Lisa Corva

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Bonjour, l’été.

Friday, 24 June 2011 @07:51

"Haute en couleur
la voix du marchand ambulant
courant le long des briques comme un oiseau grimpeur
s’en est allée
dire à l’enfant que les fleurs l’attendaient
Et l’enfant a choisi le plus beau des bouquets
pour souhaiter bonne fête à l’Été"

(Jacques Prévert)

Bonjour, l’été. Embrasse-moi, s'il te plaît, doucement.

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My sadness is like a eyeless doll.

Friday, 17 June 2011 @09:16

"You’re sad because you’re sad.
It’s psychic. It’s the age. It’s chemical.
Go see a shrink or
take a pill,
or hug your sadness like an eyeless doll
you need to sleep."

(Margaret Atwood)

And it will strangely comfort you. Sometimes, sadness does.

Margaret Atwood is a writer, a poet, and a feminist, not necessarily in this order.

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That’s how I knew I loved you.

Friday, 10 June 2011 @09:19

"You came to the side of the bed
and sat staring at me.
Then you kissed me – I felt
hot wax on my forehead.
I wanted it to leave a mark:
That’s how I knew I loved you".

(Louise Glück)

That’s how I knew I want to belong. Belong to you.

Louise Glück is an american poet, and today's verses are from "The Encounter", one of the most sensual poems ever.

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Towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.

Saturday, 4 June 2011 @11:02

"What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden"
(T.S. Eliot)

So that’s the perfume of roses: of past, and possibility.

Today's verses are from "Four quartets", T.S. Eliot.

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Lisa Corva

Yes, I write. Yes, I believe in the magic of words. That’s why you’ll find me here, every Friday: Lisa “globish”!

I believe in the magic of words, and I believe Piazza Unità in Trieste, where I was born, is the most romantic square in the world. (And yes, it’s in Italy, proudly facing the sea). I love roses in every form. And, of course, I do love my blog, expecially now that I can carry it around on my iPhone.