Friday, 27 April 2012 @09:15
"What every woman should carry.
My mother gave me the prayer to Saint Theresa.
I added a used tube ticket, kleenex,
several Polo mints (furry), a tampon, pesetas,
a florin. Not wishing to be presumptuous,
not trusting you either, a pack of 3.
I have a pen. There is space for my guardian
angel, she has to fold her wings. Passport.
A key. Anguish, at what I said/didn’t say
when once you needed/didn’t need me. Anadin.
A credit card. His face the last time,
my impatience, my useless youth.
That empty sack, my heart. A box of matches".
In my bag. A dream for tomorrow, and self-confidence enough to follow it.
Maura Dooley is an english poet. Todays' poetry is from "Staying alive", Bloodaxe Books.
Friday, 20 April 2012 @06:44
"Reading fiction is important. It is a vital means of imagining a life other than our own, which in turn makes us more emphatic beings. Following complex story lines stretches our brains beyond the 140 characters of sound-bite thinking, and staying with the world of a novel gives us the ability to be quiet and alone, two skills that are disappearing faster than the polar icecaps."
To be quiet and alone, to live inside a book. What a bliss.
Ann Patchett’s quote is from an article published on the New York Times.
Friday, 13 April 2012 @08:38
"Some men never think of it.
You did. You’d come along
And say you’d nearly brought me flowers
But something had gone wrong.
The shop was closed. Or you had doubts –
The sort that mind like ours
Dream up incessantly. You thought
I might not want your flowers.
It made me smile and hug you then.
Now I can only smile.
But, look, the flowers you nearly brought
Have lasted all this while"
Your love, your flowers.
I know, I know. We want everything: love and flowers. But I'd rather have a love that never wilts away. Wendy Cope is a British poet, born in '45, when men still used to buy flowers.
Friday, 6 April 2012 @09:01
"Persephone wears bluejeans
now but she’s the same sweet
girl it’s spring up again and up
from the underworld she comes
the laurel on her brow
bringing the seed that will
renew the earth and draw all
flowers and plants again to
birth she melts the snow she
calms the sea now all the things
grow she is the leafing tree".
That’s how I feel, this spring. After so much walking in the dark. A leafing tree.
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.