into the skin
reminds us of what has gone before and what we will be yet again!

jj

Magpie #30 The Tale of the Wormy Apple


Pomme de terre avec worm

Strap on the books, pull up the socks
I'm late finishing the first assignment
When rushed High school just doesnt rock
the first fruit ever to cause delay

the worm waited patiently as I stooped
picked up this apple and laid it on my book
will the overt lure be offensive?
hoping the Prof would take the hook

As rounding the corner by the bus
near my 100 acre farm
I noticed that small windfall apple
Couldn't Wait to be eaten by the Prof

What if I took up this cause
along with the fleshy offering
made peace with Professor Makepeace
call it a truce what's all the fuss?

The Prof would look dazed
Make a reprimand or two and then smile
and ponder the apple set before her
then over spectacles eyes somewhat glazed

were it enough of a haze to seduce
this student-teacher ritual
Would the Prof think I awkward
or just too anxious to produce

a quality piece of fiction
would I make a good first impression
to stand me in good stead the year
what would be the outcome; the prediction?

What if the sliphod words so rank, I'd tank
and all thought what a fool, what a dope
I'd have to go back to the store and find better
a perfect apple without the taint of worm and D letter

jj

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

~~~Emily Dickinson~~~Poem A Day! "When Roses cease to bloom, Sir," 32/1775


When Roses cease to bloom, Sir,
And Violets are done —
When Bumblebees in solemn flight
Have passed beyond the Sun —
The hand that paused to gather
Upon this Summer's day
Will idle lie — in Auburn —
Then take my flowers — pray!

by Emily Dickinson

This short and sweet poem reminds me of a very dramatic, in the style of Sarah Bernhardt (a contempoarary of Ms Emily's) the actress in full dramatic repose. Much like the swooning girl on the Masterpiece Theatre. I can almost envision Ms Emily feigning death with flowers upon her tomb!

It is that time of year, Autumn, Ms Emily calls it "Auburn" the colour of the season (I hear everyone is wearing Auburn in Autumn this year!). Emily's famous red roses and Bumblebess are on a "solemn flight" (don't they die at the end of season?) and the they have indeed "passed beyond the Sun" (where's that? the gamma-reversed world or is it the spirit world of spirit bumblebees? remembering now that matter never dies it just CHANGES FORM.) "Violets are done" indeed Ms Emily; like yesteday's dinner! Oh I will so miss summer. You too, I can tell, Ms Emily (ok this is sick I am talking to a dead poet...but maybe alive since we all know that matter never dies it just changes form...right?)...:)

So we are still in summer but we see all the lovely summer plants dying and bumblebees buzzing their last buzz and they leave and go to live in Florida (if they are lucky) if not they go behind the sun to the gamma reversed world and set up shop until the rebound spring or resprung spring sends them to us again come next Spring! I cant wait either! Ms Emily is hoping that we take the flowers away now before they turn to reddish brown the colour of dear Ms Emily's reddish brown hair! How wonderful life is with Ms Emily; and so dramatic the flair!

Ewwww...even "hands will lie idle" do not sound too happy either as I envision "corpse hands"! Scary and creepy. Are we getting creeper Ms Emily? Where you the Stephen King of your day Ms Emily? Sure sounds it! Love you anyway Ms Emily! We all enjoy a good scare now and then! As long as we are still alive after the scare, right? Please somebody take Ms Em's dead flowers from her grave. She's haunting me today! (especially after I looked up "dead hands" and "Auburn" kinda creepy!) What will be the picture today that wont creep everybody out? What? You want to be creeped out? Sorry I don't do "creep out"!

Chiccoreal's take on "When Roses Cease To Bloom, Sir"

Roses and Violet
and Bumblebees and Hands
all become done like last Summer Sun
And fun and games and frolick alike
cannot stop the hand of time from
acting Idle come end of summer fun
Because we all know
that the Autumn
In her Auburn colours
Smell of old banana lunches
