31-10-04

Notes For The Legend Of Salad Woman (Michael Ondaatje)

Since my wife was born
she must have eaten
the equivalent of two-thirds
of the original garden of Eden.
Not the dripping lush fruit
or the meat in the ribs of animals
but the green salad gardens of that place.
The whole arena of green
would have been eradicated
as if the right filter had been removed
leaving only the skeleton of coarse brightness.

All green ends up eventually
churning in her left cheek.
Her mouth is a laundromat of spinning drowning herbs.
She is never in fields
but is sucking the pith out of grass.
I have noticed the very leaves from flower decorations
grow sparse in their week long performance in our house.
The garden is a dust bowl.

On our last day in Eden as we walked out
she nibbled the leaves at her breasts and crotch.
But there's none to touch
none to equal
the Chlorophyll Kiss

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Home They Brought Her Warrior Dead (Alfred Lord Tennyson)

Another poem that my Dad used to read to me. I realised that he respected women a lot. He believed that women have a lot of strength in themselves and it all came out in cretain times and situations.
 
Home they brought her warrior dead:
She nor swooned, nor uttered cry:
All her maidens, watching, said,
‘She must weep or she will die.’

Then they praised him, soft and low,
Called him worthy to be loved,
Truest friend and noblest foe;
Yet she neither spoke nor moved.

Stole a maiden from her place,
Lightly to the warrior stepped,
Took the face-cloth from the face;
Yet she neither moved nor wept.

Rose a nurse of ninety years,
Set his child upon her knee—
Like summer tempest came her tears—
‘Sweet my child, I live for thee.'

Painting: Madonna and Child by Bernardino Luini


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29-10-04

Mirror, Mirror (Spike Milligan)

A young spring-tender girl
combed her joyous hair
'You are very ugly' said the mirror.
But,
on her lips hung
a smile of dove-secret loveliness,
for only that morning had not
the blind boy said,
'You are beautiful'?

Painting: Girl at the Mirror by Norman Rockwell

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The Gossips (Norman Rockwell)



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I Am Woman (Irean Verge Hughes)

I am woman.
I don to need anyone to validate me...
I am the replenisher of the earth. I am man's glory.
I was made especially by God's own hands
I cannot be duplicated.
I am woman...

I can be hot, warm, cool or downright cold.
I prefer to be loving and loved. But I'm not addicted to either. 'I can be kind
or cruel, clinging or aloof.
Nothing else is made like me. I am unique...
I am woman...

I was Eve in the garden. I was Ruth, I was Esther.
I was Jezebel: I was Delilah. I was the Queen of Sheba,
Deborah, Hannah, Elizabeth, and Miriam the Poet
I was specially chosen to be the Mother of Christ...
I am woman.

I am Cleopatra, Mistress of Julius Caesar and Mark Anthony.
I can tantalize the tantalizer. And tempt the strongest
or deflate your ego like a ten cent balloon.
I am woman.

Treat me gently, and I'll be a jewel.
Treat me kindly and I'll be a friend.
Treat me lovingly, and I'll be a lover.
Treat me tenderly, and I'll give you my heart.
I am woman.

Respect me as a woman. I'll treasure you.
Look at me as if I were your Mistress...
And I'll treat you like a King.
Scorn me and you will find that Hell has no fury.
I AM WOMAN.


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To Women As Far As I'm Concerned (D.H. Lawrence)


 
The feelings I don't have I don't have.
The feeling I don't have, I won't say I have.
The feelings you say you have, you don't have.
The feelings you would like us both to have, we neither of us have.
The feelings people ought to have, they never have.
If people say they've got feelings, you may be pretty sure they haven't got them.
So if you want either of us to feel anything at all

You'd better abandon all ideas of feelings altogether.

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28-10-04

Prayer (Kahlil Gibran)

Then a priestess said, 'Speak to us of Prayer.'

And he answered, saying:

'You pray in your distress and in your need; would that you might pray also in the fullness of your joy and in your days of abundance.

For what is prayer but the expansion of yourself into the living ether?

And if it is for your comfort to pour your darkness into space, it is also for your delight to pour forth the dawning of your heart.

And if you cannot but weep when your soul summons you to prayer, she should spur you again and yet again, though weeping, until you shall come laughing.

When you pray you rise to meet in the air those who are praying at that very hour, and whom save in prayer you may not meet.

Therefore let your visit to that temple invisible be for naught but ecstasy and sweet communion.

For if you should enter the temple for no other purpose than asking you shall not receive.

And if you should enter into it to humble yourself you shall not be lifted:

Or even if you should enter into it to beg for the good of others you shall not be heard.

It is enough that you enter the temple invisible.

I cannot teach you how to pray in words.

God listens not to your words save when He Himself utters them through your lips.

And I cannot teach you the prayer of the seas and the forests and the mountains.

But you who are born of the mountains and the forests and the seas can find their prayer in your heart,

And if you but listen in the stillness of the night you shall hear them saying in silence,

'Our God, who art our winged self, it is thy will in us that willeth.

It is thy desire in us that desireth.

It is thy urge in us that would turn our nights, which are thine, into days which are thine also.

We cannot ask thee for aught, for thou knowest our needs before they are born in us:

Thou art our need; and in giving us more of thyself thou givest us all.'


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