The Lovers’ Almanac 18 January – Winter Dream

Dear Zazie,   Here is today’s Lovers’ Almanac from Mac Tag dedicated to his muse.  Follow us on twitter @cowboycoleridge.    Rhett

The Lovers’ Almanac

Dear Muse,

the reward is all
for one so brave
to enter

the pull is strong
and comfortin’
feels more and more
like the best destiny
voices from the past
surround, infuse
so weary, perhaps too
not givin’ up, per se
but need has been
so long neglected
yet, so much to offer
for one
if you can hear
i speak to thee
my heart

by the stars above,
so tired and cold
snow stretches
across the plains
darkness, all can be seen
what did Shakespeare
write of dreams and desire
and a kiss from a most
constant heart
would that but come
chimes at midnight toll
bring respite of a sort
dreams of you

© copyright 2018 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

Winter Dream

We will travel by horseback
Into the mountains
We will be fine
A warm rendezvous waits
In a cabin in the woods

Shut your eyes, to see the dream,
Advancin’ shadows of visions,
Those swirlin’ memories, a totem spins
Realities converge with illusions

Then you will feel,
And you will say,
And i will pull you close
And we will take our time
Findin’ that place
For those who travel this far…

© copyright 2017 mac tag/cowboy Coleridge all rights reserved



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The Lovers’ Almanac 17 January – Without – Roses and Stones – art by Thomas Alexander Harrison

Dear Zazie,   Here is today’s Lovers’ Almanac from Mac Tag dedicated to his muse.  Follow us on twitter @cowboycoleridge.  Are you sleepin’ in a bed of stones?  Do you dream of someone in a bed of roses?  Rhett

The Lovers’ Almanac – Pale Love, Pale Rider

Dear Muse,

ok, enough already
i git it, you want
a beach scene
dang you are persistent
where, Belize, St. Kitts
how about Nevis…

from the cottage
on the beach
each evenin’ we went
down to the water
to watch the sun
set on the ocean
to watch the light
dance on the water
we would drink
some Havana Club
and make love
‘neath the stars
of the Caribbean

what is most beautiful
that which was once ago
that which lies ahead
and what of sorrow
so much left behind
“Yes, but what you
are talking about is without
Isn’t there a certain sort
of sorrow in without?”
right, but is is known
and provides
damn good verse

© copyright 2018 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

This one was inspired by Dante’s “Sestina” and the Song of the Day.  Middle Age poetry meets rock and roll.  ‘Nuff said.  Hope you like,

Roses and Stones

Come, to the circle of shadow,
To the night, to the darkenin’ hills,
Where the sage no longer blooms,
And desire no longer comes,
Rooted in hardest heart,
That speaks as an omen

Heavy-born heart stays frozen,
Like the snow in shadow,
Unmoved, mired in stone,
By sweet touch that warms hearts,
That alters from darkness to light,
To clothe with fervent heat

When she appears with crown of light,
Draws the mind from any other
She blends her charm with grace
So well that Amore lingers in her shadow
She who fastens me in this low place,
More certainly than lime fastens stone

Her beauty, rare stone, soft rose
Untouched, out of reach
The wound cannot be healed

Travelled, through the plains and hills,
To find release from such a woman,
Yet from her light, never a shadow thrown

Saw her walkin’ undressed,
So formed, would spark love in a stone,
That love born for her very shadow,
So that I want her, and no other,
As much in love as ever yet,
Closed around by deepest desire

Roses will bloom in stones
Before this dream, so close so far,
Takes fire, as might ever lovely woman,
For me, would sleep on a bed of stones,
To gaze at where she cast shadow,
To lay her down on a bed of roses

As another night of shadows descends,
Preparin’ the same bed of stones
Dreamin’ of her on a bed of roses

© Cowboy Coleridge

The Song of the Day is “Bed of Roses” by Bon Jovi (C) 1992 The Island Def Jam Music Group

Alexander Harrison, 1914.

Today is the birthday of Thomas Alexander Harrison (January 17, 1853 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania – October 13, 1930 in Paris, France); American marine painter who spent most of his career in France.


Harrison rented a ramshackle cottage near the Brittany town of Beg-Meil, and each evening raced to the dunes to watch the sun set over the ocean. In late-summer 1896, he was joined there by struggling writer Marcel Proust and composer Reynaldo Hahn. He opened their eyes to how light plays on water.

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The Lovers’ Almanac 16 January – Come Again – Waves of Redemption – verse by Robert Service – art by Aristarkh Lentulov

Dear Zazie,  Here is today’s Lovers’ Almanac from Mac Tag dedicated to his muse.  Follow us on twitter @cowboycoleridge.  What is it with pretendin’?  Are you lookin’ for redemption?  Has it come upon you wave on wave?  Rhett

The Lover’s Almanac

Dear Muse,

wave of reflection
lyin’ down, once
body, heaved up,
vast desire
longin’ for the days
of fervent wants
among the waves,
kissed the One
longin’ for the time,
when, softly kissin’,
softly caressin’,
lips formin’ a hymn
standin’ on the plain,
hearin’ the wind

Answerin’ the call
Longin’ for the time
bein’ half of a whole
body through depths,
streams of life
joyfully at her curves,
strong, gentle, insistent

risin’ in the first light
flesh pulsin’ in the wave,
in rhythm and rhyme
still believe in you
flesh, in you I believe, yes,
yes, even after, wish to live
render divine, bring light
slowly ascend, unbound,
from self imposed exile
times come, and gone
might come again

© copyright 2018 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

This one was inspired by Rimbaud’s poem “Soleil et Chair” (Sun and Flesh) and by the Song of the Day.  Hope you enjoy,

Waves Of Redemption

Wave of reflection, burnin’ hot
Lyin’ down in the valley, once
Nubile and full-blooded
Body, heaved up, made of flesh,
The vast pululation of desire
Longin’ for the days of youth,
Of fervent wants, mad with lust
Among the waves, kissed the One
Longin’ for the time, tremblin’,
When, softly kissin’, softly caressin’,
Lips formin’ a great hymn
When, standin’ on the plain,
Hearin’ round about the wind
Answerin’ the call
Longin’ for the time of two as one,
Splendid body through depths,
Streams of life
Joyfully at her curves,
Strong, gentle and insistent

Misfortune, not understandin’ things,
Goin’ about with eyes shut, ears closed
And what of faith
If only sustenance still drawn
If only not forsaken long ago
Risin’ in the first light
Of blue waters, flesh pulsin’ in the wave,
And, love made in rhythm and rhyme
Believe, still believe in you
The path, bitter harness
Flesh, in you I believe, yes,
Sad under the vast sky
Yes, even after, wish to live
Render divine, bring light
Slowly ascend, unbounded,
From self imposed exile,
No longer knows even how
If only the times which have come,
Come and gone might come again

Finished; played all the parts
In broad daylight, wearied
Free of all fears, scan the skies
Ideal, eternal, invincible thought, which is all;
Livin’ flesh, will rise, mount, burn beneath
Free from all fear, come redemption
Resplendent, radiant,
Rise up and give
Eternal smile
Vibrate like a lyre
In the tremblin’
Thirst: come and slake its thirst.

