Impermanence and Permanence

Iron & Wine - Passing Afternoon

There are times that walk from you like some passing afternoon 
Summer warmed the open window of her honeymoon 
And she chose a yard to burn but the ground remembers her 
Wooden spoons, her children stir her Bougainvillea blooms 

There are things that drift away like our endless, numbered days 
Autumn blew the quilt right off the perfect bed she made 
And she's chosen to believe in the hymns her mother sings 
Sunday pulls its children from their piles of fallen leaves 

There are sailing ships that pass all our bodies in the grass 
Springtime calls her children 'till she let's them go at last 
And she's chosen where to be, though she's lost her wedding ring 
Somewhere near her misplaced jar of Bougainvillea seeds 

There are things we can't recall, blind as night that finds us all 
Winter tucks her children in, her fragile china dolls 
But my hands remember hers, rolling 'round the shaded ferns 
Naked arms, her secrets still like songs I'd never learned 

There are names across the sea, only now I do believe 
Sometimes, with the windows closed, she'll sit and think of me 
But she'll mend his tattered clothes and they'll kiss as if they know 
A baby sleeps in all our bones, so scared to be alone

{image found on pinterest}

{image found on blacklovenadmarriage.com}

{image found on marcandangel.com}

{image from a scene in "Cloudburst"}

{image from The New York Times, found here}

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Reading is good for Braining

Good afternoon blog people! Get ready for a nerdy read:

I've picked up a second book.

I'm presently reading "A Tale of Two Cities" by Charles Dickens as chosen by The Book Club

but it's a super busy time and 

I don't want to go too far into it without the accompaniment from the other Book Club member

So

I'm also reading "The Satanic Verses" by Salman Rushdie, which is something I've always wanted to read.

The Satanic Verses is Salman Rushdie's fourth novel, first published in 1988 and inspired in part by the life of Muhammad.  The title refers to the so-called "satanic verses", a group of alleged Qur'anic verses that allow intercessory prayers to be made to three Pagan Meccan goddesses: Allāt, Uzza, and Manāt.

{image of Allāt, Uzza, and Manāt}

This is all really interesting to me since I like mythology and symbolism, so I'll cut all of this part short and avoid digressing to other topics.

In the United Kingdom, the book received positive reviews. However, it sparked a major controversy when Muslims accused it of blasphemy and mocking their faith, and lead to Rushdie being sentenced to death by Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomenei.

{source: Wikipedia}

 When I read a novel I make a list of the words that are unknown to me so I can look them up later.

If I cannot actually DEFINE a word I will still look it up.

One of the words that I found in The Satanic Verses was "Gazal":

"Gibreel, the tuneless soloist, had been cavorting in moonlight as he sang his impromptu gazal..."

I looked it up. The spelling is GHAZAL and it is a kind of oriental lyric or poetry, usually about love, the loss of love, or of an erotic nature, written in recurring rhymes.  

The form is ancient, originating in 6th century Arabic verse.

So then I wanted to know what a Ghazal sounded like. 

Of course, Wikipedia is my friend so here is one for you to enjoy. 

This Ghazal, written in English, observes the traditional restrictions of the form:

Where are you now? Who lies beneath your spell tonight?
Whom else from rapture’s road will you expel tonight?

Those “Fabrics of Cashmere--“ ”to make Me beautiful--“
“Trinket”-- to gem– “Me to adorn– How– tell”-- tonight?

I beg for haven: Prisons, let open your gates–
A refugee from Belief seeks a cell tonight.

God’s vintage loneliness has turned to vinegar–
All the archangels– their wings frozen– fell tonight.

Lord, cried out the idols, Don’t let us be broken
Only we can convert the infidel tonight.

Mughal ceilings, let your mirrored convexities
multiply me at once under your spell tonight.

He’s freed some fire from ice in pity for Heaven.
He’s left open– for God– the doors of Hell tonight.

In the heart’s veined temple, all statues have been smashed
No priest in saffron’s left to toll its knell tonight

God, limit these punishments, there’s still Judgment Day–
I’m a mere sinner, I’m no infidel tonight.

Executioners near the woman at the window.
Damn you, Elijah, I’ll bless Jezebel tonight.

The hunt is over, and I hear the Call to Prayer
fade into that of the wounded gazelle tonight.

My rivals for your love– you’ve invited them all?
This is mere insult, this is no farewell tonight.

And I, Shahid, only am escaped to tell thee–
God sobs in my arms. Call me Ishmael tonight. 

-Agha Shahid Ali-

PO-EHM

I had a really nice day today.

Absence

Your scent in the bedsheets
The fibres molded to your body

Soft dreams imprinted there...
and the city sleeps outside

Leaves are glowing orange and gold
They flutter across the sky
My lips blush against the cold autumn air
And all I see is you

The sheets caress my arms
Like you did only yesterday
and under the weight of your warmth
I dream and I feel you once more

November 2009

In the Rose Garden

This is a little photo journal from my fantastic journey to Florence, Italy, last year in May. I thought I'd share it here on my blog because it is nice to reminisce, and the pictures are quite lovely. I've included short quotes from the journal I wrote while there:

... "I remember blue skies and yellow sun on my arrival."

 ... "Time to leave for a picnic with the rustle of royal blue in the mid-day Tuscan sun…"

... "Our picnic was made up of a selection of sweet little things in ice-cream containers. Each one opened to reveal it’s own little treasure: fresh pears, pecorino cheese, honey, cherries, biscotti, and dessert wine. Even though they had been sitting in the backpack for a short time, the heat was strong enough to warm them, and when each container opened it released the intensified scent of each fresh treat..."

..."drizzled the honey on the pears and ate them with the pecorino cheese.... I ate... To hell with counting calories while on vacation, right?..."

Collecting rocks for painting later... I actually found them yesterday, in the secret pocket in my purse...

 "Bows and flows of angel hair and ice cream castles in the air and feather canyons everywhere, I've looked at clouds that way." - Joni Mitchell

... "I let the material of the dress wash over my clean dry skin. It draped down into a soft swathe at my feet and reflected the blue of the Mediterranean sea."

... "Alabaster stones on my chest. Hair up in a bun, soft curls of wheat coloured hair, and the caress of ruby lips against my neck."

... "I breathed in the hillside air, the trees, the scent of the soil and the sweetness of the roses. I soaked in every moment through every pore. This memory was meant to last forever."

..."My eyes open to the roof tops of Florence stretching out before me, the Duomo dominating the distance. The golden afternoon sun hovered atop the city, and the air was intense and warm."

The End

Fade Into You

I want to hold the hand inside you
I want to take a breath that's true
I look to you and I see nothing
I look to you to see the truth
You live your life
You go in shadows
You'll come apart and you'll go black
Some kind of night into your darkness
Colors your eyes with what's not there.

Waterbed

Life is good, and love is real, 

even though both are precariously balanced upon unstable ground, 

like wooden houses 

on a semi-solid sea. 

There's always the risk that they will fall through, 

and there's always the knowledge that the world will continue to tremor, 

but the goodness of life and the realness of love intensify 

and are worth each collapse...

Not so safe

Layers of leaves

Black ashes, and cinders

Memories parched in the

Passing of time

Like feathers so frail

A heartbeat, a shiver

A breath could destroy

This fortress so fragile