Possessive love arrives, it locks the door behind it and settles in forever, always predictable.
Love arrives, it leaves its luggage by the door, in case worse comes to worst, but it still undresses.
Passion arrives, first it lights a hundred candles, then pulls the door off its hinges and breaks the windows. Leaves everything, everything to the care of the wind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Arto Melleri 1956-2005, Finnish poet and writer.
- Photo TiffanyCreek
There are no stars tonight
But those of memory.
Yet how much room for memory there is
In the loose girdle of soft rain.
There is even room enough
For the letters of my mother’s mother,
Elizabeth,
That have been pressed so long
Into a corner of the roof
That they are brown and soft,
And liable to melt as snow.
Over the greatness of such space
Steps must be gentle.
It is all hung by an invisible white hair.
It trembles as birch limbs webbing the air.
And I ask myself:
“Are your fingers long enough to play
Old keys that are but echoes:
Is the silence strong enough
To carry back the music to its source
and back to you again
As though to her?”
Yet I would lead my grandmother by the hand
Through much of what she would not understand:
And so I stumble. And the rain continues on the roof
With such a sound of gently pitying laughter.
Photo courtesy Dave Dreimiller
Oh, if there is one human tear
By mortal man in sorrow shed,
As pure and as Angel’s dear,
Tis that which falls for kindred dead.
O.S
G. Ville Jan.y 20th 1833
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A homeless shadow moves up the rutted driveway,
flanked by spent weeds of summer past.
Lightened tracks in the bend make it want
to turn to the left around to the back. But wait!
There is a shed ahead…what to do?
An aura is wavering in the diminishing light of dusk.
The shrouded door and window of the porch,
uninvitingly beckon the obscure figure
to come and take refuge from the bitter cold.
If only the abject and lonely house
didn’t cause second thoughts, Ah!
If only, to warm the hands and toes
and satiate the void of loneliness and sorrow
engulfing the spirit and heart.
All that exists is ‘dreary abandonment’!
The Photograph, “Dreary Abandonment” was created by David Dreimiller, a photographer from Garrettsville, Ohio
Our only hope
What’s wrong with protecting your children?
Do we really need to go to that place?
There is enough weirdness in the world
So much disgrace…
Let it go!
Be a shield of strength
Blocking the evil forces
Outside.
Come love
and forget,
our only hope.
I died for beauty, but was scarce
Adjusted in the tomb
When one who died for truth was lain
In an adjoining room.He questioned softly why I failed?
“For beauty”‘, I replied
And I for truth – the two are one;
“We brethren are”, he said.And so as kinsmen met a night,
We talked between the rooms,
until the moss had reached our lips,
and covered up our names.
By Emily Dickinson
“Winter”
by Walter de la Mare
Clouded with snow
The cold wind blows,
And shrill on leafless bough
The robin with its burning breast
Alone sings now.
The rayless sun,
Day’s journey done,
Sheds its last ebbing light
On fields in leagues of beauty spread
Unearthly White.
Thick draws the dark,
and spark by spark,
The frost fires kindle, and soon
Over that sea of frozen foam
Floats the White moon.
At the end of the day
There’s another day dawning
And the sun in the morning is waiting to rise
Like the waves crash on the sand
Like a storm that will break any second
There’s a hunger in the land
There’s a reckoning still to be reckoned and there’s gonna be – to pay
At the end of the day!
On Tiffany Creek 