The Lovers’ Chronicle 11 February – mirrors – ode for Sheli – Napoleon’s Love Letter to Josephine – art by Ellen Day Hale & Carlo Carrà

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

Dear Zazie, Here is today’s Lovers’ Chronicle from Mac Tag. Follow us on twitter @cowboycoleridge. With Valentine’s Day around the corner, who will your thoughts turn to? Are you caught between two visions? Rhett

The Lovers’ Chronicle

Dear Muse,

“On the wall”
no, not goin’ that way
“Where it came from”
yes, the search
“For miseries”
reflections, reminders
“For confirmation”
that probin’ those feelin’s
were the only way
not to succumb
“Glad you did not”
moi aussi
but it had to come out
“Agree”
now come here you
the fairest of them all

found a poem by Wordsworth

that describes you near perfect

have you been holdin’ out on me

are you a time traveler

if so, then shorten

our time apart

until then,

mio dolce amor,

think about this,

i ask of you, only

your belief in us

and your trust

in this vision

we are creatin’

for Sheli

a long time ago
in a place far far away…

in the space of time
it was only an instant
when you lived
across the street
yet the memories are vivid

a kiss one night on my back porch
you said i tasted like chili

the night you chased a skunk
in my front yard

the night in my room
you asked me
if i wanted to screw
then you tossed me a screw

the last time i saw you
in the parking lot
of the Travelodge
in Amarillo
we kissed and i said
i would call you…

i never did

it is one of the favorite chapters
of my life that you reached out
those many years later

thank you

movin’ on
seekin’ reflections
buildin’ this place

all i ask
may it hasten the arrival
provide enough comfort

the same thoughts
pictures, memories
of yesterdays
of evenin’s past

what effect you have
have not spent a day
without these thoughts
have not spent a night
without embracin’
what is left

have not so much as had one doubt
about the fates which have intervened
and the reflections that can be seen

in the midst of the day,
whether workin’ or writin’
listenin’ to music
or immersed in art
one stands alone
in all that is done

“What are you looking for?”
nothin’, hope maybe
hell if I know
“I think I know.”
oh yeah, what
“Mirrors. Mirrors
of your pain.”

a feelin’, a process
of bein’ slowly purged
of need, that had lain
dormant within for years

just tryin’ to say
a little
of what is inside
but cannot
find the words
nor the voice
to utter them

Valentine’s Day is this week, and we are celebratin’ with love letters from the literary world and beyond.

There are many prevailing popular perceptions of Emperor Napoleon of France. While his name does not often conjure images of a sweet hopeless romantic who pined for an older woman, the letters he wrote to his beloved Josephine reveal as much. In December 1795, he wrote to her:

“I wake filled with thoughts of you. Your portrait and the intoxicating evening which we spent yesterday have left my senses in turmoil. Sweet, incomparable Josephine, what a strange effect you have on my heart! … You are leaving at noon; I shall see you in three hours. Until then, mio dolce amor, a thousand kisses; but give me none in return, for they set my blood on fire.”

Napoleon and Josephine were married in 1796; he was 26 and she was 32, a widow. He wrote to her from all across Europe, when he was out waging military campaigns. The year they married he wrote to her:

I have not spent a day without loving you; I have not spent a night without embracing you; I have not so much as drunk one cup of tea without cursing the pride and ambition which force me to remain apart from the moving spirit of my life. In the midst of my duties, whether I am at the head of my army or inspecting the camps, my beloved Josephine stands alone in my heart, occupies my mind, fills my thoughts. If I am moving away from you with the speed of the Rhone torrent, it is only that I may see you again more quickly. If I rise to work in the middle of the night, it is because this may hasten by a matter of days the arrival of my sweet love. … I ask of you neither eternal love, nor fidelity, but simply … truth, unlimited honesty. The day you say ‘I love you less,’ will mark the end of my love and the last day of my life. If my heart were base enough to love without being loved in return I would tear it to pieces. Josephine! Josephine! Remember what I have sometimes said to you: Nature has endowed me with a virile and decisive character. It has built ours out of lace and gossamer. Have you ceased to love me? Forgive me, love of my life, my soul is racked by conflicting forces.

My heart, obsessed by you, is full of fears which prostrate me with misery … I am distressed not to be calling you by name. I shall wait for you to write it. Farewell! Ah! If you love me less you can never have loved me. In that case I shall truly be pitiable.

Bonaparte

P.S. — The war this year has changed beyond recognition. I have had meat, bread, and fodder distributed; my armed cavalry will soon be on the march. My soldiers are showing inexpressible confidence in me; you alone are a source of chagrin to me; you alone are the joy and torment of my life.

