What Can I Do To Drive Away…

“Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard, are sweeter.”  – John Keats 

“Do you not see how necessary a world of pains and troubles is to school an intelligence and make it a soul?”  – John Keats

“Touch comes before sight, before speech. It is the first language, and the last, and it always tells the truth.”  – Margaret Atwood

What can I do to drive away…

 

What can I do to drive away

Remembrance from my eyes? For they have seen,

Aye, an hour ago, my brilliant Queen!

Touch has a memory, O say, love, say,

What can I do to kill it and be free

In my old liberty?

When every fair one that I saw was fair

Enough to catch me in but half a snare,

Not keep me there:

When, howe’er poor or particolour’d things,

My muse had wings,

And ready was to take her course

Whither I bent her force,

Unintellectual, yet divine to me;

Divine, I say! – What sea-bird o’er the sea

Is a philosopher the while he goes

Winging along where the great water throes?

How shall I do

To get anew

Those moulted feathers, and so mount once more

Above, above

The reach of fluttering Love,

And make him cower lowly while I soar?

Shall I gulp wine? No, that is vulgarism,

A heresy and schism,

Foisted into the canon law of love;

No, – wine is only sweet to happy men;

More dismal cares Seize on me unawares,

Where shall I learn to get my peace again?

To banish thoughts of that most hateful land,

Dungeoner of my friends, that wicked strand

Where they were wreck’d and lived a wrecked life,

That monstrous region, whose dull rivers pour

Ever from their sordid urns unto the shore,

Unown’d of any weedy-haired gods;

Whose winds, all zephyrless, hold scourging rods,

Iced in the great lakes, to afflict mankind;

Whose rank-grown forests, frosted, black, and blind,

Would fright a Dryad; whose harsh herbag’d meads

Make a lean and lank the starv’d ox while he feeds;

There flowers have no scent, birds no sweet song,

And great unerring Nature once seems wrong.

O, for some sunny spell

To dissipate the shadows of this hell!

Say they are gone,-with the new dawning light

Steps forth my lady bright!

O, let me once more rest

My soul upon that dazzling breast!

Let once again these aching arms be plac’d,

The tender gaolers of thy waist!

And let me feel that warm breath here and there

To spread a rapture in my very hair,
O, the sweetness of the pain!

Give me those lips again!

Enough! Enough! It is enough for me

To dream of thee!

 

– John Keats 1795 – 1821

 

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

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

Fight Censorship and thank a Librarian

“We are willing enough to praise freedom when she is tucked away in the past and cannot be a nuisance. In the present, amidst dangers whose outcome we cannot foresee, we get nervous about her, and admit censorship.   –  E.M. Forster

 

“Censorship is to art as lynching is to justice.”   –  Henry Louis Gates

 

“Submitting to censorship is to enter the seductive world of ‘The Giver’: the world where there are no bad words and no bad deeds. But it is also the world where choice has been taken away and reality distorted. And that is the most dangerous world of all.”   –  Lois Lowry

DO YOURSELF A FAVOUR AND READ:

http://www.ala.org/advocacy/intfreedom/statementspols/freedomreadstatement

*

Fight Censorship and thank a Librarian

It’s banned books week

And if a book hasn’t

Made it on that list

I’m not sure it is

Worth my time

Reading

*

It’s banned books week

If you care about

Making your own

Choices

If there is a book

You like that

Has made the list

Speak out

*

It’s banned books week

Somewhere there is a

Librarian who has stuck

Her neck out

For your right to

Read what you choose

They are the hero’s of

The hour

*

It’s banned books week

Celebrate

Read a book

From the list

Read the statement

Freedom to Read 1953

Celebrate

Then go to the independent

Book store and buy

Banned books

*

Bisous,

Léa

ravenous

“Blake said that the body was the soul’s prison unless the five senses are fully developed and open. He considered the senses the ‘windows of the soul.’ When sex involves all the senses intensely, it can be like a mystical experience.”

