"Touch has a memory"

Wind bats my face in frosty air
Touch has a memory
Gentle fingers run through hair
Touch has a memory
Icy cheek 'gainst warm embrace
Touch has a memory
Feathered circles on palm are traced
Touch has a memory

Grasp my face, hold it tight
Entwine us two till morning light
Tell a story throughout the night
We will not part without a fight
Wishes come a thousand strong
But only few are granted long
Touch has a memory

Even fairytales must end
A broken heart will never mend
But you are still with me, my friend
Though far from me you now pretend
Far from me far from yourself
Dust gathers on the shelf
Touch has a memory


There is nothing more powerful than human touch. It can both heal and destroy. We should cherish the small moments of human connection--we never know how long they may last.

for Keats

Just watched Bright Star, a movie based on the relationship between John Keats and Fanny Brawne. Keats recites part of this poem to Fanny, and the film ends with Fanny crying the words upon the news of his premature death. I found myself more moved by Keats' poetry than any of the acting or cinematography. Read this slowly and savor :)

Bright Star, Would I were Steadfast as Thou Art

By John Keats 1795–1821
 

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art—

         Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night

And watching, with eternal lids apart,

         Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,

The moving waters at their priestlike task

         Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,

Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask

         Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—

No—yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,

         Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,

To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,

         Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,

Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,

And so live ever—or else swoon to death.

for Ultimate

...dug up from my old days as an Ultimate Frisbee organizer in Chicago. Enjoy.


The Jabberdisc-y

‘Twas brillig and the Ultimate throws

Did gyre and gimble on the field;

All mimsy were the Frisbee groves,

And the zone raths outzealed.

“Beware the Jabberdisc my son!

The razored edge no one can catch!

Beware its spryling curves, and shun

The frumious hammered snatch!”

He donned his vorpal cleats and water:

Long time that manxsome disc he sought--

So he reclined by the Tumtum sideline,

And stretched a while in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he hydrated,

The Jabber-Disc, with rim of flame,

Through the tulgey field it gyrated,

And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through!

Those vorpal cleats went snicker-snack!

One leap in the air, he grabbed it there

And went galumphing back.

“And hast thou grabbed the Jabberdisc?!

Come to my arms my beamish boy!

Sweet frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”

He chortled in his joy.

‘Twas brillig and the Ultimate throws

Did gyre and gimble on the field;

All mimsy were the Frisbee groves,

And the zone raths outzealed.

*************************************

Other small poems:

1) There once were three people at Thanksgivin'
  When the air was exceptionally freezin'
  They played Frisbee for hours,
  'till their limbs lost their powers
  and they had to treated for gangrin'

2) I run like the wind
  my Frisbee flies straight and true
  your fault if we lose.

3) Beloved, prized above all plastic.
  We pray, disc, jiggle not in drastic
  contortions; thou art fair and beauteous
  and bounteous, virtuous, gracious, luscious.

4) Am I worthy to handle Thy rim?
  Is my wobbly forehand a sin?
  Is it wrong to desire,
  without consequences dire,
  that my one-person team gets to win?

Hope

Love is not a fairytale
but a deeply burning fire
if you are not attentive
you'll become its funeral pyre

Life is not a dream -- in fact
it's the cynic's heart that reigns
when you go down the rabbit hole
you'll never come out sane

Love's fiery embers becken
to bask in alluring flame
Life's tapestry of beauty
proves an illusionary game

So when Love shows no mercy
and Life cruelly strips you bare
grab hold of Life's faux fabric
and float high on Love's hot air




.....thinking one night about all the hurt that Life and Love and throw at us and what it is that keeps us going in the moment when our "cynic's heart reigns." Sometimes all you can do is hold on to something-- even if it is an illusion. Maybe the illusion will eventually become a reality.

for the struggle

for the struggle
the inner conflict
we all must wrestle
to combat what is comfort
what is familiar

each of us
deserves the
Fight
with our
self.

I feel very similar to this

Island by Akron/Family from Secretly Jag on Vimeo.

heartbreakingly beautiful

The short description for this video says "The film is an abstract dream/memory of a boy and his mother, experiencing a difficult time." Disclosure: I had to wipe away some tears after viewing this.

Broken from Freek van Haagen on Vimeo.