Walking dogs and emotions

A friend gives you a hand by sending

Four poetic expressions

About a fifth poet reflection…

And you are tickled dead

To do our own addition.

A peaceful feeling seems to spread…

It does not last for long…

Back torments, back worries…

Then you have to walk the dogs.

Nothing special so far.

Nothing else than a daily task.

Except that back to your mind

Come the souvenir of your other friend

Reaching to you a hand.

“When you say: I am sad…

It goes from that thought in your body to every cell…

When you say I feel sad…

It has become a bit something else.

Then emerges:

I have a feeling of sadness.

Do you understand the difference?”

And methinks: it is a lot like

I have a dog to walk.

And the feeling too is only attaches to me by a lead.

So, that I knew already;

And it was a relief to remember.

Fact is, most of the time the sum

Of friendship’s gifts helps to pull

Or push one in some better direction.

The dogs called another thing to my attention.

You must know:

Camden, the beautiful is also very wild.

Sweet Ben is far more tamed.

And he goes free if free is an option.

So, why should I not send Sadness for its free ride too?

Or just have it at call and beck. 

Or even better: to the hell with it!

Joy

Or Love

Or Happiness

Are they such wild beasts?

No, the fact is that we are most of the time

Holding Joy by the leash and ridden by sadness…

And when you think of it, it is just a question

To bring some order in your words…

As our words make our world…

Trying to coop…

Today, I will not pretend to do something else than blogging.

Yesterday went mad. Some escapism, maybe.

At my Yahoo profile I invited or was invited by very special people.

It started Saturday, in fact.

Dorfus couldn’t wait and sleep over it (to think a bit about it, I suggested her) and she asked me to join the party.

She is special in the fact that she is a lover of turds (she says!),…

I was not thinking of laughing as an option, but really she is irresistible.

We had a good (innocent) laugh about Jens, a new friend of mine, a lover of dolphins (working with them and handicapped people ), who thanks her for her appraise of his good looks and try to teach me a lesson of how it doesn’t matter!

Not much success he has there!

Come on, man, you must take a good look (uh!) at your profile!

There big boy! You are in denying!

But to cheer me up, I had the pleasure to be accepted by sweet Lady Hawke…

She is a little sis to me.

And then I came across Bibi…

I told her: you come, you’ll be the Queen of France!

And there she is, and she amazed me by publishing a total post about Mechelen, the city where I am living!

Gosh, I am forgetting my brand new Sheik Yerbouti!

Well to the ones who ignore it is the tittle song of one of many albums of dear Frank Zappa.

Of, of, of! Yeah!

And our Sheik did have a fabulous question about Ukulele…

Admit both: I can not invent it as you can go to see by yourself and how could I resist!

All that could have washed away some worries but I wanted to be occupied!

So I joined 3 groups, writers, poets and songwriters!

Hell! How am I going to provide the stuff… ?

Then I even created one group!

It is called Loversofwords…

So,as its name tells it is not about cooking (no offense, there) or cars!

I am mad of what?

Not finished yet!

Today by surfing, saying hello here, smiling, winking, pinching and whatever, I came across the lavendersky group…

Could that keep me in balance?

Then of course there, where? Somewhere, Curvy Smurfette appears on the horizon!

After a wink or a smile- forget- and tempting her with chocolate, she was right there to ask for a Belgian friendship!

I can imagine! The Smurfs and chocolate, our very Belgian trademarks!

When is the Xico-boy going to have 360°, by the way!

Just asking…

And this is only on YaYa!

Here, as I have 2 blogs too, obligation is to feed them a bit!

And at my space, I did some reorganisation!

And all that just to PR and PR….

I don’t deny there is a pleasure in new meetings but really it takes time… 

I hope that the very reasons why I do all that will bear fruits or provide us with a rich harvest!

Have I not forget something?

Dunno… mailing like mad as usual!

Nothing else?

The pictures of Ian Mc Donald on Fickr!

I had to go, to watch his Stirling ’s, but in fact it was an Italian castle and it reminds me of the one of King Louis the mad king of Bayer.

Well, now, they say he was only a mystic and have been killed with the psychiatrist who…

Some weird culture can not hurt!

Then of course, I am into the Mc Donald ’s clan!

