The night is wet
drops of  rain  glisten
on the slick sidewalks.
In my hurry I dodge
the  dark puddles that
Glisten in the misty glow
of  amber street lamps
There is a trace of rosy
blood where I have bitten
my lip but my eyes  brim
with life and nonsensical love
When we meet we smile
and  kiss silvery lashes
The taste of   blood rose on
shivering lips
For the moment we forget
You  want too much and
 I will take whatever you  give.

” I love you, I love you,
Like a fool, like a soldier
Like a movie star
I love you, I love you
Like a wolf, a king,
Like a man that I am not.
I love you like that”
*English lyrics to” je t’aime ” written by Serge Gainsbourg

136 thoughts on “Blood Rose

  1. Send someone to save me,
    even though it’s impossible.
    If you write love like this,
    I’ll take it like this,
    bang on doors and call you out,
    breathless
    and desperate
    though you are.
    That’s what these words are for.
    That’s what these words are for.

    Big hug.

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  2. I can imagine the soft whispery sounds of Jane and Serge reading your poem. “Je t’aime …Moi Non Plus”. Did you see the movie Gainsbourg (Vie héroïque)? I thought it was a wonderful movie. We visited Gainsbourg’s grave in the Cimetiere Montparnassee in Paris.

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  3. It was like I could picture the whole poetic scene in my head, you told a beautiful ode Rene, descriptive, romantic and just amazingly lovely. The rain brings such romance but when your words of poetry reigns, it’s pure hypnopoetry!🌹♥️

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  4. What a beautiful romantic share dear Holly.. Who can fathom that nonsensical love that brims in eyes that mist over in a haze of such warmth that overflows from the beating of a lovers heart.
    Wonderful poem and quote dear friend.. ❤ ❤
    Have a beautiful Sunday dear Holly ❤

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      1. It’s true, Rene. The people enjoy it as much as we do. Well, since we’re here, would you like a decaf cappuccino or perhaps a sample of the green fairy to tickle the muse? ☕️😎😎🧚‍♀️

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          1. Cheers! Here’s to Paris night’s under a full moon. They won’t ask us to leave if we don’t mind relocating to one of the upstairs party rooms where all the regulars stay after closing time. I find the after hours crowd lively and entertaining. Shall we join the creative members of the Paris avant garde?

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          2. You are an adventuress at heart, Rene. Among the regulars we will gain insights to the best places in Paris that are unhurried, and off the main path, rich in the Paris culture of music, the arts, and my favorite, the cuisine and fine drinks. Do you have your mother of pearl inlay flask? I bet we can get a fine vanilla infused brandy to fill it. What a harmony that would be.

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          3. It would be lovely off the beaten path in Paris Dan, . During waking hours join me for a ride in a hot air balloon over Paris, this will only come to fruition after one too many drinks on the Pigalle bar or a bit of courage from my pearl inlay flask. 🧚🏼

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          4. You read my mind through yearning glances when we passed the Pegasus Balloon off the rue Antoine Bourdelle. Can you imagine it is like the gods and goddesses of the Bronze Age looking down at pastoral lands at sunrise and judging it worthy. To see the farmlands painted in golden light through a lens offered from your pearl flask of dreams is a beguiling I would throw myself into without the burden of thought. Yes. We must.

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          5. It’s a surreal dream floating above the city at sunrise below a world that is just awakening. The patchwork wheat fields and forests far below come alive with Lilliputian creatures. Not a sound can be heard in our bubble drifting just below the clouds. We should never descend but let the flames carry us to distant enchanting destinations. We must.

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          6. We can pack a light pack to carry us in comfort where ever we might go. I checked and in the quiet stillness of autumn the prevailing breeze leaving Paris will take us over England and Scotland where we can turn west over the islands and float down by the west cost of Ireland. We’ll see the Norwegian Sea to the east and the Atlantic to the west as we leave the highlands of Scotland to the Outer Hebrides islands. Of course, if you prefer we could head north over the Orkney Islands and land in the Shetland Islands, a place of quaint country life and small fishing villages along the craggy shores. So many would dream of finding the courage we dare to possess but none shall see the world as we have seen it; slow, gentle, beautiful ancient lands of our ancestors in fall splendor. Pack light, we can land attend local markets and cafés for our immediate needs. Should I bring a hammock?

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          7. It sounds so wonderful, I can hardly wait to see the world through the eyes of the green fairy high above the world. I think we should catch a Caribbean breeze and spend a while in Aruba and the Virgin Islands, then on to the south Pacific, take in the archipelago of Tonga and on to Samoa.
            Who knows where the breezes will take, Maui? Bring a Hammock by all means.

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          8. My study of the wind charts show me you have a remarkable intuition for a balloon ride that need not set close boundaries. Instead of setting down in Ireland, we’ll sail across the Atlantic and make landfall in southern Mexico for some good beach time and fiesta. Then it is on across the pacific south of Hawaii where the South Sea islands offer an abundance of opportunity for Polynesian culture, cuisine, and their festive moods. Further still, the winds will take us to Manila in the Philippines where my story of Tribal things begin. There is nowhere an island jungle will be so welcoming. The Filipino people in the countryside are the most gracious of hosts and for a smile and thank you they will take you anywhere you want to go. Their genius for life and their strength of heart is second to none and the beauty of their waterfalls quickly tells you that Hawaii was never a paradise if one visited the Philippines. We can go there and further still until we are back in Paris. But there is no hurry under the balloon as it sails across the oceans, mountains, and fertile lands of verdant shimmer, like jade under a clear Milky Way. Perhaps you would enjoy the west African coast, deserted for miles and miles, standing like a fortress wall to a sea that never stops the brushing touch of cool blue waters on an orange peel shore. There, the balloon can rest while we picnic on its shady side and look across the ocean that always appears abandoned. We’ll be the only souls to record that moment in earth’s blue history. Then, we can decide to go to another place or not decide at all and let our faithful companion, a balloon of patchwork and happy colors, take us where it wills according to the wind we cannot see but hear and feel on our face like the breath of life from Mother Gaia. Yes. We must tell this story too.

