Quote of the Day for 2016-09-14

"So I the pleasant grape have pulled from the vine, / And yet I languish in great thirst, while others drink the wine."

— Edward de Vere (1550-1604) "Care and Disappointment," Paradise of Dainty Devices (1576)

Amphora depicting Satyrs making wine by Amasis (circa 550-510 BCE)

Quote of the Day for 2016-09-05, Labor Day

"And all labour without any play, boys, / Makes Jack a dull boy in the end."

— Alexander Hay Japp (1837-1905) "Some Book-Worms Will Sit and Will Study," "Vers de Société," The Gentleman's Magazine (November 1880)

Members of the Brotherhood of Carpenters and Joiners of America, marching in a May Day parade in New York City (May 1, 1914) Photograph by George Grantham Bain

Quote of the Day for 2016-08-09

"Half light, half shade, / She stood, a sight to make an old man young."

— Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892) "The Gardener's Daughter," Poems: In Two Volumes, volume 2 (1842)

Marlene Dietrich as Amy Jolly in Morocco (1930)

Quote of the Day for 2016-08-08

"Walk with me world, upon my right hand walk, / speak to me Babel, that I may strive to assemble / of all these syllables a single word / before the purpose of speech is gone."

— Conrad Aiken (1889-1973) "This Image or Another," The Nation (December 28, 1932)

The Tower of Babel by Pieter Brueghel the Elder (1563)

Quote of the Day for 2016-07-07

"Take, O boatman, thrice thy fee,— / Take, I give it willingly; / For, invisible to thee, / Spirits twain have crossed with me."

— Ludwig Uhland (1787-1862) "The Passage," The Poems of Ludwig Uhland (1831) Translated by Sarah Austin

Charon Ferrying the Shades by Pierre Subleyras (circa 1735-1744)

Quote of the Day for 2016-06-25

"Virginity, virginity, when you leave me, where do you go? / I am gone and never come back to you. / I never return."

— Sappho (circa 630-570 BCE) Fragment

The Vestal Virgin Tuccia by Giovanni Battista Moroni (circa 1555)

Quote of the Day for 2016-02-06

"The Child is father of the Man; / And I could wish my days to be / Bound each to each by natural piety."

— William Wordsworth (1770-1850) "My Heart Leaps Up When I Behold," Poems in Two Volumes

Salisbury Cathedral from the Meadows by John Constable (1831)

Quote of the Day for 2016-01-22

"It is absurd to think that the only way to tell if a poem is lasting is to wait and see if it lasts. The right reader of a good poem can tell the moment it strikes him that he has taken an immortal wound—that he will never get over it."

— Robert Frost (1875-1963) "The Poetry of Amy Lowell," Christian Science Monitor, May 16, 1925

Erato, Muse of Poetry by Edward Poynter (1870)

A Will

Mom and her older sister, 1937.

The conference room was ample
The lawyer droned on and on
The aide made endless copies
Which the accountants set upon.

We came to meet the men
Who bill by the hour
Who passed out streams of paper
And looked entirely too dour.

The will was probated months ago
The taxes were yet to be paid
The extensions were filed in triplicate
The piles of folders needed a spade.

Endless questions for these priests
Who control the language of our lives
Who scribble out the sacrifices
That are demanded by our gods.

These are the chores of the living
The ones who are left to grieve
All of us must persevere
Or so we all believe

She was more to me than parchment
More than life insurance and deeds
But the entirety of her financial life was
Spelled out on this pile of leaves.

I felt her last in her empty bedroom
Bereft of any evidence of her life
She must have been that spirit
That touched me in my heart.

My cousin and I shed tears that day
Remembering her endearing charms
But today she did not visit us
In that wainscot paneled room.

Content to Sleep

As the lights dim and the covers float
They settle down around me.
I begin to feel the faint weight
of feline paws as she walks towards
me imperceptibly light.

When she nears my waist she sits and
I can hear, mixed in the rattle
of the heating vent, her faint purring.
Telling me that she loves me.

I no longer reach out to pet her,
To feel her rub her cheek
against my fingernails,
because every time I do,
she is gone.

So now I just lie there
listening to the rattle of
her purring and feeling the
imperceptible weight of her,
lying next to me, and
I am content to sleep,
hoping that she'll stay.

The Tears Won't Come

Morning Tears by Paul Binnie

The tears are not coming.
They have sent their regrets.
The weeping is on hiatus.
And yet I am so upset.

My sadness will not abate
Without an emotional release
But the S.N.R.I. I'm taking
Makes it hard to attain that peace

I used to cry quite often,
Others must have thought me weak,
But I regarded it as a blessing;
A badge of sorrow flowing down my cheek.

This day we celebrate mothers.
They who nursed us with great care.
Who praised and nagged and fed us
And told us what to wear.

The metastasized foreign colonies
Flourished under small domes.
Like little stationary marbles,
Up and down her arms.

My mother was so afraid
Of dying in great pain;
We spoke of it so often that
It's seared into my brain.