As I can say proudly : Michael Mc Donald is my friend on my space.

I am apparently into the Michael’s too.

Thanks, Michael Bell!

And is it something nicer than to end

With the tolling of bells?

Two thanks in one clap or…

Serendipity galore!

I heard Collin ( changed name) for the first time

On a very sunny afternoon,

Still I was locked before the screen.

Quite good-looking he was, to be honest.

But that alone, well, I am not that interested.

He spoke in a special way, a slight accent.

A really sweet smile with something

Boyish and vehement…

When pushed by the reporter.

Very natural, his hair was bit too long,

Not fashionable in any way.

Even his suit has a bit of passé on it.

May be, all this was very well-thought…

No way to know.

Well, yes!

Is he not an actor?

Enfin, I think.

Now, he is at the top.

Very powerful in his sector.

However.

And I look back, enticed.

Just want to know who he was.

He could have been a far cousin.

As much as we, Belgians, all are.

The second time I saw him,

I couldn’t believe it!

What was he doing there?

How was that possible?

And as the program has started,

Again: no way to know! 

Never had I planned to watch it,

And if it wasn’t for him,

I would still miss a key piece.

To my self knowledge.

I might not been here.

Writing.

I would have go on

Being

A locket writer all my life.

Of course Dragonpoet enticed me

Too.

And my thank to him,

I try to express

In as much ways as I can…

If ever someone read this:

Please go to his blog

On wordpress.

Thanks.

Collin I heard again this afternoon.

He is the noon man for me.

Being busy with theatre as he is,

I might be very wrong there.

Fact is his gentle voice soothed

A bit of my sorrow.

As I felt I was to go back

Somewhere on the track,

As the feeling I’d lost myself…

Was so strong.

Thank you, my friend.

Thank you stranger.

Both of you.

Thank you 

Pav goes to Budapest…

And I went to the Dragon poet song.

Pav met an Italian friend three times

In his stay of four days…

He calls that coincidence.

I like to say serendipity.

If I had time, what a lot of those synchronicities,

Would I evoke for you!

Then, is it something

More boring 

That someone memories?

However!

Let’s call my main personage: Lorenzacio.

For privacy sake!

Somewhere on an island, I met him.

Full moon night, Yuletide.

-Long time gone…

Don’t think much of the past for past sake-

I broke the pot which contained my savings;

Left without a-saying;

What could I do…

Them calling me a friend;

Was I?

Is a confident always a friend?

Or a kind of first hand garbage…

They were in the middle of the start

Of

The wreckage of their love,

Life.

Their ship was sinking very fast

And that just in front of the marina,

Full of sailors, foreigners and boats,

Such a part of it. 

Their Love daughter was only that by name.

Not all children are nice, remember.

So, when Lorenzacio

Started to quote

Anthonin Artaud,

The emptiness or the beauty

Asked for change…

At least of residence.

We decided for the land of plenty:

History blends with grapefruits.

He called me Adelaide;

That always send me a-shivering…

We drank cannelle-tea

-We spoke French-

Cinamar if you want…

Then…

I lost him in Athens.

Find in back on the green,

Three stones of Jaffa.

If you love Arthaud,

You might have

A side quite far from pale

Despite your emaciated face.

Lorenzacio had play the death game.

Was saved by a good Samaritan.

He told me he resented it.

Made me make the promise.

Let me die if I lay…

The promise , I did.

Not knowing better.

I had already see too much cancer

A month later….

Asked Orlando- name change

For privacy sake-

What happened between you two?

Is there murder or is it blood?

“No!

Only Rachel cuts his hair.” 

But also her clear and sound 

Love for life, sea and sun…

Has re-made him.

Now, he was a golden boy.

And I thanked her for that,

And still do.

Some are asked for death,

Other for life…

That you have to accept…

About the “What if…”

“What if…? “

Does it mean for you:

Doubts, fear or even regret?

“What if:

I say the wrong thing.

I ask the badly-timed question.

And if I assess it, was I right?

Am I wrong?

Was it too soon,

Or too late, already?

Am I going to give it up?

Am I going to be like

-Just as always -

Been hold back by the same old anxieties?”

Or as it is done,

Am I going to say to myself:

“Good! Done is done.

