Sometimes mother
I hear how others still miss you
the light you brought to them
that was never as clear to me
As you were simply she who was
And far too many colours to fully see the light you gave

They still miss you mother
Remember you mother
I wish I could show you
the joys that have grown in my life since you left
What dreams have grown from your womb

was doing research I thought might be useful for a friend and one of the joys of research is you often find or rediscover things that a beautiful, cool or useful. I found this, never read it before, but it's very nice. It's useful reminder, and I think it's a reminder of why I feel a feel a gentle confidence in the beautiful life giving relationship I have with wibble. Isn't it sweet how something that says lets not talk about eternity and just focus on today also brings to mind how pleasurable it may/could/will be to grow old with him in a loving partnership of choice. It's such a beautiful thing to be part of, unfolding one day at a time. Love you wibble :)


Let Me Love You
- author unknown, snarfed from http://www2.scescape.com/support/loveyou.html


Let me love you one day at a time ...
... and please love me that very same way.

We may never learn
all there is to know about love ...
... but every day together
will teach us
a little more about ourselves
and the special kind of happiness
we can bring to each other.

One of the best things you've helped me learn
is that love starts with being honest
speaking straight from how we really feel.

I like how we've opened the doors
and windows of our lives
and invited each other to come in,
look around and get acquainted ...
... and the more I'm with you,
the more at home feel.

Let me love you one day at a time.
Why talk about "always"
and say things we're not sure we mean
when we can talk about today
and mean exactly
what we say?

Lets think of each sunrise as a fresh start,
a brand-new beginning ...
... and try to fill every day
with as much love
as it can hold.

I know you're not always going to be
exactly the same person
Sunday through Saturday,
January through December ...
and neither am I.

We both need laughing times
and crying times ...
... and times for every other mood in between.

The important thing
is that you can be
the kind of you
that feels most natural
and that I can be
my favorite kind of me.

That's what makes us
so comfortable together ...
... it's also what keeps us
from taking each other
too much for granted.

Let me love you one day at a time.
Let's not wonder how long love will last
but how beautiful
we can make it grow.

Lets give our best to each other
but let's never expect miracles of our love.
There's no need to ...
... the reality of you and me
is better
than all the impossible dreams
and fantasies
I've ever imagined.

Being with you
is feeling proud, blessed, grateful
for each hour we share.

Let me love you,
not according to any how-to-book
or by someone else's set of rules ...
... but simply for who you are
and how you are with me.

And please love me,
not for what I ought to be,
or for what I might be molded into,
but for what I am, here and now.

Don't expect me to be
someone all good and all giving,
someone who could never disappoint you ...
... someone too right to be real
and too perfect to be me.
I'm just as human as anyone I know ...
and very thankful that you are, too.

Let's try to remember
that love means keeping in touch
with each other's thoughts
and feelings ...
... listening, not just to words,
but to the emotions behind them ...
...seeing, not just the smiles and frowns,
but the hurts and pleasures
that causes them.

Let me love you one day at a time, starting today.
Let's have the courage to try to change
whatever needs changing about us
and the wisdom to know
what should never be changed.

Let's not worry about what went wrong yesterday.
Let's help each other make today
as right as it can be ...
... believing in ourselves
and in our ability to handle
what ever tomorrow may bring ...
... and trusting that this love we share
will continue to grow stronger
as the future years unfold ...
one beautiful day at a time.

The wondrous Elissa e-mailed this to me once

Warning - When I Am an Old Woman I Shall Wear Purple
By Jenny Joseph

When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple
with a red hat that doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
and satin candles, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I am tired
and gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
and run my stick along the public railings
and make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
and pick the flowers in other people's gardens
and learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
and eat three pounds of sausages at a go
or only bread and pickles for a week
and hoard pens and pencils and beer nuts and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
and pay our rent and not swear in the street
and set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

The first bit and the tune have been floating in my head for some weeks, but I had no idea what the song was about, except that it had a mournful tune, which made me a little sad, because I would like to write happy songs. I hope it makes a little sense, feedback welcome.

Innocent

She's keepin' it to herself, these
dreams of somethin' else a
better way to be.
She's dreamin' all night long, her
sad but sacred song.
At night she cries for peace

She wants everything
She wants nothing
just to be something
she wants to fly away
she wants to live today
she wants to fly, and never return

She's keepin' it to herself, these
dreams of somethin' else a
better way to be.
She's dreamin' all night long, her
sad but sacred song.
At night she cries for peace

She wants a voice that's hers
she wants a voice that's heard
she wants the right words to say

she wants a kindness shown
she wants this pain to be known
she want to pretend, it's never again

She's keepin' it to herself, these
dreams of somethin' else a
better way to be.
She's dreamin' all night long, her
sad but sacred song.
At night she cries for peace

She knows the joke is done
she knows no one's having fun
she knows life stolen is never returned

she knows her luck, the score
she knows there will be more
she knows the blues, will keep us weak

She's keepin' it to herself, these
dreams of somethin' else a
better way to be.
She's dreamin' all night long, her
sad but sacred song.
At night she cries for peace

She sees bodies on the floor
she sees bodies at the door
she tastes the smell of their decay

She hears their dying gasps and moans
these things of flesh and bone
she fells them breathe, they whisper to her

She's keepin' it to herself, these
dreams of somethin' else a
better way to be.
She's dreamin' all night long, her
sad but sacred song.
At night she cries for peace

She dreams that peace is not to late
she dreams that love will outweigh hate
she dreams of lives freed of slavery

She's walking out the door
into the world so harsh and raw
and she will live and find us there

I found this amoung my papers today. A poem by Robert Graves, I encountered it as a handout from an anthropology lecture :)

In Broken Images

He is quick, thinking in clear images
I am slow, thinking in broken images

He becomes dull, trusting to his clear images;
I become sharp, mistrusting my broken images

Trusting his images, he assumes their relevance;
Mistrusting my images, I question their relevance.

Assuming their relevance, he assumes the fact;
Questioning their relevance, I question the faxt.

When the fact fails him, he questions his senses;
When the faxt fails me, I approve my senses.

He continues quick and dull in his clear images;
I continue slow and sharp in my broken images.

He is a new confusion of his understanding;
I in a new understanding of my confustion



- Robert Graves (1986) Selected Poems, ed P.O'Prey, Penguin Books

It's been a while since I have spent so much time online. Been pottering about the house, not feeling particularly accomplished, but I did a teeny tiny bit of tidying plus I worked on my website and played guitar, so I guess I'm not completly crap.

I was going through old papers and I found this... I think it was written in early 2001. No one other than me has seen it before today

Tell me of love
I have forgotten
and it is fading

Tell me of love's lament
bitter as the snow
and as yielding

Tell me of the cup
filled to the brim and flowing
bounteous in her joy and ripening

I have forgotten
I have forgotten
Dreams of memory

----

Speaking of love... Cat (my sister) just rang and told me what a sweet shnuggums Mike(y) is, I think I agree :)

----

Addendum: Was feeling mopey and strange despite food and red dwarf... drank water and felt much better... must remember water as well as food, especially in this heatfull weather.