Category Archives: The Past

Happy Birthday Willie Shakes

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Just this morning I quoted “all the world’s a stage” to a friend. A discussion ensued which wound up with us using Google to prove I was right in that the line was from “As You Like It” and not from “Love’s Labour Lost”. That in turn became a discussion of just how Shakespeare’s words have infiltrated our lives.

Few of us get through the education system without gleaning some basic knowledge of the man, well at least a couple of his works. Even if one cannot quote any other line from say, Hamlet; even if one does not know the name of the tragedy itself, one is still familiar with “…to be or not to be…”  I still remember the magical moment in fourth grade upon realizing wherefore actually meant why and how that one little thing completely changed the context of “…wherefore art thou Romeo?”. It taught me to always look deeper than the words on the page, because as Led Zeppelin perfectly states ’cause you know sometimes words have two meanings. Still, thanks to my southern upbringing, I knew what being “a sorry sight” meant long before I ever heard the name William Shakespeare and was destined to enjoy more of his magical verbiage.

Think about it. Most of his words which we quote without thought, were written for plays – for mere entertainment. Think about how so much of it has transcended from Elizabethan times to now, without one iota of loss in their overall meanings. Talk about staying power! Many of us remember little of what we’re taught regarding the actual history of those times. Well, little of history in general, to be honest. Yet all of us quote him more than we can ever imagine, even if we do not realize the words are his.

I’ll quote someone else for a moment and paraphrase Edward Bulwer-Lytton: the might of the pen, indeed!

In the midst of the above mentioned Google search I also discovered today, April 23rd, is William Shakespeare’s birthday.

Willie Shakes, as I quite tongue-in-cheekily like to refer to the Bard, would be 449 years old. In honor of the man who likely has had the biggest influence on many of the colloquialisms that continue to spice our language I post the following:

Shakespeare Words

* click to see full size *

Happy 449th Birthday William Shakespeare!!

“To me, fair friend, you never can be old”
— Shakespeare Sonnet 104
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Slice of Life graphic

Slice of Life Weekly Writing Challenge – April 23, 2013

Being Human

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A chance design, or all His will?
I wonder still.
Holy? Profane? Scared? Obscene?
What does it mean?
Living each day the best we can,
Being human,
From birth to death each single span.
Combination of what we feel,
And all the ways in which we deal?
I wonder still, what does it mean, being human?

A new Oviellejo to ponder as you wander…

I sat here this morning bemoaning my current bout of insomnia and how it is taking finally its toll on me today. Cranky from lack of rest. Jittery from the excessive amounts of caffeine I’ve already consumed to get me through this day. A day that still has several more long hours in it before I can lay my head to rest and hope I can get some decent sleep tonight.

And then a friend posted a link: 40 Of The Most Powerful Photographs Ever Taken

To directly quote from the article “A moving collection of iconic photographs from the last 100 years that demonstrate the heartbreak of loss, the tremendous power of loyalty, and the triumph of the human spirit. Warning: Some of these will make you weep.”

I first saw this article when it came out last year. Some of the photographs will at least give you pause, it got to me then. As I went through these photographs again today, I realize nothing has changed. I felt that same sense of kin. For people from my own country and abroad. I find myself not just sympathetic, but empathetic to so many of them. People I never have and/or never will meet. Their raw moments of joys, pains, fears, courage.

I am reminded once more of the beautiful fragility that is the human element.

And oddly enough, I am suddenly wide awake and no longer cranky. Perspective is everything.

Here’s passing on a little of that perspective for your day:

Seriously, before clicking the link down below, if you’re consuming any food or beverage, put it down. In addition you may want to have a napkin/tissue at the ready for any cryi– I mean for any grit that may get stuck under your eyelid.

40 Of The Most Powerful Photographs Ever Taken

Updated to add: I suspect a certain photo of a man in a cowboy during the aftermath of the bombings at the Boston Marathon will be added to this list soon.

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Open Link Night — week 92

Unpacking

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“I need to stop looking away and unpack my own reaction.”

My fellow blogger and friend, GirlGriot used that gem to describe her gut reaction to something. You can read all about it here.

