Dear Zazie,
Here is today’s Lovers’ Chronicle from Mac Tag.
Rhett
The Lovers’ Chronicle
Dear Muse,
that is yet another way
of lookin’ at all this verse
“Every one tells a story don’t it”
yes they do
from the High Plains
to Avondale and Peachtree
“From Beverly Beach to Nashville”
from the High to the Brooklyn
“From your daily chronicles”
but most important,
the pictures of us
tellin’ our story
© copyright 2023 mac tag/cowboycoleridge all rights reserved
oh so may come to mind
from the past to the present
the past ruled by the High Plains
and many missteps, some worse
than others, the worst the ones
repeated because i chased
what could not be caught
the present all about us
the places we have been
and to the future
of what will be
© copyright 2022.2023 mac tag/cowboycoleridge all rights reserved
© copyright 2021 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved
© copyright 2020 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved
when you make
a wish tonight…
far up the sunset
the last light dances
over the high plains
light grows faint, silent
and still we are, unheeded
star on star it comes
our communion
completes
the view
only our eyes can see
© copyright 2019 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved
see…
twilight spreads
over the high plains
stars begin their dance
across the big open sky
nothin’ but the wind
and the coyotes howl
for company
hard to imagine out here
a higher beauty
except of course
the pictures of you
that play out
in this wanderers dreams
© copyright 2018 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved
Pale Love, Pale Rider
pictures
beginnin’
to break up
blown away
the wind is pullin’
ever so gently
the idea
of without
as the end
somewhat harder
than before
wonder why
beyond all that
amazin’ and marvelous
yes, but only if you have it
and i do not have it
the pictures are fadin’
© copyright 2016 Mac Tag all rights reserved
Today is the birthday of George William Russell (County Armagh 10 April 1867 – 17 July 1935 Bournemouth, England) who wrote with the pseudonym Æ (sometimes written AE or A.E.); writer, editor, critic, poet, artistic painter and Irish nationalist. He was also a writer on mysticism, and a central personage in the group of devotees of theosophy which met in Dublin for many years.
In 1898, he married Violet North. Frank O’Connor, who was a close friend of Russell in their later years, remarked that his family life was something of a mystery even to those who knew him best: O’Connor noticed that he never spoke about his wife and seemed to be at odds with his sons. While his marriage was rumoured to be unhappy, all his friends agreed that Violet’s death in 1932 was a great blow to Russell.
Gallery
Bathers
Figures by a Moonlit Sea
Verse
Far up the dim twilight fluttered
Moth-wings of vapour and flame:
The lights danced over the mountains,
Star after star they came.
The lights grew thicker unheeded,
For silent and still were we;
Our hearts were drunk with a beauty
Our eyes could never see.
- “The Unknown God” (1913)
Let thy young wanderer dream on:
Call him not home.
A door opens, a breath a voice
From the ancient room,
Speaks to him now. Be it dark or bright
He is knit with his doom.
- “Germinal” in Vale and Other Poems (1931)
I thought, beloved, to have brought to you
A gift of quietness and ease and peace,
Cooling your brow as with the mystic dew
Dropping from twilight trees.
Homeward I go not yet; the darkness grows;
Not mine the voice to still with peace divine:
From the first fount the stream of quiet flows
Through other hearts than mine.
Yet of my night I give to you the stars,
And of my sorrow here the sweetest gains,
And out of hell, beyond its iron bars,
My scorn of all its pains.
The great deep thrills for through it everywhere
The breath of beauty blows.
A Vision of Beauty
- Where we sat at dawn together, while the star-rich heavens shifted,
We were weaving dreams in silence, suddenly the veil was lifted.
By a hand of fire awakened, in a moment caught and led
Upward to the wondrous vision: through the star-mists overhead
Flare and flaunt the monstrous highlands; on the sapphire coast of night
Fall the ghostly froth and fringes of the ocean of the light.
- We and it and all together flashing through the starry spaces
In a tempest dream of beauty lighting up the place of places.
Half our eyes behold the glory: half within the spirit’s glow
Echoes of the noiseless revels and the will of beauty go.
By a hand of fire uplifted—to her star-strewn palace brought,
To the mystic heart of beauty and the secret of her thought:
- Here the wild will woke within her lighting up her flying dreams,
Round and round the planets whirling break in woods and flowers and streams,
And the winds are shaken from them as the leaves from off the rose,
And the feet of earth go dancing in the way that beauty goes,
And the souls of earth are kindled by the incense of her breath
As her light alternate lures them through the gates of birth and death.
- O’er the fields of space together following her flying traces,
In a radiant tumult thronging, suns and stars and myriad races
Mount the spirit spires of beauty, reaching onward to the day
When the Shepherd of the Ages draws his misty hordes away
Through the glimmering deeps to silence, and within the awful fold
Life and joy and love forever vanish as a tale is told,
Lost within the mother’s being. So the vision flamed and fled,
And before the glory fallen every other dream lay dead.
Alter Ego
- All the morn a spirit gay
Breathes within my heart a rhyme,
‘Tis but hide and seek we play
In and out the courts of Time.
- Where the ring of twilight gleams
Round the sanctuary wrought,
Whispers haunt me — in my dreams
We are one yet know it not.
Some for beauty follow long
Flying traces; some there be
Seek thee only for a song:
I to lose myself in thee.
A Woman’s Voice
- When the lips I breathed upon
Asked for such love as equals claim
I looked where all the stars were gone
Burned in the day’s immortal flame.
“Come thou like yon great dawn to me
From darkness vanquished, battles done:
Flame unto flame shall flow and be
Within thy heart and mine as one.“
Today is the birthday of Alfred Kubin (Alfred Leopold Isidor Kubin; 10 April 1877 – 20 August 1959 Zwickledt near Wernstein am Inn, Austria); printmaker, illustrator, and occasional writer. Kubin is considered an important representative of Symbolism and Expressionism.
Kubin is noted for dark, spectral, symbolic fantasies, often assembled into thematic series of drawings. Like Oskar Kokoschka and Albert Paris Gütersloh, Kubin had both artistic and literary talent. He illustrated works of Edgar Allan Poe, E. T. A. Hoffmann, and Fyodor Dostoevsky, among others. Kubin also illustrated the German fantasy magazine Der Orchideengarten.
From 1906 until his death, he lived a withdrawn life in a Manor-House on a 12th-century estate in Zwickledt, Upper Austria. In 1938, at the Anschluss of Austria and Nazi Germany, his work was declared entartete Kunst or “degenerate art,” but he managed to continue working during World War II.
Gallery
Tod und madchen
A Dream Visits us Every Night (1900)
And it was on this day in 1925: F. Scott Fitzgerald’s classic The Great Gatsby was published.
“Can’t repeat the past?” he cried incredulously. “Why of course you can!”
He looked around him wildly, as if the past were lurking here in the shadow of his house, just out of reach of his hand.
“I’m going to fix everything just the way it was before,” he said, nodding determinedly. “She’ll see.”
- Nick and Gatsby, on Gatsby’s relationship with Daisy
Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter — tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther…. And one fine morning —
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.
Mac Tag
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