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| The Great Virtue Sitting Parlor and Greasy Spoon
Posted: 4/26/2007 5:15:06 PM | I always promised myself to open such a place, having been a long time fan of greasy spoons. . . . The Great Virtue (Da De) was the name of a night club created in a Shanghai bomb shelter in the early 80's, as China was just beginning to open up. I fell in love with the name (and concept, lol!) immediately I heard the name. And thus added it to mine.
So here we go!
Welcome all.
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| The Great Virtue Sitting Parlor and Greasy Spoon
Posted: 4/26/2007 5:17:36 PM | .
Hard Rain
Today, a world so
lovely, you have to cry
Dancers with green veils
prance everywhere
The serviceberry begins to leaf
around its popcorn flowers,
the long sunny ridge already sporting
dogwood -- green butterflies
hung in the understory
The pear and apple shine
like globes of light at noon
Sweet pinkness of cherry, black wood
The first, very first thin wash
of redbud
And the sad ~~ a woodchuck lost
his race against me.
Further down the road, small squirrel,
white belly up, small paws crossed
in need of flower.
A crow pecks at the young deer, not
knowing, not knowing.
And then the rain.
It is all one. The joy
the pain, it belongs to us
and teaches us
Allows us to be human
Let it come
Let it come
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| The Great Virtue Sitting Parlor and Greasy Spoon
Posted: 4/26/2007 8:01:49 PM | and when I die
nothing in the universe
is ever lost
so when I die
I can become
a lilac bush
a pear tree
a sunflower
food for deer
racoon
and birds
and so
I live forever
LS 4/26/07
I only have small virtue....;-) Congrats on the new thread...... | |
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| The Great Virtue Sitting Parlor and Greasy Spoon
Posted: 4/27/2007 1:37:44 AM | I like new beginnings, wooby. Love your poetry too. Oh.... and the rain.... yes, the rain....
.
the sky opens…
the endless universe
multiplied a thousandfold
brings the seeds of infinite life
all contained within a single raindrop
the earth celebrates
.
cdn/03may06 | |
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| The Great Virtue Sitting Parlor and Greasy Spoon
Posted: 4/27/2007 5:03:35 AM | We speak of creation
as if it were a moment in time
before which, nothing.
But suppose it were a pause,
a breath held lightly
in wonder or
a dancer lighting on the toes
of one foot
before she springs
further
and further
on to the next...
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| The Great Virtue Sitting Parlor and Greasy Spoon
Posted: 4/27/2007 6:03:54 AM | Memories of the Paradise,
A greasy spoon cafe,
The place was always open,
Twenty four hours a day.
The patrons widely varied,
From those in suits and ties,
But when the sun went down,
Came those with bleary eyes.
The music floating on the air,
Musicians playin the blues,
The seedy sad and lonely,
Drowning sorrows in their booze.
Paper baggers at the bar,
Trying to get a fix,
While through a smoky window,
See hookers turning tricks.
Ahhhh, the Paradise cafe,
It's gone today you see,
A place that held my midnight hours,
Is now a treasured memory. | |
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| The Great Virtue Sitting Parlor and Greasy Spoon
Posted: 4/27/2007 6:19:27 AM | Brizo, cdn, jer ~~ lovely gifts you three! Thank you all and welcome!
I'm off for a weekend of friendship and political musings (election integrity, of all things) -- see you sometime Monday.
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| The Great Virtue Sitting Parlor and Greasy Spoon
Posted: 4/27/2007 6:52:32 AM | SCENTS AND SOUNDS OF PARADISE
Cigarettes, cigars,
Perhaps some mary jane?
A faint hint of opium,
Odours of black rain.
Stale beer and whiskey smells,
Wafting like a cloud,
Filling crippled senses,
That once were strong and proud.
Through laughter and tears
The blues fills the air,
Cheap perfume, and cleavage
And the stories we share. | |
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| The Great Virtue Sitting Parlor and Greasy Spoon
Posted: 4/27/2007 7:41:58 AM | What is it like to love someone?
Posted: 4/27/2007 6 56 AM
A journey begun
A step taken towards
Fledging flight
Soaring
A bowl, filled
A gift given
Sun rising
Blue heaven
A hand open
A heart free
Cup, full
Green flourishing tree
Flame flickers
into light
A bed warm
the entire night
A smile, a dream
hope given
Rain, snow
an open heaven
Enough and more
never drought
going within
going without
Mandrake, didn't see you slippin' in there ~~ welcome, and nicely done. | |
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| The Great Virtue Sitting Parlor and Greasy Spoon
Posted: 4/27/2007 7:44:48 AM | Paradise
Posted: 4/26/2007 9 56 PM
Paradise
Any day I knew you
took a breath
Any evening I knew you'd
be home
Any morning I woke
with you in my bed
Any time my body
touched yours
Any second our
eyes met
Every time our
minds sang together
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| The Great Virtue Sitting Parlor and Greasy Spoon
Posted: 4/30/2007 8:04:54 AM | Brizo ~~ "election integrity" Ya. That's what the weekend was all about: finding out, knowing, looking for ways to make it different.
Memories of the Dean days
So much hope then,
And energy,
And love.
So many like minds and hearts
Come together .
From so many places
(Florida, North Carolina, West Virginia
Virginia, Maryland, Vermont, Illinois).
