Monday, September 26, 2011

Magpie #83 Raven Water Woman

Into this icy pool she came
tormented by years and a thousand beginnings
her clenched fist clutched the wet earth
in her hands
the heavens melted
in her heart
the waters gathered waiting for rebirth

as slowly she raised each galvanized arm
felt each stabbing pain of the heart
as slowly she felt at last
a place this safe to just let it go

today she knew
she had come back to herself
she knew she'd be
a changed woman never to turn her back
again upon herself
allowing herself others' misery
cursing the day she was born to die

tightly with leather wrapped around her
earth-bound her lips were sealed
the voice emanated from places unknown
as slowly her soft moaning sighs became louder
deep within a door opened

as her heart leaped out of her chest
She felt the feeling of a warm hand
upon her wet dress
it was her own hand
as she rebirth herself as Raven

words do not escape her
the day of her reckoning
has been mete
she is free to fly again

this disconcerted effort
connect the disconnect
fly in the face of danger
anger and shame
As her alter eagle flew
far past her on the distant horizon
Another familiar shadow did appear

As the raven set up house
in her watery grave
ah, to be wet
felt nothing like wet!

She knew and
She knew
and She knew

just what she had to do

She grew and
She grew
and She grew

as to undo and make done

with each saturated moment
as the water flows
a permanence permeated her ever pore
she became more aware
of herself
as herself
by herself
She could now scream an earth-curdling scream
as the banshee
filling her lungs with air
and filled the earth with water
and filled her heart with sky and cloud and rain
the earth
heard her
listened to her
obeyed her command
"release my womb"
as the earth goddess Gaia Reigned
These Rainbow Smiles
and thus flew our Raven
as she cawed one last time

Thank-you Tess Kincaid of Magpie Tales for this prompt! (Still having problems with visual interface)

Saturday, September 24, 2011

Emily Dickinson "Papa above!" aferwOrds by ChiccoReal

Papa above!
Regard a Mouse
O'erpowered by the Cat!
Reserve within thy kingdom
A "Mansion" for the Rat!

Snug in seraphic Cupboards
To nibble all the day
While unsuspecting Cycles
Wheel solemnly away!!

Immediately "Papa above!" Pappa is dead. The mother is dead too (from the last poem "Like her Saints retire".

Ahe allegory to a nursery rhyme is definitely in order here. I believe "Pussy Cat Pussy Cat where have you been" If you remember your Mother Goose Nursery Rhymes; it goes like this;

"Pussy-cat, pussy-cat, where have you been?..."
by Mother Goose
Pussy-cat, pussy-cat, where have you been?
"I've been to London to look at the queen."
Pussy-cat, pussy-cat, what did you there?
"I frightened a little mouse under the chair."

Coincidence the above link is from Amherst College?...Oh,I think not!

The next stanza is in reference to Old Mother Hubbard (oh this is fun!)

Snug in seraphic Cupboards
To nibble all the day
While unsuspecting Cycles
Wheel solemnly away!

Here's the famous poem (it is a lot longer than I remember!).

"Old Mother Hubbard..."
by Mother Goose
Old Mother Hubbard
Went to the cupboard
To get her poor dog a bone;
But when she came there
The cupboard was bare,
And so the poor dog had none.

She went to the baker's
To buy him some bread;
But when she came back
The poor dog was dead.

She went to the joiner's
To buy him a coffin;
But when she came back
The poor dog was laughing.

She took a clean dish,
To get him some tripe;
But when she came back
He was smoking his pipe.

She went to the hatter's
To buy him a hat;
But when she came back
He was feeding the cat.

She went to the barber's
To buy him a wig;
But when she came back
He was dancing a jig.

She went to the fruiterer's
To buy him some fruit;
But when she came back
He was playing the flute.

She went to the tailor's
To buy him a coat;
But when she came back
He was riding a goat.

She went to the cobbler's
To buy him some shoes;
But when she came back
He was reading the news.

She went to the seamstress
To buy him some linen;
But when she came back
The dog was spinning.

She went to the hosier's
To buy him some hose;
But when she came back
He was dressed in his clothes.

The dame made a curtsey,
The dog made a bow;
The dame said, "Your servant,"
The dog said, "Bow-wow."

The last lines of "Papa above!"

While unsuspecting Cycles
Wheel solemnly away!

I believe Emily is "linking" to some sort of Greek goddess as per the recent Magpie poster of Willow's at Magpie Tales (Jul 11 I believe!).