I was telling a few friends a story of a crazy event that occurred over a year ago. I’ve told this story to several different friends over time, in the same way so I was not thinking about it as i told this group. At least I wasn’t thinking about it until a friend called me out on a racist comment that flew out of my mouth. I took a mental step back for a moment, but she was right. What I had said, even jokingly, was racist. I know it was a not-so-charming stereotype learned from my mother, among other places where such stereotypes are fostered, while I growing up. Still, I had not realized how deep that nasty little bug had dug in it came flying out.

As I said, I’ve told this story before to others in the same manner. I can’t decide if no one else ever noticed it before, or if they had, chose not to say anything. Neither option sits well with me, but the latter especially galls me. Once called on it, I owned up to it, because it was what it was. I know my friends know me better than that. What scares me is that it has been there all this time and I even I had not noticed to check myself.

I’m left wondering what other nasty little deep-rooted gems are waiting to come out and bite me. I’m praying that if it’s something I don’t notice, that it does not take over a year before I’m called out on it.

My Home

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My home is slowly getting old…

Eclectic in a way that will never grace a magazine cover
It is a home that is lived in, a structure that has seen some years
Pock marks, and tiny fissures vein parts of the wall
I used to see it as fault, now I see the imperfections as character

My home is warm / inviting…

Not one for bright colors or pastels except as the occasional accent,
I have ever changing adornments of noirs, scarlet, indigoes, eggplants etc.
It is deep rich colors and jewel tones that I like best
To offset the warmth of my mocha walls

My home is full of sound…

The hiss when its steaming
The pop when the floor is stepped on the wrong way
The hum of music and conversation that surround me
Mostly externally, but sometimes it’s just in my head

My home is spiritual / sensual…

The Yin-Yang, Om, Cross, Peace, Magen David, Crescent, and Ankh thrive here
Cuisines Mediterranean, American, Caribbean, Asian, Vegan are served here
Children, friends, lovers and a husband, still do or once have lived here
And once invited to cross my threshold, you know that you are loved here

My home is not where I hang my hat, feed my face, lay my head…

It is in my body that I have lived in these soon to be fifty years, slowly getting old
It is in my heart deep within that I am slowly trying to let out again, warm / inviting
It is in my soul where I find my comforts for me and  my joy for others, full of sound
It is in my breath that compels to be alive and live for myself, spiritual / sensual

My home is…  me

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The Yin-Yang, Om, Cross, Peace sign, Magen David, Crescent and Ankh are in a  tattoo that runs along my spine from base of  my neck down, in that order.

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Meeting The Bar : Oh, the place we live!

And I Tell No One

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I carry inside
The family pains
The broken relationships
The broken friendships
The broken dreams
How I try do right
Even during the times
When I can do nothing
It is with me always

And I tell no one

I carry inside
The lump in my throat so sore
I scream on the inside
To choke down in fear
Of the love I’ve learned
To never take for granted
For it is far too fleeting
Even while wishing
It will come once more
Even if only to be lost again
It is with me always

And I tell no one

I carry inside
This beating heart
That overflows
With the strains
The understanding
That I’ve been dying
Since the day I was born
And the only thing
That can be done about it
Is to take it to its conclusion
It is with me always

And I tell no one

And I carry inside
A fervent desire
To hurry that conclusion
It is with me always

And I tell no one

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Today at dVerse we are asked to “confess” via poetry.

And before anyone panics, the above is taken from an old journal entry. Yes, I’ve had some bad days in the past that I pray are not a part of my future, however,  I promise all of you I am fine.

dVerse  ~ Poets Pub | Poetic Confessions

 

Orphan

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He was my first Deity, my Lord
All I knew encircled Him
He was the sun and I followed in path
Capitulated to His moods,
Prayed for His mercy
Lived in fear of His wrath

After all he was My Father

But he bowed to a deity
Of his own
That either kept him cold and aloof
or filled with the spirit
of liquid hellish fire
of various proof

We tried to be as quiet as a church
In the middle of the night
But we never found a peace to be still
When I can be whipped awake
At any moment
For some ages old forgotten ill

And where was she you ask
When his fist and my face
Were making connections
How could she save me when she herself
Was in dire need
Of her own protection

