It's occurred to me.....
I've never written a sonnet.
Oh, shame on me!
I promise I'l get right on it.

INVERSNAID
     - Gerard Manley Hopkins

This darksome burn, horseback brown,
His rollback highroad roaring down,
In coop and comb the fleece of his foam
Flutes and low to the lake falls home.

A windpuff-bonnet of fawn-fróth
Turns and dwindles over the broth
Of a pool so pitchblack, féll-frówning,
It rounds and rounds Despair to drowning.

Dogged with dew, dappled with dew,
Are the groins of the braes that the brook treads through,
Wiry heathpacks, flitches of fern,
And the bead bonny ash that sits over the burn.

What would the world be, once bereft
Of wet and wildness? Let them be left,
O let them be left, wildness and wet;
Long live the weeds and the wilderness yet.

   So tonight I'll go to Spoken Word, my poetry circle, and along with reading them the little things I've written in the past month I'll be reciting what I know so far of The Suicide, by Edna St. Vincent Millay, and then reading the rest of it. (It's a story, I don't want to leave them hanging!)  This will be fun because it's such an impassioned piece of literature, I like to see how much expression I can say it with. Those of you who know me personally know........ plenty!
   The best part is that my youngest daughter Annie (aged 20) and her childhood friend (also 20), whom I've known since she was a year old, plan to come too. Annie is also a writer, and I have the immense privilege of being inspired by her stuff. I'm eager to share her with my friends, and vice versa.

Watched Practical Magic with my girls last night. This was my favorite scene. :)

                                                       Good morning Autumn!

    

"Often what comes out of a person's mouth is more dangerous, more deadly than what goes into it."
               - a smart guy who made up a lot of rules about what to eat and what not to.

"It's poetry season. Time to wrap up these silly games." - a poet

But when it is NOT poetry season??
So it's always time to wrap up these silly games.
(So many silly games.)
Except during silly game season.

EGYPT'S MIGHT IS TUMBLED DOWN
                                  - Mary Coleridge

Egypt's might is tumbled down
  Down a-down the deeps of thought;
Greece is fallen and Troy town,
Glorious Rome hath lost her crown,
  Venice's pride is naught.

But the dreams their children dreamed
  Fleeting, unsubstantial, vain.
Shadowy as the shadows seemed
Airy nothing, as they deemed,
  These remain.

GROWN-UP
   - Edna St. Vincent Millay

Was it for this I uttered prayers,
And sobbed and cursed and kicked the stairs,
That now, domestic as a plate,
I should retire at half past eight?

(Mariah speaking:  hahaha...... when I'm lucky!)

   Don't you love a day so busy you have no time for the internet? Up at 6, out to my weekly breakfast and conversation with Dad (Breakfast Epiphanies, as my son calls them). Back into town, grocery shopping and home to take care of the granddaughter for a few hours. Working through Mama's second shift when Dad comes home and takes over. I should be doing dishes now, but I'm gonna chill a few.
   Soon, I get to wind down over some wine, music and poetry. Maybe do some writing. Been a good day. :)

SONNETS
    - Edna St. Vincent Millay

                        IV
I shall forget you presently my dear,
So make the most of this, your little day,
Your little month, your little half a year,
Ere I forget, or die, or move away,
And we are done forever; by and by
I shall forget you, as I said, but now,
If you entreat me with your loveliest lie
I will protest with my favorite vow.
I would indeed that love were longer-lived,
And vows were not so brittle as they are,
But so it is, and nature has contrived
To struggle on without a break thus far, -
Whether or not we find what we are seeking
Is idle, biologically speaking.

Maybe I need this photo in my library.

THE EMBANKMENT
(the fantasia of a fallen gentleman on a cold, bitter night)
                                         - T.E. Hulme

Once, in finesse of fiddles found I ecstasy,
In a flash of gold heels on the pavement.
Now I see
That warmth's the very stuff of poesy.
Oh, God, make small
The old star-eaten blanket of the sky,
That I may fold it round me and in comfort lie.