In all honesty I am not exactly sure of what Emily is trying to say in this poem, in fact, I may never be entirely sure of what Miss Emily connotes in her poems. I have been told just to "appreciate" them for what they are, as they stand as the immediate sensations take over. This I can do. I can also analyze to find deeper meaning which it seems it is my fate so to do. If anyone can provide any ioata of meaning or semblance of a thread; please feel free to comment.

I kind of like this one! It's fun! And reminenscent of silly childhood nursery rhymes. I think Miss Emily is making fun of death here in a light-harded way. I think this means she is

Monday, September 19, 2011

Mappie #83 The Act of Dreaming

The Snake Charmer, Henri Rousseau, 1907
Magpie #83 The Act of Dreaming

heady vegetation


the dark jungle


her snake-filled tree


her verdant green earth


these zoomorphic creatures


Our ancient goddess


Our ancestral rhythms


These desires dormant


Our conscious dreams


Our unconscious life


Thank-you Tess Kincaid for the jungle prompt this week!

Friday, September 16, 2011

Emily Dickinson "Like her the Saints retire" 59/1775
Purple and red sunset. Sunset from Barceloneta.
"Indian Collecting Cochineal with a Deer Tail 1777 by José Antonio de Alzate y Ramírez

The Holy Trinity with saints in heaven, the Garden of Eden below - By Scipione Compagnoca 1624-ante 1680 (Italy)

Like her the Saints retire by Emily Dickinson

Like her the Saints retire,
In their Chapeaux of fire,
Martial as she!

Like her the Evenings steal
Purple and Cochineal
After the Day!

"Departed" — both — they say!
i.e. gathered away,
Not found

Argues the Aster still —
Reasons the Daffodil

Much mystic symbolism today in Emily Dickinson's poem "Like her the Saints retire".

In the first stanza;

"Like her the Saints retire,
In their Chapeaux of fire,
Martial as she!"

Please see below for further research as to the symbols possible meaning to Emily.

"Like her the Saints retire"

To be, I believe Emily is use of technical literary devices, especially imagery and allegory is fairly prevalent here. "the Saints" would "retire" like the setting sun; or sunset. I believe this is a poem, with alludes to, the sunset.

Remarkable is the fantastic fanfare of colourful imagery, expressing meaningful symbolism for Emily, what does evolve around her world at Amherst College, MA. As the sunset does give involve her in religious esctasy, such transcedental state of euphoria as to the glory of heaven displayed each evening at sunset.

Emily's religious symbolism does evoke a grandiose splendour of the sunset and "the Saints" allegory. "the Saints retire" "In their Chapeaux of fire". The crimson colour of sunset could denote a hat of fire, "Chapeaux" in French being hat. As a warrior, saints often are, especially during early Christian times, during the Roman era. These sunset saints are definitely warriors from the first century CE, and make brilliant display at night. Emily must see these images in the clouds during sunset, using her vivid imagination as fertile grounds for this poem.

"Like her the Evenings steal
Purple and Cochineal
After the Day!"

In the second stanza Emily continues upon the sunset theme. As an allegory to sunset "the Saints" are dressed in "Purple and Cochineal" (Cochineal is a crimson colour as well an insect from Mexico, a naturalist, such as Emily dream combination of all things Natural Science). Please see below for further detail on "cochineal dies).

"After the Day" refers to Emily's common theme in many of her poems of rebirth after death and the Victory of death in a Christian-themed as well as transcedental rebirth. "After the Day" also refers to the sunset.

"Departed" — both — they say!
i.e. gathered away,
Not found

The third stanza is very modern, and makes reference to "Departed" saints as well as librarian science, as if the "Not found" category is left open and vacuous, "i.e. gathered away" is an academic latin word for'

abbreviation for
(Literary & Literary Critical Terms) id est
[Latin: that is (to say); in other words]

Which would read "in other words ; gathered away"

I find Emily's use of "i.e." a very modern approach at expressing her world in Amherst, and her daily academic writing where she would employ such academic terminology rel abbreviations referring to literary symbolism. Emily's using short-form here, and I have not noticed this in other poets of her times.

"Argues the Aster still —
Reasons the Daffodil

The last stanza, again a reference to natural symbolism, discusses the flowers "Aster" and "Daffodil". These flowers, capitalized as Proper pronouns do connote allegorical forms which references the seasons, another theme in Emily's poems. The Daffodil is the flower for March or Spring and the Aster is the flower for September or Fall. These two opposing seasons would flank the Summer season when sunsets are at their peak colours.

