the third of february

we’re wild and tame and wild again
we’re on and off and sometimes friends
with failed attempts we analyze
the strange suggestions we disguise

i let our kiss fall behind a stone

i read the corners of your mouth
i try to speak but have no sound
i’m out to get you anyway
under the starlit milky way

i let the spark become a blaze

i am in too deep now so it doesn’t matter
how far i go
how long i run after you
i can’t stop myself from feeling the tremble

i don’t have control over this without you

i never tried to cross the line
but in my mind did several times
i turned the page and slammed the door
but you still linger even more

i don’t have control over this kind of glue

between the sacred and profane
nobody hears me chant your name
another year has gone again
and i will never be the same

i keep you close under my breath

(charlotte martin, tremble)

posted by heatherdyan on 3 February 2012
filed in charlotte martin, life, music
tagged with a.j.b., happy birthday my friend, thinking of you today

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dearly beloved

for some, life can never be refused.

more courageous, more curious, or more greedy for life, no part of it can they bear to lose. aware of its richness, its variety, they cannot close the eyes, plug the ears, or block the heart. in that moment of anesthesia some vision might flash never to be seen again.

unbolt the door; fling out the windows; spread wide the arms. let it come; let it flow; let it blaze. let it pour through every vein. let it flood the heart, immerse the body and soul. this is the moment.

it will pass — oh, too soon, it will pass.

listen to it; watch it; feel it — it will pass and nothing will ever be the same again.

(anne morrow lindbergh, dearly beloved)

posted by heatherdyan on 2 February 2012
filed in life, love, poem of the day
tagged with anne morrow lindbergh, dearly beloved

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a space

there is a place in the heart that
will never be filled

a space

and even during the
best moments
and
the greatest times

we will know it

we will know it
more than
ever

there is a place in the heart that
will never be filled
and

we will wait
and
wait

in that space.

(charles bukowski, no help for that)

posted by heatherdyan on 1 February 2012
filed in life, poem of the day
tagged with a space, charles bukowski

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the breeze at dawn

the breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.
don’t go back to sleep.

you must ask for what you really want.
don’t go back to sleep.

people are going back and forth across the doorsill
where the two worlds touch.

the door is round and open.
don’t go back to sleep.

[rumi (through barks)]

posted by heatherdyan on 31 January 2012
filed in life, poem of the day
tagged with rumi, the breeze at dawn

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the shores of a different land

the portugese call it saudade — a longing for something so indefinite as to be indefinable.

love affairs, miseries of life, the way things were, people already dead, those who left and the ocean that tossed them on the shores of a different land — all things born of the soul that can only be felt.

(anthony de sa)

this photo is a lie.

this isn’t the shore i walked on that sunny day in spring, this is the shore that lives in my mind. the skies – bluer, the water – more turquoise, the birds – conjured up from another time, the edges – softened.

this is the shore that burns in my heart. the one we walked along that day, but not really. not ever. still, my lips are salty at the thought.

this is something that can only be felt.

posted by heatherdyan on 30 January 2012
filed in life
tagged with anthony de sa, saudade

no comments