WEEDS
    Edna St. Vincent Millay

White with daisies and red with sorrel
   And empty, empty under the sky! -
Life is a quest and love a quarrel -
   Here is a place for me to lie.

Daisies spring from damnèd seeds,
   And this red fire that here I see
Is a worthless crop of crimson weeds,
   Cursed by farmers thriftily.

But here, unhated for an hour,
   The sorrel runs in ragged flame,
The daisy stands, a bastard flower,
   Like flowers that bear an honest name.

And here a while, where no wind brings
   The baying of a pack athirst,
May sleep the sleep of blessed things
   The blood too bright, the brow accurst.

   Language is a holy thing. Logos is God. And logos was used by the Greeks to indicate the divine in man - the thing that sets him apart from the animals. The rational mind and the ability to express that rationality. We should treat it with the respect that it deserves. And guard it scrupulously. It's about the most precious thing we have. 

Little Lebnaniye. Lebni and olive oil sandwich for breakfast..... 

SONNETS
    - Edna St. Vincent Millay

                            III
Oh, think not I am faithful to a vow!
Faithless am I to save love's self alone.
Were you not lovely I would leave you now:
After the feet of beauty fly my own.
Were you not still my hunger's rarest food,
And water ever to my wildest thirst,
I would desert you - think not but I would! -
And seek another as I sought you first.
But you are mobile as the veering air,
And all your charms more changeful than the tide,
Wherefore to be inconsistent is no care:
I have but to continue at your side.
So wanton, light and false, my love, are you,
I am most faithless when I am most true.

“I do not know what makes a writer, but it probably isn't happiness.” 
― William Saroyan, The Bicycle Rider In Beverly Hills

I have recently been reminded of this gentleman. Of his works, I have only read The Human Comedy, and that was when I was about 12.  Maybe it's time to explore further.....

IN THE TIME OF YOUR LIFE
                    - William Saroyan

“In the time of your life, live—so that in that good time there shall be no ugliness or death for yourself or for any life your life touches. Seek goodness everywhere, and when it is found, bring it out of its hiding place and let it be free and unashamed.

Place in matter and in flesh the least of the values, for these are the things that hold death and must pass away. Discover in all things that which shines and is beyond corruption. Encourage virtue in whatever heart it may have been driven into secrecy and sorrow by the shame and terror of the world. Ignore the obvious, for it is unworthy of the clear eye and the kindly heart.

Be the inferior of no man, or of any men be superior. Remember that every man is a variation of yourself. No man's guilt is not yours, nor is any man's innocence a thing apart. Despise evil and ungodliness, but not men of ungodliness or evil. These, understand. Have no shame in being kindly and gentle but if the time comes in the time of your life to kill, kill and have no regret.

In the time of your life, live—so that in that wondrous time you shall not add to the misery and sorrow of the world, but shall smile to the infinite delight and mystery of it.”

Don't you love it when more potatoes and onions are peeled than are needed for the meal?

Darcy and I enjoyed this windfall snack!  

Music for a rainy afternoon in Texas. 

I love this music teacher and the jazz groups he puts together with his students. Magic talent.

SONNETS
   - Edna St. Vincent Millay

                           II
I think I should have loved you presently,
And given in earnest words I flung in jest;
And lifted honest eyes for you to see,
And caught your hand against my cheek and breast;
And all my pretty follies flung aside,
That won you to me, and beneath your gaze,
Naked of reticence and shorn of pride,
Spread like a chart my little wicked ways.
I, that had been to you, had you remained,
But one more waking from a recurrent dream,
Cherish no less the certain stakes I gained,
And walk your memory's halls, austere, supreme,
A ghost in marble of a girl you knew
Who would have loved you in a day or two.

