| The Great Virtue Sitting Parlor and Greasy Spoon
Posted: 4/25/2009 11:15:17 PM | A Garden of Rock
Talk to me baby
walk with me to the stars
whisk me from this planet
and take us to Mars
when we land
our knees in the sand
give me a kiss
to know where is land
& move this world up
upon a rock
is where I stand
somewhere over there
in this desolate place
are rosettes labile and light
made from lava and bright
pyrite thrusts from crevasse
below strong and smooth
glistening from below
circular overlapping flows
just like dark gardenias
glistening in dew
please take me away
from all this rock and edge
I can stand it no longer
my melting heart is ready
and waiting but just only
for you
i freeze | |
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| The Great Virtue Sitting Parlor and Greasy Spoon
Posted: 5/6/2009 3:11:32 PM | A fistful of forgetmenots
in the rain. A year gone,
and still
The heart as true
Early elder, late lilacs
a day with no sun
A hard winter and late spring
The phlox still hiding, abiding,
waiting their proper step in the succession
As measured as a minuet,
the great wheel of the year turns
and sweeps us along
with all our desires and longing
no hurrying
just peace
Soon. . . .
Please. . . .
jjl
6 Aprille 2009 | |
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| The Great Virtue Sitting Parlor and Greasy Spoon
Posted: 5/6/2009 10:57:36 PM | *
a storm
is a composition
of myriad breaths
exhaled;
a storm is dampened air
humid
fecund and
hot
lovers embrace
in dampness...
as to
what vapours
in this minute storm
become bountiful,
a harvest of green
silver things, soon,
it is proved
a new heaven, a new earth
mist below
sunlit granite above
even in winters tenacious
clutch, like the hard buds
of tan oak and arctic willow,
to be savoured later
for in this short exstacy
of variety
a willy wah arises and perishes
in the high alpen glow
there is a
a hummingbird
a flying thing
to follow
this is a storm
a condensation of damp vapours
to unbind and release
ancient buds in
primitive moments
in the arid west
a storm appears
in a moment
sage (artemsia)
the wormwood
and cactus
recognize too
this all breath
and leap
like white goats
from ledge to treacherous ledge
far beyond a raging
froth of rivers
that propel the sea
and then it all gets sucked back in
chao | |
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| The Great Virtue Sitting Parlor and Greasy Spoon
Posted: 5/9/2009 9:01:46 AM |  HAPPY MOTHERS DAY ...WOOBS! 
Wisdom of years
has calmed many fears
Mother of all battles
Generous tenderness
Church of redemption
Lifting hearts needing
sanction...
Mother breathes
life back into us
When we need
something warm
to hang on to
Familiar places
happier faces
She is our Home!
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| The Great Virtue Sitting Parlor and Greasy Spoon
Posted: 5/13/2009 7:57:50 PM | Thanks, Jules ~~ it was a good 'un!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Each green thing
in turn
leaving
The maple's small flags
the oak's mouse ears
the shagbark all white candled
Mayapple's sweet umbrellas
violet hearts
flag swords
each knowing shape and order
arrives as expected
time in time
And spring, once more,
green and green
jjl
13 May 2009 | |
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| The Great Virtue Sitting Parlor and Greasy Spoon
Posted: 5/13/2009 9:29:59 PM | | Did you ever think there could be so many different shades of green? Every spring I'm amazed...it never gets old....now that the magnolias and daffodils have stopped showing off it's the bleeding hearts and creeper phlox... | |
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| The Great Virtue Sitting Parlor and Greasy Spoon
Posted: 5/13/2009 11:00:48 PM | My Garden
Rhododendrons in perfect bloom
Weathered the storms of ice and gloom
It’s almost as if they forgot to shave
A scruffy beard upon their chin
Blood warts galore in deep blue hue
Harbingers of a quiescent beauty through
The lattice they do peep and preen
No greater mirror of morning dew
The iris in her graceful skirt
Dainty ballerinas in the wind
Fleeting time leaves not much to chance
Capture a glimpse in their exotic dance
My garden has just begun to bloom
I sit and stare bewitched by fragrant flow
How each year they imprint their mark
Within the recess of my heart. | |
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| The Great Virtue Sitting Parlor and Greasy Spoon
Posted: 5/14/2009 3:32:54 AM | yes, the tenderness of this season....
here the rhodedendrons
have just begun to open
with petals ranging from pinky white
to magenta and crimson that seem to bloom
with pure delight
and the birds are so happy
in their flight
calling out to all
It's Spring, It's Spring
Let's get going
and take care of those babies again!
the greens of which you speak
also completely amaze me
their green laced finery
decorating the trees and ground
in hues you couldn't find
using the best photographic tools
so clearly come from the divine
oh yes, it's Spring
bursting forth with life again
throwing me into losing clarity
for wherever I look with so much beauty
my breath catches and is distracted
as it all surrounds me and utterly fills me
with the earth's incredible bounty | |
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| The Great Virtue Sitting Parlor and Greasy Spoon
Posted: 5/14/2009 4:54:12 PM | Hey, Briz, Autumn, weare. . . . Thanks! Ya, the green! This was written about this time last year:
The sycamores, the last to leaf always, wearing veils as tender as a girl's. Always always there a many more greens than we think -- I discovered that when I first lived here, the summer I bought the land, before I built. And my only table was in the middle of the grove, about where I'm sitting now. Not only so much green, but so many subtle shades and tints and hues. Today was that experience squared. Pale pale greens, pink-greens, blue-greens, butter greens. Gloss greens, suede greens, sandy greens, sharp greens, blatant greens, subtle greens, hard greens, soft greens, singing greens, screaming greens, and on-and-on greens. . . . The soft folds of mountains in velvet greens, the rocks in calico greens, the river in sparkling silver green, different even in sun and shade. The mosses, stark and sweet, bitter and sharp. Even salty green.