It was a kind of blessing
Among all the emotional boil
That the anesthesia induced dementia
Unraveled her mortal coil.

I really have to concentrate
As method actors do
To darken my mind even further
And bring the tears to fore.

But even if I succeed
In satiating this grief.
I know it'll be back again,
Bundled into sheaves.

Birthday Wish

For Dollface's birthday I gave her an extravagant and intangible gift. Placed in a small box, light as air, and wrapped in Sponge Bob birthday paper. In the accompanying card I wrote another poem to express my love for her and with her permission I'm posting it here:

---

I don't know what to write.
I am at a loss.
My muse has up left me.
The writer has been blocked.

A birthday wish should be ethereal.
Light and full of joy.
For this, your birthday, I wish
To you, not a care in the world.

Such days are reserved for pleasantries.
Lighthearted fun and toys.
Candy, cake, and ice cream.
And other trinkets of joy.

Algea, goddess of sorrow,
is not welcome here.
Nor her mother Eris,
the spirit of discord.

We are gathered here to celebrate.
And to open a gift most fair.
For the birthday of my cherished love.
The Dollface that I hold most dear.

So have some cake and icing
And maybe a cookie or two
And open the gift before you.
From he, your love so true.

And remember these words I've written.
And remember the love we both feel.
For while the offering is intangible.
The extravagance is very real.

---

The image at left is called "Rabbit's Delight" and it's the birthday card that I gave to Dollface. You may not be able to tell from the small image, but the rabbits are eating the icing flowers off of a birthday cake. The endearment inside reads "Have a little cake with your icing."

It was created by Maili Poag and you can see this and more of her beautiful anthropomorphic cards at Toadstool Designs.

Pre-Birthday Wish

Dollface had a birthday coming up and wanted something extravagant, so I came up with a gift that was both that and intangible. Because it was going to rain on her birthday we decided to have a dinner a day afterwards. I wanted to give this extravagant/intangible gift during dinner so I wrote a little pre-birthday poem in a kind of Dr. Seussian style to give to her on her actual birthday. (It's not as good as the least of his verse, but it was received warmly.)

---

Dollface has a birthday that is significant,
so how did I choose to cel-le-brate it?
With bows and trinkets
on Jewelry and ingots?

Maybe some friends
will pay us a visit,
And accompany us
to a gallery or exhibit.

I might have sprung
for off-Broadway tickets.
Or bluesy music with rough hewn lyrics.
Or maybe even a museum of hieroglyphics.

On the other hand I can assure you that
it won't be furniture with rivets,
Or Gravy and biscuits,
Nor will it be Tofurky and giblets.

Whatever it is you'll
need to have patience.
And quietly, to yourself,
count down the minutes.

So no crying or screaming or
threats or ballistics.
Or the whining that
such conditions elicit.

For I won't reveal it.
No matter how much
you threaten or kibitz.

Until the appointed time
at where ever it is
that we're filling
our stomachs.

Anniversary Poem

It was a beautiful day
all those years ago
as I stood outside
awaiting your arrival

All the worry about the storm
ruining our day were gone
And I was filled with a
contentment that I couldn't explain

The sun was bright
and rain soaked lawn sparkled
The air was cool
and there wasn't a hint of humidity
I stood outside and
breathed deep that fine air

As I sit here remembering
all those feelings I had then,
I can feel them welling up
inside me now when I think
of you,
on that day

If I had it to do all over again
I would gladly take your hand in mine
And say the vows all over again
For you are the only one for me
My darling love.

On Love

I love her for her perfume.
It was the first thing I noticed.
Wafting on a light spring breeze.

It got me moving
In a way that I could never explain
How could anyone explain
Such a feeling

Her fragrance was light and inviting
And when I found her
She stared at me in silence
And she was oh so beautiful
I took her in my gaze and
She spoke a word or two
Of our mutual love

The denizens in
The white lab coats
Would have us believe
That all love, all emotions,
Are just hormones and instincts
Swirling around our brains
Making us do things
We wouldn't normally do
But we both knew better.

I kissed her on the cheek
And then her ear
She made no move to
Resist my advances
And I was overcome
With longing

How could any being
Confer dispassionate explanations
On courtship,
On love?

Her words and
Body language
Said it all
We cuddled and kissed
We moaned and were lost
In each other.

What would they say
If they were in our place?
They would forget about their
Clinical observations, their
Hypotheses and theories, their
Peer reviewed publications, and
Get as lost in their love
As we were.

Then she gave me
A look and a whisper
I got behind and entered her
She moaned while
I nibbled her neck and
Whispered in her ear.

When it was over
I exited her and my barbs
Scratched her insides
She swung around and
Swatted me, hissing & spitting
And then rolling in the leaves
Not my favorite part of love making
But feline women are like that

If we are nothing more than
The sum of our hormones and instincts
Then emotions, all emotions,
Are just nature's way
To perpetuate
Every species on the planet
There has to be
More to it than that

Emotions are the soul
If humans feel emotions then
We feel emotions too.
And if humans have souls then
We have souls too.