No way back!”

And my other self to my self, replies:

“Until now, it never works that way.

You knew it.

Still you did it.

Why? “

“Because every time is a new time.

And you can’t change yourself.

No matter what.

So, you have to do it your way.

Until the response will be what it has to be.”

And as they say at wordpress.

Just another blog…

And

 I say:

“Let’s it roll.”

The mind is never a lonely hunter and it takes many winding ways…

Crosby Stills Nash & Young - Suite:

Judy Blue Eyes

It's getting to the point
Where I'm no fun anymore
I am sorry.
Sometimes it hurts so badly
I must cry out loud
I am lonely.
I am yours, you are mine,
You are what you are
And you make it hard-- 

Remember what we've said, and done, and felt about each other
Oh babe, have mercy.
Don't let the past remind us of what we are not now.
I am not dreaming.
I am yours, you are mine,you are what you are.
And you make it hard-- 

Tearing yourself away from me now,
You are free and I am crying.
This does not mean I don't love you,
I do, that's forever, and always.
I am yours, you are mine, you are what you are.
And you make it hard-- 

Something inside is telling me that
I've got your secret.

Are you still listening?
Fear is the lock, and laughter the key to your heart.
And I love you. 

I am yours, you are mine,you are what you are.
And you make it hard,
And you make it hard-- 

Friday evening, Sunday in the afternoon,
What have you got to lose?
Tuesday mornin', please be gone I'm tired of you.
Can I tell it like it is?

Help me I'm sufferin'.
Listen to me baby--

Help me I'm dyin'.
It's my heart
that's a-sufferin', it's a dyin'.
That's what I have to lose.
I've got an answer
I'm going to fly away,
What have I got to lose?
Will you come see me Thursdays and Saturdays?
What have you got to lose? 

Chestnut brown canary,
ruby-throated sparrow.
Sing a song, don't be long.
Thrill me to the marrow.
Voices of the angels, ring around the moonlight.
Asking me, said she so free,
How can you catch the sparrow? 

Lacy lilting lady, losing love lamenting,
Change my life, make it right.
Be my lady.

I heard them 

Driving on that sunny day

To an otherwise difficult encounter…

Today I watched them on You-tube

What a pleasure! 

Those voices meeting like rivers 

Going as one to the see… 

 Then I found the lyrics.

First time I understand what the song says.

As I need to read the words…

Then, I never saw them before, either.

Even their “thank you” was in perfect tune.

The way musicians look at each other!

It is like nothing else.

It reminds me of how

Vaclav Hudecek then something like 19,

Already a very accomplished violinist,

Listen to his master as his equal.

Same way, he takes his fiddle-stick

To follow the movement of the orchestra

Before jumping on his violin

For a terrific part of Tchaikosvky ’s concerto…

The last, a pianist, never truly realised how challenging 

The piece was for “fiddlers” around the world!

 In thruth, be My Lady is not the last word…

Some Spanish…

And after

The winding and mobile

Tu uuut tuuuuut tuuuuut…

 What now, was my thought!

Only the classical program can do…

But no! Not even, no!

“Thinking of a new friendship,

Not yet knowing quite

In which way to fly…

I thought and I thought:

No, I do not feel like their sparrow…

Would I not fly

To someone important…

If I feel like it…

If not, would it be

For fear or for freedom?

No! Me?

I would go!

And I will”

And later again thinking

The voices ad to the poem, here.

Also, today looking,

Came that strange feeling that Nash,

A vocalist, was not the lead singer.

While just as I expected!

Crosby was beatific…

Then he was probably high as a kite.

As lately he admitted it:

Always stoned while singing!

And you know…

Before I forget:

The master of  young Vaclav

Was David Oistrach.

Tribute and anti-tribute to Marceline…

Do not write. I am sad, and want my light put out.
Summers in your absence are as dark as a room.
I have closed my arms again. They must do without.
To knock at my heart is like knocking at a tomb.
                Do not write! 

Do not write. Let us learn to die, as best we may.
Did I love you? Ask God. Ask yourself. Do you know?
To hear that you love me, when you are far away,
Is like hearing from heaven and never to go.
                Do not write! 