SONNETS
    - Edna St. Vincent Millay

                                 I
Love, though for this you riddle me with darts,
Oh, heavy prince! Oh, panderer of hearts! -
Yet hear me tell how in their throats they lie
Who shout you mighty: thick about my hair,
Day in, day out your ominous arrows purr,
Who still am free, unto no querulous care
A fool, and in no temple worshiper!
I, that have bared me to your quiver's fire,
Lifted my face into its puny rain,
Do wreathe you impotent to Evoke Desire,
As you are Powerless to Elicit Pain!
(Now will the god, for blasphemy so brave,
Punish me, surely, with the shaft I crave!)

Sitting in the dining room eating lunch, while Darcy, who is supposed to be napping in the next room, sings at the top of her lungs. There is no better music anywhere.

Thoze toze

EVERYONE SANG
     - Siegfried Sassoon

Everyone suddenly burst out singing;
And I was filled with such delight
As prisoned birds must find in freedom,
Winging wildly across the white
Orchards and dark-green fields; on - on - and out of sight.

Everyone's voice was suddenly lifted;
And beauty came like the setting sun:
My heart was shaken with tears; and horror
Drifted away..... O, but Everyone
Was a bird; and the song was wordless; the singing will never be done.

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme, from the front porch, for my chicken soup. 

from AS YOU LIKE IT
act II scene V
                - Shakespeare

Amiens:
 Under the greenwood tree,
   Who loves to lie with me,
   And turn his merry note
   Unto the sweet bird's note
Come hither, come hither, come hither:
   Here shall he see
   No enemy
But winter and rough weather.

Amiens, Jaques and others:
   Who doth ambition shun,
   And loves to lie i' the sun,
   Seeking the food he eats,
   And pleased with what he gets,
Come hither, come hither, come hither:
   Here he shall see
   No enemy
But winter and rough weather.

THE FASCINATION OF WHAT'S DIFFICULT
                                    - William Butler Yeats

The fascination of what's difficult
Has dried the sap out of my veins, and rent
Spontaneous joy and natural content
Out of my heart. There's something ails our colt
That must, as if it had not holy blood
Nor on Olympus leaped from cloud to cloud,
Shiver under the lash, strain, sweat and jolt
As though it dragged road-metal. My curse on plays
That have to be set up in fifty ways,
On the day's war with every knave and dolt,
Theatre business, management of men.
I swear before the dawn comes round again
I'll find the stable and pull out the bolt.

(Mariah speaking) I feel ya, Bill.

https://seam-project.com/about/

My daughter's community theater project in Austin. I wish I knew how to make it open upon posting, but it's worth clicking on. Such a cool thing they're doing!

Teaching Amo's Bear to make a D. "Straight Line......Curvy Line!"

from THE SUICIDE
    - Edna St, Vincent Millay

Curse thee, Life, I'll live with thee no more!
Thou has mocked me, starved me, beat my body sore!
And all for a pledge that was not pledged by me,
I have kissed thy crust and eaten sparingly
That I may eat again, and met thy sneers
With deprecations, and thy blows with tears, -
Aye, from thy glutted lash, glad, crawled away,
As if spent passion were a holiday!

(Mariah speaking) I've begun memorizing this 130-line poem. I may perform it in the Seam Project in Austin, or I may just keep it with me for my own enjoyment, forever. I'll be posting what I have so far, every few days. 

The other day I was with the family in the dining room and looked up at what I could see of the kitchen from my perspective. Everything in my view was lovely, tho crowded. Looked like a pic from a lovely country inn. 

GOD'S WORLD
     - Edna St. Vincent Millay

O world, I cannot hold thee close enough!
    Thy winds, thy wide grey skies!
    Thy mists, that roll and rise!
Thy woods, this autumn day, that ache and sag
And all but cry with colour! That gaunt crag
To crush! To lift the lean of that black bluff!
World, World, I cannot get thee close enough!

Long have I known a glory in it all,
                  But never knew I this;
                  Here such a passion is
As stretcheth me apart, - Lord, I do fear
Thou'st made the world too beautiful this year;
My soul is all but out of me, - let fall
No burning leaf; prithee, let no bird call.

Just discovered a Lebanese-American sculptor. Victor Issa. Love his stuff.