"Tender" ~ Journal Poems

© Leigh Viner 2014

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Sleeping past silenced alarms inching towards skin rather then the safe wall of withdrawal
Content turn of virtue
Continuing in motion in content
Halted friendless due to preferred leisure
Warm ruthful breaths...
Response to ego and shift love to yours truly
A lens, nature and glistening haze of flurry
Calm duration before frost-bound
The tender now mirthful...

Self Portrait image inspired by Parc Boutique image via April & May

Darlings my poor blog! I miss it! With the shift of easier posting on my other social networks and a crazy few months that I have been working behind the scenes the blog seems to be set aside. I will try to hopefully get on to obsessing about it again, which I actually do in my head, but just need to put that all into a regular thing again. Anyhooooo.. I was updating my journal, which is my book of everything, lists, notes on culture, inspirations and my personal thoughts and once in awhile poems that find way between it all. This one I found from January of this year. It inspired me to continue to practice and add some more before years end and a new journal begins.

I hope all is well!! xo

Journal Poems

January 3rd 2014 Friday
Untitled:
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A forgiving temperament of character.
Asset of virtue shadowed lightly in shift for what is now treasure.
Pay no mind to uncertainty, for ahead our own selves will mend contentment.
Embrace thy lips in sustained kisses.
From there on an outermost luminosity until cheeks ripen as a glistening apple.
May we summon up days of yore...

Private Manhattan

"TELEPATHY"

When Day is dead, and Eve broods dim

O'er fading scene and sound, 

When grey haze veils the city, 

A dream-wall round and round, 

Soundless as sleep from o'er the sea, 

Wingeth thy thought through the dusk to me.

Rapture of the rest on the silent land, 

On the sea, on the long, lone dune, 

The moon a-drowse in a dappled sky, 

Where towers and tall spires swoon, 

And through the dusk, a homing dove, 

Thy thought, with rest to me, my love.

Another from Lays and Lyrics by J.K. (Jessie Kerr) Lawson my Great, Great Grandmother circa 1913
Photo © Leigh Viner 2013 available here

"The Flight of Love"

© Leigh Viner 2012

THE FLIGHT OF LOVE

A wind in the wood went wailing,

As slow the sun sank down; A voice in the wind prevailing,

" O Love, how art thou flown !" And the old, old hills, with feet moss-grown, The old cry heard, and from each throne

Sent back an echo wailing,

" O Love, how art thou flown !"

A sound from the sea came wailing,

As slow the moon uprose;

A voice in the tide prevailing,

The tide that ebbs and flows :

" O Love, how art thou flown !

Thou wert so sweet, so sweet,

And life so fleet, so fleet. What wouldst thou more than soul for soul?" Sobbed the long waves that shoreward roll,

" O Love, how art thou flown !"

I heard the wind, and I heard the sea, And surely they were but a part of me ;

The wail of the wind and the sob of the sea, Woke the old pain, broke the heart of me; ( ) hush thee, Wind ; be still, sad Sea, Love will never, ah, never, come back to me.

And still the wind goes wailing

Through the lone aisles of the years,

While smiles the moon, and all the tides Are tides of human tears.

For love still comes, and love still goes; Day brings no joy, night no repose, And deep in the heart the hurt abides, While sigh the winds, and moan the tides, " O Love, how thou art flown !"

A poem I just happily discovered written by my Great, Great Grandmother ~Mrs. J. K. Lawson

"Petit Chablis"

© Leigh Viner 2012
Available here in color and B/W

More Strong Than Time

Since I have set my lips to your full cup, my sweet,
Since I my pallid face between your hands have laid,
Since I have known your soul, and all the bloom of it,
And all the perfume rare, now buried in the shade;

Since it was given to me to hear on happy while,
The words wherein your heart spoke all its mysteries,
Since I have seen you weep, and since I have seen you smile,
Your lips upon my lips, and your eyes upon my eyes;

Since I have known above my forehead glance and gleam,
A ray, a single ray, of your star, veiled always,
Since I have felt the fall, upon my lifetime’s stream,
Of one rose petal plucked from the roses of your days;

I now am bold to say to the swift changing hours,
Pass, pass upon your way, for I grow never old,
Fleet to the dark abysm with all your fading flowers,
One rose that none may pluck, within my heart I hold.

Your flying wings may smite, but they can never spill
The cup fulfilled of love, from which my lips are wet;
My heart has far more fire than you can frost to chill,
My soul more love than you can make my soul forget

Victor Hugo (1802 – 1885)

Poetry of Departures

Phillip Larkin's "Poetry of Departures."

"Sometimes you hear, fifth-hand,
As epitaph;
He chucked up everything
And just cleared off,
And always the voice will sound
Certain you approve
This audacious, purifying,
Elemental move.

And they are right, I think.
We all hate home
And having to be there:
I detest my room,
Its specially-chosen junk,
The good books, the good bed,
And my life, in perfect order:

So to hear it said
He walked out on the whole crowd
Leaves me flushed and stirred,
Like Then she undid her dress
Or Take that you bastard;
Surely I can, if he did?
And that helps me stay
Sober and industrious.
But I'd go today,

Yes, swagger the nut-strewn roads
Crouch in the fo'c'sle
Stubbly with goodness, if
It weren't so artificial,
Such a deliberate step backwards
To create an object:
Books; china; a life
Reprehensibly perfect.

And I slept".

Source unknown

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Inspiration

"When I was a girl, they told me to be practical, and I was a dreamer. There was no misgiving, the flames of crescent dreams always coming higher, licking at the bedroom windows, kindling in my soul, a smoldering fire. And down, down burned the house of doubt, the place of skepticism, realism, lost to the fire.

Faith replaces fear, the way spring replaces winter, and winter, fall. The eye cannot see, what credence promises.

Dreamers dream, and we see, not black and white, but vivacious, living colors. We see potential, promise. We are secret keepers of hope, gingerly settling a forgotten faith in the slip between the heart and the faint of our breastbone.

We are skies without end, wild horses without reins. We are your sister, your brother, your neighbor. We are the bumbling man in the corner store, the forsaken beggar in the street, we are the woman on the mosque steps, her figure formless beneath her hijab. We are in regions of terror, in sprawling forests, in city brownstones, in unbroken fields, where grass stands above summer skinned knees. We are shapeshifters. We are here, and we are there.

We walk through the fire, the arson of unbelievers, scorching skin, but never our souls, and with dreams that are kindred to the wings of a phoenix bird, we rise out of ashes. We propel the human race forward.

And we go on, because the future is ours, and we are not afraid. We go on, because we believe in a better day.

When I was a girl, they told me to be practical...
I chose to be a dreamer. "

Photo and poem via - Girl Meets NYC

Just one look

Photo: Via Fashion156

My feelings
cannot be expressed to you through
My voice
My words
A song

Because once the words are spoken
Because once the paper has been written
Because once the song has been sung
The true meaning, becomes frail

My feelings
cannot be expressed to you through
My voice
My words
A song

The way the sun kisses your face
The way rain cools the air
The way the wind blows

My heart
My mind
My feelings for you
can only be expressed by looking into my eyes.

Only then could you possibly understand my feelings for you