portobello road

tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50705332012-01-24T14:55:51.449-06:00portobello roadmusings on the beautiful and trueGailnoreply@blogger.comBlogger5851100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-3966363500732529002012-01-24T14:51:00.002-06:002012-01-24T14:55:51.469-06:00

Kickstarter approved my book project proposal! I am excited and afraid at the same time, which usually means something great is about to happen. So, second step? Make an inspiring video. Have some fun ideas and very fun cohorts in mind. Don't be surprised if you find me reading poems aloud on Historic Main St. in Franklin while wearing a cocktail dress and feathered hat.

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-8012968199101678872012-01-23T18:24:00.001-06:002012-01-23T18:24:56.033-06:00

15. My little fire does not want to be a fire tonight.I understand.It's sort of simmering in coals and licks of flameBut seems too tired to be an all-out fireAnd I understand.

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-52841790595221934402012-01-20T13:52:00.002-06:002012-01-20T14:05:27.963-06:00

Oh, neglected blog. Here are some poems from January.1. Is it really a new, brand new sparkling new year? It doesn't feel like it one bit.  Am I my same old self, as it seems, Still full of foolishness, too full of dreams That will possibly never come real. But, no, that is too dark to really be true. The dreams will happen just as they should do and My life will be beyond glad. So I will

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-60833227791667638152012-01-20T13:40:00.004-06:002012-01-20T13:50:09.571-06:00

Extra, extra! Read all about it! Gaily is off across the Pacific to publish her poetry book. More news as it comes in on the wire. This is a mock-up of the front cover. Here's a mock-up of the back cover. Wa-hoo!!

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-32427674154252144692012-01-01T00:46:00.001-06:002012-01-01T00:47:47.076-06:00

Oh, here it is, a brand new year. I wonder what I will make of it, but I wonder more what it will make of me.7. Oh, I am going to be brave this year.I am going to surprise myself and youAnd everyone else with my bold daring.I am going to write.I am going to show the people who knowJust what I can write.I am going to hope and brag and then just show off,Yes, I am going to be brave this year.

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-54587768544281928802011-12-31T17:40:00.000-06:002011-12-31T17:41:28.452-06:00

Small and simple and true.6. One more poem before the new yearAnd what is there left to say?"I love you" is always goodAnd I do. I love every part of you.

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-6584516983101342062011-12-14T21:41:00.002-06:002011-12-14T21:56:34.639-06:00

Here's the thing about social media. Hein on it if you want to (ask about the etymology of "hein" as needed) but today it has yielded the following:1. Photographs and an update about a beloved one who was seriously smashed up in a car wreck2. Great moment of shared laughter with a teacher-friend off in grad. school3. New info that my friend Michael has a secret rat phobia (shhh)4. A chance to

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-46936685491809709952011-12-14T20:25:00.002-06:002011-12-14T20:30:56.298-06:00

I was wandering Main Street in Franklin today and went into Curious Gourmet to see my old work-mates. One of them looked at my outfit and said, "I'll bet that is like what you wear when you go to Paris." Funny. I had just said to myself, "maybe instead of a sense of style I want a nonsense of style."

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-84558236219605702262011-12-09T19:39:00.003-06:002011-12-09T20:51:48.037-06:00

I remember things. I may not remember peoples' names, but if I have talked to them I will remember their soul and their quirks. I will generally not remember their profession, either. The benefit is that I will remember your favorite everything, the book we talked about, something you said once, most of what you have said, etc. The downside is that you probably won't. No matter. In England,

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-21221558217708255962011-12-06T01:45:00.001-06:002011-12-06T01:47:25.048-06:00

1. I have never seen the sea in winterExcept in picturesWhere it looks magnificent and wildIn a way it never does in summer,Like it's rebelling from long monthsOf entertaining, when it puts on its friendliest face.Roaring, vaulting into blue-grey skies, Ecstatic as it swallows up the snow Which sometimes creeps down to the shore.The sea proclaims it's darkest side once more. I am of the seaBut

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-9143575602566664932011-11-25T21:40:00.000-06:002011-11-25T21:41:08.116-06:00

9. I have so many things which were the thingsOf so many amazing people that I am finding it hard to care anymore.I was just going to write about the china I useAnd how it came to me from my grandmotherBye way of her mother, so it was basically, tremendously free.And it is beautiful, and of course I love it's history, I am like that. But, I am getting a little tired of being like that. Maybe I

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-56876784517431579012011-11-22T04:12:00.002-06:002011-12-31T22:01:00.471-06:00

2. I want to come to your county fairAnd sit with you on the Tilt-a-WhirlUntil our bodies merge a little.Maybe then I will be able to tell youThat I've never been the same girl I wasBefore you. Even though you never claimed me. And you still don't claim me And even though you won't, I will always claim you anyway.3. I write now, did you know?And sometimes I try to catch us and display usSo other

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-19836410353719795242011-11-14T21:37:00.002-06:002011-11-19T14:34:58.050-06:00

