poetry, photos and musings oh my!

Exploring the world in which I live, inside and out.

In the dark there was Leone

“Can miles truly separate you from friends…if you want to be with someone you love, aren’t you already there?” – Richard Bach

 

“You can shed tears that she is gone, or you can smile because she has lived. You can close your eyes and pray that she’ll come back, or you can open your eyes and see all she’s left. Your heart can be empty because you can’t see her, or you can be full of the love you shared. You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday, or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday. You can remember her only that she is gone, or you can cherish her memory and let it live on. You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back. Or you can do what she’d want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on.”   -   David Harkins

*

In the dark there was Leone

Over and over

I hear of people

Afraid of being

Alone in the dark

It is a fear

I cannot share

As a child

The dark was safer

They were usually asleep

Today

In the dark

I enjoy the company

Of some sweet memories

The rare nugget or gem

Excavated from childhood

An email from a cousin

Tells me that auntie Lee

Died Thursday night

The same cousin who took me

To see Lee a decade ago

After the stroke

Lee didn’t recognize me

But I said goodbye then

Silently through the tears

The lost years could not be restored

Years from now

Lee will still be with me

In the dark and in the sun

Thoughts turn to her

The songs and stories she taught me

Her kindness cannot be erased

Lone sunflower – defiant amongst the weeds

Unfeigned

Unlike those she came from

Flashes of light in the darkness of childhood

*

Bisous

Léa

…To the left

“This is the biggest cemetery for Jews, Poles, Roma and Sinti. It must tell us that we have to come back here again and again. We must keep the memory of the worst crime in human history alive for those who were born later.”   –  Horst Koehler, Germany President

“First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out – Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out – Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out – Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me – and there was no one left to speak for me.”    -  Martin Niemöller 

This post is dedicated to the memories of Claire Magnani (who wanted it read but couldn’t hear it anymore), Manya and Meyer Korenblit, Chaim Nagelstein and too many others.

*

…To the left

Naked they cling to each other

Husband and wife parent to child

Lovers embrace

O mother, with infant at your breast

You must be cleansed

To the side of the large stone building

Lay the belongings

Of those who are to be cleansed

You who wear a yellow star

You shall be cleansed

Soldiers rummage through mounds of clothing

Items are catalogued

By the hundreds

They line up for the showers

Men, women, children

With paralyzing fear

They are herded through large doors

A small boy of five

With piercing brown eyes

Clutches his mother’s arm

As the gas permeates the room

Amid the screams

Comes the cry

“Hush mien kindelein hashem is with us”

And they are cleansed

And Germany is cleansed

And the ovens are cleansed

Made ready for those who will follow

Skeletal remnants of men

Must remove the remains

Of their brothers and sisters

Must pry the gold from their mouths

Must fill German coffers

Must kindle the fires with the bones

Of those they love

Germany must be

Cleansed

Purify

Pile another corpse into the ovens

Those hollow cheeks the vacant stares

Fire will purify

Cold grey ashes will not tell

Of what has been done

Thick black smoke fills the nostrils

With deaths stench

And violates the skies of Europe

Rich German soil harbors mass graves

And Germany will not be cleansed

*

NEVER AGAIN!

Bisous,

Léa

precipice – let the memoirs commence

“All the fear has left me. I’m not frightened anymore. It’s my heart that pounds beneath my chest, it’s my mouth that pushes out this breath and if I shed a tear I won’t cage it. I won’t fear love and if I feel rage I won’t deny it. I won’t fear love.”   –  Sarah McLachlan

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”   –  Maya Angelou

“Though silence is not necessarily an admission, it is not a denial either.”   –  Marcus Tullius Cicero 

“God may be in the details, but the goddess is in the questions. Once we begin to ask them, there’s no turning back.”   –   Gloria Steinem

*

precipice – let the memoirs commence

witness

on the edge

posed for the plunge

knowing the horrors

lurking in wait

my purpose far from benevolent

the past etched in stone

imbedded in scar tissue and bone

trails of crumbs strewn along

neural pathways

certain sounds and smells

like fingernails dragged across the chalkboard

like a battering ram – I shall

break down doors

dragging ghosts and skeletons

from hiding

those who hid from reality

those quashed for what they knew

i shall warm their bones

giving them, at last, a voice

writing it down

testimony

silence and terror

an arsenal generations old

sins of fathers

sins of mothers

this is not a trial

just an airing

of long entombed

evidence

no declarations in anger

a survivor’s memoir

one who is guilty

breaking the silence

bisous,

léa

bredouille

“ Often the hands will solve a mystery that the intellect has struggled with in vain.”   -  Carl Jung

 

 

“For beautiful eyes, look for the good in others; for beautiful lips, speak only words of kindness; and for poise, walk with the knowledge that you are never alone.”   – Audrey Hepburn

 

“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.”    -  Marcel Proust

 

*

bredouille

mais oui

my hands empty

on arrival

en France

yet my palms

open as

mon coeur

armed with smiles

eyes wide open

sincère mais espiègle

an invitation to all

magnétique

for some

six ans plus tard

ces mains

mon coeur

seem to overflow

yet yielding to welcome

each new friend

je gagne

perhaps it was the mischief

dans mes yeux?