As the flowers do "Argue(s)" and "Reason(s)" denoting the many philosophy classes which Emily undoubtedly did peruse during her days at Amherst College, MA. Plato's Repubic as well as other Ancient Greek philosophers clash with the religious symbolism of early Christian motifs, as well as the ever-present interest in Natural Sciences. That the Spring (as Aster) "Argues" with the Fall, as the "Aster" (Fall) does "Reason" with the Spring is interesting in that there is this continual contrast evident in the Red/Blue colour spectrum (Purple and Cochineal). A play of opposites creates this dramatic display at the end of a summer season's sunset.

On many different levels Emily Dickinson's poem "Like her the Saints retire" creates dramatic religious, natural subjects imagery, etc., to produce a indelible memory of compare and contrast.

Chapeaux of fire
Definition of "martial"

1.of or suitable for war: martial songs
2.showing a readiness or eagerness to fight; warlike
3.of the army, the navy, or military life; military
Origin: ME martialle < L martialis, of Mars
Related Forms:


(Marcus Valerius Martialis) 40?-104?; Rom. epigrammatist & poet, born in Spain

“And the woman [always the symbol for a church/kirke] was arrayed in purple
and scarlet color [these colors symbolize wealth and high position], and decked
with gold and precious stones and pearls, having a golden cup in her hand
full of abominations and filthiness of her fornication” (Revelation 17:4).

) According to the Dictionary of Biblical Imagery (p. 158) “blue, purple and scarlet suggest wealth and
royalty… And we find that these same colors adorned the tabernacle of ancient Israel as well, suggesting that Yahweh was the wealthy and powerful God-king, who brought an impoverished people out of slavery in Egypt to make them a mighty nation. Because of their associations with deity and power, blue and purple were apparently also used to decorate idols in biblical times (Je 10:9). In ancient thought the sky was believed to separate the place of the gods from the human realm. Therefore blue, the color of the sky, could appropriately suggest the boundary between God and his people and symbolize his majesty. Blue was [also] the dominant color of the vestments of ancient Israel’s high priest (Ex 28). The high priest wore an outer garment of solid blue over the white robe of the priesthood. He was the boundary between the human and divine realms, moving in both as he ministered in the Holy of Holies. Blue also separated the holy articles of the
tabernacle from the people… Israel was a nation set apart for God, but the high priest and the most holy things were specially designated for the Lord’s service. In this context blue suggests the boundary of holy separation unto the Lord.”

2) The Dictionary of Symbols, Myths and Legends (p. 62-63) has this to say: “Through its association with water, blue is connected with the spiritual life, the soul, purity, depth and crystal. It is also linked to the sky, the firmament, heaven, the infinite, the absolute and diamonds… the appearance of blue in a dream is almost always a good omen, in the sense that it often reveals a state of grace, a relationship with the superior spirit that lies dormant within each and every one of us, and the spiritual aspirations of which we are more or less aware or which preoccupy us during our waking hours. Blue should always be associated with well-being, gentleness, harmony, and pure and profound
sentiments. It calms fever, passions and tensions, wards off fate and absorbs evil. Blue is therefore a beneficial colour. It is also the colour of love.”

3) Hans Biedermann’s Dictionary of Symbolism (p. 44) provides further insight: “Blue is the color that most frequently is seen as a symbol for things of the spirit and the intellect… It is the color of the sky, associated in ancient Egypt with the sky-god Amon… This is why it is the color of the heavens. Zeus and Yahweh plant their feet on sky blue… Vishnu in ancient Indian myth is colored blue as Krishna; Jesus teaches in a blue garment.”

But perhaps the most revealing statements from Biedermann’s book are these:

a) “Blue, the symbol of the truth and the eternity of God (for what is true is eternal), will always remain the symbol of human immortality” [Portal].

This neatly mirrors the church’s false doctrine of the immortality of the soul,
wouldn’t you say? … and

b) “In Central European popular symbology blue is the color of fidelity, but also of mystery (the fairy tale “The Blue Light”), deception, and uncertainty (numerous German idions; compare the English “out of the blue”). The association between the color and intoxication (the German adjective blau is also a colloquialism for “drunk”) is hard to explain but may have to do with the bluish coloration of the cheeks and noses of heavy drinkers.”

