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[inspiredlife]

Today has been a not good day. How much like a broken record do I sound? Remember way back in 2005 when I was the eternally peppy one with too many exclamation points? Yeah, I miss those days.  There was a lot about that time that was pretty fucking awesome, tbh. 

Anyway, I planned to write a largely over dramatic post of whine which would have made Mish laugh and the rest of you roll your eyes but I can't do it. I'm annoyed with my whinging so I can't imagine how y'all feel.  

So, instead I propose a swap. I'm going to go and watch an episode or two of TW. Comment with something good...something in your life, a rec, a poem you love, Colin Morgan and when I get back I'll share something good with you.  (disclaimer: if i actually get sleepy (omg, please), I might not get back until tomorrow.) Also, if you don't see this til tomorrow, comment anyway. 'twill be good fun. 

<3

Comments

[i-claudia.livejournal.com]

The newest youtube love of my life:



Also hermette and anowlinsunshine have already stolen two of my favorites but here is another poem I love:

And the Cantilevered Inference Shall Hold the Day, Michael Blumenthal

Things are not as they seem: the innuendo of everything makes
itself felt and trembles towards meanings we never intuited
or dreamed. Take, for example, how the warbler, perched on a

mere branch, can kidnap the day from its tediums and send us
heavenwards, or how, held up by nothing we really see, our
spirits soar and then, in a mysterious series of twists and turns,

come to a safe landing in a field, encircled by greenery. Nothing
I can say to you here can possibly convince you that a man
as unreliable as I have been can smuggle in truths between tercets

and quatrains on scraps of paper, but the world as we know
is full of surprises, and the likelihood that here, in the shape
of this very bird, redemption awaits us should not be dismissed

so easily. Each year, days swivel and diminish along their inscrutable
axes, then lengthen again until we are bathed in light we were not
prepared for. Last night, lying in bed with nothing to hold onto

but myself, I gazed at the emptiness beside me and saw there, in the
shape of absence, something so sweet and deliberate I called it darling.
No one who encrusticates (I made that up!) his silliness in a bowl,

waiting for sanctity, can ever know how lovely playfulness can be,
and, that said, let me wish you a Merry One (or Chanukah if you
prefer), and may whatever holds you up stay forever beneath you,

and may the robin find many a worm, and our cruelties abate,
and may you be well and happy and full of mischief as I am,
and may all your nothings, too, hold something up and sing.



Also because I can never resist spreading love for Taylor Mali:



And in conclusion:

[inspiredlife.livejournal.com]

This comment is full of yummy goodness! Thanks so much, sweets. ♥

First, that youtube video is amazing. Seriously, I've watched it countless times now and it's just wonderful.

Second, I haven't read that poem by Michael Blumenthal before. It's so, so lovely. Have you read his piece Everything Is Beautiful from a Distance, and So Are You? I think that's my favourite of his.

Lastly Taylor Mali is beyond awesome. His piece What Teachers Make? I read it every once in a while when I need reminding.

In return for this wonderful comments, I'd like to share one of my favourite poems with you. Marge Piercy is a thought-provoking, inspiring poet who I discovered in the the early 90s. My favourite of her pieces is this one...

What can they do
to you? Whatever they want.
They can set you up, they can
bust you, they can break
your fingers, they can
burn your brain with electricity,
blur you with drugs till you
can t walk, can’t remember, they can
take your child, wall up
your lover. They can do anything
you can’t blame them
from doing. How can you stop
them? Alone, you can fight,
you can refuse, you can
take what revenge you can
but they roll over you.

But two people fighting
back to back can cut through
a mob, a snake-dancing file
can break a cordon, an army
can meet an army.

Two people can keep each other
sane, can give support, conviction,
love, massage, hope, sex.
Three people are a delegation,
a committee, a wedge. With four
you can play bridge and start
an organisation. With six
you can rent a whole house,
eat pie for dinner with no
seconds, and hold a fund raising party.
A dozen make a demonstration.
A hundred fill a hall.
A thousand have solidarity and your own newsletter;
ten thousand, power and your own paper;
a hundred thousand, your own media;
ten million, your own country.

It goes on one at a time,
it starts when you care
to act, it starts when you do
it again after they said no,
it starts when you say We
and know who you mean, and each
day you mean one more.
--Marge Piercy, from The Moon Is Always Female

[i-claudia.livejournal.com]

I'm so glad you enjoyed! I have read that Michael Blumenthal poem; I love his work. and Taylor Mali ROCKS.

This poem is wonderful, I think it's going to become one of my favorites as well. *saves*

*hugs*

[inspiredlife.livejournal.com]

I am SO glad you liked that poem. I'd really felt you would. <3

*clings*