Sudden blaze of beauty
Quiver in the altar of the flesh
In the present good, pale from the ill suffered,
Wish to plumb all depths, and know all things
Thought, so long oppressed, springs
Know why… Let her gallop free,
Find faith; why the blue silence,
Why the golden stars, teemin’ like sands
If ascend forever, what would be there
A journey through this unfathomable space
In the solitude, tremble,
Tremble at the tones of an eternal voice
See, say: I believe; Is this anymore than a dream
Born so quickly, life so short, whence does it come
To love in the rose and to grow in the stone…

Cannot know, weighed down with a cloak of ignorance,
Hemmed in by chimeras, dropped from wombs,
Feeble reason hides the infinite
Wish to perceive: doubt punishes
Doubt, dismal, beat down
And the horizon rushes away in endless flight…

Mysteries lie among the splendour
A song rises towards the light…
Splendour of flesh, splendour of her
Renewal, triumphal dawn
Beneath outstretched tears
On the shore, out there on the waves,
The sail flyin’ white under the sun,
Sweet one on whom night has broken,
Be silent; Drawn through waves by desire
Nude body shivers in the waves
Slowly, turn dreamy eye towards her
She leans her pale cheek, eyes closed
Dyin’ in a divine kiss, and murmurin’ waters
Between the waves, slip amorously
The great dreamin’, while time goes by,
Strangely beautiful, archin’ the curves
Proudly displays the golden vision of her body
In his strength, his body with skin as with glory
Faces the horizons, his brow terrible and sweet
Vaguely lit by the summer moon, erect, naked
Dreamin’ in pallor of gold streaked
By the heavy wave of her hair
In the shadowy glade where stars spring,
Gaze up at the silent sky…
Throw a kiss in a pale beam…
The sobs far off in a long ecstasy…
Dreams of the one his wave pressed against
Soft wind of love passed in the night,
And in the mountains, amid the woods,
Erect in majesty, listen to the wind,
To the one sent to save,
To the dream of redemption,
Comin’ wave on wave

© copyright 2013 mac tag/Cowboy Coleridge all rights reserved

The Song of the Day is “Wave on Wave” by Pat Green.  (C) 2003 Universal Motown Records, a division of UMG Recordings, Inc

Robert Service
Robert W. Service.jpg

Robert W. Service, c. 1905

Today is the birthday of Robert William Service (Preston, Lancashire, England; January 16, 1874 – September 11, 1958 Lancieux, Côtes-d’Armor, France); British-Canadian poet and writer who has often been called “the Bard of the Yukon”.  Perhaps best known for his poems “The Shooting of Dan McGrew” and “The Cremation of Sam McGee”, from his first book, Songs of a Sourdough (1907; also published as The Spell of the Yukon and Other Verses).


Just have one more try – it’s dead easy to die,
It’s the keeping-on-living that’s hard.
*ServiceWise & OtherWise (1942)

Oh it is good to ride and run,
To roam the reenwood
wild and free;
To hunt, to idle in the sun,
To leap into the laughing sea
*ServiceWise & OtherWise (1942)

I count each day a little life,
With birth and death complete;
I cloister it from care and strife
And keep it sane and sweet.
*ServiceWise & OtherWise (1942)

Marriage is a bachelor’s punishment for his sins
*ServiceWise & OtherWise (1942)

The world is full of scribbling Nobodies
who think they’re scribbling Somebodies.
*ServiceWise & OtherWise (1942)

Dignity is a tin god in the temple of bunk.
*ServiceWise & OtherWise (1942)

After fifty don’t go to a funeral if you can avoid it.
It’s bad enough to go to your own when times comes.
*ServiceWise & OtherWise (1942)

Wisdom is peace, peace wisdom.
Both are born of a humble heart and a nourished gratitude.
*ServiceWise & OtherWise (1942)

Nature is the nest professor in the end.
*ServiceWise & OtherWise (1942)

Some praise the Lord for Light,
The living spark;
I thank God for the Night
The healing dark.
*ServiceWise & OtherWise (1942)

Were you ever out in the Great Alone, when the moon was awful clear,
And the icy mountains hemmed you in with a silence you most could hear;
With only the howl of a timber wolf, and you camped there in the cold,
A half-dead thing in a stark, dead world, clean mad for the muck called gold;
While high overhead, green, yellow and red, the North Lights swept in bars? –
Then you’ve a hunch what the music meant . hunger and night and the stars.

Aristarkh Lentulov
Aristarkh Lentulov (1882-1943).jpg

Aristarkh Vasilyevich Lentulov, c.1930

Saint Basil’s Cathedral, 1913, Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow.

Today is the birthday of Aristarkh Vasilyevich Lentulov (Nizhny Lomov in Penza Oblast; January 16, 1882 – April 15, 1943 Moscow); Russian avant-garde artist of Cubist orientation who also worked on set designs for the theatre.


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The Lovers’ Almanac 15 January – Vision – Per Amore – verse by Molière – art by Giovanni Segantini

Dear Zazie,  Here is today’s Lovers’ Almanac from Mac Tag dedicated to his muse.  Follow us on twitter @cowboycoleridge.  What would you do for love?  What have you done for love?  Rhett

The Lovers’ Almanac

Dear Muse,

“Have you forgotten?”
no of course not
my feelin’s are not dead
just buried deep
i know what it takes
i know what it was like
i remember
all of it

the tender touch
the shared dreams,
shared visions
that feelin’ of bein’
half of a whole

“Don’t you miss it?”
oh, hell yes
but missin’ and wishin’
ain’t gonna make it happen

“So what are you
going to do?”
all i can do,
keep on livin’
in this voices from the past,
verse centered, light chasin’ vision
someone will come along
and want to join it, or not
all i can do

© copyright 2018 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

This poem was inspired by our letters and the writin’s of the French-Cuban author Anaïs Nin

Per Amore

Per amore, hai mai speso tutto quanto,
La ragione, il tuo orgoglio fino al pianto
For love, have you ever spent everything,
Reason, your pride, up to the tears

Once ago
Under the warm
Carolina sun…

“So look forward to your notes”
So enjoy sendin’ you notes
“Seem to be craving your touch”

Jottin’ notes on what will become,
A new poem dedicated to you
“Shall be here ever patiently”
Awaitin’ your return

“The paths we travel,
To find, and keep, happiness”
Tellin’ things never told
(We did not want to stop ourselves…)

“You inspired me to start
Reading again; starting
With Lady Chatterly’s Lover”
Excellent choice
I am readin’ Nin, again
She reminds me of you,
Smart and beautiful

“Your honest creativity,
Your self expression,
Never cease to amaze
You are brave”
Well, trust is all
You know your thoughts
are safe with me
“In all things
I feel safe with you”

Remember how this all started…

Woman walks in from the darkness
No other place in the world
But there to be
No other afternoon
But that one

Full woman
So alive
Years ago tryin’
To imagine such beauty
Creatin’ an image
Of just such a woman

Never seen until then
Yet known long ago
Your smile, your eyes
That smile, that laugh
Beauty washin’ over in waves
Carryin’ away grief, bringin’ peace

Anything asked would be done
By the end of that afternoon,
No extrication
From such an admiration

The courage of personality,
Sensual, heavy with nuance
Preoccupied in whirlpools
Of feelin’s in response to you,
Seekin’ whatever you wanted

And now, graspin’ the core of you
Wantin’ to run out and tell
Of your beauty, to shout
To the Carolina sky

To be without you
To never know again who I am,
What I am, what I love, what I want
You stirred me

You carry completely, always
The part of me reflected in you
Beauty struck me, dissolved me
Deep down, I am different all over

Dreamed you, wished for your existence
You are the one I have always wanted
Seein’ in you that part of me which is you
Wantin’ to be the best me that can be

Feelin’ compassion
For your tremblin’ unsureness,
Enhancin’ of all given to you
Surrender pride and reason

To be with you is to share
The same fantasies,
The same madness
The same for love

© copyright 2013 mac tag/Cowboy Coleridge

The Song of the Day is “Per Amore” by Andrea Bocelli.  Disclaimer: we do not own the rights to this song.  No copyright infringement intended.