The blog is so neglected, I had to log in. Tis'ok, my life feels like that just now, too. Thoughts from the car tonight. (generally the best ones hatch from there, especially when it is 70 degrees at night in November and I can see moon and stars because the top is down on the Minnow.)Me: "I just want to learn to live like Jesus." "Great! Go and find the 'worst' sinners you can and love them more

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-38074561259694030162011-10-08T13:08:00.001-05:002011-10-08T13:08:36.356-05:00

7. I have a little bluebird house hung right where I can see itFrom the spot where I sit on the screened-in porch. There are a pair who use it every Spring to make more bluebirds.I don't know how they know it is a bluebird house, but they do. And they know that it is their own cottage.They are very brave because I also tend to gather stray cats.The day I watched a sweet fledgeling puff of blueNot

Gailnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-24356148716069170132011-10-06T19:32:00.002-05:002011-10-06T20:41:11.363-05:00

6. I don't know if your room is blueBut I know it was tonight in my prayers for you.And, because I am so visual when I pray,My view began to pull back and away like a telescopeKeened in on your sweet sleeping self,Long past your house, far beyond the EarthUp into the spaces so vast and coldWhere I was reminded that the One who made all this Universe knew you firstAnd that you were tucked under a

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-2003253639795404902011-10-05T12:53:00.001-05:002011-10-05T12:53:35.514-05:00

5. "How could I forget girl with the most beautiful blue eyes I have ever seen?"I called "bullshit," but he really meant it.Didn't figure it out during our perfect date of dinner and ballet,Didn't catch on when he hung around the living room of my dorm.He was, of course, waiting for a kiss, but I didn't get it. I never do. And I am sorry. I just never get it.

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-26871875649762277922011-10-04T21:34:00.001-05:002011-10-04T21:34:15.567-05:00

4. There is one stain I love most in the worldAnd it is the stain of blueberry pie on your teeth.Blueberry pie. So summer-in-New-EnglandSo someone-loves-you-enough to bake you a Blueberry pie. Well, they do.Now go and brush your teeth.

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-48676948322519377812011-10-03T05:31:00.002-05:002011-10-03T05:32:59.161-05:00

3. If I am to spend 31 days writing, painting, thinking about blueI'm going to eventually come around to you, soLet's just get it out of the way.We know that your soul is the haunting, luminous hue Picasso created inThe Old Guitarist, 1903. (which now lives in Chicago)And just like you, the most beautious part is in non-photo blueSo the only way to see it is to see it right up close. (really now,

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-18370129841384719162011-10-02T14:24:00.001-05:002011-10-02T14:33:11.508-05:00

2. Give me a blue, give me a blue, give me a blue, blue, blue!High school cheers were just really fun, I think. We had some weird ones, mind you. "Your dad, your dad works for my dad,"Not exactly politically correct, but we didn't have that notion in the 80's.And I have to say that "The Fighting Scots" is for sure the best mascot ever.We were Braveheart way before it became the thing. Very simple

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-7254422966146477982011-10-01T06:58:00.004-05:002011-10-01T08:30:24.525-05:00

1. Well, Cat Stevens had it right, as usual.About the meaning of blue-jeans, anyway.The pair I'm wearing now certainly pass the test of "faded up to the sky"And I'll challenge anyone to create a better system of patching. They are almost two-ply now. They became cut-offs a few years agoAnd, what, with the side ripping and all, are practically indecent (The safety pin idea didn't pan out like I

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-23012660023058917912011-09-30T23:06:00.008-05:002011-10-01T16:06:39.611-05:00

I'm certain I can write for 31 days about the color blue. I don't like it so much as a color, but I love the things in the world which are colored blue.

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-42807653970763320362011-09-19T18:00:00.002-05:002011-09-19T18:06:29.920-05:00

9. I spent the whole day today being a human.Here's what I found out. It isn't all that tough, really.It's, well, it's a little more like skiing and less like surgery.Go on along, watch for hazards, enjoy the immense beauty,Then have a cup of hot chocolate and think about things. Think about your friends, and good books, and meals.Enjoy the feeling of taking off your boots, and Lounge by the fire

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-41830194086177439852011-09-19T17:22:00.003-05:002011-09-19T17:37:13.558-05:00

8. Oh little squirrelI'm watching a show about the circus and there you areMaking your own circus out on the limbsOf the Bradford Pear treeWhile you eat what that hideous tree considers pears.Oh! Woah! You are upside-down, tail-in-air,Fantastically nimble and cute -The essence of cute, though you are about very serious business. Preparing for winter is serious business when you are a

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-73201029752613503452011-09-10T16:16:00.004-05:002011-09-10T20:14:06.875-05:00

Went to a lecture at Vanderbilt today. Billy Collins, former Poet Laureate. Good man. It was fun taking lecture notes at Furman Hall once more, though when I was in college we were not given coffee and macadamia nut cookies upon arrival to class.My main reaction was a slow sigh of relief. Keep doing what you are doing. His descriptions of writing are exactly how I write. An idea comes into your

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-65946287063835873022011-09-01T02:32:00.000-05:002011-09-01T02:33:54.217-05:00

