POEM OF THE WEEK

I Am

I am! The ages on the ages roll:
And what I am, I was, and I shall be:
by slow growth filling higher Destiny,
And Widening, ever, to the widening Goal.
I am the Stone that slept; down deep in me
That old, old sleep has left its centurine trace;
I am the plant that dreamed; and lo! still see
That dream-life dwelling on the Human Face.
I slept, I dreamed, I wakened: I am Man!
The hut grows Palaces; the depths breed light;
Still on! Forms pass; but Form yields kinglier
Might!
The singer, dying where his song began,
In Me yet lives; and yet again shall he
Unseal the lips of greater songs To Be;
For mine the thousand tongues of Immortality.


- Voltaraine De Cleyre

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YUM!

Like many people, I have comfort foods for when times are difficult. When I've received a rejection letter or have had to visit with pesky relatives who make me feel like I'm a burying beetle in a clatch of mice. My last two weeks of summer vacation. We won't go there for the tale would be too long in woe. And I want to get to the truly good part. Comfort food.


For some, comfort food means a chocolate bar or a sub sandwich, or a simmering macaroni and cheese casserole.

Naw.

I crave homemade British style chips with mayonnaise. I made some, recently (Friday last) with red potatoes simmered in canola oil. I did not have my favourite brand of olive oil so had to content with what was available. Oh, and how content it was for my palate.

British style chips with mayonnaise, hard boiled eggs with mustard, and green and red tomato slices fried in the red potato oil. My taste buds were happy. The simple meal was a great success.

Not so proud were my attempts yesterday to make oven dried tomatoes. I rushed the drying by turning up the oven heat too high. However, those that survived being crisped, were sweet to the taste on a homemade pizza with red porcini mushroom sauce, fake soy cheese (can't have dairy),and olives. The meal ended up to be edible and that is all I could have hoped for with my experiment.

I was a little bit disappointed in my culinary prowess but ,as a writer, you learn to take the lumps. Even if the bumps are the charred remains of once plump tomatoes.


Ever the optimist, I later consumed pretzels and nuts for a snack. Okay, and the four vanilla cookies and some decaf white tea. I won't keep track if you don't. And I'm thinking of topping it all with some hot almond milk before I go to bed.


'til then,

Anne

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POEM OF THE WEEK

Who will read it?
Who will live forever
In this world?
A letter left behind
In her undying memory.

---Murasaki Shikibu shu

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POEM OF THE WEEK

Frail the white rose and frail are
Her hands that gave
Whose soul is sere and paler
Than time's wan wave.

Rosefrail and fair-- yet frailest
A wonder wild
In gentle eyes thou veilest,
My blueveined child.

James Joyce

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POEM OF THE WEEK

THIS LIVING HAND

This living hand, now warm and capable

Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold

And in the icy silence of the tomb,

So haunt thy days and chill thy dreaming nights

That thou wouldst wish thine own heart dry of blood

So in my veins red life might stream again,

And thou be conscience-calmed—see here it is—

I hold it towards you.

John Keats

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POEM OF THE WEEK

They change,
though you don't see it
in the color of their faces---
these blossoms that are the hearts
of the people of this world.

Ono_no_Komachi

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CAN YOU HEAR THIS?

After many frustrating tries, I am pulling down the audio portion of my blog. It was difficult to balance between Firefox and IE specs.

I'm not giving up. I need a break, and a brush-up on my skills, before I will tackle this again.

Until then...

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