Pierre Mignard - Portrait de Jean-Baptiste Poquelin dit Molière (1622-1673) - Google Art Project (cropped).jpg

Portrait of Molière by Pierre Mignard (ca. 1658)

Portrait of Molière by Nicolas Mignard

Today is the birthday of Jean-Baptiste Poquelin, known by his stage name Molière (Paris; 15 January 1622 – 17 February 1673 Paris); French playwright and actor who is considered to be one of the greatest masters of comedy in Western literature.  Among Molière’s best known works are The Misanthrope, The School for Wives, Tartuffe, The Miser, The Imaginary Invalid, and The Bourgeois Gentleman.

Molière’s hard work in so many theatrical capacities took its toll on his health and, by 1667, he was forced to take a break from the stage.  In 1673, during a production of his final play, The Imaginary Invalid, Molière, who suffered from pulmonary tuberculosis, was seized by a coughing fit and a haemorrhage while playing the hypochondriac Argan.  He finished the performance but collapsed again and died a few hours later.


Tartuffe (1664)

  • Couvrez ce sein que je ne saurais voir.
    Par de pareils objets les âmes sont blessées.

    • Cover that bosom that I must not see:
      Souls are wounded by such things.
    • Act III, sc. ii.
  • Le scandale du monde est ce qui fait l’offense,
    Et ce n’est pas pécher que pécher en silence.

    • To create a public scandal is what’s wicked;
      To sin in private is not a sin.
    • Act IV, sc. v.

Le Misanthrope (1666)

  • Sur quelque préférence une estime se fonde,
    Et c’est n’estimer rien qu’estimer tout le monde.

    • On some preference esteem is based;
      To esteem everything is to esteem nothing.
    • Act I, sc. i.
  • Et c’est une folie, à nulle autre, seconde,
    De vouloir se mêler de corriger le monde.

    • The world will not reform for all your meddling.
      • As published in Le Misanthrope, Molière, tr. Curtis Hidden Page, G.P. Putnam’s Sons (1913), p. 12
    • Variant translation: Of all follies there is none greater than wanting to make the world a better place.
      • As contained in The Columbia Dictionary of Quotations, ed. Robert Andrews, Columbia University Press (1993), p.772 : ISBN 0231071949
    • Act I, sc. 1, lines 155-156 (Philinte)
  • C’est un parleur étrange, et qui trouve toujours
    L’art de ne vous rien dire avec de grands discours.

    • He’s a wonderful talker, who has the art
      Of telling you nothing in a great harangue.
    • Act II, sc. iv.
  • Que de son cuisinier il s’est fait un mérite,
    Et que c’est à sa table à qui l’on rend visite.

    • He makes his cook his merit,
      And the world visits his dinners and not him.
    • Act II, sc. iv.
  • On voit qu’il se travaille à dire de bons mots.
    • You see him laboring to produce bons mots.
    • Act II, sc. iv.
  • Plus on aime quelqu’un, moins il faut qu’on le flatte:
    À rien pardonner le pur amour éclate.

    • The more we love our friends, the less we flatter them;
      It is by excusing nothing that pure love shows itself.
    • Act II, sc. iv.
  • Les doutes sont fâcheux plus que toute autre chose.
    • Doubts are more cruel than the worst of truths.
    • Act III, sc. v.
  • On peut être honnête homme et faire mal des vers.
    • Anyone may be an honorable man, and yet write verse badly.
    • Act IV, sc. i.
  • Si de probité tout était revêtu,
    Si tous les cœurs était francs, justes et dociles,
    La plupart des vertus nous seraient inutiles,
    Puisqu’on en met l’usage à pouvoir sans ennui
    Supporter dans nos droits l’injustice d’autrui.

    • If everyone were clothed with integrity,
      If every heart were just, frank, kindly,
      The other virtues would be well-nigh useless,
      Since their chief purpose is to make us bear with patience
      The injustice of our fellows.
    • Act V, sc. i.
  • C’est un merveilleux assaisonnement aux plaisirs qu’on goûte que la présence des gens qu’on aime.
    • It is a wonderful seasoning of all enjoyments to think of those we love.
    • Act V, sc. iv.

Amphitryon (1666)

  • J’aime mieux un vice commode,
    Qu’une fatigante vertu.

    • I prefer an accommodating vice
      To an obstinate virtue.
    • Act I, sc. iv.
Giovanni Segantini
Segantini Selbstportrait1893.jpg

Self-portrait, 1895

Today is the birthday of Giovanni Segantini (Arco, Trentino, Austrian Empire 15 January 1858 – 28 September 1899 Pontresina, Graubünden, Switzerland); Italian painter known for his large pastoral landscapes of the Alps.  He was one of the most famous artists in Europe in the late 19th century, and his paintings were collected by major museums.  In later life he combined a Divisionist painting style with Symbolist images of nature.


Segantini in 1890

Giovanni Segantini – The Punishment of Lust

That same year he met Luigia Pierina Bugatti (1862–1938), known as “Bice”, and they began a life-long romance.  Although Segantini tried to marry Bice the next year, due to his stateless status he could not be granted the proper legal papers.  In opposition to this bureaucratic technicality, they decided to live together as an unmarried couple.  This arrangement led to frequent conflicts with the Catholic church that dominated the region at this time, and they were forced to relocate every few years to avoid local condemnation.

In spite of these difficulties, Segantini was devoted to Bice throughout his life.  He wrote many love letters when he was away from her, sometime including wild flowers that he had picked.  Once he wrote “Take these unsightly flowers, these violets, as a symbol of my great love, When a spring comes in which I fail to send you such violets, you will no longer find me among the living.”

In 1880 he and Bice moved to Pusiano and soon thereafter to the village of Carella.  It was in this mountain scenery that Segantini began to paint en plein air, preferring to work in the outdoors than in a studio.

Midday in the Alps, 1891. Segantini Museum (de), St. Moritz

Le cattive madri (de) (The Bad Mothers), 1894. Kunsthaus Zürich

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The Lovers’ Almanac 14 January – Her – art by Henri Fantin-Latour & Berthe Morisot

Dear Zazie,  Here is today’s Lovers’ Almanac from Mac Tag dedicated to his muse.  Rhett

The Lovers’ Almanac 

Dear Muse,

to be or not to be
these are the thoughts
that seize my nights
and govern my days

my friends
i hear the chorus
i love your concern
but i believe
solitude chooses
some of us
and it becomes
a first, best destiny

whoa, hold on playa
it is not that i do not
want your body
it is your mind
that i really want
that is where you keep
your beauty and sorrow
show me that
the rest will follow
or not

come, be my Lady Brett
we will sip absinthe
by the fire and talk
of our hopes
and dreams

come, enter this vision…
me, white dinner jacket tux
you in a killer black dress
we waltz the night away

© copyright 2018 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

it is not what she did
this mornin’
at first light

accounts for the smile

it is,
that she plans
to do it again

this evenin’

only the mouth,
oh that mouth

lettin’ on

it is not the mouth

it is not the eyes
exactly either

it is not even
exactly the smile

it is all of it
it is her

and i want some more

© copyright 2016 mac tag/cowboy Coleridge all rights reserved

Henri Fantin-Latour, Self-portrait (1859), Museum of Grenoble

Today is the birthday of Henri Fantin-Latour (Grenoble, Isère 14 January 1836 – 25 August 1904 Buré, Orne in Lower Normandy); French painter and lithographer best known for his flower paintings and group portraits of Parisian artists and writers.