–   Jim Morrison

“Too much of a good thing can be wonderful.”   –   Mae West

“Love is so short, forgetting is so long.”   –   Pablo Neruda

“Passion is universal humanity. Without it religion, history, romance and art would be useless.”  –    Honore de Balzac

 

ravenous

j’ai faim

though it be a

minute

or hours

since we parted

the echos of our

melding

reverberate

flooding each cavity

causing cells to spasm

your hunger collides

into my own

ensemble

the pangs of

starvation

but your taste

lingers on my tongue

sizzling, salty then sweet

your touch burns

beyond the boundaries

of flesh

famine sharpens your desire

hunger – thrusting yours

into my own

rhythm rocking

extremities locking

filling each other

sparks flying

one day – perhaps

we will spontaneously

combust

*

bisous,

léa

calluses

“Every heart sings a song, incomplete until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of love everyone becomes a poet”   –  Plato

 

“Have a heart that never hardens, and a temper that never tires, and a touch that never hurts.”  

–  Charles Dickens

 

“Love consists in this, that two solitudes protect and touch and greet each other.”  

–   Rainer Maria Rilke

 

 

 

 

calluses

*

like fingerprints

 your touch

lands delicately

like a butterfly

on the small

of my back

as each journey

begins

rough against

softness as

firmness increases

pressure mounts

indelibly you engrave

upon flesh

the stories

we write

the roughness

of your fingertips

my

neumonic device

*

bisous,

léa

still

“Touch has memory.”   –  John Keats

 

“So she thoroughly taught him that one cannot take pleasure without giving pleasure, and that every gesture, every caress, every touch, every glance, every last bit of the body has its secret, which brings happiness to the person who knows how to wake it. She taught him that after a celebration of love the lovers should not part without admiring each other, without being conquered or having conquered, so that neither is bleak or glutted or has the bad feeling of being used or misused.”   –  Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha

 

“Who taught you to write in blood on my back? Who taught you to use your hands as branding irons? You have scored your name into my shoulders, referenced me with your mark. The pads of your fingers have become printing blocks, you tap a message on to my skin, tap meaning into my body. Your morse code interferes with my heartbeat. I had a steady heart before I met you, I relied upon it, it had seen active service and grown strong. Now you alter its pace with your own rhythm, you play upon me, drumming me taut.”  

Jeanette Winterson,  Written on the Body

 

 

still

*

i lie in your

arms

watching you sleep

not wanting to wake

you

yet this appetite

this hunger

for more

you

grows

with each breath

you take

*

still

i want to touch

you

to

rèpondez à plusieurs

reprises

to the cool

then searing

brand you leave

on my flesh

inside

a chorus of

cells

echo the mantra

you, you, you

jusque-là

i remain

under your spell

*

bisous,

léa

The Immaculate Orgasm

“Even if there is only one possible unified theory, it is just a set of rules and equations. What is it that breathes fire into the equations and makes a universe for them to describe?”
– Stephen Hawking

Introduction: Throughout your life you have been educated in both Creationism, Evolution, the Big Bang. It is time you were given the true origin of the universe.

The Immaculate Orgasm

In the darkness of the void

There is only she

The goddess

She generates-first moisture

As her curious tongue

Whets full lips

With the searching

Teasing, frenzied

Explorations of her body

She generates

First heat

Molten waves

Primal, copious, forceful, fertile

Courses through her

Gaia

Oh Great Earth Mother

Ravishing, clawing digits prod

Breaking through the surface

Probing deeper

Stimulating the core

Compressing volatile matter

Moist lips – tremble

Pounding pelvic thrusts

Pulse quickens

Heavy spasmodic gasps for air

Guttural screams

The silence – broken

Muscles heave – ejaculating matter

Propelling it across the darkness

… And there is light

Bisous,

Léa

… in season

“I generally avoid temptation unless I can’t resist it.”
– Mae West

Too much of a good thing is wonderful.
Mae West

… in season

Having fallen

From the tree

The plum bursts

With ripeness

My lips quiver

Hovered low

Anxious to devour

Juices

Flow freely

Skin sticky sweet

Delights of the season

My tongue

Rejoices

Bisous,

Léa

Memoir

“Love is forever, lust is for the moment…got a moment?” – Michael Gorman

“Too much of a good thing can be wonderful…” – Mae West

Memoir

You shall be

My pillow book

My brush

Will record

Each story

We create

Slowly

I master

Every pore

Your flesh

Will sing

With the

Tears, lust

And laughter

Shared

Exclamation points,

Ellipsis

I shall

Punctuate you

With care

Overlooking

Naught

Each mark

I leave

Every stroke

I make

Indelible

Bisous,

Léa