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| The Great Virtue Sitting Parlor and Greasy Spoon
Posted: 5/19/2009 4:51:47 PM | THE HEART
Like every other day I wokeup
Like every other day I stretched and yawned out loud
Like every other day my puppy wanted out
Like every other day I watched and laughed out loud
Like every other day I showered washed my hair first
Like every other day my puppy made my shower end
Like every other day one coffee I did have
Like every other day burnt toast my table so did offer
Like every other day my puppy wanted just the crust
Like every other day
My Heart beat | |
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| The Great Virtue Sitting Parlor and Greasy Spoon
Posted: 5/19/2009 11:33:17 PM | Like unto this day
which was one so unlike
it was too far north
nothing but overcastè
for the first time
I could speak
in a whisper
some melodious others
a loon
a heron
a red wing
rana
goose
some others | |
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| The Great Virtue Sitting Parlor and Greasy Spoon
Posted: 5/25/2009 2:32:04 PM | The simplest thing
wing
of flutterby or bird
Petal, purple paled
by sun
green, growing
Takes us from our selves
and gives us back
Tide
Receding advancing leaving
detritus of dead lives
ours, others
The fertile marges of living
jjl
24 May 2009 | |
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| The Great Virtue Sitting Parlor and Greasy Spoon
Posted: 5/28/2009 6:29:29 AM | ~Worn~
After all life has given
Is her reality impaired?
Torn , wearing upon her heart
a red ribbon adorning her best black dress
The one she bought for solemn occassions;
the one she prays to wear much less.
Has her expression changed?
Or is it just in her mind?
The one that carries all of her life inside.
Is the deterioration getting stronger?
Or is her Soul just growing wider?
Is stress taking her under?
Or does she now , not even wonder?
Does she know?
In life things fall apart ; she sees
In love she hangs in...she breathes!
Often exhausted ; sometimes she needs
to put on her old faded blue jeans
Like worn threads on a screw
they make her feel brandnew
Like threadbare laden glue
they hold up , her baby blue
They pinch in places...she remembers
defining past gone pleasures
They are common, cut and dry
but to her they define the why...
She is worn.
 Hugggerzzzzzzzz WOOBS! xo :) jules | |
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| The Great Virtue Sitting Parlor and Greasy Spoon
Posted: 5/28/2009 5:36:27 PM | the bed I've made
before
it was the magnolias
the daffodils
yellow, and white
forsythia and redbud
today,
it is the peonies
in their fuschia blaze
the purple iris
against the endless green
the popcorn bush
I thought was ailing
roaring to spring
it is the bleeding heart
dripping and laden
and on the right,
cranesbill
the bronze iris
by the road
and the hope
that this year
the west peony
will open
and reward my patience
what color is it?
and still,
and still....
the lemon lillies are opening
with their divine scent
the astilbe buds
the daylillies
the sturdy backdrops of hostas
Late summer will be
the magnolia
toad lillies
coneflowers
and black eyed susan
sunflowers
chinese lantern
I spend too much
on flowers...
how can I ever
spend
too much?
LS 5/28/09 | |
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| The Great Virtue Sitting Parlor and Greasy Spoon
Posted: 5/28/2009 8:48:44 PM | Spending time watching everything grow around me
The grass so green,the flowers so bright the weeds?
Their green I smile to myself raging why within
It's at that moment within my rage as I plucked them from this earth
They are but lemons within the green,hearty free to be
Grass yellowed as suns rays beat into this earth
It's sort of like fishing in pond
You cast and catch a glimpse
Then You remember your fish bowl
Filled with golden thoughts
What I think we forget is the green around us all
The weeds the thorns that pain us most are the ones that make
Landscapes for that perfect Aquarium
Opposites attract? is like sayingChlorine ruins the water!
Oh silly Me!
If the edge of night is the morning what will breakfest bring! | |
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| The Great Virtue Sitting Parlor and Greasy Spoon
Posted: 6/1/2009 1:13:51 AM | jules, thank you (and where'd you go again?).
Briz, am absolutely with you on gardens, lol! Yours sounds gorgeous!
shudden ~~ very nice, and thanks for leaving it here!
?! | |
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| The Great Virtue Sitting Parlor and Greasy Spoon
Posted: 6/1/2009 1:14:45 AM | Only those
. . . . . . . . . . . . for RSW, sine qua non
Only those willing to shoot the moon
will know
Either the price or joy
of loving
Only eagle wing rises
so high
And only eagles plunge
so deep
The sweet cautious mouse
in her corner
Fish sequestered in dappled tree
root pools
Cannot guess
To give, to risk, to bet, to let
go of all
Is the only hope,
the only reward
and everything there is
Naught else
Not even a mason jar of wild roses accepting sun
on the breakfast table
jjl
31 May 2009 | |
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| The Great Virtue Sitting Parlor and Greasy Spoon
Posted: 6/3/2009 10:18:45 PM | Not a red wooden wagon
The old wooden baby sleigh
with a red stripe painted down each arm
the fuzzy cocoon shell and
years of being - not just a horse
to listen reverently
to the tinkling sounds of baby’s laughter
and muted clapping mittens
Magical memories
double imprint in the snow
I couldn’t let it go
no, I didn’t have the heart
to say goodbye
So when I was all alone
after he had gone away for good
I realized I could make my own choices
I cradled it down into the basement
painted the natural wood a fire engine red
filled it with fine greenery
cut from the prickly branches
of our succession of Christmas trees
and placed it gently on the front porch
as if it still was filled with little treasures
it was far prettier than bronzed baby shoes
my red wooden sleigh
and when the wind was high
the bells would laugh forever.
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