30. She's coming up like a flower In a crack where some pavement meets a wall, Reaching with strain for nurturing sun-light While hoping for gentle rain. She is forcing her beauty into the small alley-way Where no one may ever take notice, Drawing courage from the joy of the ones who will And will be captivated. It hurts when the wind comes; there is little soil To cushion the scraping of her

Gailnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-90350409435968553152011-08-28T12:44:00.001-05:002011-08-28T12:48:02.555-05:00

I have been trying to memorize this. I don't know why I am failing. maggie and milly and molly and may by E. E. Cummings 10. maggie and milly and molly and may went down to the beach(to play one day) and maggie discovered a shell that sang so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles,and milly befriended a stranded star whose rays five languid fingers were; and molly was chased by a

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-27055496369353659642011-08-27T22:18:00.002-05:002011-08-27T22:23:50.889-05:00

Interesting. Ward Crest motto: Comme je Fus, As I was. My personal motto? Si Je Puis. If I can. I like that change very much. So, thank you again to William Morris, my hero.

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-44815602139004659162011-08-23T22:59:00.003-05:002011-08-26T01:29:39.800-05:00

25. I have become as patient as the moon. I don't know how. But the tides come just as they go And I have learned simply to wait, to know That there's nothing really to be done. The shells wave in, the stones wave out The storms will come when they come. So I think that we should just welcome them As everything that comes our way. It may bring pain, but pain with pay In wisdom. Later on in joy.

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-32385595733618897372011-08-22T14:42:00.003-05:002011-08-23T09:54:52.400-05:00

22. Yes, I am re-committed to red lipstick. The very kind that Coco wore herself. It suits me, even though I have red hair Currently. How can there be power in the color of one's lips? And yet, my dear ones, there is. There is, my friends, and all of print stands to prove it. I happen just to like it. Yep. I like the idea and the color and simply how very nice Chanel lipstick feels. Did I

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-33808414193906513552011-08-21T13:17:00.004-05:002011-08-27T23:58:00.336-05:00

19. For you, my Beloved I will bare myself and never lie. I will be brave and bravely cry Whenever I need to cry but never When I don't. I will show you all the things I am, Open up like a clam Because I know that you will know. And, I will give you all my life For all our time, for you are mine.

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-31553699320691254532011-08-20T13:48:00.001-05:002011-08-20T13:48:48.914-05:00

"Every book, every volume you see here, has a soul. The soul of the person who wrote it and of those who read it and lived and dreamed with it. Every time a book changes hands, every time someone runs his eyes down its pages, its spirit grows and strengthens." Carlos Ruiz Zafon (Shadow of the Wind)

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-2360465741194867532011-08-20T08:56:00.001-05:002011-08-20T08:56:33.517-05:00

18. For Sally and her grocery lists. Pickles and peanut butter and Dr. Pepper for the pantry, Rat cheese, pomegranates, Mrs. Baird's Bread Velveeta for Con-queso. Then there could be baked macaroni and cheese. (thank you Joy of Cooking) Or home-made Chicken Kiev, Swedish Meatballs, beautiful Beef Fondue. This how you gave us a mother's love from you. And, so, I have become quite a feeder, too

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-61466322339771223662011-08-19T15:36:00.001-05:002011-08-28T00:08:21.750-05:00

17. On the event of the death of Le Petit Juliet. Je ne sais pas pourquoi je suis si nerveux. Is it a part of the mourning Or the loneliness Or simply the unknowing. Je ne sais pas. Mais, je suis heureux de connaître la Personne qui sait. Il sait. That is more than enough.

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-90761985125121767162011-08-19T11:32:00.001-05:002011-08-19T11:35:11.143-05:00

Dew It's something of a mystery, this minute rain downloading from the sky so slowly and invisibly you don't know when it came except at dusk the grass is suddenly wet, a visitation from the air, precipitant from spirit world of whitest incarnation or reverse transfiguration, herald of river, swamp and ocean breath sent heavenward, released to earth again to water weed and stone, and shatter

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-23885292888923755712011-08-17T20:14:00.001-05:002011-08-18T13:05:28.896-05:00

13. I am missing everything today. I miss my sweet cat I had to put down yesterday, Who has left a 17-year hole in the house and in my heart. I am dearly missing my Beloved, too. I feel like there is nothing I can really do Except sit here and miss things Which, of course, is not true. I could go and do something productive, Visit an old-folks home Plant an apple tree But I think today I would

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-32555328940189912672011-08-17T14:28:00.000-05:002011-08-17T14:30:55.927-05:00

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-51248574528783023002011-08-16T17:22:00.001-05:002011-08-16T17:38:50.085-05:00

I love this image and wanted to add it to my weheartit, but had to host it somewhere. Your gain. (And if you don't know weheartit, go check it out for sure.)