One man drove from North Carolina
to Virginia just for dinner.
So many backgrounds:
Young Republican, Indy, lefties
or simply outraged.
Needing to know, wanting to learn,
Longing to act.
Catching up, learning, plotting.
I think of us as yeast.
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| The Great Virtue Sitting Parlor and Greasy Spoon
Posted: 4/30/2007 8:34:18 AM | You know I enjoy
eating fried green tomatoes
and don't come from the south
I must have been in another life
I'll openly admit
through this travel
I've found I generalise
those southern gentleman
and ladies
are the sweetest and best
let anyone contest
As I sip on my tea
(gladly accept a beer my dear)
along this verandah
I still recall
Tara
written only by the best
...damn
Or the world I live in now
it's a bugger
for a scarlett letter
the doe does not need a gun
for it's full of prize winning
tears 
wobby my dear....apologies email arriving soon...you are in my thoughts | |
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| The Great Virtue Sitting Parlor and Greasy Spoon
Posted: 5/1/2007 8:37:51 PM | I want to write you and tell you
how the peepers sound tonight
how their glorious sexifying
makes me want to be in you arms
To tell you of the stars
so bright you'd be amazed
I want to wait for the sweet
Honey, I'm home
To hear your voice
to make plans
to laugh and dream
I just want you.
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| The Great Virtue Sitting Parlor and Greasy Spoon
Posted: 5/3/2007 11:43:32 PM | Lost in the Forgetmenots tonight
A night I never imagined
A night without you in it.
Somewhere, real, in the world.
Drowning in the blue of their little faces
In memory that begins to hurt
refuses solace
And I want, forgive me, to pry
my eyes loose of the memories
my fingers from around the neck
of your soul
If you once were not
Not one thing I could have imagined
Why now that you are not
Can I not just let you fly
free of me, my longing?
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| The Great Virtue Sitting Parlor and Greasy Spoon
Posted: 5/4/2007 2:31:52 PM | Today
First greeting of the first violets
Followed by the elder full of bloom
and the honeysuckle foaming along
the hedgerows.
The pale luminescent green of the new dogwood,
flutters in the understorey
the dark translucence of the Redbud, greening.
The first crop of lion's teeth all blowsy
and fields gone gold with wild mustard
Mayapple poking up its charming green umbrellas
the flower you'll never find without hunting for it
All the apples but the eldest in full bloom
the old lady always waits
Spring has made it through another
winter. Go. Do likewise.
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| The Great Virtue Sitting Parlor and Greasy Spoon
Posted: 5/6/2007 10:39:36 AM | The gibbous moon keeps watch
spring frost
The beast, blood full of flowers
lounges in bower birds nests
Violets protest, the fern unfurls
its fronds; iris buds fatten
Peepers batten down, naked and wet
There is hope yet: find that girl, find that girl
Heart, out of season, out of reason,
out of hope. Hoping nevertheless, yes?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thanks for the inspiration Jer and Brizo ♥
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| The Great Virtue Sitting Parlor and Greasy Spoon
Posted: 5/7/2007 1:05:24 PM | Wooby I loved your poem Today
"Spring has made it through another
winter. Go. Do likewise."
There were so many beautiful images but it's nice to have a little push to go do likewise. Thank you | |
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| The Great Virtue Sitting Parlor and Greasy Spoon
Posted: 5/8/2007 9:06:54 AM | The Lovers
The lovers say nothing.
Love is the finest of the silences,
the one that trembles most and is hardest to bear.
The lovers are looking for something.
The lovers are the ones who abandon,
the ones who change, who forget.
Their hearts tell them that they will never find.
They don't find, they're looking.
The lovers wander around like crazy people
because they're alone, alone,
surrendering, giving themselves to each moment,
crying because they don't save love.
They worry about love. The lovers
live for the day, it's the best they can do, it's all they know.
They're going away all the time,
all the time, going somewhere else.
They hope,
not for anything in particular, they just hope.
They know that whatever it is they will not find it. Love is the perpetual deferment,
always the next step, the other, the other.
The lovers are the insatiable ones,
the ones who must always, fortunately, be alone.
The lovers are the serpent in the story.
They have snakes instead of arms.
The veins in their necks swell
like snakes too, suffocating them.
The lovers can't sleep
because if they do the worms eat them.
They open their eyes in the dark
and terror falls into them.
They find scorpions under the sheet
and their bed floats as though on a lake.
The lovers are crazy, only crazy
with no God and no devil.
The lovers come out of their caves
trembling, starving,
chasing phantoms.
They laugh at those who know all about it,
who love forever, truly,
at those who believe in love as an inexhaustible lamp.
The lovers play at picking up water,
tattooing smoke, at staying where they are.
They play the long sad game of love.
None of them will give up.
The lovers are ashamed to reach any agreement.
Empty, but empty from one rib to another,
death ferments them behind the eyes,
and on they go, they weep toward morning
in the trains, and the roosters wake into sorrow.
Sometimes a scent of newborn earth reaches them,
of women sleeping with a hand on their sex, contented,
of gentle streams, and kitchens.
The lovers start singing between their lips
a song that is not learned.
And they go on crying, crying
for beautiful life.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jaime Sabines, translated by WS Merwin | |
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