Where do I go
This was my shelter
It was all I’ve ever known
I’m taught never to be where I’m not wanted
But what do I do when I’m a child
And where I’m not wanted is home

Well the first time I ran
I was soon returned
For I was very under aged
But I aired laundry in the process
And now both of them
Were enraged

Straight A’s brought not a praise
Chores lack brought not a reproach
His indifference became such
That I would push his buttons
With a cheeky little laugh
The only way to feel his touch

Knowing it was all
A fucked way to feel
Just added to vicious revolution
a penance to pay
For which there was never
an absolution

So when I broke out
And ran away part four
I just started living wild
No one ever said a word
what could they say
I am my father’s child

I’m told I should still love him
Pray for him
And wish him well
I say I do in the mere fact
that I simply
never wished him to hell

Some called me cold
Some called me tough
can handle any shit
But I grew up where
whining didn’t change a thing
so what was the point to it

My mother died first
and she I do miss
She did the best that she could
The next I saw him was to bury him
keeping a promise
he knew I would

He’s been gone
nearly a year
without any impact
I was an orphan
deep in my soul
long before I was in fact

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Mining the Memory–dVerse ~ Poets Pub Meeting The Bar :

Letter To You

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To You,

There are several in my life, yet…

I desire only you.

What is it about you that suspends time and makes the universe stand still?

We speak on the inane of comic book characters, television sitcoms and movie trivia with as much passion as we discuss the arcane of politics, prejudice and justice and of freeing one’s mind. It is totally appropriate that the Biblical Book of Numbers holds as much sway in our conversations as the Astrological Book of Numbers.

I lay in bed and it is your voice I hear in my dreams, your touch I feel in my fantasies.

I often wonder, is it the charisma in your voice?

Or perhaps, it is the old soul that I see when I gaze into your eyes. That transports me another time when temples honored Ra and Nut, as the pyramids testified to the rules of Ramses and Hatshepsut.

Maybe it is the gentleness of your kiss introduced upon my cheek when we meet or part…

Could it be the truth behind your words? Perhaps it is the way in which you carry yourself with Dignity, with Pride, with Grace.

Or is it the fierce protector /valiant warrior that I see?

Maybe it is the honest way in which you treat people or the compassion within your heart, even as you chew someone out for nth time for the nth stupidity.

How am I so privileged to be let past the cool exterior to the warmth that you possess?

How am I so doomed to belatedly realize that the hidden warmth is your flame and I am your moth?

I am instinctively drawn to you…

You are: my Sower, my Reaper; my Hercules and my Achilles.

Shit! I’m in love with you…

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This “letter” was a near verbatim entry in a journal, from eons ago.

(Apparently, a) I don’t spell as nicely in my hand-written journals as I do when I type – who knew? and b) at 3:41am (the time noted on the entry), when no one’s looking I am one sappy as all get out  romantic – please don’t tell.)

It literally was the moment I realized I was in love, down to that last line. It made me laugh to read it again, so I had to include it in the post.

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight Week 82

Don’t Know Why

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I’m sitting here, just sitting here, wrapped in your memory
It’s one so deep in my heart and I really know that I should let it be
But it’s like a sad, sad love song stuck on the same sad, sad refrain
I can’t stop myself from feeling this, even though it’s all just pure pain

But here you are locked within my heart
As if we never said goodbye
And I don’t know why

I admit I didn’t think, I’d make it through those first heartbreak days
But much time has passed and I’ve been just fine since we parted ways
I laugh at our past, brush it away, I got over the things I miss
So I do not understand why today I am so deeply feeling this

Because here you are locked within my spirit
As if we never said goodbye
And I don’t know why

I can’t seem
I can’t seem to excise my heart from you
It’s a struggle
It’s a struggle I thought was through
But your smile, our laughter, all we had
Is right here at easy recall
Oh, we sure were worth the rise, baby
But I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,
No, I just can’t redo that fall

Yet here you are locked within my soul,
As if we never said goodbye
And I just want to cry, feel like I want to die
And I don’t why
No, I don’t know why

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Trying to excise a memory

dVerse ~Poet Pub | OpenLinkNight Week 79

A Stark Raivenne Mad Fat Girl In A Victoria’s Secrets World

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A few of my friends will recognize the following event as it actually happened quite some time ago. However, in the hustle and bustle of this holiday season as I found myself in a very similar situation yet again, I have to tell it here just for the amusement – enjoy!