In Re 17:6 we read that Mystery Babylon is DRUNK with the blood of the saints. Coincidence?

Anyway, that’s what I’ve come up with. Your thoughts?

PS: I find the headgear on the woman pictured in the coin to be strikingly similar to that of the Statue of Liberty. Another coincidence?

BTW: There is no Hebrew word for “coincidence.”


The Tabernacle:

1. Exodus 26:1
“Make the tabernacle with ten curtains of finely twisted linen and blue, purple and scarlet yarn, with cherubim worked into them by a skilled craftsman.

2. Exodus 26:31
“Make a curtain of blue, purple and scarlet yarn and finely twisted linen, with cherubim worked into it by a skilled craftsman.

3. Exodus 26:36
“For the entrance to the tent make a curtain of blue, purple and scarlet yarn and finely twisted linen—the work of an embroiderer.

4. Exodus 27:16
“For the entrance to the courtyard, provide a curtain twenty cubits long, of blue, purple and scarlet
yarn and finely twisted linen—the work of an embroiderer—with four posts and four bases.

Following are instruction for the priestly garments:

5. Exodus 28:5
Have them use gold, and blue, purple and scarlet yarn, and fine linen.

6. Exodus 28:6
[ The Ephod ] “Make the ephod of gold, and of blue, purple and scarlet yarn, and of finely twisted linen—the work of a skilled craftsman.

7. Exodus 28:8
Its skillfully woven waistband is to be like it—of one piece with the ephod and made with gold, and with blue, purple and scarlet yarn, and with finely twisted linen.

8. Exodus 28:15
[ The Breastpiece ] “Fashion a breastpiece for making decisions—the work of a skilled craftsman. Make it like the ephod: of gold, and of blue, purple and scarlet yarn, and of finely twisted linen.

9. Exodus 38:23
with him was
Oholiab son of Ahisamach, of the tribe of Dan—a craftsman and designer, and an embroiderer in blue, purple and scarlet yarn and fine linen.)

……… wow get the picture! There are another 17 examples of these colors repeated in Exodus regarding the Presley garments including Gold and precious stones. Also we find below the same colors when Solomon builds the temple:

2 Chronicles 3:14
He made the curtain of blue, purple and crimson yarn and fine linen, with cherubim worked into it. (Cherubim on the Ark were gold)

So the colors of Gods Tabernacle / Church / Sanctuary are blue, purple and scarlet with Gold.

Going back to the great harlot the colors would indicate the harlot is a Church or priesthood of that Church. But there is a color missing from this Church and that is Blue.

So what is significant about blue mentioned time and time again above?
Was it there just because it
looked pretty? No, here is the very definitive answer with wording that relates very closely to revelation! This is the Key:

Numbers 15:37-40
Again the LORD spoke to Moses, saying, “Speak to the children of Israel: Tell them to make tassels on the corners of their garments throughout their generations, and to put a blue thread in the tassels of the corners. And you shall have the tassel, that you may look upon it and remember all the commandments of the LORD and do them, and that you may not follow the harlotry to which your own heart and your own eyes are inclined, and that you may remember and do all My commandments, and be holy for your God.

So blue is to represent the 10 Commandments, so the Great harlot is an unfaithful church who has forgotten and does follow all the Ten Commandments!

If you care to do some digging yourself you will find many reference that point to the 10 commandments being on blue
stone or blue sapphire from the throne of God mention in Exodus 24:10:

“…and saw the God of Israel. Under his feet was something like a pavement made of sapphire, clear as the sky itself.”

And we know God wrote the commandments with his own finger in stone:

Exodus 31:18
“When the LORD finished speaking to Moses on Mount Sinai, he gave him the two tablets of the Testimony, the tablets of stone inscribed by the finger of God.”

To me this is very interesting, but Numbers 15 really says it all: the harlot is an unfaithful people / Church / priesthood.

March - Daffodil
Daffodils have the meaning of rebirth, respect, regard and unrequited love. There are many different varieties available of daffodils from double peach forms (right) to the classic white with yellow, trumpeted centers (left). Daffodils are grown from bulbs and emerge in spring as a welcome harbinger of warmer weather. In England, the daffodil is known as the "Lent Lily" because it blooms during the period of lent from the Christian faith.

