Tuesday, 18 February 2014

"It's Like That"...and more.

February's still here, so the poetry continues. :-) I'd like to share two poems tonight. The first is by one of my sisters, Durie. She's on Twitter as @MizDurie. Her blog, The Water IS Troubled (TWIST) features moving and inspirational pieces; pieces you will simply enjoy reading.

It's Like That is a poem that draws you in with its sharp imagery you can all but touch. And, by the time you wrap your fingers around it to press it to your bosom, it ends, leaving you with nothing but sighs, and a certain knowing. Here now, with Durie's permission, is:

It's Like That 

It’s like that.

That grey area of wonderment,

Expectation, and worry.

When my fingers tremble to write because

Nothing can do justice to the precious moment that exists

In memory –

Of that sweet conversation turned even sweeter.

When disappointments and heartaches and insecurities


Into the nothingness of the abyss of a time

That is perpetually the past.

It’s like that.

Like the smell of storm clouds,

The splash of rain that commingles tears

And drives the fears of darkness and lightning away.

But the storm’s coming.

And with breathless anticipation every drop

Becomes the priceless diamond of perfection and purity.


It’s like that.

When a heart loses rhythm in submission

To the other

And become one


When even the dream of a whisper of a breath

Fulfills every desire for freedom

To be enslaved by the silk cords of –

Crimson red cords of –

It’s like that.

If only the inexplicable could become

A thing, to touch, to taste

To feel.

To feel again, and again, and again…

And fall aimlessly through clouds

And rain, and pain,

And hit love hard,

And then smile.

It’s like that.

(c) 2009

The second poem is not really a poem, per se. It is a provocative admonition that makes you squirm and smile in sweet surrender - all at once. Well, that's how I felt it. It's a quote by C.S. Lewis. I came across it a few days before Valentine's Day and I couldn't help but share it on my Twitter timeline. In a sense, it does read like poetry. There's a quote for that, isn't there? Yes. "Always be a poet, even in prose." - Charles Baudelaire :-)  Here is, To Love At All, an oft-quoted excerpt from Lewis' book, The Four Loves:

To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket — safe, dark, motionless, airless — it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside of Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell.

And here, dear reader, is a pleasant surprise. A cartoon illustration of To Love At All. The cartoonist, Gavin, did a marvellous job with this, didn't he?


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