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-19879337962095326102011-08-15T16:21:00.000-05:002011-08-15T16:22:13.112-05:00

8. To the little rabbit. You (wee rabbit) were so perfectly made, But you were born into a bent world where death is a fact of living And cats are a fact of life. I will hold you and mourn your leaving this place, And I will honour you. I will tell my friend about you because she will understand Since she has held many baby chickens into their death. She will hold her life's best animal

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-78456526641895000542011-07-31T03:59:00.003-05:002011-07-31T04:20:31.363-05:00

This is the Mathematical Bridge in Cambridge. A popular tale is that the bridge was designed and built by Sir Isaac Newton without the use of nuts or bolts. (I am choosing to believe that this story is true, despite the fact that Newton died in 1727, 22 years before the bridge was constructed.) You don’t believeby William BlakeYou don't believe — I won't attempt to make ye.You are asleep — I

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-10269448046874592862011-07-15T23:45:00.001-05:002011-07-16T15:54:27.810-05:00

16. My Beloved* believes he is a one man wrecking machine.He doesn't carry around that we are all the same; that we wreck things. That is not all we do, not all of who we are, but it sticks fast. Hard it is to look past the wrongs we have done and see the rights. Is this humility, or vanity, or just an impossible thing to seeSince we wear our false so easily? I can't yet tell. But when I honestly

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-86883399624180553152011-07-14T21:23:00.002-05:002011-07-14T21:33:03.434-05:00

So, here's the transportation situation for the next few weeks. I am exhausted from the planning, so who can imagine what I will become by August 13.Deep breath and starting July 19, GO! Car/taxi to airport, flight to JFK, flight to LHR, Tube to Waterloo, train to Wimbledon, (sleep) train to Paddington, train to Cornwall, taxi to Looe. (sleep, hike along the coast, go to Arts Festival) train to

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-27759458833343473852011-07-14T00:33:00.001-05:002011-07-14T00:33:50.894-05:00

15. Oh, smothering, mothering voice of meI don't want to hear you tonight. There are a thousand things I'm thinkingThat you want to make rightJust don't make them right tonight. I am tired, you see, of the sound of my voiceAnd the way that I reason within. I know that you love me, and take care of meBut, I don't want to hear it tonight.

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-76928088881989336412011-07-06T18:31:00.001-05:002011-07-06T18:31:36.996-05:00

7. I like the way you use words, Dear Heart"You are an event in that dress."And how when you turn up, you turn upAll there. All Joy. All light.But, knowing life the way I do, I knowThere are things which you don't bring us, tooAnd that is a discipline I have yet to master -How to know when to know what to say.You don't seem to behave this way.And so there is a pool near you of calmAnd fun, and

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-12772019781574799012011-06-24T11:02:00.001-05:002011-06-24T11:03:14.259-05:00

My beloved thundery rain came to see me again today. I even walked out into it barefoot in my nightgown and wondered, How did I end up in a Tennessee Williams play,And, what is it about this thunder that pulls my heart away?Even as the tiniest girl, (and oh my, I was tiny)I would rush out into the wildest storms in whatever I was wearingTo sit in the streaming clear and clean gutters of rushing

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-62114896246705743072011-06-20T23:20:00.005-05:002011-06-20T23:35:01.003-05:00

"A poet is a nightingale who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds; his auditors are as men entranced by the melody of an unseen musician, who feel that they are moved and softened, yet know not whence or why." ~ Shelley 37. So, am I the nightingale singing to cheer my own heart?And are others moved, too without knowing why? Was Shelly right?Oh, how I hope so.

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-88845873361415022642011-06-19T20:50:00.001-05:002011-06-19T20:50:28.983-05:00

I didn't write this one, Colin did but I love it and I live it, too. Odd when you find muse-like people...Odd when you find muse-like people;When the sight of them is like a siren's callLeaving you trembling-lips feeble,Spilling the contents of the glass as your floor falls,Leaving it to chance, or trying to.

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-52983090689271957222011-06-12T22:05:00.002-05:002011-06-19T20:51:11.853-05:00

20. Poetry is the hardest kind of therapyBecause there is no one there to hold youWhen the words stream out and start to explain your life.You are on your own, kid, kicking it out therePulling it together, tearing it apart,You are rebuilding your heart,But without a construction crewSo, the only one to turn to is you. ~gsw.

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-59841552475597972062011-06-12T08:23:00.007-05:002011-06-19T20:51:52.946-05:00

15. When I wrote my most recent poem I really felt a different kind of me.I felt a woman in an Empire dress chatting while pouring out the tea.Calm. Certain. Gentle enough to put forth an ideaAnd never let anyone mind it, it was so kind and only a little bit wry.Was that what it was like to have to be so gracious?Could you never speak your mind? And is speaking your mindAlways the best and most

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-14575574367252950572011-06-12T00:57:00.001-05:002011-06-12T00:59:14.386-05:00

13. Oh my beautiful childhood homeYou can still make me cry. I am so gladTo hold you so dear for all of the years you held me -Little me, little Gaily with all her wistful ways and mad imaginings. You let me draw on your walls, and decorate you terribly.And, oh you gave me such space to become so much me.Is there anything better than spending your day way up in a glorious magnolia tree? I miss