Henri Fantin-Latour – A Studio at Les Batignolles, Un atelier aux Batignolles, parody, “Worshipping Manet”, 1870

In 1875, Henri Fantin-Latour married a fellow painter, Victoria Dubourg, after which he spent his summers on the country estate of his wife’s family at Buré, Orne in Lower Normandy, where he died.  He was interred in the Cimetière du Montparnasse, Paris, France.

Henri Fantin-Latour – By the Table


The temptation of St. Anthony

Henri Fantin-Latour – Still Life with a Carafe, Flowers and Fruit

Henri Fantin-Latour – Flowers and Fruit

Henri Fantin-Latour – Vase of Flowers
  • Portrait of Charlotte Dubourg, 1882, Paris, musée d’Orsay

  • Sonia, 1890, National Gallery of Art

  • Édouard Manet, 1867, Art Institute of Chicago

  • Madame Lerolle 1882

  • Dawn

  • Roses,

  • Danae

  • Venus and Cupido, (1867).

  • La Lecture, 1877, Musée des Beaux-Arts de Lyon

  • Still Life, primroses, pears and promenates, 1873

  • Vase of Roses 1875

  • Still Life with Flowers and Fruit, 1865

Berthe Morisot
Madame Eugène Manet
Berthe Morisot, 1875.jpg

Berthe Morisot, 1875

Today is the birthday of Berthe Marie Pauline Morisot (Bourges, Cher; January 14, 1841 – March 2, 1895 Paris); painter and a member of the circle of painters in Paris who became known as the Impressionists.  In 1864, she exhibited for the first time in the esteemed Salon de Paris.  Sponsored by the government, and judged by Academicians, the Salon was the official, annual exhibition of the Académie des beaux-arts in Paris.  Her work was selected for exhibition in six subsequent Salons until, in 1874, she joined the “rejected” Impressionists in the first of their own exhibitions, which included Paul Cézanne, Edgar Degas, Claude Monet, Camille Pissarro, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, and Alfred Sisley.

She was married to Eugène Manet, the brother of her friend and colleague Édouard Manet.


Berthe Morisot, Portrait de Mme Morisot et de sa fille Mme Pontillon ou La lecture (The Mother and Sister of the Artist – Marie-Joséphine & Edma) 1869/70

Berthe Morisot, The Cradle, 1872, Musée d’Orsay

Berthe Morisot, Grain field, c.1875, Musée d’Orsay

Édouard Manet, Berthe Morisot with a Bouquet of Violets (in mourning for her father), 1872, Musée d’Orsay

In 1868 Morisot became friends with Édouard Manet who painted several portraits of her, including a striking study in a black veil while in mourning for her father.  Correspondence between them shows affection, and Manet gave her an easel as a Christmas present.

Morisot drew Manet into the circle of painters who became known as the Impressionists.  In 1874, she married Manet’s brother, Eugène

Jeune Fille au Manteau Vert by Berthe Morisot. Oil on canvas, circa 1894

Bergère nue couchée (Shepherdess – reclining nude) by Berthe Morisot

Berthe Morisot, The Artist’s Daughter Julie with her Nanny, c. 1884. Minneapolis Institute of Art

Morisot died of pneumonia contracted while attending to her daughter Julie’s similar illness, and thus orphaning her at the age of 16.  She was interred in the Cimetière de Passy.

La Coiffure

Portraits of Berthe Morisot

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The Lovers’ Almanac 13 January – Solace – Undone – art by Chaïm Soutine

Dear Zazie,  Here is today’s Lovers’ Almanac from Mac Tag dedicated to his muse.  Rhett

The Lovers’ Almanac – Pale Love, Pale Rider

Dear Muse,

unwanted is
as unwanted does

ok, this
cannot be normal
to feel so good
about bein’ alone

a smile
i know it
only makes
a certain sorta sense
but there it was
the pull is strong
and i succumb

tho there is no denyin’
i know where lies,
in another kinda smile,
the true, best purpose

for now, however,
as the snow falls
and the temperature
heads for sub-zero;
another log for the fire
more aged Hendrick’s
and the solace
of this vision,
voices from the past,
the pursuit of verse
and light, provides
shelter from the storms

© copyright 2018 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

true portrait drawn then

since erased
face of truth
want without seein’,
without regret
apologize, yet not
you git the point
too hidden to be recognized
unable to fear, this is the time
in all that appears, but not there
yet hidden behind everything
as the aim of despair draws near,
and for little that it offers, 
would have seen me aver
concur blindly from this view of hurt
when in the grip of sincere feelin’s,
resentment overcame the good
when repentance called
a possession of the pitiful
a preferred graven crown
the pleasure of reverence
point of no return
and the vow that binds to veneration
but rather than acceptin’ the promise
lost reason for remembrance
impose self-denial in order to maintain
now in Her trance; to direct penance
had i accepted; vengeance satisfied
no, would have little beyond reproach 
and I want that; how it wrongly keeps me
me, kept undone; a motive for Her darkness
my soul, She remits to eternity
what is the name of the place 
where your heart aspires
ascension, regardless of your intent
but farewell will probe where tends the mystery,
and confirms my refusal
© copyright 2016 mac tag/cowboy Coleridge all rights reserved
Chaïm Soutine
Chaim Soutine with signature.jpg

Chaim Soutine (with signature)

Today is the birthday of Chaïm Soutine (Smilavichy, Russian Empire 13 January 1893 – 9 August 1943 Paris); Russian painter of Belarusian Jewish origin.  Soutine made a major contribution to the expressionist movement while living in Paris.  Inspired by classic painting in the European tradition, Soutine developed an individual style more concerned with shape, color, and texture over representation, which served as a bridge between more traditional approaches and the developing form of Abstract Expressionism.


Amedeo Modigliani 036.jpg

Amedeo Modigliani, Portrait de Chaïm Soutine (1916)

Autoportrait, vers 1917, huile sur toile (54,6 × 45,7 cm). Soutine n’aimait guère se peindre, et ne l’a fait qu’au début de sa carrière.

Nature morte à la lampe, vers 1916 (huile sur toile, 65,3 × 54,4 cm).

Nature morte à la soupière, vers 1916 (huile sur toile).

Nature morte aux harengs et aux oignons, vers 1917 (huile sur toile, 61,3 × 37,9 cm).

Nature morte avec violon, pain et poisson, vers 1922 (huile sur toile, 21,25 × 25,5 cm).

Les Glaïeuls, vers 1919, huile sur toile (46 × 56 cm). Ici apparaît et éclate le fameux rouge vermillon de Soutine.