Do not write. I fear you. I fear to remember,
For memory holds the voice I have often heard.
To the one who cannot drink, do not show water,
The beloved one's picture in the handwritten word.
                Do not write! 

Do not write those gentle words that I dare not see,
It seems that your voice is spreading them on my heart,
Across your smile, on fire, they appear to me,
It seems that a kiss is printing them on my heart.
                Do not write!

Ma chère Marceline,

Quelle tristesse…

Comme je les ai ressenties, moi aussi,

Tes paroles

C’était bien avant ma vie computer…

Quand j’attendais encore

Des réponses à ces lettres écrites 

Avec une telle certitude.

Le temps passant,

L’ amour s’estompant…

La douleur , là.

Restant.

    It has been a time,

My feelings had lot in common

With her’s,

Marceline Desbordes-Valmore…

Those are forgone

I am so happy to say:

“Do write…

Whatever, wherever…

Invent new words;

And sounds, and vistas… “

If love is that sad…

Is it love?

Is love not supposed to put butterflies

At one or more of our chakras?

Is it not in our power

To translate it in even more beauty?

If our feelings take hold on you,

Are we not slaves to them?

What about the free will

Which is supposed to put us above

The whole world?

From the stones to the Angels…

Then, love has many names,

Many forms

I will not deny it…

And from opposite to twins

From soul mates, sisters, brothers

To fellowship

The kindred spirits will reach

To each others…

To Lsr

Over the moon

Comment je fais!

Je ne pourrais dire

Ni pour or, ni argent

Comment j’en suis arrivée là.

La, c’est sur le site de Daniel L

Ah, oui, Sherlocking-like,

Comme d’habitude…

Des “Comment dire merci autrement qu’en disant merci?”

 Aux  photos “Thank you “

De ce sympathique Canadien.

Qui m’en ont mis plein la vue.

Pleine, la lune.

Au Clair (e) de la Lune…

Plume…

Mot…

A l’étape suivante, la lune,

Elle est retournée chez Cat Stevens.

Mais elle était devenue son ombre.

Et elle a perdu son N,

Comme la mère Michèle

Qui a perdu son chat…

Mais elle ne miaule pas.

Parce qu’en anglais,

C’est un peu plus tragique…

Moo…

Moi?

J’en ai fait moody!

Comme les pas du tout

Extras

Moody Blues…

Could I turn a strange feeling into poetry…

While all I feel is a bit cynical?

Since when are we using the word frienship

In such a way?

Is pal, then, the new word expressing

The deep feelings between two people?

It is true the net help us to go for more sincerity,

Sometimes. Sometimes;

It means even more lies…

Then, respect for different approaches

Has to be considered and accepted…

Some will just feel free

For the anonimity of it,

And the reassuring distance…

Others will take the same time

To get close

Like in the good old days!

But the truth is too,

That a little devil in us

Provokes some strange statements…

What I will say is

Such “friendships” like on Myspace

Have the power to make me laugh

Or cry!

A bathing bird

surf1.JPGsomewhere near Doolin, Ireland 

Day after day, I walk the dogs.

Ben, Camden.

This morning the weather is exceptionally warm, exceedingly wintry.

Yeah! Superlatives!

The sun already oblique obliges me to lower my eyes.

In another time I dared the word delightful, has lost so much of his sense, now.

Hence: I see a sparrow bathing in a puddle.

It takes its time-I bet it knows the dog fairly well- and it goes on and on.

All sparks of water, all sparks of feathers!

What a vision.

That country road is in bad repair, full of birds’swimming pools.

Even the dirty road doesn’t hold so much rain after the downpour.

It is drained by earth and stones…

The lone bird of an otherwise social kind makes me reflect…

It has its right for some privacy, while washing away I don’t know what…

Or which dust.

Or for the pleasure, only.

As in a response to that regained purity, a white dove, lonely, appears.

It picks and feeds at the remains of the corn harvest…

But when it flies I see the extremity of its fan-shaped tail is dark.

So much for my purity melody…

That’s for sure a reminder of the Yin-Yang principle.

My dear friend, here we have no Cardinals, no Eagles…

The lover of birds is like the lover of words…

But you know that…

This entry was posted on Tuesday, January 9th, 2007 at 8:36 pm