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-27183011582247952352011-06-10T20:09:00.000-05:002011-06-10T20:10:00.609-05:00

10. So it’s Father’s Day. I don’t like these sentimental, made-up holidays.I don’t. Secretaries’ Day? Please. How must-sell-cards-and-flowers can you get?Valentine’s Day I will defend to the end, though, so don’t start. There is Charlie Brown to consider. But, back to Father’s Day. My father needs more than a day. He ranks more than a card or a tie or any words I could bring myself to speak to

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-27423503685441373182011-06-10T01:13:00.001-05:002011-06-12T22:16:00.722-05:00

5. I have never been afraid of waterWhich amazes me since I am afraid of almost everything else.No amount of wildly rushing water feels like anything but home to me.I know the power of the waves and the currents and the torrents,They could kill me in the moment on a whim.Yet, I also know they love me and I have been well-taught how to survive them,How to ride them out, how to stare them down.

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-2398426681805666362011-06-09T21:02:00.005-05:002011-06-09T21:12:12.335-05:00

4. Oh, I am a little pile of sadnessAnd it can’t be all biochemistryBecause it feels like being a child.My life is not making sense. And, just like when I was a child,I have no one to go to to make it make any sense. Yes. I have Jesus and He has me too deeply to even write aboutBut He is not here tonight to hold me in His armsAnd wipe away my tears, or calm me of my fears. So I sit in a little

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-15464548346668164142011-06-07T15:44:00.000-05:002011-06-07T15:45:17.071-05:00

1. Just now my left arm is covered with cat scratches and streaks of acrylic paint. (Oh, hey, there is a tiny bruise, too.)These marks are telling me about my day so far.I spent the morning curled up reading.Eventually the cat climbed up on the right side of the bedThen used me as a bridge, pausing to lick my forehead,On her way to the left side of the bed since that’s where I was nestled in. It

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-34845616698686019312011-06-05T22:05:00.003-05:002011-06-05T23:11:05.091-05:00

Last night was one of those where I feel like I just don't deserve that much beauty and joy and friendship. We were down at the new Bank Gallery where our dear J Todd Greene painted murals on every wall and part of the floor. Bulb played. Insanely good. Then it kind-of broke down into an 80's sing along featuring "Hopelessly Devoted to You," Ground Control to Major Tom," "Hey Jude," and a

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-36078410589367501142011-06-01T20:57:00.004-05:002011-06-01T21:39:28.595-05:00

I have 8 years worth of life written here on this little-ol blog. Eight years. Each month I take the time to reread the posts from all of the previous versions of that month, so today I read the Junes. Revisiting the reporting of dailiness is so good I am inspired to make sure I keep writing about it. I've been lazy posting just the poems. You know, I burned all of my journals one night not too,

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-16755781844278400382011-06-01T20:27:00.000-05:002011-06-01T20:28:11.009-05:00

40. The chickens are being just a bit too picturesque. Clucking and pecking in the lawn where the linens are hung out on the line. They know I have my camera.(Drying your sheets on a clothes-line is a little much, too, don’t you think?)And then there is that crow the rooster is learning to do.Please, it’s like he is reading cue-cards from “America’s Next Top Rooster” or something.I can’t tell

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-18522074832161704562011-05-31T22:12:00.007-05:002011-06-01T01:20:39.249-05:00

44. Regarding Men (with an actual title)Oh, poor, poor girl.You are protesting too much. I understand it, though, I do - You are fighting for your life.But, really, please stop it, please stop it, Please stop.Your words are making me claustrophobicSo I can only imagine what it is like for him. Be calm and becalm and trust for what is right;Your striving will do nothing good, I know this. He will

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-92034670206196265472011-05-31T14:19:00.000-05:002011-05-31T14:20:19.340-05:00

9. When I read our wordsWhen I go back and read our wordsI see something akin to the best books I know. The ones of lettersWritten to those most loved and most far away. Does this mean that the electronic age has something to say?I’m surprised to conclude that it does. It has immediacy. I know that you are sad at the very time you are sadAnd can coax you from a mood right then.Even when we are

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-38191874372872019242011-05-29T01:07:00.006-05:002011-05-29T01:48:05.884-05:00

43. I frequently say to people, "well, my friends are mostly artists, and writers, and musicians, so..." So... we have really fun costume parties, So... we aren’t exactly flush,So... we sometimes go to movies on a Tuesday afternoon. So, tonight we had a party in Sarah and David’s backyardWhere they have built a small stage and named their venue The Lion and the Baby. There were hotdogs and

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-18227914281829310392011-05-26T22:34:00.003-05:002011-05-26T22:39:11.511-05:00

39. When you are trying to blow a note on a conch shellYou will find yourself making all kinds of ridiculous noises.Basically, you carry the shell in your right hand,Fingers curled strong into its smooth inside;Your left hand will cradle the outside.Holding it will feel strangely comforting. Now, purse your lips and blow into the front of the shellWhere the tip has been neatly sliced off. For a

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-62401961855516490522011-05-26T01:27:00.001-05:002011-05-26T22:35:20.344-05:00