La Maison blanche, 1918 (huile sur toile, 50 × 65 cm).

Paysage avec personnages, vers 1919 (huile sur toile, 80 × 60 cm).

Paysage aux toits rouges, 1919 (huile sur toile, 65,5 × 50,1 cm).

Les Platanes à Céret, vers 1920 (huile sur toile, 72,5 × 53,5 cm).

Les Maisons, vers 1921 (huile sur toile, 92 × 58 cm).

Le Petit Pâtissier, vers 1923, huile sur toile (54 × 73 cm). Celui qui a ravi Albert Barnes, changeant le destin de Soutine, a une oreille bien plus énorme.

Le lapin, vers 1923 (huile sur toile, 36 × 73 cm).

Dindon et tomates, vers 1924 (huile sur toile, 49 × 81 cm).

Le dindon, vers 1925 (huile sur toile, 65 × 80 cm).

Le canard, 1925 (huile sur toile, 57 × 93 cm).

Le Poulet plumé, 1925 (huile sur toile, 40 × 67 cm).

Bœuf et tête de veau, vers 1925 (huile sur toile, 73 × 92 cm).

Soutine revoit au Louvre le Bœuf écorché de Rembrandt, peint sur bois en 1655.

Pour son Bœuf écorché peint sur toile en 1925, Soutine choisit un fond bleu discordant.

La Jeune anglaise, vers 1934, huile sur toile (55 × 46 cm). Silhouette menue et lèvres fardées rappellent un peu Mme Castaing.

Le Grand Arbre, 1942, huile sur toile (99 × 75 cm), offre un exemple de la nouvelle palette froide de Soutine.


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The Lovers’ Almanac 12 January – June – Never Again – art by Jean Béraud & John Singer Sargent

Dear Zazie,  Here is today’s Lovers’ Almanac from Mac Tag dedicated to his muse.  Rhett

The Lovers’ Almanac – Pale Love, Pale Rider

Dear Muse,

just watched
Walk the Line
yep, again
will never git enough
of Johnny and June

it was too much
to ask, fate and god
and magic and hope
to bring me my June
she ain’t comin’

but sweet jesus,
not sure i have the strength
to watch Cold Mountain
yep, again

oh good,
Hustle is on
think i can handle
Reynolds and Deneuve

© copyright 2018 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

To relate the looks or thoughts
through rhythm or rhyme
through light
or otherwise

To recall the sensations,
from mutual passion
to be confined
by the comfort
of those visions

Thus it cannot be supposed
to have the will
to go there again

Misfortune or miracle
blessin’ or curse…

To have been there,
to have felt,
to have been
half of a whole

© copyright 2016 mac tag/cowboy Coleridge all rights reserved

Jean Béraud
A self portrait of Jean Béraud

Self portrait (ca. 1909)

Today is the birthday of Jean Béraud (Saint Petersburg; January 12, 1848 – October 4, 1935 Paris); French painter known for his numerous paintings depicting the life of Paris, and the nightlife of Paris society.  His paintings of the Champs Elysees, cafés, Montmartre and the banks of the Seine are detailed illustrations of everyday Parisian life during the “Belle Époque”.


Symphony in Red and Gold

A Windy Day on the Pont des Arts

Café Gloppe


John Singer Sargent
Sargent, John SInger (1856-1925) - Self-Portrait 1907 b.jpg

Self-Portrait, 1906, oil on canvas,
Uffizi Gallery, Florence.

Today is the birthday of John Singer Sargent (Florence; January 12, 1856 – April 14, 1925 London); American artist, and one of the leading portrait painter of his generation.  During his career, he created roughly 900 oil paintings and more than 2,000 watercolors, as well as countless sketches and charcoal drawings.  His oeuvre documents worldwide travel, from Venice to the Tyrol, Corfu, the Middle East, Montana, Maine, and Florida.

Sargent was a lifelong bachelor.


Fanny Watts, Sargent’s childhood friend. The first painting at Paris Salon, 1877, Philadelphia Museum of Art

The Daughters of Edward Darley Boit, 1882, Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

An Out-of-Doors Study, 1889, depicting Paul César Helleu sketching with his wife Alice Guérin. The Brooklyn Museum, New York.

El Jaleo (Spanish Dancer), c. 1879–82, Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum

John Singer Sargent in his studio with Portrait of Madame X, c. 1885

Portrait of Madame X 1884

Mrs Henry White, 1883, Corcoran Gallery of Art

Lady Agnew of Lochnaw, 1893, National Gallery of Scotland

Morning Walk, 1888, private collection

Sargent emphasized Almina Wertheimer’s exotic beauty in 1908 by dressing her en turquerie.

Gondoliers’ Siesta, c. 1904, watercolor

Muddy Alligators, 1917, watercolor

Theodore Roosevelt, 1903.

Rosina, 1878, depicting Rosina Ferrara

Arsène Vigeant, 1885, Musées de Metz

Claude Monet Painting by the Edge of a Wood, 1885, the Tate, London

Robert Louis Stevenson and His Wife, 1885, Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art

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The Lovers’ Almanac 11 January – Solo – verse by Bayard Taylor – art by Georgios Jakobides

Dear Zazie,  Here is today’s Lovers’ Almanac from Mac Tag dedicated to his muse.  Follow us on twitter @cowboycoleridge.  Do you tremble in solitude?  Rhett

The Lovers’ Almanac

Dear Muse,

readin’, writin’, waitin’
this vision, these voices
from the past, chasin’
light, this verse
this solitude
yearned for, for years
the longin’ once so fierce
fades in the rear view
a certain clarity
takin’ its place
and thus this…
should this vision
be shared

© copyright 2018 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved


Long before the dream they called him Solo

Alone became all there could be
He rides down the same trail daily
Weathered, hardened, beard mostly grey
Long blonde hair under a hat, black
As a fire-gutted citadel
Pale blue eyes fightin’ back the years
Tremblin’ in solitude

He comes and stands at dusk
His spot each time the same
He has to turn his words loose
Or they will grow too crowded to relieve
Carefully chosen, softly spoken
Words, flyin’ all round him then
They float on the breeze, ridin’ the wind
Into the shadows that wait for night

In his early years,
His prime yet not in sight
Before beauty’s force he knew
Or of false delight
Or to what burden
She did her captives hold

He wondered in his solitude
And first began to read, and write
And so to praise a true desire
Love smiled to see what a disguise
He turned those words of the tale of old
And, that he might more mysteries behold,
Was set so fair a woman to his eyes,
That with her, learned the ways of love

Learned what it was to be half of a whole
No longer captive in solitude
They took their happiness
Beyond ridiculous, taste be damned
Then Fate, or God, or Magic,
Have it as you will, intervened
And the book closed with, dead sighs
And he returned to solitude

After that, ridin’ all over the West
From Mexico to Alaska
Willin’ girls in saloons and cantinas
Gave shelter from the storms
Always searchin’ for, never findin’
What had once been held so dear
Kept movin’ on till one day
She spoke in a dream and he stopped

And so he reads and writes and waits
And rides down the same trail
Holdin’ back and chokin’ back
The long lost years and tears
And he stops where lost love lies
And reads his poems aloud,
Settin’ the words free on the wind,
And trembles in solitude

© copyright 2013 Mac tag/Cowboy Coleridge all rights reserved

The Song of the Day is Willie Nelson‘s version of  “Blues Eyes Cryin’ in the Rain” by Fred Rose.  We do not own the rights to this song.  No copyright infringement intended.

