The Lovers’ Chronicle 11 January – solo – verse by Bayard Taylor – art by Georgios Jakobides

11 January 2024 By Rhett 0 In Love, Poems, Random, Songs

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

The Lovers’ Chronicle

Dear Muse,

from a desert i came to thee
solo on verse shod with feelin’s
and the past left far behind
in the arms of desire under
our will we start and time
hears us and i but thee
with all that will be
under no illusions
as long as we
have words
and pulse

been puttin’ off

doin’ some things

that needed doin’

because, why

now i have a reason

absolutely revelin’

in this new found

reason for bein’

decidin’ to be,

to share this vision

to be half of a whole

roses never opened

for you before

now all that we want

will open for us

Pale Love, Pale Rider

from without i come

on verse shod only

with how i feel

and left behind

in desire,

under no illusion,

i cannot let that happen

who might hear the cry

of words not said, of loss

and best served in solitude

till the verse runs out

and the pulse no more

i am grown old

before the dream…

alone became
all there could be
ridin’ down the same trail
weathered, hardened,
beard mostly grey
long blonde hair
under a hat, black
as a fire-gutted citadel
pale blue eyes
fightin’ back the years

come and stand at dusk
same spot each time
turn the words loose
or they will grow
too crowded to relieve

carefully chosen, softly spoken
words, flyin’ all round then
they float, ridin’ the wind
into the shadows
that wait for night

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

Solo

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 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

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

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

Verse

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.

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.

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 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.