September - Aster

Aster is a sign of fall as sure as the changing leaves. The flower stands for patience and daintiness and the word "aster" comes from the Latin for star. There are many different varieties of asters from New England to Stokes, which provide beautiful, daisy-like blooms on foliage that can range from 6 inches to 4 feet tall.

Chiccoreal AfterwOrd

Saints be praised
At the Sunset Hour
All ablazed in Violet and Crimson
All Glory Given

See how the season's flowers
March's Aster
September's Daffodil
Bend to Argue and Reason the night away!

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

,A little East of Jordan, by Emily Dickinson 59/1775

Jacob Wrestling with the Angel
ca. 1659

Gauguin, (Eugène-Henri-) Paul
Vision After the Sermon, Jacob Wrestling with the Angel 1888; National Gallery of Scotland;

A little East of Jordan, by Emily Dickinson

A little East of Jordan,
Evangelists record,
A Gymnast and an Angel
Did wrestle long and hard —

Till morning touching mountain —
And Jacob, waxing strong,
The Angel begged permission
To Breakfast — to return —

Not so, said cunning Jacob!
"I will not let thee go
Except thou bless me" — Stranger!
The which acceded to —

Light swung the silver fleeces
"Peniel" Hills beyond,
And the bewildered Gymnast
Found he had worsted God!,

This is a fun take on a familiar Bible story about Jacob Wrestles the Angel.

It is funny because of the pun, "worsted" which makes this "yarn" a very funny tale!

Can you imagine?

All the days Jacob would grab
would find hard the concept of God to grasp
With an Angel he would eventually grapple
give it up; his worth did exceed his armour'd girth


Delayed till she had ceased to know —by Emily Dickinson 58/1775

Delayed till in its vest of snow
Her loving bosom lay —
An hour behind the fleeting breath —
Later by just an hour than Death —
Oh lagging Yesterday!

Could she have guessed that it would be —
Could but a crier of the joy
Have climbed the distant hill —
Had not the bliss so slow a pace
Who knows but this surrendered face
Were undefeated still?

Oh if there may departing be
Any forgot by Victory
In her imperial round —
Show them this meek appareled thing
That could not stop to be a king —
Doubtful if it be crowned!pan>

Yesterday "lags" and is "delayed" "an hour behind the fleeting breath" "by just an hour".

How similar is "Yesterday" to a train that is late at the station?

This poem does have the cadence of a train pulling into a station

As it is Emily's station in life to have the focus always on death, in allegory, metaphor, etc. Emily realizes that yesterday is late, is dead, as dead as death.

Dead yesterday is where death meets such a late train of memory thoughts. Very surreal in a way, sort of like a DiChirrico painting.

Memories lie in the past not future bound; "her loving bosom lay".

The past is mother, loving, kind, present.

Is the future for Emily Death although the notion of late is reiterated twice in the first stanza late by an hour;

"An hour behind"

"Later by just an hour"

In the next stanza Emily is questioning whether or not she would have guessed that Death would be late;

"Could she have guessed that it would be - "

This is a complicated poem, and is remarkable in that it is highly considerate of imagery.

The allegorical "Yesterday" is termed a "she".

"Yesterday would be happy, blissful knowing the joy after Death who is late has come and gone.

The crier on the hill is a brilliant bit of imagery.

is very easy to envision this New England staple of the day, the town crier, the teller of the news of the day. That death is late.

The state of euphoria, or bliss found on the face of the crier adds another degree of mystic quality to the poem.

"Had not the bliss so slow a pace
Who knows but this surrendered face
Were undefeated still?"

The bliss of "Yesterday" is unconditional love leading to such surrender.

The next stanza is very complicated allegorically speaking.

"Any forgot by Victory
In her imperial round —"

What is an "imperial round"? I have found out that this is a reference to radiators. So in the belly of "Victory" or Mother Earth; Gaia.

"Show them this meek appareled thing"

What is Emily referring to in regards to "meek appareled thing"?

After consideration, I would think Emily is referring to us, as the body of the human condition, a unified soul trapped in a decaying "mound" of a body, clothed in "meek"ness; hopefully. The Victory being how the soul conquers death with eternal and infinite love.

"That could not stop to be a king —"

"meekness" not being a trait of "a king" and the quality of meekness "not to stop a king" refers to how we are just passing by on this transient plane of existence.

"Doubtful if it be crowned!"

In death comes the "crowned" glory of Victory over death, but we just do not realize this until that final hour that is late by an hour!