Bayard Taylor
Bayard Taylor.jpg

Today is the birthday of Bayard Taylor (Chester County, PennsylJanuary 11, 1825 – December 19, 1878 Berlin); American poet, literary critic, translator, travel author, and diplomat.


  • If she but smile, the crystal calm shall break
    In music, sweeter than it ever gave
    As when a breeze breathes o’er some sleeping lake,
    And laughs in every wave.

    • “The Return of the Goddess” (1850), later published as the Preface to The Poet’s Journal (1863); also in The Poetical Works of Bayard Taylor (1907), p. 103.
  • Knowledge alone is the being of Nature,
    Giving a soul to her manifold features,
    Lighting through paths of the primitive darkness,
    The footsteps of Truth and the vision of Song.

    • Kilimandjaro (1852), Stanza 2; later published in The Poetical Works of Bayard Taylor (1907), p. 73.
  • From the Desert I come to thee
    On a stallion shod with fire;
    And the winds are left behind
    In the speed of my desire.
    Under thy window I stand,
    And the midnight hears my cry:
    I love thee, I love but thee,
    With a love that shall not die
    Till the sun grows cold,
    And the stars are old,
    And the leaves of the Judgment Book unfold!

    • “Bedouin Song” (1853), in The Poetical Works of Bayard Taylor (1907), p. 69.
  • They sang of love, and not of fame;
    Forgot was Britain’s glory;
    Each heart recalled a different name,
    But all sang Annie Lawrie.

    • “The Song of the Camp” (1856), in The Poetical Works of Bayard Taylor (1907), p. 86.
  • Sleep, soldiers! still in honored rest
    Your truth and valor wearing:
    The bravest are the tenderest,—
    The loving are the daring.

    • “The Song of the Camp” (1856), in The Poetical Works of Bayard Taylor (1907), p. 86.
  • Peace the offspring is of Power.
    • “A Thousand Years” (September 20, 1862), stanza 12; in The Poems (1866), p. 411.
  • The hollows are heavy and dank
    With the steam of the Goldenrods.

    • “The Guests of Night” (1871), st. 2, in The Poetical Works of Bayard Taylor (1907), p. 314.
  • All, wherein I have part,
    All that was loss or gain, Slips from the clasping heart,
    Breaks from the grasping brain.Lo, what is left? I am bare
    As a new-born soul, — I am naught:
    My deeds are dust in air,
    My words are ghosts of thought.
    I ride through the night alone,
    Detached from the life that seemed,
    And the best I have felt or known
    Is less than the least I dreamed.

    • “The Guests of Night” (1871), st. 3 – 4, in The Poetical Works of Bayard Taylor (1907), p. 314.
  • Once let the Angel blow! —
    A peal from the parted heaven,
    The first of seven!
    For the time is come that was foretold
    So long ago!
    As the avalanche gathers, huge and cold,
    From the down of the harmless snow,
    The years and the ages gather and hang
    Till the day when the word is spoken:
    When they that dwell in the end of time
    Are smitten alike for the early crime,
    As the vials of wrath are broken!

    • “Gabriel” in The Century : A Popular Quarterly, Volume 18 (1874), p. 617.
  • Yes, let the Angel blow!
    A peal from the parted heaven,
    The first of seven!—
    The warning, not yet the sign, of woe!
    That men arise
    And look about them with wakened eyes,
    Behold on their garments the dust and slime,
    Refrain, forbear,
    Accept the weight of a nobler care
    And take reproach from the fallen time!

    • “Gabriel” in The Century : A Popular Quarterly, Volume 18 (1874), p. 617.

The Poet’s Journal (1863)

  • Thunder-spasms the waking be
    Into Life from Apathy:
    Life, not Death, is in the gale, —
    Let the coming Doom prevail!

    • First Evening, “A Symbol”.
  • No visitors shall yonder valley find.
    Except the spirits of the rain and wind:
    Here you must bide, my friends, with me entombed
    In this dim crypt, where shelved around us lie
    The mummied authors.

    • “Third Evening”.
Georgios Jakobides
Georgios Iakobidis.JPG

Georgios Jakobides

Today is the birthday of Georgios Jakobides (Lesbos, Ottoman Empire 11 January 1853 – 13 December 1932 Athens); painter and one of the main representatives of the Greek artistic movement of the Munich School. He founded and was the first curator of the National Gallery of Greece in Athens.


Jakobides in his studio, photographed by Carl Teufel, 1883


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The Lovers’ Almanac 10 January – verse by Robinson Jeffers

Dear Zazie,  Here is today’s Lovers’ Almanac from Mac Tag dedicated to his muse.  Rhett

The Lovers’ Almanac – Pale Love, Pale Rider

Dear Muse,

Blinded by this wanderin’ light
Swear at night where the Fates plunge you
Always keep: your fadin’ pleasure
She escapes already
At least you have seen Shine
It will cross your path once again
Fallin’ you can take it with you
In the far far away
For She reigns at the bottom of the mournful sky
Ruthless bein’, contemplate sufferin’,
Considerin’ Her eternal eye, impassive,
It will come and go
On the edge of forever, and under this look,
A moment of love, be still your farewell
Do you see now, how it must be
For the unforgiven

© copyright 2016 mac tag/cowboy Coleridge all rights reserved

Robinson Jeffers

Robinson Jeffers, photographed by Carl Van Vechten, July 9, 1937

Today is the birthday of John Robinson Jeffers (Allegheny, Pennsylvania; January 10, 1887 – January 20, 1962 Carmel, Californai); American poet, known for his work about the central California coast.


  • O that our souls could scale a height like this,
    A mighty mountain swept o’er by the bleak
    Keen winds of heaven
    ; and, standing on that peak
    Above the blinding clouds of prejudice,
    Would we could see all truly as it is;
    The calm eternal truth would keep us meek.

    • A Hill-Top View (1904); This is one of his earliest poems, printed in the the Aurora, a student publication of Occidental College.
  • At the equinox when the earth was veiled in a late rain, wreathed with wet poppies, waiting spring
    The ocean swelled for a far storm and beat its boundary, the ground-swell shook the beds of granite.I gazing at the boundaries of granite and spray, the established sea-marks, felt behind me
    Mountain and plain, the immense breadth of the continent, before me the mass and double stretch of water.

    • “Continent’s End” in Tamar and Other Poems (1924)
  • The long migrations meet across you and it is nothing to you, you have forgotten us, mother.
    You were much younger when we crawled out of the womb and lay in the sun’s eye on the tideline.
    It was long and long ago; we have grown proud since then and you have grown bitter; life retains
    Your mobile soft unquiet strength; and envies hardness, the insolent quietness of stone.

    • “Continent’s End” in Tamar and Other Poems (1924)
  • The tides are in our veins, we still mirror the stars, life is your child, but there is in me
    Older and harder than life and more impartial, the eye that watched before there was an ocean.

    • “Continent’s End” in Tamar and Other Poems (1924)
  • Mother, though my song’s measure is like your surf-beat’s ancient rhythm I never learned it of you.
    Before there was any water there were tides of fire, both our tones flow from the older fountain.