38. In Tennessee we are having our 13-year cicadas this late spring. Every one is all a-flurry about these inch long creaturesWho just want to live it up in the tall trees and chirrup about it.I live among the tall trees, so they are nothing but a lullaby to me. They sing to me of every summer I spent growing upIn Texas, where they were not given numbers but were expected guests,Large and green

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-10851515765191722152011-05-25T17:17:00.006-05:002011-05-25T18:27:05.978-05:00

Started a new project today. I don't really know how to describe it but it is something about finding the music that feels mine. Just mine. Things I found by myself, and relished (usually in the car) which laid the foundation and built the framework for a large part of who I'm becoming. It doesn't remind me of anyone or anything specific. It is mine.That sounds waaayyy too serious. It's really

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-13937805725428668542011-05-14T16:39:00.003-05:002011-05-14T16:45:19.117-05:00

29. Oh, Saint Julian of Norwich, will you pray for me?I have never asked such before since I know I can goStraight to the Father Himself.But I feel you have much to teach me and that you will understandSince you were a mystic and an isolate too. So pray for me, please, mysterious Juliana And let us rejoice and be friendsFor we shall soon meet when this sweet world ends.

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87. Oh, my little self just curled up into a ball. And when I asked her what was wrong she said shame.Shame for loving a man who is such a charlatan. Don't you see the street magician when he strolls himself to town?Everyone knows not to fall for the CarniesSince their life is all about show and all about hiding.Plus, they only use the tricks which are working best just now. So believing I'm in

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-27134921620040006152011-05-10T23:11:00.004-05:002011-05-10T23:18:18.365-05:00

25. I will probably not have childrenAnd I’m pretty certain I don’t want to (though I will gladly love anyone else’s)But the thing about it which makes me sad is that I already know their names.There is Leyden Standish, the eldest, the bravest, a man of deep chivalry and commitment.Then Fletcher Ward who is the the typical sinewy, strong soccer player With deep dark hair and a great mind. India

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-78570294361532695402011-05-08T22:19:00.002-05:002011-05-08T22:27:47.358-05:00

Please note, all. There is no actual "beloved" about whom I am writing. It is word I use frequently when writing, but it holds no weight in the "real" world. However, should you think you might know who this man might be, do let me know.

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18. Let’s take out a blanket tonight, my beloved And spread it all wide in the meadowWithin view of the spheres of the heavens.Then, please just kiss me as sweet as you doWhere the stars and the planets can view.Though I know it will be unkind I just want to find outWhat Orion will do when he is jealousSince he's always been so steadfast and true. ~gsw.

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17. Everything was all so extra-green todayIt threw me. I guess it was because of the sunshine.I haven’t liked sunshine days for a few years nowUnless I am staying at the beach. A sunny day makes me feel guilty, like I should be out thereThrowing a Frisbee or having a picnic or something. That ideal worked really well in college because you couldAlways find someone to do whatever at any hour. We

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-77183959723110890852011-05-06T19:48:00.002-05:002011-05-06T19:51:44.661-05:00

Just a sweet reminder. The writing on this blog belongs to me.I own it. So, please remember that and I will not send someone out to slap you. (hypothetical threat only, no intent of violence)(though I will sue you if you try to make lucre from my work.)

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11. How to celebrate Mother’s Day. It is difficult every year because the family doesn’t talk about it.Plus, she was cremated and given into the seaWhich means there is no traditional way to honor her, really.So, let me think. Maybe I will bake her amazing macaroni and cheese and eat all of it.Take some time to hold my cat very close.I will work a crossword puzzle and write out a grocery list

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-76100026801326378662011-05-04T19:30:00.005-05:002011-05-05T10:25:53.064-05:00

9. Hmm. It seems her publicist has not gotten the message out. You are supposed to love her the best. It’s in the rider, folks. The Gaily Tour travels far and wide and brings an opening act sometimes, But she insists that you love her the best. She has never said why,Though I suspect it is a combination of childhood neglect And the resulting fear of abandonment. Whatever it is,It is there, right

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-47747687533128120632011-05-04T11:41:00.003-05:002011-05-04T11:50:46.635-05:00

The Orchard, Grantchester I want to learn from you, poet how to walk barefoot in all weather, to eat the honey of wild wood flowers, swim in dark night waters and be (not really) afraid. Teach me then, fine brother about apple orchards with bright sling chairs, taking downstream in a flat bottom boat, dancing, to those who will watch, the content of all love letters. Will it pain you, dear

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Somewhere North of Glasgow For you, I would give the gift of being wrong, Just sometimes. Of standing tall on toes and singing way off-key (loud), Walking across the kitchen and dropping , oh no ! An egg on the center black tile of the spotless floor, Wildly guessing the chief export of Istanbul, or how many Pounds is one stone, or do sheep chew their cud And why not? Small children would tell

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-14759540813965196862011-05-01T12:03:00.001-05:002011-05-01T12:03:59.001-05:00

95. Through the years, I’ve adopted May DayAs my very own holiday.I mean, really,A time when you creep around at nightLeaving wildflowers on the door of your secret love?What could be more like me.I suppose I could start leaving crowns made of laurelAnd ivy and such which carry the meaning of very particular things.But, there’s a dead give-away. Only this girl would leaveAn ivy wreath woven with

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91. Well, Wind didn’t sweep me away last night,But this morning Thunder is whispering in my earAnd Rain is sweetly weeping downSo I have company. The wildflowers are blooming so brave in the lawnThat I might have to let it be a meadow for a while.The roses are making roses. The world is all Springy and beautiful.And of course I love it best on a rainy day.

