a lovely photograph
of friends
fine boned women with brown skin
dazzling under the weight of sunlight
speaking different languages
enjoying the fresh sea air
nice memory
your presence is missed
THIS WEEK'S WORDS come from "At the Beach" by Elizabeth Alexander: photograph, women, presence, skin, friends, language, air, bones, fine, weight, sunlight, brown
Saturday, 30 March 2019
Thursday, 28 March 2019
Carpe Diem # 1635
perfection
fragile beauty feeds
on flower pollen
flitting through the bushes
a touch of the divine
Tuesday, 26 March 2019
Monday, 25 March 2019
Sunday, 24 March 2019
Adieu Michel Legrand ( 1932 - 2019 )
our little french genius
with a song bird in his heart
who imprinted our youth
with his beautiful love songs
evoking memories of
black and white movies
nouvelle vague
coffee houses
gitanes
existentialism
revolution
endless romance
endless dreams
beaucoup de larmes
beaucoup d'amour
merci maestro
Saturday, 23 March 2019
Carpe Diem # 1631
Sonnet 98: From you have I been absent in the spring
From you have I been absent in the spring,
When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,
Hath put a spirit of youth in everything,
That heavy Saturn laughed and leaped with him.
Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell
Of different flowers in odour and in hue,
Could make me any summer’s story tell,
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew:
Nor did I wonder at the lily’s white,
Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose;
They were but sweet, but figures of delight
Drawn after you, – you pattern of all those.
Yet seem’d it winter still, and, you away,
As with your shadow I with these did play.
© William Shakespeare (1564-1616)
without you in my life
fragrant flowers and roses
do not make my spring
From you have I been absent in the spring,
When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,
Hath put a spirit of youth in everything,
That heavy Saturn laughed and leaped with him.
Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell
Of different flowers in odour and in hue,
Could make me any summer’s story tell,
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew:
Nor did I wonder at the lily’s white,
Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose;
They were but sweet, but figures of delight
Drawn after you, – you pattern of all those.
Yet seem’d it winter still, and, you away,
As with your shadow I with these did play.
© William Shakespeare (1564-1616)
without you in my life
fragrant flowers and roses
do not make my spring
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