1 Corinthians 15:55
O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?

I find this a very indepth poem, which may have to reposted due to lack of my understanding of the mentioned allegory alluding to specific events, etc of Emily's time. Any further information would be most appreciated!

Chiccoreal Expresses Mystic Presence

She's Late

Oh Victory!
Where is thy Crown?

Lost in the past of yesterday
Who'd care but for the one thing

That would see you through
until the last day
and the final hour
catches up with the first

No hour late now
the Victory Woman awaits
don't be late
feel the crown on your crown

you feel you do not deserve
but you do
the esctasy and the bliss
the sweet surrender is heavenly!

Yours now this Victory giv'n
and the Glory all around!
This Crown of Eternal Life
Yours to Enjoy!


To venerate the simple days by Emily Dickinson

To venerate the simple days
Which lead the seasons by,
Needs but to remember
That from you or I,
They may take the trifle
Termed mortality!

by Emily Dickinson

A short sweet quick dessert of a poem Miss Emily! I think this is making me very hungry for a trifle!

As I did download various pictures of trifles for the four season (too bad there are not more seasons!) and it was very difficult to pick just one.

The one with drambuie is probably the one I will make as I have exquisite taste and the recipe comes from England, the land who proported to have made the original trifle.

However, since I cannot download any "free" Google Images at this time, I will leave you with the url and you can let your tastebuds do the walking!

Paula Dern also had a lovely trifle made of Pumpkin and gingerbread! So delicious! Especially for the fall.

Personally, I love the checkerboad trifle; so visual appealing and stimulating!

Enjoy; you so deserve this treat!
...Trifles seem silly... now endures forever...

Monday, September 12, 2011

Andrew Wyeth, The Revenant, 1949

Appear ghost image
Return to the place you left
Stay awhile, please
Please visit for all the (s)entries!

Saturday, September 10, 2011

If I should cease to bring a Rose by Emily Dickinson with AfterwOrds by Chiccoreal

(image from Google Free Images rose + rose + broken nose (aka Jon Spence) Tags: london cemetery grave flickrhivemind.net0

If I should cease to bring a Rose

If I should cease to bring a Rose
Upon a festal day,
'Twill be because beyond the Rose
I have been called away —
If I should cease to take the names
My buds commemorate —
'Twill be because Death's finger
Claps my murmuring lip!

AfterwOrds by Chiccoreal

I'm not sure if I have already analyzed this poem; it seems so familiar. I'll have to look up later.

Again there is the traditional element here; the necessity to form ritual display to create a continuation of causality.

We place roses upon graves, for example, as a dutiful memory, a symbol of life.

Roses representing, symbolically, life and love.

"Festal Day" being the day of one's funeral in this poem.

The red rose being passion. I image the rose to be red in this poem, although this is not stated. A Red Rose being a Christian symbol for the resurrected Christ.

Each rose colour having its own particular symbolic intent; yellow roses for example are for conveying friendship, etc.

So poets tend to think in terms of producing a symbolic code for their poems, a sort of personal language. Emily definitely uses scores of images and symbols in her work which give a deeper meaning and understanding of her poetry. Whether or not his was intentional, and whether or not Emily ever intended her poems for public view is a point, certainly, to ponder.

I really get stuck on the last line "Claps my murmuring lip!" and "my buds commemorate". Who or what is Emily referring with "buds"? Friends? Rosebuds?

The exclamation gives away her emotion in this last line. Death the allegory is for Emily, a new life, although at the time it is fairly creepy.

Would not "clasp" rather than "claps" be more of an appropriate word here? I suppose, back then, "claps" must have meant something similar to "clasp" however "claps" does sound very violent in a way. Death never being a gentleman.

So we think we have had a deja vu feeling with this poem, that I have discussed this poem before. Maybe I have or maybe Death is playing a game on me; or Miss Emily is doing this! Funny Miss Emily!

Chiccoreal's AfterwOrds

Chicco take: "lingering longer by the wayside inn hoping to catch a glimpse of Death doing the shake rattle and roll"

Be not afraid of the thorns that"

Be not afraid of the thorns that
Death would have you feel this fear
the claps of skeletal hand across cold blue
death-grip lips

No, never feel the obligation to place upon this grave a rose
Moreover never Feel the importance of said Rose placed thereupon
as not be afeared of anything at all

Only fear recklessness
when turning one's back upon and other's life lost
and in this haphazard forgeting life's ritual
superstition has it; that the next person to forget
will be claps by the lips til dead!