I walked into a local Victoria’s Secret with my best friend. The music coming through the speakers, greets us with various sultry sounding women with descant reprising the equivalent if not necessarily equal musical verse and chapter of how her man has done her wrong, once more, yet again. Because yes, while I’m alone at home, crying my eyes out into yet another gallon of Rocky Road ice cream and popping chocolate truffles like crack, I will want to be wearing hundred-dollar lingerie – but that’s just me.

Actually, that is a moot point. My best friend is the one buying. I’m just tagging along, as the only thing I can truly wear in this establishment is their cologne. For this bastion of beauty designed to adorn the feminine figure with a tempest of frail looking, but delectable lingerie delights had long ago decided that said feminine figures end at a numerical amount somewhat below the number of the ample mold the dear Lord as blessed upon me.

I touch silver links joining together a triangular swatch of silk I first presumed to be an eye patch before I realized it’s actually a thong. I then make the mistake of catching the eye of one of the pretty little sales girls who then swoops upon me like a hawk upon a tit mouse in a national forest park. My best friend, having endured my “I just want to fuck with folks mood” whenever we enter an establishment such as this, had wisely walked away from me knowing nothing good was going to come of this start of a beautiful friendship.

The sales girl wants to know, of course, if she can help me. Her eyebrow locked in that know-it-all “…because you can’t possibly be here making a purchase for yourself!” arch. I barely bite down the first instinct guiding my tongue to say something sweet like “Gain a hundred pounds, live with it for -oh- twenty or so years and come to a place like this – then ask me that question again”. Instead, because I am already bored, I ask if they carry plus sizes. She perked right up informing me (quite enthusiastically I might add), that they carry sizes all the way up to 38F! I smile sweetly, pick-up the nearest 36F I saw and held it up against my ‘numbers’. It was something akin to measuring golf ball against a baseball – but it was enough to wipe the self-satisfied arch off her brow.

Still, the poor, poor child didn’t take the hint and continued to follow me through the store actually answering what ever inane question popped in to my head. I saw a small black thin band of what appeared to be spandex and stretched it a bit. I was actually surprised, as I held it up for the sales girl to the see just as I was about to place it over my hair.

“When did Vicki’s start carrying headbands?” The look of shock on the sales girls face made me stop in mid-air.
“It’s a bandeau bra not a headband.” You’d think the icy coolness dripping of her voice would have stopped me right? Wrong!
“Oh! You mean like a tube top? Cool! Does it come in plus size?” My voice was dripping with as much saccharine as hers dripped glaciers.

I could hear my best friend losing the battle to stifle a laugh from in front of the cashier as she was well aware that I already knew what it was when I picked the damned thing up. The sales girl however, looked like she wanted to club me. I picked up another eye patch that had star-shaped crystals along the band connecting the material at the waist. Can you say ouch?
“Does this blue eye patch scratch?”
My best friend mercifully, for the sales girl anyway, grabbed me by the arm and snatched me out of there. Hey, I did say I was bored, didn’t I?

You know, I just realized I never did get the answer to that scratch question…

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Slice of Life Weekly Story Challenge

 

 

 

 

Slice of Life Weekly Story Challenge

At All

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I go through the motions, put a smile on my face
Oh I’m just fine to those who call
Only one could pull me from this dark space
But you’re gone,
So I don’t care at all

Every time I think I’m doing better
The pain holds me in tighter thrall
And I know you’d hate that I’m like this
But you’re gone,
And I don’t care at all

I know I should be better off than I am
But I also know I just don’t give a damn

When it’s all about “Tis the season”
I still hang garland from doors and walls
I once loved the holidays without reason
But you’re gone,
So I don’t care at all

El Sol churns out yet another day,
The flowers bloom, then leaves fall
Luna glows oh so marvelous they say
But you’re gone,
And I don’t care at all
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dVerse ~ Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight – Week 76 – Holiday Edition