and hickory sticks
like body odour from yesterday's
gym socks!

jj









http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Author:Emily_Dickinson/Index/1-99

The Blue Moon Shaman


T'is the summer I found the Shaman after all these years;
man o' my dreams; to look deep into those eternal eyes!
as with me own heart's deepest heartfelt desires
the flame in water grew to a most disproportiante size

Mesmerized and enchanted, I didnt get his romantic lingo
as a sneezy kerchoo on my hankerchief and then all bingo
a sudden breeze flew me nearly two feet in the air; no lie!
who knew this intoxicating elixir by a man could make me fly!

A fiasco o' flash o' matic magnetic smile such alchemy
do you want to borrow my dreamy ancient arts and science Guide
he really did things to make me feel like a whole woman again
as the midnight hour rounded the moon's oil I swooned and sighed

Hola and Hoopla a simple incantation so hasty
an evocative magical proof than poof and switcheroo
and Voila the lady aint no lady refined yet not so nasty
now I'm a flyin' pink and purple fluffy downunder dingy kangeroo!

maybe it's just the old hag syndrome
nothing has ever felt like this til now
what magic! what freedom! what joy!
sparklin' and swirlin' like a dirvish; when I roam

Which witch was which so carelessly; now I felt so ill
falling head over heels in love while flying pell mell
Was it the Shaman? I fell madly in love with love for now
everybody said that I looked just like a big blue eyed cow

with those big legs; leapin' lizards with fun fur
Shouldn't I try to look again to see within that dark mystic mirror?
Shouldn't I look again? Shaman? Dare I do? It might be dangerous
To become the Shaman's eyes would be so blessed vainglorious?

Would this mean all those many eons ago
like a waif wafting near barfing from unsteady rafters
like a geodesic dome this gal's gyration out of control
could it be that I really thought he was me all along?

The Shaman said "It's that brimming self confidence of yours;
I'm just a figment of your overly vivid imagination"
Sudden he saw me flapping haphazardly flying obtusely on a Flipped Out Trajectory:
Shaman said to all around; "Watch out everyone! Here she goes... She's going to...oh no! too late! She crashed!" Said with a tantalizing smile!

"Woo Hoo" said me to the many splendoured shaped things just donned as perchance I thought I just dreamed. As a glowing recommendation to my mentor I cawed like a crazy crow, "And...Hey Thanks a lot...Shaman! Love being these newly shapeshifting sands by way of Don Juan!

jj

If you feel you should flip out because you need to get out of yourself for awhile or feel the need for speed to become a car by way of dreammachine or find yourself suddenly flying fearlessly without wings on a prayer (that always helps)and if during the next blue moon you feel like swooning; go here my little shapeshifters!

http://fictionalfictionwriter.blogspot.com/2010/09/tfes-

poetry-bus-is-ready-to-roll.html

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

~~~MAGPIE #29~~~The Forever Cottage


The Forever Cottage

The Cottage unleashes my sunstunned summer daze
The Whipoorwill's calls back to the wood's heady sage

screen door slams in time; come and go
with the do what you will; row row row

soft windchimes tingle tantalizing
captured balmy breezes BBQ's sizzling

lapping waves reach the beach's shore
sounding their eternal song soar

screech of seagulls loom above tropic
lucky to have a poop plop on topic

hot sand run fast and loose
as toes dig deeper feed the moose

into the rippled Lake bottom the kid likes
The Big cool down, for many little tikes

the sweltering blast on the barn door
of Sweet Summer Sweat can I have more?

recovered memories linger longer and longer
forever past today awaits all those tomorrows

smell of coconut bronze everywhere
on bikini-clad barely-there

glare of midday sun
time to take five fun

sticky gooey icy treats eats
or a splash on hot flesh refresh

a great pick me up for
Never go away Summer!

jj

http://www.magpietales.blogspot.com/ GO HERE; the cottage is OPEN...if you're ever by the Lake...please drop in!!!



Wasaga Beach (near Allenwood!)