    • “Continent’s End” in Tamar and Other Poems (1924)
  • Stone-cutters fighting time with marble, you fore-defeated
    Challengers of oblivion
    Eat cynical earnings, knowing rock splits, records fall down,
    The square-limbed Roman letters
    Scale in the thaws, wear in the rain.

    • “To The Stone-Cutters” in Tamar and Other Poems (1924)
  • Happy people die whole, they are all dissolved in a moment,
    they have had what they wanted

    • “Post Mortem” in The Women at Point Sur (1927)
  • I have seen these ways of God: I know of no reason
    For fire and change and torture and the old returnings.

    • “Apology for Bad Dreams” in The Women at Point Sur (1927)
  • I hate my verses, every line, every word.
    Oh pale and brittle pencils ever to try
    One grass-blade’s curve, or the throat of one bird
    That clings to twig, ruffled against white sky.

    Oh cracked and twilight mirrors ever to catch
    One color, one glinting flash, of the splendor of things.

    • “Love the Wild Swan” (1935)


  • This wild swan of a world is no hunter’s game.
    Better bullets than yours would miss the white breast
    Better mirrors than yours would crack in the flame.
    Does it matter whether you hate your . . . self?
    At least Love your eyes that can see, your mind that can
    Hear the music, the thunder of the wings. Love the wild swan.

    • “Love the Wild Swan” (1935)
  • Here is a symbol in which
    Many high tragic thoughts
    Watch their own eyes.

    • “Rock and Hawk” in Solstice and Other Poems (1935)
  • I think, here is your emblem
    To hang in the future sky;

    Not the cross, not the hive,
    But this; bright power, dark peace;
    Fierce consciousness joined with final
    Life with calm death; the falcon’s
    Realist eyes and act
    Married to the massive
    Mysticism of stone,
    Which failure cannot cast down
    Nor success make proud.

    • “Rock and Hawk” in Solstice and Other Poems (1935)
  • Then what is the answer? — Not to be deluded by dreams.
    To know that great civilizations have broken down into violence, and their tyrants come, many times before.
    When open violence appears, to avoid it with honor or choose the least ugly faction; these evils are essential.
    To keep one’s own integrity, be merciful and uncorrupted and not wish for evil; and not be duped
    By dreams of universal justice or happiness. These dreams will not be fulfilled.

    • “The Answer” (1936)
  • Know that however ugly the parts appear
    the whole remains beautiful.
    A severed hand
    Is an ugly thing and man dissevered from the earth and stars
    and his history… for contemplation or in fact…
    Often appears atrociously ugly. Integrity is wholeness,
    the greatest beauty is
    Organic wholeness, the wholeness of life and things, the divine beauty
    of the universe. Love that, not man
    Apart from that, or else you will share man’s pitiful confusions,
    or drown in despair when his days darken.

    • “The Answer” (1936)
  • There is no reason for amazement: surely one always knew that cultures decay, and life’s end is death.
    • “The Purse-Seine” (1937)
  • Reason will not decide at last; the sword will decide.
    The sword: an obsolete instrument of bronze or steel,
    formerly used to kill men, but here
    In the sense of a symbol.

    • “Contemplation of The Sword” (1938)
  • Dear God, who are the whole splendor of things and the sacred
    stars, but also the cruelty and greed, the treacheries
    And vileness, insanities and filth and anguish: now that this
    thing comes near us again I am finding it hard
    To praise you with a whole heart.

    • “Contemplation of The Sword” (1938)
  • I sadly smiling remember that the flower fades to make fruit, the fruit rots
    to make earth.

    • “Shine, Perishing Republic” (1939)
  • Meteors are not needed less than mountains:
    shine, perishing republic.

    • “Shine, Perishing Republic” (1939)
  • Corruption never has been compulsory; when the cities lie at the monster’s feet there are left the mountains.
    • “Shine, Perishing Republic” (1939)
  • And boys, be in nothing so moderate as in love of man, a clever servant,
    insufferable master.
    There is the trap that catches noblest spirits, that caught — they say —
    God, when he walked on earth.

    • “Shine, Perishing Republic” (1939)
  • The world’s in a bad way, my man,
    And bound to be worse before it mends
    Better lie up in the mountain here
    Four or five centuries,
    While the stars go over the lonely ocean…

    • “The Stars Go Over The Lonely Ocean” (1940)
  • Keep clear of the dupes that talk democracy
    And the dogs that talk revolution
    Drunk with talk, liars and believers.
    I believe in my tusks.
    Long live freedom and damn the ideologies.

    • “The Stars Go Over The Lonely Ocean” (1940)
  • That public men publish falsehoods
    Is nothing new. That America must accept
    Like the historical republics corruption and empire
    Has been known for years.
    Be angry at the sun for setting
    If these things anger you.

    • “Be Angry At The Sun” (1941)
  • The gang serves lies, the passionate
    Man plays his part; the cold passion for truth
    Hunts in no pack.

    • “Be Angry At The Sun” (1941)

I will have shepherds for my philosophers,
Tall dreary men lying on the hills all night
Watching the stars, let their dogs watch the sheep.
And I’ll have lunatics
For my poets, strolling from farm to farm, wild liars distorting
The country news into supernaturalism —
For all men to such minds are devils or gods — and that increases
Man’s dignity, man’s importance, necessary lies
Best told by fools.

  • “The Silent Shepherds” (1958)
  • Science and mathematics
    Run parallel to reality, they symbolize it, they squint at it,
    They never touch it
    : consider what an explosion
    Would rock the bones of men into little white fragments and unsky the world
    If any mind for a moment touch truth.

    • “The Silent Shepherds” (1958)
  • He is no God of love, no justice of a little city like
    Dante’s Florence, no anthropoid God
    Making commandments: this is the God who does not
    care and will never cease.
    Look at the seas there
    Flashing against this rock in the darkness — look at the
    tide-stream stars — and the fall of nations — and dawn
    Wandering with wet white feet down the Carmel Valley
    to meet the sea. These are real and we see their beauty.
    The great explosion is probably only a metaphor — I know
    not — of faceless violence, the root of all things.

    • “The Great Explosion” in the posthumous publication The Beginning and the End (1973)
  • Come little ones,
    You are worth no more than the foxes and yellow
    wolfkins, yet I will give you wisdom.
    O future children:
    Trouble is coming; the world as of the present time
    Sails on its rocks; but you will be born and live
    Afterwards. Also a day will come when the earth
    Will scratch herself and smile and rub off humanity
    But you will be born before that.Time will come, no doubt,
    When the sun too shall die; the planets will freeze,
    and the air on them; frozen gases, white flasks of air
    Will be dust: which no wind ever will stir: this very
    dust in dim starlight glistening
    Is dead wind, the white corpse of wind.
    Also the galaxy will die; the glitter of the Milky Way,
    our universe, all the stars that have names are dead.
    Vast is the night. How you have grown, dear night,
    walking your empty halls, how tall!

