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Journal: [Beloved] It Is Not a Word 2

Journal by johndiii
It is not a word spoken,
Few words are said;
Nor even a look of the eyes
Nor a bend of the head,

But only a hush of the heart
That has too much to keep,
Only memories waking
That sleep so light a sleep.

-- Sara Teasdale

I remember.
Lord of the Rings

Journal: [Beloved] A Pretty Song (redux) 2

Journal by johndiii
From the complications of loving you
I think there is no end or return.
No answer, no coming out of it.

Which is the only way to love, isn't it?
This isn't a playground, this is
earth, our heaven, for a while.

Therefore I have given precedence
to all my sudden, sullen, dark moods
that hold you in the center of my world.

And I say to my body: grow thinner still.
And I say to my fingers, type me a pretty song.
And I say to my heart: rave on.

-- Mary Oliver
Lord of the Rings

Journal: [Beloved] may my heart always be open to little (Redux)

Journal by johndiii

To little birds, and to thee, beloved...

        may my heart always be open to little
        birds who are the secrets of living
        whatever they sing is better than to know
        and if men should not hear them men are old

        may my mind stroll about hungry
        and fearless and thirsty and supple
        and even if it's sunday may i be wrong
        for whenever men are right they are not young

        and may myself do nothing usefully
        and love yourself so more than truly
        there's never been quite such a fool who could fail
        pulling all the sky over him with one smileÂ

                                -- E. E. Cummings

User Journal

Journal: AT&T Blocking Gmail?

Journal by johndiii

AT&T appears to be blocking inbound mail from gmail, or at least from the server that is sending my mail. I've had bounces from two sbcglobal.net addresses, but one to a yahoo.com address appears to have gone through with no problem.

Anyone else have this problem?

Lord of the Rings

Journal: [Music][Beloved] I Will Not Forget You

Journal by johndiii


        I remember the nights I watched as you lay sleeping
        Your body gripped by some far away dream
        Well I was so scared and so in love then
        And so lost in all of you that I had seen
        But no one ever talked in the darkness
        No voice ever added fuel to the fire
        No light ever shone in the doorway
        Deep in the hollow of earthly desires
        But if in some dream there was brightness
        If in some memory some sort of sign
        And flesh be revived in the shadows
        Blessed our bodies would lay so entwined

        And I will, oh I will not forget you
        Nor will I ever let you go
        I will, oh I will not forget you

        I remember how you left in the morning at daybreak
        So silent you stole from my bed
        To go back to the one who possesses your soul
        And I back to the life that I dread.
        So I ran like the wind to the water
        Please don't leave me again I cried
        And I threw bitter tears at the ocean
        But all that came back was the tide...

        And I will, oh I will not forget you
        Nor will I ever let you go
        I will, oh I will not forget you

        And I will, oh I will not forget you
        Nor will I ever let you go
        I will, oh I will not forget you

        Ohhhhhhh...
        I will, oh I will not forget you
        Nor will I ever let you go
        I will, oh I will not forget you
        Nor will I ever let you go
        I will, oh I will not forget you...

                                -- Sarah McLachlan

Cuimhneoidh mé ort go deo, a mhuirnín.

Lord of the Rings

Journal: [Music][Beloved] If I Could Be Where You Are (a trí)

Journal by johndiii


        Where are you this moment -
        only in my dreams.
        You're missing, but you're always
        a heartbeat from me.

        I'm lost now without you,
        I don't know where you are.
        I keep watching, I keep hoping,
        but time keeps us apart.

        Is there a way I can find you,
        is there a sign I should know,
        is there a road I could follow
        to bring you back home?

        Winter lies before me
        now you're so far away.
        In the darkness of my dreaming
        the light of you will stay.

        If I could be close beside you,
        if I could be where you are,
        if I could reach out and touch you
        and bring you back home.

        Is there a way I can find you,
        Is there a sign I should know,
        Is there a road I can follow
        to bring you back home to me?

                                -- Roma Ryan (as sung by
                                          Eithne Patricia Ní Bhraonáin)

Tusa, is tusa amháin...

Lord of the Rings

Journal: [Beloved] Bright Star 4

Journal by johndiii


        Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art --
        Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
        And watching, with eternal lids apart,
        Like Nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,
        The moving waters at their priestlike task
        Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
        Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
        Of snow upon the mountains and the moors --
        No -- yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
        Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
        To feel for ever its soft swell and fall,
        Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
        Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
        And so live ever -- or else swoon to death.

                                                        -- John Keats

Mó réalta geal, go deo...

Lord of the Rings

Journal: [Beloved][Original Poetry] New Moon

Journal by johndiii


        Sliver of moon,
        be where she is tonight;
        Wisp in the sky,
        bring her joy...

        In the gulf of night
        which only the heart spans,
        Carry her home;
        Bring her peace.

                                -- 5-12 April 2011

Privacy

Journal: [Original Poetry][0407] Gone Before

Journal by johndiii


        (for Robin)

        You are felt
        in the warmth of the sun,
        and the gentle touch
        of the spring breeze
        But there is a hollowness
        in the world,
        a lack of footsteps,
        a place unfilled,
        a counted absence.
        There is no loss,
        from all you gave;
        the love of a friend
        in heart remains
        -- But no more to be given.