*

bisous,

léa

memoir or fictionalized truth

“Men’s memoirs are about answers; women’s memoirs are about questions. Most male authors want to look good in their memoirs and have a place in posterity, while most women know that posterity is what happens when you no longer care. Women want to connect with others here and now; they couldn’t care less about legacy!   -  Isabel Allende

 

Another way of looking at it: 

 

“I have always distrusted memoir. I tend to write my memoirs through my fiction. It’s easier to get to the truth by not claiming that you are speaking it. Some things can be said in fiction that can never be said in memoir.  

 -  Armistead Maupin

*

memoir or fictionalized truth

today

both feet

perched on the edge – a precipice

pulling stories together

exposing more than self

lighting a few candles

would be an effort in

futility

opting for the wrecking crew approach

deciding it was time

breaking down doors

wrenching skeletons

long entrenched

now meticulously scrutinized

committing their crimes

to print

my greatest transgression

bearing witness

for those who were silenced

giving them a voice

while finally trusting

my own

changing names

to protect those not

yet born

and only reality is left

defamed

*

 bisous,

léa

knowing dark

“Every moment of light and dark is a miracle.”   -  Walt Whitman

 

“In the middle of the journey of our life I came to myself within a dark wood where the straight way was lost.”   -  Dante Alighieri

 

“Roll on, deep and dark blue ocean, roll. Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain. Man marks the earth with ruin, but is control stops with the shore.”   -  Lord Byron

*

knowing dark

 

were you aware

that both darkness

and light

possess specific scents, music and texture?

the odor of darkness cannot be

fully appreciated by inexperienced senses

years spent where light was restricted

refine the senses educate them

intimacy with every shade of night

each nuance

feeling my way

making the most of a unique gift

over time

senses heighten

evocative

mnemonic

tranquillité

now

sunshine

reveals

a new world

Léa

Holly’s recurring Valentines Day re-post!

leamuse:

Regardless of the occasion, Holly puts it all in perspective! :)

Originally posted on hollyanne gets poetic:

Yep, posted last year and probably the year before, but I like to think of it as an antidote to all that excess slop that’s out there right now… Yes, I actually consider myself quite a romantic in “real” life, but not in the icky commercialised way of things…

Bear Arses for Valentines

Give me £4.99 supermarket roses
wobbling on the point of wilt.
Or two for eight quid. A snip!
Cellophane-strangled, thornless
and fake scented.
Force-grown, dip-dyed,
red to prove passion.
Or something.

Give me a “personalized” card
bought online, just for me.
Send off a gurning snapshot
and they’ll do the rest:
sign it and lick the envelope
and post it to S.W.A.L.K. through
my door, forensic without
your fingerprints.
Once you’ve paid them.

Give me a big pink teddy bear
yanked from a furry squash
of identical card-shop bears.
Stitched on smile, paws sewn
to cushions saying…

View original 25 more words

mon voisin aime me taquiner / my neighbour likes to tease me

“For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbors and laugh at them in our turn.”   -  Jane Austen

 

“Listen, you only tease the ones you love.”   -  John Boehner

 

“I have an intense dislike for artificial society. In France, one could lead a free life – to do what one wanted to do without interference or criticism from one’s neighbors.”   -   Robert W. Service

 

Symbol d'Occitan

Symbol d’Occitan

 

mon voisin aime me taquiner / my neighbour likes to tease me

jean est taquiner moi

he delights in telling

le monde

says i am a spy

for obama

the twinkling

dans ses yeux,

illuminating smile

gives him away

everytime

the hard rods of

steel

he shapes into

gates, railings,

le croix de Cathar

or the symbol of the

pays d’ Occitan

the flames of the

forge

a mask

outside

l’ atelier

le masque

tombe

*

bisous,

léa

Innocence

leamuse:

Another treasure from Christine! xxx

Originally posted on journeyintopoetry:

I sit beside you stroking your hair,
feel the pureness in every wispy strand.
You tell me your nose is running;
I wipe it with a tissue and
we carry on reading the book.
You giggle because
Mr Magnolia wears only one boot
and has an old trumpet that goes tooty toot.
My hand brushes your cheek as I turn the page;
you smile, snuggle closer.

I hope you can keep at least a small slice of this;
I hope the world treats you well.

View original

Chasse au trésor

“Time passes irrevocably.”   -  Virgil

 

“Time passes, and little by little everything that we have spoken in falsehood becomes true.”   -  Marcel Proust

 

“If you want an interesting party sometime, combine cocktails and a fresh box of crayons for everyone.”   -  Robert Fulghum

 

 

Chasse au trésor

There is no map to guide

This treasure hunt

Intuition – my trusted

And only compass

De nombreux cadeaux attendent

My discovery

Each New Year

Filled with possibilities,

Challenges, opportunities

Each day precious

Slipping through my hands

I cannot hang on to them

Nor save in a vault

Moments fly away

Sable dans le vent

*

Bisous,

Léa

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