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          9. While you study your wind chart we sail on the breeze past the Cliffs of Dover out and away until we are but a dot caught between the blue of heaven and the rolling waves below. You make your notes, a captains journal, lest we forget the slightest minutiae of this surreal dream. In the distance the turquoise waves wash ashore onto sun bleached shells and from the lush sea grape the banter of brilliant macaw Beckons.
            You lower the flame and we descend onto the white sand beach of the Philippines.

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          10. We are a suffusion of joy and enchantment. I love how you study my mischief and wonder what I plan for us next. We turn north along the shore as I pull hard on the steering ropes and the furnace roars like a tiger whose tail I have pulled. Our balloon of sunshine colors heels along the shore until the breeze lifts us in a sudden twirl. The shore is revealed like a shy schoolboy kissed by his favorite K-pop Star. Crystal rivers pouring from the tropical mountains of lush green glisten with sunlight like a pirate’s chest of gold and gemstones. You point to the ridge of mountain, the shape of a dragon’s back. Aurora National Park, I say. Below is a crescent of isolated beach, a pearl in the jade dragon’s claw. Beyond is an orchard and small village. We are welcomed to our new home as the balloon races like a stallion to the barn.

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          11. I am breathless with the beauty of this enchanted land, thick forest of pine trees cover the mountains whose tops are kissed by clouds. The indigenous people hurry to greet us. I think we will stay here awhile.

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          12. I was hoping you would enjoy the stay. Life need not have a pace anymore. There is only the rhythm of life marked by the stars at night and the sun during the day. It is the rising of the sun and setting in all the hues of light that mark the passing of time. When we’re restless, our beloved balloon will ferry us to new adventures in other exotic lands. For now, I think a coconut filled with ambrosia and some beach time will do nicely. My, what a beautiful music the birds make.

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          13. I don’t mind if I do join you. Samalamig is a big hit, guaranteed to give you plenty of energy, which you’ll need tonight when the sun goes down. The villagers are hosting a traditional dance celebration in your honor. Not many ladies descend from the heavens here so they are quite pleased you selected them as your host. (I think we have just written another hit story. Shall we?)

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          14. I definitely want to celebrate with these warm and hospitable people and then we can take the next morning off for some more beach time. The evening trade winds will take us across the South China Sea to Vietnam, Laos, Thailand, Myanmar on our way to Mandalay, and across the Bay of Bengal to India. Each stop along the way promises to be more ancient mystery, wild, and exotic. It’s a good thing we packed our Khaki’s and pith helmets. Indiana Jones loved this part of the world. I’m sure we will to.

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          15. Look how we chase the sunset across green fields and thatch roofs. Our ballon gallops in the wind with clouds on the backs of blue whales. Smoke from cooking fires rises up through the canopy, a mystical spirit ambling up toward us but they are too slow and our balloon out paces the challengers that call out in the wind like sirens from rocky shores. We are on the way to Mandalay and our balloon knows just what to do to get us there. While we chase old Sol to the purple hued horizon, I’ve poured you a glass of pear wine from the village. Cheers 🥂

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          16. Our spirit guide travels with us and I’ve fallen under the spell of the Babaylan. By day we sail above the deep indigo waters of the open seas enchanted by creatures big and small. Whales call out to us and you point to a pair of dolphins that glisten beneath the sun in a mating ritual. The wind carries the scent of jacaranda, it lifts and dips and we are giddy with the mystical beauty and pear wine .

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          17. Asian pear wine has always been a favorite of mine. It is the elixir of the Babaylan. It calls them to their Yin energy to be our spirit guide and travel with us that we may see the true beauty of the world from our cloud dwelling balloon. They are the divine feminine, the mother energy that nurtures life and protects the young from a merciless awakening too soon. We are innocent children of their ancient powers and we can only see and sense the beauty all around. No perilous thought will find us now. I love that you feel the fragrance of the jacaranda as it slips on currents across the lands and seas of all continents. No where, is the beauty of this flower rejected. When we get to Islamabad, we will see the jacaranda as tall trees with broad crowns lining the street with it’s trumpet flowers of royal purple. But now after our grand sleep and dreams of faraway things, we see the rising sun radiating with go,den splendor from the spires of 9th century temples and palaces. See how they peer above the lush forests and beyond are the mountains that form the banks of the ancient and noble Irrawaddy River. We will land on the Mandalay Hill overlooking the old royal city. There our hosts will take us to the temple where a welcoming dance more ancient than all of memory will tell us the secrets of the Orient in a language that makes no sound, only the dancer’s face, hands and feet will speak. The music, blended with the incense of sandalwood and spices with the many golden bangles worn on the arms and legs of our hosts keeping rhythm, we will enter the trance of tranquility. We can call it Ilysium, or Atlantis. We can say it is the true paradise, but whatever we call it, the dreams, within dream, within dreams will prepare us for the next leg of our journey where the earliest civilizations of the western world sprang up 30,000 years ago. There more doors will open. But first, let us greet our hosts and descend upon this hill, the grandest features of humans await us with open arms and infectious smiles. I hope being loved and hugged by benevolent and beautiful strangers is not distressing for you.

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