“She says nothing at all, but simply stares upward into the dark sky and watches, with sad eyes, the slow dance of the infinite stars.”
― Neil Gaiman, Stardust
(Via Pinterest; source unknown, but appreciated!)
Sidekicks
They were never handsome and often came
with a hormone imbalance manifested by corpulence,
a yodel of a voice or ears big as kidneys.
But each was brave. More than once a sidekick
has thrown himself in front of our hero in order
to receive the bullet or blow meant for that
perfect face and body.
Thankfully, heroes never die in movies and leave
the sidekick alone. He would not stand for it.
Gabby or Pat, Pancho or Andy remind us of a part
of ourselves,
the dependent part that can never grow up,
the part that is painfully eager to please,
always wants a hug and never gets enough.
Who could sit in a darkened theatre, listen
to the organ music and watch the best
of ourselves lowered into the ground while
the rest stood up there, tears pouring off
that enormous nose.
“Sidekicks” by Ronald Koertge from Life on the Edge of the Continent: Selected Poems, 1982
University of Arkansas Press. You may visit Ron’s website: RonKoertge.com.
Wind from the Sea, Wyeth and The Wind, Yusuf
Painting pairs well with Yusuf’s (Cat Steven’s), “The Wind.” (Open in YouTube; Lyrics.)
“Breathless” by Billy Collins
The multi-talented Mary blogs at A Wilderness of Words.
Some like the mountains, some like the seashore,
Jean-Paul Belmondo says
to the camera in the opening scene.
Some like to sleep face up,
some like to sleep on their stomachs,
I am thinking here in bed–
some take the shape of murder victims
flat on their backs all night,
others float face down on the dark waters.
Then there are those like me
who prefer to sleep on their sides,
knees brought up to the chest,
head resting on a crooked arm
and a soft fist touching the chin,
which is the way I would like to be buried,
curled up in a coffin
in a fresh pair of cotton pajamas,
a down pillow under my weighty head.
After a lifetime of watchfulness
and nervous vigilance,
I will be more than ready for sleep,
so never mind the dark suit,
the ridiculous tie
and the pale limp hands crossed on the chest.
Lower me down in my slumber,
tucked into myself
like the oldest fetus on earth,
and while the cows look over the stone wall
of the cemetery, let me rest here
in my earthy little bedroom,
my lashes glazed with ice,
the roots of trees inching nearer,
and no dreams to frighten me anymore.
“Breathless” by Billy Collins from The Trouble With Poetry and Other Poems (Random House, 2005)
* For Mary who takes my breath away, in the very best of ways. Thank you for the inspiration Mary!
“Battles of just one day…
Anyone can fight the battles of just one day. It is only when you and I add the battles of those two awful eternities, yesterday and tomorrow, that we break down. It is not the experience of today that drives us mad. It is the remorse or bitterness for something that happened yesterday or the dread of what tomorrow may bring. Let us therefore do our best to live but one day at a time.
~ Richard Walker, Twenty-Four Hours A Day
Words ... for the Time Being 