So evermore remember this dear petulent one
a duty placed just so is the sworn duty of all
and ever it is to be
as it is to a rose as to rise from the grave
the necessity being a rose doth lead the way!

as one can now see
now that one foot in in the grave
is better than one foot above than below
in this lowly lone grave
without a Rose to bring it back to life!

Or without a rose being held in lieu of a life once lived
like that Rose that grows on the bower and shed blood for us
a remembrance is more than just a fragrant sense of propriety
we must appropriate the appropriate measures
a propriety of sensibilities!
and this final curtain call
most certainly does indeed
to make a bow
a last
call for a Rose
asks this of the Sweet Emily
The Proper thing to do Property Mistress!


Thursday, September 8, 2011

Emily Dickinson " By Chivalries as tiny" Feeding From Emily's Energy

By Chivalries as tiny by Emily Dickinson

By Chivalries as tiny,
A Blossom, or a Book,
The seeds of smiles are planted —
Which blossom in the dark.

These tender mercies, or "tiny Chilvaries" shine through the darkest night of our soul being lost to the vacuum of space.

Something as simple as "A Blossom" or "A Book" can bring about such, as "The seeds of smiles" once "planted" - which "blossom" in the dark.

Yes even dark nights of the soul (better yet dark knights of the soul) are there to quench the thirst of aloneness and doubt; or feeling "tiny".

Such is the stuff of Emily's dreams and poems!

Chiccoreal's Take on "By Chilvaries as tiny"

By Mercy as tiny by Chiccoreal (Feeding On Emily's Energy)

By each Mercy as tiny
to be seeded such a small thing
In a big way creates the whole Soul

Blossom O' Rose
Blossom O' Thought

A Penny for your naked
blue jay Thoughts

A Pretty copper penny
for the Book you brought

May I reread the words
shining bright as true as your heart?
All I need is a kernel of an idea
the afterthought
As we exchange and interchange
this fine book for a rose
A Love for A Life

May I reread your words again?
after having been seeded and somewhat
there where sappy sentiment
and vulnerability
are slain like the the fiery dragon
who leaves the bittersweet pearl of wisdom
which may grow too close to you?

Mary, Mary
How does your garden grown
How this garden does grows
William, William
with the promise of a new day's intent

Who loves this life
looses it
Who lives this love
gains it
this life from me is for you
(hand him the rose now)

I, too, need what you have brought
to the round table
that is all I have ever sought
The Rose and
The Book
This Book is for you
(hand her the book now)

A Never-ending story of Love
In an Ever-increasing growing-the-most
and is still unfolding
(bookmark this)


Sunday, September 4, 2011

Magpie @81 Rusty Ford in Back Forty

weighed down
by fiercely restricted
overdressed in muddy galoshes
the overkill seen at the abattoir
set in
this endless moment of linger

speak easy
noisy memories
wrath or ruthlessness
did sour grapes
those found rose-coloured spectacles
demanded respect and positive spin
but cast
doubt as life's dormancy
had a dubious nature

give all of us a hand-up
Mother Mary
feed all of us

See him?

I can still sense his essence
even after seventy years of being buried
as iron-smelling sweat imbues
every tight fibre of his being shirt
transforming matter supernaturally
as mortals do so making man into motor
as oil does not mix with water, really
the two do combine sometimes
as the reaction recreates
a new found creation
alight! in a bright flash of ball lightening
a storm of frenzied proportion raising up
questioning and distilling
ideas akin to fireworks
passion left on the backburner
maybe sat on the kundalini too long
rekindled and never wore out
the old flame
a keeper who
keeps on keeping on

the rainmaker danced the rain dance
last's night's storm-a-long-a-ding-dong
only a man made of mortar
could be a man made by-hand
this unmortal mortarman made marble into a god
for worshippers sent all their energies to this place
which was only a stone throw from here
left stone statuary to replace the epithet
"I Live" with "I Die"

