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Long lost smile I feel a smile is so far away right now The pain comes from ancient memories, somehow karma calling karma calling flashbacks they didn't tell that would happen, stalling flashbacks to ancient times, falling a smile lost in the beatings of time - the beatings of time Your smile seems sad today bad flashback for you too I see what do I do with all these memories live and learn don't repeat mistakes the lake with the fires burning the earth is turning the elder gods returning, awake, pissed off and mad I'd glad so glad to seem him again it's the trend it the calling I'm falling flashback as you sent me falling burning landing hard in the land of the ape - the stupid apes shapes of things - ugly things but we sing song of a golden tomorrow and hopefor the best and run from past life sorrows and the smile I see returns to the faces as we walk the road of familiar places but still my smile is miles away another flashback takes my breath away will you stay this time - stay for a while and bring back my smile cmm 3/11/12 my mum would have been 92 today RIP mumsy

The Banshee by Alice Guerin Crist As we came down the old boreen, Rose and I – Rose and I, At vesper time on Sunday e’en, We heard a banshee cry! Beyond the churchyard dim and dark, ‘Neath whispering elms, and yew-trees stark, Where our star shone-a corpse-like spark- Against the wintry sky. We heard and shuddered sick with dread, Rose and I- Rose and I, As the shrill keening rang o’erhead Where cloud-wrack floated high. Our two young hearts long, sorely tried, By poverty and love denied Still waiting for some favouring tide, And now! Death come so nigh. ‘Which of us two is called away You or I-You or I?” I heard my patient poor love say, With bitter plaintive sigh. ‘Neither, dear girl,” I bravely said, ‘To Mary Mother bow your head, And cry for help to Her instead, Nor heed the Banshee’s cry’. We raised our hearts in fervent prayer, Rose and I-Rose and I, Nor knew our troubles ended there, Our happiness came nigh. For ‘twas the grim old farmer, he- My only kin, rich, miserly, Who, dying left his wealth to me- For whom the banshee cried.

Printemps J'allais me défroissant frissonnante, à l'éclosion de la lumière Au coeur, irrepressible, Crescendo léger d'envie D'envolée, Au coeur, irrépressible Un élan de douceur D' aile Papillonnante, Il n'est plus de saison, Que celle du silence, Plus de trève à l'hiver Quand la sève nouvelle Glacée à contretemps. Pétrifie l'espérance Détenue intérieure Silence à l'unisson Pour vous porter En terre Intime Silence à l'unisson, Il n'est plus de saison En ce silence Enfants Qu'entendrez vous Si ce n'est Dit sonnant, Un chant d'oiseau Prometteur d'envol, D'un printemps volé Silence pour vous porter en terre intérieure Et rendre unis A ce printemps Sa promesse profuse D'envolée De couleurs. PR Rennes le 20/03/12 To be translated, maybe later on.

Maybe. Translated into what though? For now the message is coming through loud and clear and needs no translation. Can we fully appreciate just knowing these feelings are real or am I just leading you a not so very merry dance? What did you think your fate was? I'm guessing this isn't what you want to hear. I could just listen and not say anything? There’s that other photo again. Have you noticed how many words in English are used to refer both to money and self?

Cheminement Saisie, Trébuchante, Agitée, Vibrant encore Du chaos Du parcours J'anticipe déjà Tous les chemins Vers un soleil Baignant pur Chaviré de marées De blondeur chatoyante. Là, nous voyagerons Par temps calme D'un grain de poussière A un grain de sable Lumineux, Sereins, Migrants allégés Portés D'ondes En douceur constantes Réceptifs Aux balbutiements Contés Enfantés Des premiers jours De la lumière. Naître à l'espoir Ne tient d'aucun hasard, Mais d'un chemin compté Entêté de patience transcendé Pas à pas. PR Rennes le 23/03/12 Sorry, I didn't take time to translate it. It is dedicated to Ceridwen, with a little musical add. Yann Tiersen- Till The End (Live with orchestra NYC. 9/10/2010) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HWHX7Kcct2M

You'll Do, Sir I wait for you in the quiet of my mind I wonder if you remember when you were mine I see you when I'm sleeping I feel you when awake In my heart there's a keeping In my heart you are a part I feel you every day now I know that you are near Your dark side twists my soul some But I know you I have no fear You are so close I could touch you So close I hear your laugh So close You break through the static So close you break through the chaff So close that I can touch you So close I feel your smile You are with me all the time You are will me all the while You're the one who fills my heart You are the one who makes it stir You're the one completes my soul, now You'll do Sir, yes you'll do Yes you'll do cmm 03/26/12

With you I always preferred and I know you

Time to regenerate the WORDS! THE SPINDLE THOUGHT If you walk Get air in your lungs, Capacity is filling Create the mist of the moon in twists, shouting. If you listen Strike flint to the stones Hearing the crackle of blue flame curls rising in strength against a red sky. And if you sing All the people in your life will waken. Test the rolling-eyed passion they bring to the stages To the edges, To the last.

Thanks Jared, long awaiten.