    • The Double Axe and Other Poems, including eleven suppressed poems (1977) II.The Inhumanist XLV
  • When the sun shouts and people abound
    One thinks there were the ages of stone and the age of bronze
    And the iron age; iron the unstable metal;
    Steel made of iron, unstable as his mother; the towered-up cities
    Will be stains of rust on mounds of plaster.
    Roots will not pierce the heaps for a time, kind rains will cure them,
    Then nothing will remain of the iron age
    And all these people but a thigh-bone or so, a poem
    Stuck in the world’s thought, splinters of glass
    In the rubbish dumps, a concrete dam far off in the mountain…

    • “Summer Holiday”


  • The extraordinary patience of things!
    This beautiful place defaced with a crop of suburban houses —
    How beautiful when we first beheld it,
    Unbroken field of poppy and lupin walled with clean cliffs;
    No intrusion but two or three horses pasturing…

    • “Carmel Point”
  • Now the spoiler has come: does it care?
    Not faintly. It has all time. It knows the people are a tide
    That swells and in time will ebb, and all
    Their works dissolve.
    Meanwhile the image of the pristine beauty
    Lives in the very grain of the granite,
    Safe as the endless ocean that climbs our cliff. — As for us:
    We must uncenter our minds from ourselves;
    We must unhumanize our views a little, and become confident
    As the rock and ocean that we were made from.

    • “Carmel Point”
  • Against the outcrop boulders of a raised beach
    We built our house when I and my love were young.

    • “The Last Conservative”
  • The rock-cheeks have red fire-stains.
    But the place was maiden, no previous
    Building, no neighbors, nothing but the elements,
    Rock, wind, and sea; in moon-struck nights the mountain
    Coyotes howled in our dooryard; or doe and fawn
    Stared in the lamplit window, We raised two boys here
    All that we saw or heard was beautiful
    And hardly human.
    Oh heavy change.
    The world deteriorates like a rotting apple, worms and a skin.
    They have built streets around us, new houses
    Line them and cars obsess them — and my dearest has died.
    The ocean at least is not changed at all,Cold, grim, and faithful; and I still keep a hard edge of forest
    Haunted by long gray squirrels and hoarse herons.

    • “The Last Conservative”
  • If you should look for this place after a handful of lifetimes:
    Perhaps of my planted forest a few
    May stand yet
    , dark-leaved Australians or the coast cypress, haggard
    With storm-drift; but fire and the axe are devils.
    Look for foundations of sea-worn granite, my fingers had the art
    To make stone love stone, you will find some remnant.

    But if you should look in your idleness after ten thousand years:
    It is the granite knoll on the granite
    And lava tongue in the midst of the bay, by the mouth of the Carmel
    River Valley; these four will remain
    In the changes of names. You will know it by the wild sea-fragrance of the wind.

    • “Tor House”
  • Here from this mountain shore, headland beyond stormy headland
    plunging like dolphins through the blue sea-smoke
    Into pale sea — look west at the hill of water: it is half the planet:
    this dome, this half-globe, this bulging
    Eyeball of water, arched over to Asia,
    Australia and white Antarctica: those are the eyelids that never close;
    this is the staring unsleeping
    Eye of the earth; and what it watches is not our wars.

    • “The Eye”

Mac Tag

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The Lovers’ Almanac 9 January – Awakenin’ – What Could Be – Simone de Beauvoir

Dear Zazie,  Here is today’s Lovers’ Almanac from Mac Tag dedicated to his muse.  Rhett

The Lovers’ Almanac – Pale Love, Pale Rider

Dear Muse,

bent, for sure
time will tell

an awakenin’
a “to be or not to be”
moment for sure
this is tough
it would be so easy
to do nothin’
to take the path
of least resistance
to stay on the sidelines
and watch and write
as time slips away

© copyright 2018 mac tag/cowboycoleridge all rights reserved

When a breath passes through your lips,
On streams holdin’ you suspended
At the entrance, prone spread open
Through you distraught
On this heart that will soon harden
Another sufferin’ vain point of view,
Feel you, helpless, you hug
Infinity in your arms
Delusions, these desires without measure
Rampagin’ in your flanks as ardent swarms
Such transport is already the future
That stirs in you
It will dissolve, this touch
That launched feelin’s of joy and pain
The winds disperse this dust
Which was once a heartbeat
Will other hearts emerge which will renew 
Your broken hopes, of your love extinguished,
Perpetuatin’ your tears, your dreams, your flame,
In distant ages
All feelin’s, form a chain
The torch of what could be
Quick take the truth
And make it turn
© copyright 2016 mac tag/cowboy Coleridge all rights reserved
Simone de Beauvoir
Simone de Beauvoir.jpg

De Beauvoir in 1968
Simone de Beauvoir and Jean-Paul Sartre in Beijing, 1955.

Today is the birthday of Simone Lucie Ernestine Marie Bertrand de Beauvoir (Paris; 9 January 1908 – 14 April 1986 Paris); French writer, intellectual, existentialist philosopher, political activist, feminist and social theorist.  Though she did not consider herself a philosopher, she had a significant influence on both feminist existentialism and feminist theory.

De Beauvoir wrote novels, essays, biographies, autobiography and monographs on philosophy, politics and social issues.  She was known for her 1949 treatise Le Deuxième Sexe (The Second Sex), a detailed analysis of women’s oppression and a foundational tract of contemporary feminism; and for her novels, including She Came to Stay and The Mandarins.  She was also known for her lifelong open relationship with French philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre.

During October 1929, Jean-Paul Sartre and De Beauvoir became a couple and, after they were confronted by her father, Sartre asked her to marry him.  De Beauvoir said, “Marriage was impossible. I had no dowry.”  So they entered a lifelong relationship.  De Beauvoir chose never to marry and did not set up a joint household with Sartre.  She never had children.  This gave her time to earn an advanced academic degree, to join political causes, to travel, to write, to teach and to have lovers (both male and female; the latter sometimes shared with Sartre).

Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir at the Balzac Memorial

Le Deuxième Sexe, 1949

On ne naît pas femme : on le devient.

  • Le Deuxième Sexe, Simone de Beauvoir, éd. Gallimard, 1950, t. II. L’expérience vécue, partie première: Formation, chap. premier: Enfance, p. 13

Le propre des manies et des vices, c’est d’engager la liberté à vouloir ce qu’elle ne veut pas.

  • Le Deuxième Sexe (1949), Simone de Beauvoir, éd. Gallimard, coll. « Folio », 1976, t. II. L’expérience vécue, p. 266

La femme est vouée à l’immoralité parce que la morale consiste pour elle à incarner une inhumaine entité : la femme forte, la mère admirable, l’honnête femme etc.

  • Le Deuxième Sexe (1949), Simone de Beauvoir, éd. Gallimard, coll. « Folio », 1976, t. II. L’expérience vécue, p. 310

C’est la femme qui travaille – paysanne, chimiste ou écrivain – qui a la grossesse la plus facile du fait qu’elle ne se fascine pas sur sa propre personne ; c’est la femme qui a la vie personnelle la plus riche qui donnera le plus à l’enfant et qui lui demandera le moins, c’est celle qui acquiert dans l’effort, dans la lutte, la connaissance des vraies valeurs humaines qui sera la meilleure éducatrice.

  • Le Deuxième Sexe (1949), Simone de Beauvoir, éd. Gallimard, coll. « Folio », 1976, t. II. L’expérience vécue, p. 384

Si l’on dit que les hommes oppriment les femmes, le mari s’indigne, mais le fait est que c’est le code masculin, c’est la société élaborée par les mâles et dans leur intérêt qui a défini la condition féminine sous une forme qui est à présent pour les deux sexes une source de tourments.

  • Le Deuxième Sexe (1949), Simone de Beauvoir, éd. Gallimard, coll. « Folio », 1976, t. II. L’expérience vécue, p. 237

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