you are oceanic...

 

All she wanted

was find a place to stretch her bones

A place to lengthen her smiles

and spread her hair

A place where her legs could walk

without cutting and bruising

A place unchained

She was born out of ocean breath.

I reminded her; 

‘Stop pouring so much of yourself

into hearts that have no room for themselves

Do not thin yourself

Be vast

You do not bring the ocean to a river’

— you are oceanic - Tapiwa Mugabe

The Eternal by Paolo Roversi

the joy that wounds...

 

You try to be faithful

And sometimes you’re cruel.

You are mine. Then, you leave.

Without you, I can’t cope.

And when you take the lead,

I become your footstep.

Your absence leaves a void.

Without you, I can’t cope.

You have disturbed my sleep,

You have wrecked my image.

You have set me apart.

Without you, I can’t cope.” 

― Rumi, Love: The Joy That Wounds: The Love Poems of Rumi

Lara Stone by Paolo Roversi

All she wanted….

All she wanted

was find a place to stretch her bones

A place to lengthen her smiles

and spread her hair

A place where her legs could walk

without cutting and bruising

A place unchained

She was born out of ocean breath.

I reminded her; 

‘Stop pouring so much of yourself

into hearts that have no room for themselves

Do not thin yourself

Be vast

You do not bring the ocean to a river’

— you are oceanic, Tapiwa Mugabe

future perfect (detail) - snejana onopka’s hands photographed by steven meisel for vogue italia dec. 2005

experts...

I realise there’s something incredibly honest about trees in winter, how they’re experts at letting things go.

— Jeffrey McDaniel

image by me mady dooijes

I have...

I have a lover with hair that falls

like autumn leaves on my skin.”

— Brian Turner, from “R & R”

image by me (mady dooijes) on instagram

If you were coming in fall….

If you were coming in the fall,  

I ’d brush the summer by
With half a smile and half a spurn,
As housewives do a fly.

If I could see you in a year,
I'd wind the months in balls
And put them each in separate drawers,
Until their time befalls.

If only centuries delayed,
I'd count them on my hand,
Subtracting till my fingers dropped
Into Van Diemen's land.

If certain, when life was out,
That yours and mine should be,
I'd toss it yonder like a rind,
And taste eternity. 

But, but now, all ignorant of the length
Of time's uncertain wing,
It goads me, like a goblin bee,
That will not state its sting.
-Emily Dickinson
'Rodarte' by Nan Goldin for Grey F/W 2012

Stranger Music...

And I’ll dance with you in Vienna,

I’ll be wearing a river’s disguise.

The hyacinth wild on my shoulder

my mouth on the dew of your thighs.

And I’ll bury my soul in a scrapbook,

with the photographs there and the moss.

And I’ll yield to the flood of your beauty,

my cheap violin and my cross.” 

― Leonard Cohen, Stranger Music: Selected Poems and Songs
The New York Times T Style Design Spring 2013 : Julianne Moore by Inez & Vinoodh

I fell in love….

Deception by Michael Faudet|strane attrazioni, jan welters for marie claire italy, april 2001

when i get old i'll wear purple

when i am an old woman i shall wear purple

with a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.

and i shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves

and satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.

i shall sit down on the pavement when i’m tired

and gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells

and run my stick along the public railings

and make up for the sobriety of my youth.

i shall go out in my slippers in the rain

and pick the flowers in other peoples’ gardens

and learn to spit.

you can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat

and eat three pounds of sausages at a go

or only bread and pickles for a week

and hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

but now we must have clothes that keep us dry

and pay our rent and not swear in the street

and set a good example for the children.

we must hive friends to dinner and read the papers.

but maybe I ought to practice a little now?

so people who know me are not too shocked and surprised

when suddenly i am old, and start to wear purple.

jenny joseph

image: lilyroze sommaire in love
a big thank you to stephanie of bonkers about buttons who send me this lovely poem

xxx

dreamer

beautiful dreamer, wake unto me,

starlight + dewdrops are waiting for thee;

sounds of the rude world heard in the day,

lull’d by the moonlight have all pass’d away!

'stephen foster'

here

still looking to be saved

here

i

yes, i was infatuated with you; i am still.

no one has ever heightened such a keen
capacity of physical sensation in me.
i cut you out because i couldn’t stand being a passing fancy.
before i give my body, i must give my thoughts,
my mind, my dreams.
and you weren’t having any of those.
here

sometimes

just sometimes i think of you.

like when i roll over and you’re not there.

or a stranger’s hand brushes mine.

or a fleeting memory photographed in my mind pops up.

those are the worst.

that’s when i can smell you, feel you.

it’s crippling really. but i’m fine.

here

moments

there are moments of such pure, sublime, unparalleled

perfection that they will force you to close your eyes

and hold on to them as best you can.

life is a series of these moments.

everything else is just waiting for them.

here

a song...

you were a song i couldn’t sing
you were a story i couldn’t tell
i’ve only ever loved myself
but i’ve loved myself so well.
and how defeated i return!
you’re nice and blue, you’re nice and blue.
i missed what i was supposed to learn,
as all i learned about was missing you

poem ? images here

wings

when love beckons to you, follow him,
though his ways are hard and steep.
and when his wings enfold you yield to him,
though the sword hidden

among his pinions may wound you.

'tahlil Gibran'
image via here poem here

i believe...

i believe i can fly
i believe i can touch the sky
i think about it every night and day
spread my wings and fly away

here

present

i think i should have loved you presently,
and given in earnest words i flung in jest;
and lifted honest eyes for you to see,
and caught your hand against my cheek and breast;
and all my pretty follies flung aside
that won you to me, and beneath your gaze,
naked of reticence and shorn of pride,
spread like a chart my little wicked ways.
i, that had been to you, had you remained,
but one more waking frorn a recurrent dream,
cherish no less the certain stakes i gained,
and walk your memory’s halls, austere, supreme,
a ghost in marble of a girl you knew
who would have loved you in a day or two.”
edna st. vincent millay

here

sonnet LXXIX

tie your heart at night to mine, love,

and both will defeat the darkness
like twin drums beating in the forest
against the heavy wall of wet leaves.

night crossing: black coal of dream
that cuts the thread of earthly orbs
with the punctuality of a headlong train

that pulls cold stone and shadow endlessly.
love, because of it, tie me to a purer movement,
to the grip on life that beats in your breast,
with the wings of a submerged swan,
so that our dream might reply
to the sky’s questioning stars
with one key, one door closed to shadow.
'pablo neruda '

wandering fish

if you would please,
stay in this river,
pale fish with your scales containing
the memory of other bodies
of water (like: the seas, a stream,

this small spot on the riverside,
a tiny accumulated swirling pool
of freshwater (is me) is containing itself near
the still mangroves.

if you would please, stay
here and sleep under the mangrove's
silent roots, like arms, while
my molecules drift upon
you, a light touch, the particles rearranging
itself to remember the form you take on me,
oh silent pale fish.
'by jacob dominguez'

1 here 2 by me