Upside down gibberish is pretty much the same as right way up gibberish! If I wasn't I would but I am so i can't. I would if i could but I cant so i wont is that perfectly clear?

One more half scribbled wibble from me before its time to hop off again: What would you do if a large kangeroo hopped into your house and sat down on your loo? Would you think it funny if your new furry neighbour started reading your paper as he sat upon your dunnie? What then if he jumped into bed and laid on your pillow his tic infested head would you tuck him in tight just to avoid a fight? Then in the morning as all sat yawning around the breakfast table would you be discreet as you got him on his feet and guided him out to the stable?

For those who have lost a loved one: THE BREATHING SEA The Lidocaine Drip Comes down to plastic and air, Waking her. We ask her, What was it like in the middle? She answers, though quietly, "I think there were fish. Big bright ones, with red in the pupils- The eyes that see the bait move Beneath a marvelous breathing sea." The nurses circle in. The ceiling begins to glow, and the correct lines in the paint job are now melting together, and she responds again: "And I think that my granddaughter caught three of them- We fried fish all day, And talked about school, And life, and love. Love with a salmon-crusted afternoon that knows no limits." The doctors converse- Later, papers will be signed. The salton taste is perfect though she doesn't say much. Interviewer with wings and nuts and bolts wait at a shiny gate: How much does a rod and reel cost, they ask, She replies: "Maybe we can use the old ones - there's no reason to open a purse, The hooks maybe dull, but there are so many memories that we can share. I caught a Striper with my husband once - it was golden!" Dull machines go silent, And prayers are mentioned. If a little curly-haired girl were in the room, she'd say "Grandma always knew what to do and say and I think I'm ready for a fish fry today." When we go, Don't let the dark shadows cave in your heart- Bend the light to the waves, And ride in a boat to the edges of everywhere In a billowy and full sea that breathes, And doesn't end.

THE FIVE ESSENTIAL FLAVORS OF LIFE Cinnamon Blowing across a hospital gown The muse releases a gorgeous gold dust That makes us remember, and breathe, And keep time on our wrists- Pretend that you know everyone personally- And give bread to your neighbors, And find seashells again with your children- The cloves are strong with your soul. White Icing Blow out candles when you get to be 70, Nestle with the cat in your father's armchair And listen to Peter Gabriel and Kate Bush tell their stories, Give your keys to your wife Say, "Go buy yourself something nice," And kiss her forehead for trying to find The right present for your golden anniversary. There is more to learn by tasting a well-groomed cake Than you would know. Rosemary If you've got an hour to kill, Take a walk over your town's oldest bridge, And praise the noisy tressel that whines Wen your mother closes the drapes in the evening. Put fact before fiction when fiction is factual, And sing to your child as it gets dark, You know the way- It is a hum before tea, and a whistle after dessert. Pumpkin In October your biases will fail you. In November you will remember your roots again- Taking on the spice of nutmeg in your home And kids who dress like space creatures will wander up and spill their wishes on your doorstep. It is your golden years that predict the Winter- It is your utmost longing to be with noone else, but your bride And your guide- She plays notes on the creaky viola. Salt Every flavor is highlighted better with salt. The ocean moves, The clouds squeeze vapor on you, Just do what you must, And say what you can- The brine-laden words come easy in Spring. The dash on your steak, The pepper that cuts- Is your everyday. Is your subtle way of living.

The Little Muse By Darcy L. SPC Quinlan The little muse sits quietly not wanting to disturb the artist in the midst of creativity But the muse has thoughts... Why was she above others chosen for this special slot? She does not feel like a muse nowhere's close to one, Does the artist not see her? Who would want such a muse she thinks Such a broken one full of despair and distrust at society And then our little muse gets an epiphany, maybe because of her turmoil, her experience maybe that is why she is now the muse for this Picasso like angel Maybe just because of her spirit insists on shining thru regardless of the adversity... She is the little muse

I can see your Muse D - nice one

Glad you like it, Paul.

Drifting, slipping, back into your paradigm Fear feigns as confidence Peaking cautiously above the horizon Tops of your eyes shifting, surveying Tentative, yet bold momentarily Your mind, over processing Learned responses, engage Experiences embedded, a permanent page Perspectives, harnessed, click! Disciplined constructs, invoke restraint Developed reality, a surreal fate A barrier, to anything beyond A perimeter-well guarded Impenetrable, a wordless song Despite self-perception of breadth Desire verses capacity, a clarity death Free thinking, throttled Open heart, bottled Embracing a sort of social deity The checklist paradigm

Oz - awesome words! I especially like how that ended!

Bump so we don't lose the words.

CHAUCER'S GATE Fresh mint puts me in mind of Daisy's Red House - barking dogs and cats that whine, And Canterbury Tales in time. Sprigs of air that stings your eye In a green pasture lasts long through the drip-dry evening As moisture settles between your tongue and teeth, Braiding you sister's hair for minutes And dancing the way animals move In illustrious fashion- 'Neith the bush tails that overhang the house- The facade that creeps along ivy lines With good intention and better apple pie.