Hands Of Time

“Pick my left pocket of its silver dime, but spare the right – it holds my golden time!”  – Oliver Wendell Holmes

“The whole life of man is but a point of time; let us enjoy it.”
– Plutarch (46 AD – 120 AD)

“As you grow older, you will discover that you have two hands, one for helping yourself, the other for helping others.”
– Audrey Hepburn

Hands of time

Tick, tick, tick

The hands on the clock

Hands swift

Hands almost still

Fleeting moments of childhood

Chubby dirt encrusted hands

Grasping the giant monarch butterfly

Perched regally on golden buttercup

“Pretty mommy!”

My eyes rush to freckles

Smudged with earth

“Yes, very pretty!”

*

Glistening sunlight laced

Through copper curls

Tumbling down emerald slopes

Tumbling

Tumbling

Rolling from side to side

Giggling

Time belongs to you my child

*

Hands move briskly

Time goes so fast

Larger hands

So sure is his grip

On the shiny red two-wheeler

Copper curls flying in the wind

“Watch me mommy!

See me go!”

“Yes I see”

My heart quickens

As I watch you ride away

*

The hands move

With increasing speed

Strong sure hands

Now larger than my own

One encircling my waist

One upturned – palm outstretched

“Car keys mom, got a date”

The copper darkened, slicked back

And in style

As you rush out the door

I turn to the clock

Anticipating your return

The hands move so slowly

*

Faster, faster

Those hands on the wall

Your hands firm, steady

Entwined with fairer ones

Her blonde head rests

On your shoulder

Mixing with copper waves

“Mom, we’re in love!”

Orange blossoms fill the air

As early June sun

Trickles through stained glass

Your faces beaming

For a brief moment

The hands stand still

*

Hands move with unrelenting swiftness

Mature gentle hands

One caressing scarlet down

The other held captive

By a tiny fist

“Mom, isn’t she beautiful,

She has your smile!”

Choking back tears of joy

I nod in affirmation

Admiration for unjaded

Eager hands

*

Hands move with increasing uncertainty

Its message

I bequeath

Vigilant hands

Your hands – supporting my hands

Frail

Withered

Still

*

Bisous,

Léa

Une amie est mort

‘When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.” – Kahlil Gibran
“He who has gone, so we but cherish his memory, abides with us, more potent, nay, more present than the living man.” – Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Une amie est mort  (in memory of Louisette Fabre)

The shaft of the evergreen towers above me

Against a grey sky

Its head bent and broken

At its crown – two blackbirds lament

Bisous,

Léa

La chatte

“Of all God’s creatures, there is only one that cannot be made slave of the lash. That one is the cat. If man could be crossed with the cat it would improve the man, but it would deteriorate the cat.” – Mark Twain

“Way down deep, we’re all motivated by the same urges. Cats have the courage to live by them.” – Jim Davis

“There are two means of refuge from the miseries of life: music and cats.”- Albert Schweitzer

une chatte d’Albas

La chatte

They call her

Feral

Total lack of moralitié

She prowls about

Mon village

Sampling all the treats

On offer

Living by instinct

Reality not judgment

Despite nine lives

She knows how quickly

Today becomes the past

Her time is not to be wasted

Taking her pleasure

As she finds it

Satiated she moves on

In front of the fire

Reminiscent

Her rough tongue

Traces a map of pleasure

Washing, always washing

Body memories – retracing her passion

Spent

She sleeps

Perchance to dream

Bisous,

Léa

cheveux

“Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.”

– Kahlil Gibran

” I’m not offended by all the dumb-blonde jokes because I know that I’m not dumb. I also know I’m not a blonde.”

– Dolly Parton

“Long hair is considered bohemian, which may be why I grew it, but I keep it long because I love the way it feels, part cloak, part fan, part mane, part security blanket.”

– Marge Piercy

 

cheveux

first appears as down
changing on her own
to anemic gold
braided, ponytail,
teased, bleached,
coiffed
losing her virginité
to clairol
at thirteen – noir
anything was better
than blonde
in those days anyway
teased, sprayed, curled
which never lasted
permanents: a study in frizz
pulled, yanked,
the rope he drug her by
cut over and over
not always by choice
re-cast as RED (more than once)
post divorce
a middle age frosting
decked out for sons wedding
she appears grey
as it grows out
the greys are few
you must look close
thin, fair, straight
shiny
fringed to the lash
imprisoned
by a clip
for her crimes

bisous,

léa

Technology

“Advertising is a valuable economic factor because it is the cheapest way of selling goods, particularly if the goods are worthless.”  -Sinclair Lewis

“In science as in love, too much concentration on technique can often lead to impotence.” – P.L. Berger

Technology

Technology

Wonderful inventions

Improving our lives

Saving us time

And money

Like spellcheck

Which lets me know

Every time

That I have misspelled

My name

Bisous,

Léa

Covenant

“A man must dream a long time in order to act with grandeur, and dreaming is nursed in darkness.”
– Jean Genet

“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.”
Percy Bysshe Shelley

 

Covenant

 

Song of the evening

And the sun

Slides from my grasp

Darkness

Envelops the earth

In her cool caress

Moon dance is

Rhythmic and slow

Stars flicker

Incandescent – haughty

Offering their vow

Of solidarity

Bisous,

Léa

Meditations on Friendship

“In everyone’s life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit.”
– Albert Schweitzer

Written after being invited in for tea at Rita’s …

She lives her days and nights in the cooler part of town

Coaxing life out of clay, fabric and wood

Her long flowing robes announce she will not cave in

To the demands of fashion

Better homes and gardens do not call for a photo shoot

Too many books, movies, cd’s and collections

Too many bits and pieces waiting to be conscripted

Into her next masterpiece

We all have but a few precious days in this incarnation

She chooses differently than many

Did I tell you she is wise?

Travel is her opium and she will have it

Feeding her habit in far away lands

She knows the beauty of each different face

Raising the chalice of adventure and drinking her fill

I sing delirious from the exposure

Her mantra – the eternal YES!

French café beat, the rhythm thunders through her

A meditation in dance

Bisous,

Léa

“image is everything”: literary sensibilites

“All good and true book-lovers practice the pleasing and improving avocation of reading in bed … No book can be appreciated until it has been slept with and dreamed over.”
― Eugene Field, The Love Affairs of a Bibliomaniac

literary sensibilites

if image is “everything”

does that not judge

the book by the cover

so many books

have nestled snugly

in my grip

from the tattered

paperback

to the pristine

hardback

in a designer

jacket

truth be told

the smoothly worn

paperback

well loved by

a previous reader

dog-eared pages

notes penciled in

make it evident

the love shared

with another reader

kindle be dammed

intimacy with words

demands pages I can turn

kindle will not

soak up my tears

nor dribbles of café

and will not sit quietly

on a shelf

awaiting discovery by

future generations

it will lie in a landfill

with other toxic “disposables”

a casualty to latest technology

bisous,

léa

Motivation

“Insane people are always sure that they are fine. It is only the sane people who are willing to admit that they are crazy.”
-Nora Ephron

(Commentary on a relationship)

Motivation

Being with you

Reminds me of an experiment

In stimulation

– Sensory deprivation