        (There is no loss, respecting what was given;
        But yet to give no more, this side of heaven.)

                                -- 7 April 2011

I would to have known you better.

Lord of the Rings

Journal: [Poetry][Beloved] Standing Deer

Journal by johndiii


        As the house of a person
        in age sometimes grows cluttered
        with what is
        too loved or too heavy to part with,
        the heart may grow cluttered.
        And still the house will be emptied,
        and still the heart.

        As the thoughts of a person
        in age sometimes grow sparer,
        like a great cleanness come into a room,
        the soul may grow sparer;
        one sparrow song carves it completely.
        And still the room is full,
        and still the heart.

        Empty and filled,
        like the curling half-light of morning,
        in which everything is still possible and so why not.

        Filled and empty,
        like the curling half-light of evening,
        in which everything now is finished and so why not.

        Beloved, what can be, what was,
        will be taken from us.
        I have disappointed.
        I am sorry. I knew no better.

        A root seeks water.
        Tenderness only breaks open the earth.
        This morning, out the window,
        the deer stood like a blessing, then vanished.

                                        -- Jane Hirshfield

Lord of the Rings

Journal: [Poetry][Beloved] The Buried Life

Journal by johndiii


                Light flows our war of mocking words, and yet,
        Behold, with tears mine eyes are wet!
        I feel a nameless sadness o'er me roll.
                Yes, yes, we know that we can jest,
        We know, we know that we can smile;
        But there 's a something in this breast,
        To which thy light words bring no rest,
        And thy gay smiles no anodyne;
                Give me thy hand, and hush awhile,
        And turn those limpid eyes on mine,
        And let me read there, love! thy inmost soul.

                Alas! is even love too weak
        To unlock the heart, and let it speak?
        Are even lovers powerless to reveal
        To one another what indeed they feel?
        I knew the mass of men conceal'd
        Their thoughts, for fear that if reveal'd
        They would by other men be met
        With blank indifference, or with blame reprov'd;
        I knew they liv'd and mov'd
        Trick'd in disguises, alien to the rest
        Of men, and alien to themselves--and yet
        The same heart beats in every human breast.

                But we, my love--does a like spell benumb
        Our hearts--our voices?--must we too be dumb?

                Ah, well for us, if even we,
        Even for a moment, can get free
        Our heart, and have our lips unchain'd;
        For that which seals them hath been deep-ordain'd!

                Fate, which foresaw
        How frivolous a baby man would be,
        By what distractions he would be possess'd,
        How he would pour himself in every strife,
        And well-nigh change his own identity;
        That it might keep from his capricious play
        His genuine self, and force him to obey,
        Even in his own despite his being's law,
        Bade through the deep recesses of our breast
        The unregarded River of our Life
        Pursue with indiscernible flow its way;
        And that we should not see
        The buried stream, and seem to be
        Eddying at large in blind uncertainty,
        Though driving on with it eternally.

                But often, in the world's most crowded streets,
        But often, in the din of strife,
        There rises an unspeakable desire
        After the knowledge of our buried life,
        A thirst to spend our fire and restless force
        In tracking out our true, original course;
        A longing to inquire
        Into the mystery of this heart which beats
        So wild, so deep in us, to know
        Whence our lives come and where they go.
        And many a man in his own breast then delves,
        But deep enough, alas, none ever mines!
        And we have been on many thousand lines,
        And we have shown, on each, spirit and power,
        But hardly have we, for one little hour,
        Been on our own line, have we been ourselves;
        Hardly had skill to utter one of all
        The nameless feelings that course through our breast,
        But they course on for ever unexpress'd.
        And long we try in vain to speak and act
        Our hidden self, and what we say and do
        Is eloquent, is well--but 'tis not true!
                And then we will no more be rack'd
        With inward striving, and demand
        Of all the thousand nothings of the hour
        Their stupefying power;
        Ah yes, and they benumb us at our call!
        Yet still, from time to time, vague and forlorn,
        From the soul's subterranean depth upborne
        As from an infinitely distant land,
        Come airs, and floating echoes, and convey
        A melancholy into all our day.

                Only--but this is rare--
        When a belovÃd hand is laid in ours,
        When, jaded with the rush and glare
        Of the interminable hours,
        Our eyes can in another's eyes read clear,
        When our world-deafen'd ear
        Is by the tones of a lov'd voice caress'd--
                A bolt is shot back somewhere in our breast
        And a lost pulse of feeling stirs again!
        The eye sinks inward, and the heart lies plain,
        And what we mean, we say, and what we would, we know,
        A man becomes aware of his life's flow,
        And hears its winding murmur, and he sees
        The meadows where it glides, the sun, the breeze.

                And there arrives a lull in the hot race
        Wherein he doth for ever chase
        The flying and elusive shadow, Rest.
        An air of coolness plays upon his face,
        And an unwonted calm pervades his breast.
                And then he thinks he knows
        The hills where his life rose,
        And the Sea where it goes.

                                        -- Matthew Arnold

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