A few days ago Harvey, my blog dad, posted my all time favorite poem, which was written by Elizabeth Barrett-Browning before she was married. Thanks Harvey, for continuing to publish your wonderful love notes to your wife!

A little known fact about Elizabeth's life, is that Robert Browning, having read her poem -Lady Geraldine's Courtship- finally acknowledged his romantic feelings for her (though they had never met) and penned this beautiful letter to her which I've posted below. Over there 20 month courtship they exchanged nearly 600 letters. I know this probably wouldn't happen today, as her slightly deformed body would be enough to turn off any modern man. Still, I reprint it here because frankly, I'm a sucker and believer in old-fashioned romance, where inner beauty is more highly valued than external beauty.

January 10th, 1845
New Cross, Hatcham, Surrey

I love your verses with all my heart, dear Miss Barrett, -- and this is no off-hand complimentary letter that I shall write, --whatever else, no prompt matter-of-course recognition of your genius and there a graceful and natural end of the thing: since the day last week when I first read your poems, I quite laugh to remember how I have been turning again in my mind what I should be able to tell you of their effect upon me -- for in the first flush of delight I though I would this once get out of my habit of purely passive enjoyment, when I do really enjoy, and thoroughly justify my admiration -- perhaps even, as a loyal fellow-craftsman should, try and find fault and do you some little good to be proud of herafter! -- but nothing comes of it.

all -- so into me has it gone, and part of me has it become, this great living poetry of yours, not a flower of which but took root and grew ... oh, how different that is from lying to be dried and pressed flat and prized highly and put in a book with a proper account at bottom, and shut up and put away ... and the book called a 'Flora', besides! After all, I need not give up the thought of doing that, too, in time; because even now, talking with whoever is worthy, I can give reason for my faith in one and another excellence, the fresh strange music, the affluent language, the exquisite pathos and true new brave thought -- but in this addressing myself to you, your own self, and for the first time, my feeling rises altogher. I do, as I say, love these Books with all my heart -- and I love you too: do you know I was once seeing you? Mr. Kenyon said to me one morning "would you like to see Miss Barrett?" -- then he went to announce me, -- then he returned ... you were too unwell -- and now it is years ago -- and I feel as at some untorward passage in my travels -- as if I had been close, so close, to some world's-wonder in chapel on crypt, ... only a screen to push and I might have entered -- but there was some slight ... so it now seems ... slight and just-sufficient bar to admission, and the half-opened door shut, and I went home my thousands of miles, and the sight was never to be!

Well, these Poems were to be -- and this true thankful joy and pride with which I feel myself.

Yours ever faithfully,
Robert Browning

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For Mike, Jack, Tony, Larry, Amy, Rick & Nancy who died in Tower 1 & 2 on 9/11:

You've been gone for some time now.
Your hugs and laughter are no more,
the memory of your smiles have faded away
and I miss you all the more.

Yes... I miss you.
More than words can ever say,
more than my letters can convey,
in every single way,
since the day you passed away,
I've missed you.

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As I sat on the edge of the beach under cloudy/rainy skies this weekend, the following portions of Sylvia Plath's poem, 'Black Rook...', was whispered back into my memory via the wind.

On the stiff twig up there
Hunches a wet black rook
Arranging and rearranging its feathers in the rain.
I do not expect a miracle
Or an accident

To set the sight on fire
In my eye, nor seek
Any more in the desultory weather some design,
But let spotted leaves fall as they fall
Without ceremony, or portent.

Although, I admit, I desire,
Occasionally, some backtalk
From the mute sky, I can't honestly complain,
A certain minor light may still
Lean incandescent ...

Of whatever angel any choose to flare
Suddenly at my elbow. I only know that a rook
Ordering its black feathers can so shine
As to seize my senses, haul
My eyelids up, and grant

A brief respite from fear and pain,
and grant total neutrality. With luck,
Trekking stubborn through this season
Of fatigue, I shall
Patch together a content

Of sorts. Miracles occur.
If you care to call those spasmodic
Tricks of radiance
Miracles. The wait's begun again,
The long wait for the angel,

For that rare, random descent.

-- Sylvia Plath

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My blog sis Tammi, of Tammi's World, asked for readers to share with her about their happy place. You know the place.... the place we go to when we're seeking solace, refuge and a mood altering shift. As they say in NY, here's the 411 on my happy place.

A Friend Like You

There's lots of things
with which I'm blessed
when life is going blue;
Of all my blessings
there's one that's best,
that's having a friend like you.

In times of trouble some will say,
'I'll be there to help you through';
But you don't wait for me to ask,
You're there and simply do!

I just can't think of something else
that's better for me to do;
than know a friend,
and be a friend,
and love a friend... like you.

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I took the General Poetic Knowledge Quiz and this is what I scored:

11 out of a possible 11 correct... [Doing a happy dance w/arms up in the air] Woohoo!

According to poetry.com, this means that I "have an excellent grasp of poetic form, structure, and technique. People at this level have generally taken advanced-level study in literature or have completed advanced poetry courses. They have often spent considerable time writing, developing their own poetic "voice," and their own techniques. People at this level, particularly if they can apply their knowledge of poetic form and structure to their own work, are considered among the most talented of poetic artists."

[blushing a bit] Awww, shucks! It's nice to know that I didn't waste my time (or money) in taking all those literary courses in college!

If you feel like taking the quiz, and testing your poetic knowledge (like HARVEY or one of the Llama Butchers will surely do) click here. Because the test is difficult, I have posted it in the extended entry along with the correct answers and explanation, as a sort of crash course in poetry. Enjoy!

more...

