I Keep Telling Myself...

Sing A Few Sad Songs

ODE TO SOME YELLOW FLOWERS

ODE TO SOME YELLOW FLOWERS

Rolling its blues against another blue,
the sea, and against the sky
some yellow flowers.

October is on its way.

And although
the sea may well be important, with its unfolding
myths, its purpose and its risings,
when the gold of a single
yellow plant
explodes
in the sand
are bound
to the soil.
They flee the wide sea and its heavings.

We are dust and to dust return.
In the end we’re
neither air, nor fire, nor water,
just
dirt,
neither more nor less, just dirt,
and maybe
some yellow flowers.

PABLO NERUDA

Desert Celebration

The Old Days

They’re gone now, the old days,
And they will never return,
Like water down the river
And wind through the fern.

Everything comes back sometime,
Except ourselves alone,
And the times that were happy
And the friends that we’ve known.

So the days go onward
And the glory fails,
There’s nothing much left now
Except my tales,

Just what I remember,
I and the wind,
Stronger now, and sharper,
Since the woods are thinned.

~Louis Morgan

Who Loves The Rain

Who loves the rain
And loves his home,
And looks on life with quiet eyes,
Him will I follow through the storm;
And at his hearth-fire keep me warm;
Nor hell nor heaven shall that soul surprise,
Who loves the rain,
And loves his home,
And looks on life with quiet eyes.

~Frances Shaw