House of Heart

In this dream  my arms
are the branches of trees
and you are my  nourishment.
Cut me down to a boat.
My  spine a sturdy keel,
my hair  the unfurled sails.
A lighthouse is my only lamp
for the stars are captive
in your hand.  
If the sea does not capitulate, 
red sails   cast into a cleft 
too wide  for me to cross,
I was trying to get to you.

 

Art from Getty

 

 

 

 

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80 thoughts on “to get to you

  1. The imagery and personification of the speaker turned tree turned sail boat sailing to that special one and possibly coming up short is just achingly beautiful. Your voice in poetry is truly unique Rene.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. My soul is rewarded with your poetry Rene. I’m convinced my life has improved greatly since I started visiting the House of Heart. That you are encouraged and inspired by my haunting your drawing room with my Age of Aquarius meets Pirates of the Caribbean persona is a great kindness on your part. It’s like feeding a stray cat that brings you a mouse and you discover the mouse is a rascal that tells wild stories and does vaudeville. It just keeps getting better for everyone. I guess the only thing missing is tankards of ale. ☺️

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          1. Waaa haaa haaa! I need to dust off a bawdy drinking song. We can all sit on the picnic table bench, sway back and forth with ramhorns lifted, and toast the moon. It’ll be fun 🎼🎪🥳🤤🥴🙃

            Liked by 1 person

          2. Waa haaa haaa! You can’t be from Florida and lived in Germany without developing some real skills. And you definitely demonstrate mastery… 👩‍🎓🍺🏆🥇. I’ve always felt like beer festing should be a sanctioned sport. I haven’t figured out what one has to do to win first place but it will come to me eventually. 😆

            Liked by 1 person

  2. Ahhhh, I adore this!
    I have felt this way, trying to reach someone… a lover, a close friend, family…
    Sometimes, in life they slip through my fingers, or leave for reasons known and unknown. xo
    Such a beautiful image(s) you have created here.
    You paint a picture, then deliver it in a frame of emotion. xo

    Liked by 1 person

  3. On another note, I’ll mail you the shots of the Tangle – Heart tree, later. (that’s how Tim spelled it in his email, so I’ll stick with that) We only need 1 for the next episode, but we will need pics of it for other episodes.
    Okay, back to the Art Gown.(will send send the password code as well… not much to see right now… just begun)

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I miss you a great deal, Holly. Your poetry is as limpid as ever, yet your voice reverberates even more soundly. Have you read Proust? He has a description of a bell-tower in his first volume of In Search of Lost Time that I can’t remember where to find, but reminds me profoundly of you every time I read it.

    There is a restless backgrounding your poetry that is unique to yourself, and I missed it greatly.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Johnny, that’s such a beautiful compliment. I consider you a brilliant poet and writer of such high caliber that your high praise is so inspiring and encouraging that I am lost for words to express my gratitude. I have dabbled with the writing of Proust but not extensively. I must find the reference to the bell tower now. Thank you dear friend. I have missed your exceptional writing and look forward to reading your work again. Thank you kindly for your very generous words.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. “Alone, rising from the level of the plain, and seemingly lost in that expanse of open country, climbed to the sky the twin steeples of Martinville. Presently we saw three: springing into position confronting them by a daring volt, a third, a dilatory steeple, that of Vieuxvicq, was come to join them. The minutes passed, we were moving rapidly, and yet the three steeples were always a long way ahead of us, like three birds perched upon the plain, motionless and conspicuous in the sunlight. Then the steeple of Vieuxvicq withdrew, took its proper distance, and the steeples of Martinville remained alone, gilded by the light of the setting sun, which, even at that distance, I could see playing and smiling upon their sloped sides. We had been so long in approaching them that I was thinking of the time that must still elapse before we could reach them when, of a sudden, the carriage, having turned a corner, set us down at their feet; and they had flung themselves so abruptly in our path that we had barely time to stop before being dashed against the porch of the church.”
        (Proust has so many references to steeples)

        I reminds me of you because you are an enchanting home in this website. A return one cannot bear but imagine how soon might we be able to be back.
        Thank you much, Holly.

        Liked by 1 person

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