Dear Zazie, Here is today’s Lovers’ Chronicle from Mac Tag.
The Lovers’ Chronicle
Dear Muse,
© copyright 2020 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved
findin’
visions
dreams
come
moved by
the extraordinary
believin’
echoes of hope
once thought vain
but for you
this would not
be happenin’
so i vow
to continue
to strive
to bring you
nearer
to seek
beyond
the ordinary
© copyright 2018 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved
“Well hello there
My it’s been a long long time
How am I doin'”
well, i believe
i am beginnin’
to feel again
one year on from havin’
a cold, cold heart damn near stop
and one week in on a new beginnin’
cannot tell you how it feels
to find that hope did not
give up on me even though
i gave up on her, long ago
cannot say it any better than willie did…
“It’s been rough and rocky travelin’
But I’m finally standing upright on the ground”
“After takin’ several readings I’m surprised
To find my mind’s still fairly sound”
and i do believe i am beginnin’
to find myself
© copyright 2017 mac tag/cowboy Coleridge all rights reserved
Ridin’ up the canyon,
Twilight gathers under the walls
Gradually the objects low down
turned black, and this blackness
moved up the walls till night
enfolded the pass
The sky darkened; stars began
to show, first pale, then bright
Now unsaddled, camp made,
composed to await sleep
Night on the High Plains
most satisfyin’
The night’s wildness, loneliness;
When the full silence sets in,
and the deep darkness,
and trains of radiant stars
shine cold and calm, sleep
comes with the familiar ache
© copyright 2016 Mac tag all rights reserved
Today is the birthday of Lisa del Giocondo (née Gherardini; Via Maggio, Florence 15 June 1479 – 15 July 1542 or ca. 1551 Convent of Saint Orsola, Florence) also known as Lisa Gherardini, Lisa di Antonio Maria (or Antonmaria) Gherardini and Mona Lisa; a member of the Gherardini family of Florence and Tuscany in Italy. Her name was given to Mona Lisa, her portrait commissioned by her husband and painted by Leonardo da Vinci during the Italian Renaissance.
Married in her teens to a cloth and silk merchant who later became a local official, she was a mother to five children and led what is thought to have been a comfortable and ordinary middle-class life.
Centuries after Lisa’s death, Mona Lisa became one of the world’s most famous paintings and took on a life separate from Lisa, the woman.
Today is the birthday of Adah Isaacs Menken (June 15, 1835 – August 10, 1868 Paris); actress, painter and poet. Perhaps best known for her performance in the melodrama Mazeppa, with a climax that featured her apparently nude and riding a horse on stage. After success for a few years with the play in New York and San Francisco, she appeared in a production in London and Paris, from 1864 to 1866. After a brief trip back to the United States, she returned to Europe. However, she became ill within two years and died in Paris at the age of 33.
As Menken told so many versions of her origins, including her name, place of birth, ancestry, and religion, historians have differed in their accounts. Most have said she was born a Louisiana Creole Catholic of mixed race, with European and African ancestry. She married several times and was also known for her affairs.
Even though she was better known as an actress, Menken wanted to be known as a writer. She published about 20 essays, 100 poems, and a book of her collected poems, from 1855 to 1868 (the book was published posthumously). Her collection Infelicia, went through several editions and was in print until 1902.
“I am lost to art and life. Yet, when all is said and done, have I not at my age tasted more of life than most women who live to be a hundred? It is fair, then, that I should go where old people go.”
Dreams Of Beauty
Visions of Beauty, of Light, and of Love,
Born in the soul of a Dream,
Lost, like the phantom-bird under the dove,
When she flies over a stream-
Come ye through portals where angel wings droop,
Moved by the heaven of sleep?
Or, are ye mockeries, crazing a soul,
Doomed with its waking to weep?
I could believe ye were shadows of earth,
Echoes of hopes that are vain,
But for the music ye bring to my heart,
Waking its sunshine again.
And ye are fleeting. All vainly I strive
Beauties like thine to portray;
Forth from my pencil the bright picture starts,
And-ye have faded away.
Like to a bird that soars up from the spray,
When we would fetter its wing;
Like to the song that spurns Memory’s grasp
When the voice yearneth to sing;
Like the cloud-glory that sunset lights up,
When the storm bursts from its height;
Like the sheet-silver that rolls on the sea,
When it is touched by the night-
Bright, evanescent, ye come and are gone,
Visions of mystical birth;
Art that could paint you was never vouchsafed
Unto the children of earth.
Yet in my soul there’s a longing to tell
All you have seemed unto me,
That unto others a glimpse of the skies
You in their sorrow might be.
Vain is the wish. Better hope to describe
All that the spirit desires,
When through a cloud of vague fancies and schemes
Flash the Promethean fires.
Let me then think of ye, Visions of Light,
Not as the tissue of dreams,
But as realities destined to be
Bright in Futurity’s beams.
Ideals formed by a standard of earth
Sink at Reality’s shrine
Into the human and weak like ourselves,
Losing the essence divine;
But the fair pictures that fall from above
On the heart’s mirror sublime
Carry a signature written in tints,
Bright with the future of time.
And the heart, catching them, yieldeth a spark
Under each stroke of the rod-
Sparks that fly upward and light the New Life,
Burning an incense to God!
Just to Satisfy You
Someone’s gonna get hurt before you’re through
Someone’s gonna pay for the things you do
How many hearts must break, how many will it take
To satisfy you, just to satisfy you
Another love, another fool
To play your game
Another love, another fool
They’re all the same
Someone’s gonna get hurt before you’re through
Don’t be surprised if that someone is you
You’re gonna find when it’s too late, a heart that just won’t break
To satisfy you, just to satisfy you
How many tears were cried, how many dreams have died
To satisfy you, just to satisfy you
15/06/2016 at 9:01 pm Permalink
An ache of loneliness, of what could have been?
15/06/2016 at 9:02 pm Permalink
See you found your inspiration even where you lie