So naturally, I could not resist turnin’ these letters into poems. The Song of the Day goes on the list of all-time great songs. Hope you like……

Thoughts of You

Wake, filled with thoughts of you
Your picture and the memories
Of evenin’s which we spent
In our yesterdays
Have left me in turmoil
Sweet, incomparable Muse,
What an effect you have
Have not spent a day
Without lovin’ you;
Have not spent a night
Without embracin’ you
Have not so much as had one thought,
Without cursin’ the fates which forced me
Apart from the movin’ spirit of my life
In the midst of my day, whether
I am workin’ cattle or ridin’ fences,
Whether I am readin’ or writin’
My Muse stands alone in my dreams,
Occupies my mind, fills my thoughts
If only you filled my arms instead

Between Two Visions

Remember when;
Found a poem by Wordsworth
That described you near perfect

Accused you of holdin’ out on me
By not tellin’ you were a time traveler
Now is the time to turn the clock back

11 February 1890 Denver CO

Dear Muse,

Leavin’ at noon; shall see you in three days
Until then, mio dolce amor, thousand of kisses;
But give none in return,
For they set my blood on fire

If by movin’ out here
Seemed that I was movin’ away
From you with the speed of a good horse,
It is only that I may build this dream
Only that we may have this place
To grow with us and sustain us
When I rise before daylight,
It is because this may hasten
By one day, your arrival

I ask of you, only love
The day you say ‘I love you less, ‘
Will mark the end,
The last day
If my heart were base enough
To love without bein’ loved
In return, I would cast it aside

Remember what I have said:
Nature has endowed me with a vision
Hopefully, yours is built of patience
For not happenstance but only death
Can halt what has already begun
I cannot be handled, but
I can be held for a little while
I pray these little whiles are enough
I pray you continue
To hold on to the reins

Were you to cease to love
My soul would be conflicted
My heart, obsessed by you and this vision,
Fills with fear; prostrates with misery
Distresses so, to even think so

Then this: If you love less
You can never have loved
In that case I shall truly be pitiable
I remain, your devoted,

Mac Tag

P. S. The ranch this year
Has changed beyond recogntion
My confidence in success is inexpressible;
You alone; a source of chagrin to me
You alone; the joy and torment of my life

Ellen Day Hale
Self-Portrait, oil on canvas, 1885, (28 1/2″ x 39″) Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

Today is the birthday of Ellen Day Hale (Worcester, Massachusetts; February 11, 1855 – February 11, 1940 Brooklin, Massachusetts); Impressionist painter and printmaker from Boston. She studied art in Paris and during her adult life lived in Paris, London and Boston. She exhibited at the Paris Salon and the Royal Academy of Arts. Hale wrote the book History of Art: A Study of the Lives of Leonardo, Michelangelo, Raphael, Titian, and Albrecht Dürer and mentored the next generation of New England female artists, paving the way for widespread acceptance of female artists.

Although Hale never married, she found a lifelong partner in fellow artist Gabrielle de Veaux Clements, whom she met in 1883. Hale and Clements became close friends in 1885 while they were enrolled at the Académie Julian in Paris. While traveling and studying in Europe together, Clements taught Hale how to etch. In 1893, the two artists returned to the United States. They moved into a house near Gloucester, Massachusetts together and named it “The Thickets”.

Gallery

Portrait

20230212_142030

Woman reclining with guitar

Lilies, circa 1890s, oil on canvas (26″ x 15″)

Morning News, 1905, oil on canvas (50″ x 36″)

Summer Place, 1925, watercolor

June, 1893, oil on canvas (24″ x 18 1/8″)

Carlo Carrà
Carrà in front of Le Figaro, Paris, February 9, 1912

Today is the birthday of Carlo Carrà (Quargnento, Italy February 11, 1881 – April 13, 1966 Milan); painter and a leading figure of the Futurist movement that flourished in Italy during the beginning of the 20th century. In addition to his many paintings, he wrote a number of books concerning art. He taught for many years in the city of Milan.

Gallery

cavalieri dell’apocalisse

Donna Che si Asciuga

1911, The Funeral of the Anarchist Galli, oil on canvas, 198.7 x 259.1 cm, Museum of Modern Art, New York
1911, Rhythms of Objects (Ritmi d’oggetti), oil on canvas, 53 x 67 cm, Pinacoteca di Brera
1912, Woman on the Balcony, (Simultaneità, La donna al balcone), Collezione R. Jucker, Milan, Italy
1917, Il cavaliere dello spirito occidentale (Western Horseman), 52 x 67 cm, private collection
1918, L’Ovale delle Apparizioni (The Oval of Apparition), oil on canvas, 92 x 60 cm, Galleria Nazionale d’Arte Moderna, Rome, or Collezioni R. Jucker, Milan
Il cavaliere rosso