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-53511993702340086602011-04-26T01:06:00.005-05:002011-05-06T10:42:29.377-05:00

90. The Wind is so strong tonight I have to sayStrong Wind please come take my body awayLift me from all of the fear I have knownFrom the moss I have grownSimply lift me. For if you can’t do itWho else will.Will the grass grow around meSo I become a small hill. No. We know I belong to the Sea and the SkyAnd the Sea is far too far away or he would try. So come take me Wind, come and take me

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-92220898838249843142011-04-16T01:06:00.005-05:002011-05-17T20:10:44.316-05:00

50. I so completely love that you will never read my blog.You don't even know it exists. You don't use email, even.This means that I can put up whatever the hell I want and you, You will never see it.Will the world see it? Yes, part of the world will.Which means that whatever I write, the world is on my side. And you can get your own damn side.

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41. Pour mon 16ème anniversaire ma grand-mère, Kathryn Kelley Hall Englishm'a donné une bague d'aigue-marine. Cella n’avait aucun sensCe n'est pas ma pierre de naissance Ce n’est pas une pierre de grande importanceOu vraiment pas de grande valeurMais maintenant je sais pouquois. L'aigue-marine est la pierre de la merPrecisement la pierre de l' apaisement de la mer. Ainsi sans le savoire elle m'a

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-28483173968441772552011-04-09T23:35:00.001-05:002011-04-10T00:53:50.662-05:00

26. You are spreading your affections way too thin my friendBut you are too young to know it and have grown up in a time which believes in no such thing. But I have seen strong men’s heart’s broken, And, yes, as young as yours, weeping tearsBecause they wished they could go and take it back And have it all to give just to little me. It didn’t work out that way, not any time. Since they were way

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-34763067024066179752011-03-30T17:56:00.004-05:002011-03-30T20:14:54.102-05:00

23. I’ve been mincing all around you like I do,This whole time thinking you are the Big Deal.But it occurred to me this afternoon that really,If you put it to a test, I am the big deal.So why do I do this? Consider myself the one Going after the prize instead of realizing that I am The prize right here, which, as it now rings clear, I am. When you put it to the test.

Gailnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-1790949437601751642011-03-25T15:06:00.003-05:002011-03-30T18:01:55.297-05:00

I woke up this morning thinking about physics. Not entirely unusual. I was thinking particularly about the physics between people. Everyone calls it chemistry, but chemistry is all physics anyway so let's cut out the middle-man. This means, I think, that whatever it is going on in our souls and psychic energy or what have you (interestingly, the non-physical part of us) works in the same way as

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-37483203028902783482011-03-10T23:38:00.004-06:002011-04-30T20:01:36.367-05:00

14. I think you know you are Celtic by how you reactTo minor chords. Yes, yes and then yes once again.They are built in, more so than the better-known traits.It’s like the grey skies and the moss and the cairns. I swim in that music like my dear life’s bloodLike the beat of my very own small heart.Like the music my mother should sing while I sleepAnd the things which most bring me to weep.

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-41857968569752341152011-03-10T15:50:00.001-06:002011-03-10T15:55:24.662-06:00

11. The ocean is my sole true home.It has been since I was one year oldAnd met it in Rhode Island.Ever since then I have known The ocean is my home.When I get there, when I smell the seaI come back to being the most, most me. The ocean is my family.I know this when I get thereWhen I take that first great dive into the sea.

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-33439582129112548942011-03-08T00:38:00.001-06:002011-03-08T00:39:55.809-06:00

4. Are there feathers?If so, what are they for?I feel I may need feathers to soften my landingAnd ease my fall. For you do not love me.I knew it all alongBut tonight I know it enough to needSome cushioning. Some gentling.Just some easement, from it all.

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-66934222040695932362011-03-06T13:14:00.000-06:002011-03-06T13:15:23.855-06:00

5. You were in my dreams this morningFor the first time. And then I dreamed of telling youThat you were in my dreamsFor the first time. I wonder if I shall be so brave awake.

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2. This afternoon I am making an actual Shepherd's Pie,Made from lamb. One of my many quirks.If it is not lamb, it is Cottage Pie. No offense, it's just that I love precise language. I also love the idea of you coming homeTired from work and irritated by trafficBeing welcomed back with a great longing embraceAnd the smell of a Shepherd's Pie.

