The Lovers’ Chronicle 13 July – a difference – verse by John Clare – art by Mordecai Ardon

Dear Zazie,  Here is Mac Tag‘s Lovers’ Chronicle to his muse.  Follow us on twitter @cowboycoleridge.  Rhett

The Lovers’ Chronicle 

Dear Muse,

weary, i haste to bed,
the dear repose for limbs
tired and worn, so to begin
the journeys in my dreams
not sure i can learn how to compromise
the wild dream ideals and the necessary
realities without comin’ apart at the seams
my only interest, lies here with you

© copyright 2020 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

the blankets closer about
passin’ out of shadows into
the wan moonlight

glancin’ at the face
upturned, the eyes
wide, lookin’ back

would that the thievin’ minutes
fold up that we might never part

i think that we most
need to talk and grieve
for that is the best music

© copyright 2019 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

i hid most of the time
till i could not bear it
i hid to my despite

along the way,
a memory left in each place
wherever need arose

pause and gaze
in wide wonder

a kiss and bid good bye

© copyright 2018 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

Oh, would that I were able to kiss you now…

Wrappin’ the blankets closer
about her, he carried her
From time to time, passin’
out of the black shadows
into the wan moonlight,
he glanced at the white face
of the girl lyin’ in his arms

He laid her down in the shallow
hollow of a little ridge
With her face upturned,
she opened her eyes,
wide, starin’ black
“Is— it— you?”
Yes
“Where— are we?”
In a safe place
Do not be afraid
“Are we— in a cave?”
Yes
“Oh, listen!… The waterfall!…
I hear it! You’ve brought me back!”
Rest came that night
But no sleep
They did not want sleep
Above them, over the dark rim
of the cliff , shone the stars
Tonight they were different

As they lay there
with the sighin’ cliff winds
in there ears, the stars above,
they felt the difference

© Mac tag copyright 2016 all rights reserved

John Clare
John Clare.jpg

by William Hilton,
oil on canvas, 1820

Today is the birthday of John Clare (Helpston, Soke of Peterborough 13 July 1793 – 20 May 1864 Northampton General Lunatic Asylum); poet, the son of a farm labourer, who came to be known for his celebratory representations of the English countryside and his lamentation of its disruption.

  • I hid my love when young till I
    Couldn’t bear the buzzing of a fly;
    I hid my love to my despite
    Till I could not bear to look at light:
    I dare not gaze upon her face
    But left her memory in each place;
    Where eer I saw a wild flower lie
    I kissed and bade my love good bye.

    • “Secret Love”
  • I hid my love in field and town
    Till een the breeze would knock me down,
    The bees seemed singing ballads oer,
    The fly’s bass turned a lion’s roar;
    And even silence found a tongue,
    To haunt me all the summer long;
    The riddle nature could not prove
    Was nothing else but secret love.

    • “Secret Love”

Today is the birthday of Mordecai Ardon (Hebrew: מרדכי ארדון‎, July 13, 1896 – June 18, 1992) painter. Ardon was seen as the father of the regional approach in Israeli art.

Gallery

Mordecai_Ardon

 

20220713_193353

tammuz 1962

tammuz 1962

Girl, 1950

Girl, 1950

Eve

Eve

Mac Tag

Song of the day Sixpence None the Richer – “Kiss Me”

Thou art supreme Love–kiss me–I am thine!Emma Lazarus

So you must go; kiss me before you go. 

Oh, would the busy minutes might fold up 

Their thieving wings that we might never part.

– W.B. Yeats

I often think that what we most need now is a great humorist.Isak Dinesen

 To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance. – Oscar Wilde

It’s a hell of a responsibility to be yourself. It’s much easier to be somebody else or nobody at all. – Sylvia Plath

Let’s talk and grieve,

For that’s the sweetest music for sad souls.

W.B. Yeats

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