And only paid attention
it started to rain liquid love upon the place beneath
as the dust bowl prairies' particles
penetrated the plains of Iwo Jima
the Brazilian Butterfly and WWII soldiers
raised the flag then a glass
to good ol' H20
their sweat brought the needed rain

as he was a child of alchemy's-reactionary revolution
as ever-there-was to be
this iron-clad-man girded by the gridlock
fueled by liquid love and lightening flash
he walked thunder from every pour
into the earth as she opened
to swallow whole
at least part or all of him

when he brought forth
he did bring forth
he poured forth his own blood
in the form of freedom halleluia

whenever he has his fill
he filled to the brim
chock full of nuts the radiator
to cool-down the over-heated block
once sitting on blocks
this knuckle-head of cubic displacement
this iron-clad-man
former cowboy farmer
sitting there
not doing anything

now being that
we think
he is
found again
"I've been found"
so resolved to solve the problem of life
that pesky little question;
"Whay are we here?"
deep within every mortal fibre
being shirtless
being shoeless
being shorn like a sheep kept apart
from life's missing-in-action answer
the only remnant remaining of his lost tribe
hiding deep within the deepest woods or jungle
mugwumps need not fear fearless
or manifest fated destiny

heard the talking of tree creak
the croaking of frogs
the chirping all night of crickets
and the odd deer's bleeting churl
and the fledgling flapping of angel's wings
it's a bird!
it's a crop-duster!
Come alive again!

this golden bird of paradise
is really a live tropical plant
that acts more like an animal
supplanted near Galapagos
anthropomorphically speaking
reborn in some form of other
this certain liveliness returning
once known only to the ancient elderberries
taken to heart and diffused across the Universe

as the old cowboy continues to rust away

in an abandoned field a way back
in the distance
before breakfast
down on the farm
this boy stays home
permanently afixed
only occasionally
returning to sup

I can still see him standing there
in red and white gingham
tee shirt
the tight Levi jeans
his vintage James Dean good looks
American fleshpot sexy

adored and adorned on the homestead wall
his picture so perfect
i can feel his testerone
now respected more than before
as legend and nature has always had a way of making love
larger-than-life spectacular
with peachy no end plum love
awakened from the deepseated sleep

no proof!
of existence?

this pro offering
of the subsequent
of sequential events
did reek of leeks
cosmic consciousness
our paradigms
only knew
the dread and fear of kings
their hardy thought-forms
toil from the soil
no more
where all saints go
to find foil for their souls
that only now know better
ipso facto
as no bitterness from vinegar
smmmmmooth as butter
the transition to transfiguration

played out our lives
it all did fold eventually
like Saturday's card game
beside the hillocks to ramble shackled
broke the record of

as residents of loamy
earth-filled cedar-scented dreams
we pioneers of the affirmative
found vestibules off camera
way back to the back 40

depression era glass
shines light upon the tilt of time
drives transport truck clear through
residuals for slim pickens
and crew

turn on
silent running motor

turn in
sleep under starry hand-made quilts

turn over
a new leaf of a new book tonight

dream the old dreams
past soddies' survival
past sputtering last
past rutted-beyond-the-frays
past points-of-no-return
past rotting everlasting
past sealed fateful harbingers
past death; past lives
past all pasts

this most peaceful and serene repast

burgeoning burdens lightly
bearing weightlessness
denuding truth's nakedness
strapped sassafras to boot
iconographic photography class
meanwhile it was a mean while
the best and worst of times
as all tried to unstuck time
make space spacious
battled with the duality of opposites
dragged a thin comb through the muck as the FBI
searched and i found employment
a dragnet for this demigod named Rusty
buried in the past imperfect
sitting docile and dormant now
almost completely unravelled
yet somehow still incomplete and incomprehensible

the total process of oxidization
could be or was buried in the blueberry patch
kitty-corner to the barnboard
which may have prolong
the subsequent pain of form
which enjoyed fame as formlessness
due to the anti-oxidization effects

who-so-ever should find the found
is said to be better than berries from heaven
for heaven was suppose to be an opening in the solid thing
like water yet never kept moving like this
unless by some unknown dimensional effects
always away from town
always going to town
and from a long-lost distant cousin named Beetlegeuse
We all heard the subconsicous roar of a newborn star
this distinct ripple of celestial triggers
set loose into a series of supposedly non-events
by practitioners of the third dimension
which is us

so you see as

atrophy these are dead beasts that hardly breath
to silent for their own good or ours
chasms fold upon
crinkling like cellophane
bolt upright sit the quick and the dead then
dead designed by rot?
life designed by root?
as all ends well
as all is still a'sitting pretty
as all is a junk heap of a planter now


Thank-you Tess Kincaid of Willow Manor for this Magpie Tales me to magpie-ing all over town! "Rusty Ford in Back Forty"