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A special world for you and me
A special bond one cannot see
It wraps us up in its cocoon
And holds us fiercely in its womb.

Its fingers spread like fine spun gold
Gently nestling us in its fold
Like silken thread it holds us fast
Bonds like this are meant to last.

And though at times a thread may break
A new one forms just in its wake
To bind us closer and keep us strong
In a special world, where we belong.

- S. Lennon

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To Mary

I sleep with thee and wake with thee
And yet thou art not there;
I fill my arms with thoughts of thee
And press the common air.

Thy eyes are gazing upon mine
When thou art out of sight;
My lips are always touching thine
At morning, noon, and night.

I think and speak of other things
To keep my mind at rest
But still to thee my memory clings
Like love in woman's breast.

I hide it from the world's wide eye
And think and speak contrary,
But soft the wind comes from the sky
And whispers tales of Mary.

The night wind whispers in my ear,
The moon shines on my face;
The burden still of chilling fear
I find in every place.

The breeze is whispering in the bush,
The leaves fall from the tree;
All sighing on and will not hush,
Some pleasant tales of thee.

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I'll be blogging about my marathon interview session later. In the interim, I'll leave you with a simple stanza poem I came across during my 5:00am reading this morning.

From the Telephone

Out of the dark cup
Your voice broke like a flower
It trembled, swaying on its taut stem.
The caress in its touch
Made my eyes close farther.

- Florence Martin - late 19th century

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There are times when the depth and intensity of my emotions impede my ability to think or write clearly, until I've come to terms with what I'm feeling. It's during those times, when searching for the words that escape me, they find birth in snipets of a poem that will come to mind. I need these poets words to restore my spirit's flight and order to my soul.

Since midnight these lines have circled on the fringes of my thoughts, and now they've come to fully restore my peace. They are as close to what I can remember Shakespeare's words to be:

Love is not love,
which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.


Congrats to Frank J. & Sarah K. on their engagement.

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As someone who was educated in an Irish Convent for a number of years, I can hardly let today go bye without wishing all a spiritual and reflective St. Patty's Day! Below is one of the first poems I memorized thanks to those wonderful nuns.

When You Are Old and Grey

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

~ William Butler Yeats

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Come to me in the silence of the night;
come in the speaking silence of a dream.
Come with soft rounded cheeks and eyes as bright
as sunlight on a stream;
Come back in tears,
O memory, hope, love of finished years.

O dream how sweet, too sweet, too bitter sweet,
whose awakening should have been in Paradise,
where souls brimfull of love abide and meet;
where thirsting longing eyes
watch the slow door
that opening, letting in, lets out no more.

Yet come to me in dreams that I may live
my very life again though cold in death:
Come back to me in dreams, that I may give
pulse for pulse, breath for breath.
Speak low, lean low,
as long ago, my love, how long ago.
~ Christina Rossetti

Posted by: Michele at 08:14 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I am looking forward to celebrating this day for it's pure meaning - the celebration of love. I love the incredible energy that love brings into a person's life. Since the start of the year, I've tried to create a loving atmosphere for myself, so I can share that with those around me, both in the real and virtual world.

This past year, this blog has helped me realize that I've been very shy about meeting new people. I guess I had to truly grieve the death of my friends before I could move on. My grieving had to truly turn the corner into celebrating their presence in my life. They gave me more love and support in the years we were all together, than most people experience in a lifetime.

Valentine's day would be when we would take kids from the local homeless shelter ice skating in Central Park. Afterwards we'd give them little gifts followed by hot chocolate and lots of smiles and hugs. It was always a wonderful day full of happy smiles and great feelings, whether we were involved or not.

Well, tomorrow Dear Cupid, I venture out as your ambassador. I will be spending 2 hrs volunteering with a local kindergarden class helping them create valentine's day cards for their loved ones, reading Valentine day stories, eating heart shaped chocolate cup cakes with sprinkles (I just made) and just having a real fun time. I'm really looking forward to speading some loving smiles and hugs. I just love the hugs I get from these wonderful little angels. They, as you, have truly been a balm for my soul.

Long ago I discovered that loving life, kept me full of joy and wonder, which in turn touched the lives of those around me. I lost that part of me after 9/11 when everyone I loved was taken from me. But now I'm living on for their loving memories, and for the life they taught and gave me to live.

So, in celebration of that love, I hope that everyone experiences more than just the words I love you. I hope everyone experiences the kind of simple loving, such as actions that touch the heart, convey. Those actions carry more weight, depth and meaning than any 3 words could ever offer.
I hope you have a love-filled week!

Posted by: Michele at 10:35 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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1 What a wonderful day......and I'm so glad you're doing that. I've always felt that love is the key to a rich and fulfilled life....and realizing that you have that love in time to enjoy it is the essance of joy. What a great gift that is! You have a wonderful, love-filled week too!

Posted by: Tammi at February 14, 2005 12:47 AM (HaRi0)

2 What a wonderful thing to do, and I am so glad you are doing it. Celebrate the love that is all around you, and may it warm and enrich your life for much more than a day. Sending a little bit of extra warmth your way with a thought of you today.

Posted by: Laughing Wolf at February 14, 2005 07:58 AM (pE1Lx)

3 Just wait until you finally meet the family. You'll get more hugs than you know what to do with :-) And I'm glad the day went well.

Posted by: Harvey at February 15, 2005 01:31 PM (tJfh1)

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It's another sleepless night where my thoughts turned to poetry. I picked a very well read and threadbare copy of a book of sonnets. I was actually checking my memory to see if I remembered a few of my favorite poems correctly. Here's a few popular ones you might recognize:

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