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March1. I think we should dress up fine tonightAnd go out into the world For a very good dinner.I think we should be our dear loving selvesDisplaying our souls unitedAnd bring on some "oh honey, look"sWe have something to give to the other dinersSomething about beautySomething which brings about belief and leads to a simple"Oh, honey, look."

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From a dear friend who writes me prose not knowing it is poetry. (I just change the structure)If you have an empty container, and you secure the lid on top of it. what are you containing? beyond the science of it.. is it wind? does wind have to move.. a dormant breeze? and if it's contained.. no ones breathing it, it's not blowing or rescusitating life.what form is it, from a sailor's point of

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-91291467330053669582011-02-20T08:59:00.002-06:002011-02-20T09:10:41.085-06:00

Something is building around me and in meAnd I am not having to do anything.People are collecting nearby to love and be lovedBringing their words and colours and joys and painsAnd I am not having to do anything.My soul and my tired, lost ways ways are being healedAnd I am not having to do anything.I was told that all this would happen by a strangerAbout a year ago who said she heard it Straight

Gailnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-75184786536693886422011-02-12T10:07:00.002-06:002011-02-23T19:17:38.505-06:00

For the chimney sweeps currently in my house. Remember that I own this stuff. Cheers. 21. We have to have fire, real fire.Bonfire, hearth fire, candle fire. It is built into us the same as breathing.With it we are one with the elements and everything is good. But, just like us, fire needs controlSo there are those of us who do this dangerous thingWho work to control what makes the sun the sun.

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-43404158210252448512011-02-12T07:20:00.001-06:002011-02-12T07:20:44.128-06:00

20. It seems that my home smells of honey.My home does smell of honey,But it is not from the honey-scented incenseOr the pot of honey I use to sweeten my teaNor even of the honey lip-balm I useOr the honey-scented perfume I sometimes spray. It is because of you. You travel all of the flowers of beauty,Distill them and bring them to me.Like honey.

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-52542822105187502242011-02-04T12:25:00.000-06:002011-02-04T12:26:28.008-06:00

1. Valentine’s Day. Oh, my beloved.The day has come where I am supposed to celebrate you.We are supposed to plan something greatAnd show ourselves outTo a world deeply in need of love. Let’s do something else. Why don’t we just go and walk hand in handSimple and grand at the same time. Let me just kiss your cheekAnd be small and meekIn this world so in need of our love.

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-90757900084886987412011-02-01T00:59:00.008-06:002011-02-23T19:13:54.154-06:00

Please remember that everything written on this Portobello Road is bound by copyright law. It's mine. OK? OK. Here's some stuff from January, poised for February it seems. 5.Vintage ValentineEvery time I think of loveI think of your sweet face.It makes no difference that We never really did a good job of it.It’s just that loving you from that first instantSticks with meAnd makes me want to work

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-417670713123418132011-01-26T07:26:00.006-06:002011-05-14T18:21:01.735-05:00

14. Today the snow has fallen in the very best way; When you go to sleep in dreary drizzleAnd awaken to everything blanket-covered In white softness and beauty and still. The first walk out - the schrunching, the quiet,And the slightly metallic smell which does not deter youFrom making snow ice-cream.It is all so pristine. Can it be that simple to become so clean?Is there such an easy way to

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-89261966975150581072011-01-15T23:30:00.000-06:002011-01-15T23:31:02.912-06:00

15. The little bird that is joy Was singing "confirmation" in my ear just tonight. She is a rare and mindful bird, so when she speaksLook out, for your life is about to revolt into somethingCompletely new.

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2. You, sir, have been made a laser.I cannot stop writing itThough I know that this manIs completely different. He is made a spotlightWho searches out and findsThe ones who need to be looked atWho need us to be kind.His heart is broad and tenderAnd I don’t know how it feelsTo be lost of his wide wonderfulOr to lose his joy and zeal.

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56. You are so everything it just makes me madThat I meet you all over againWith nothing to be hadNothing to be doneNo one to be won.~gsw.

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51. I hate how quickly I know people.Give me 2 minutes and I will know your soul. I will not know what you do for a living, etc.But then there I am, left loving your beautiful soul,Soaking in your pains and hurts and joysAnd it’s leaving me more and more annoyed. ~gsw.

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-53704216432290073052010-12-17T21:32:00.003-06:002010-12-18T05:20:38.732-06:00

How, how beautiful. I continue to be thrilled at what comes out of us humans who are made in the image of the God of creation, and how the beauty we create is just the crescent of the fingernail of his hand. (I need to re-find that reference in the Scriptures.) (And I continue to be blessed by people like John who pass these beautiful things along)

Gailnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5070533.post-4061990321736572312010-12-17T10:51:00.002-06:002010-12-17T10:53:27.514-06:00

49. Oh, Jesus I’m glad you collect all the wretchedFor I am among us and feel I’m all wrong.But, the blesseds are all for the weak and the sadAnd I count myself right in the center of that. Your gospel, Your good news is great news to meTo know that Your love is impossibly freeBut I’m sorry that You had to go through the painOf being so broken to give me such gain.~gsw.

Gailnoreply@blogger.com0