“Welcome to my home on the internet!”
Lilies –by Susie Hemingway. Re-posted for the Occasion of the “Willow Manor Ball”.
Do you remember long ago
you found that magic place,
where lilies filled most every room
and beds were dressed in lace
the men in polished uniforms
took bags and opened doors,
and the crystal of the chandelier’s
twinkled straight on marble floors.
The majesty and splendour of
this, your special place,
was clear as sparkling water
that ran from fountain space.
You sat me by the sea-view
in a chair of plushest silk
the lady with the clear sweet voice
the harp, it’s gentle lilt,
you said my hair was "pretty"
and my dress was "just divine"
and then they brought us pink delights
and goblets full of wine.
The scent from all the lilies
that filled most every room,
could that be what was turning
my heart, amid the blooms,
perhaps it was the dark red wine
perhaps it was your face,
perhaps those gilded bronzes,
I remembered in that place
We walked on Turkish carpets
in rooms of ormolu,
along the ‘china’ terrace
admiring stunning views,
we walked along the waters edge
leaving sandals on the stairs,
still that beguiling smell of lilies,
I wondered where, from here
and as you turned and smiled
coming, face to face……
where lilies filled most every room,
and beds were dressed in lace.
@ Copyright 2006
Two Years Since Stem Cell Transplant.
On the 8th of October it will be two years since Hamada’s Stem Cell Transplant and we once again thank Prof. N. Russell and his wonderful team at Nottingham’s "Centre of Clinical Haematology" for their expertise and for securing these past two years for Hamada. We continue with joy at each given day and try to make everyday as special as we possibly can.
In celebration I post here Hamada’s favourite Poem, apart from mine! ( I’m jesting of course)
~
From the Springtime of Love by Khalil Gibran.
Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving:
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.
Khalil Gibran 1883 – 1931
This Sunset – by Susie Hemingway.
Brilliant Sunset sinking fast
of pumpkin corals and scarlet reds,
slowly first, as watchful eyes
dream and melt in paradise.
We turn to stare at coloured sky
and watch graceful bird swooping by,
we listen to the palm trees sway
as sun kissed bodies feel close of day,
evening warmth on cooling skin
pleasures seem to merge within.
Sinking slowly, small cirrus streaks
enhance this beauty we love to seek.
Vermilion ambers, Magenta hues
spectacular colours for me and you,
gentle sounds of ebbing waves
this rhythm and flow of life and days…
Why we seek this twilight sky?
this energy that makes us sigh,
that makes our shoulders rest this way
that always takes our stress away.
This colour of power, this colour of
might, this reason to live, this reason
to fight,
this Sunset watched with only you
delicious memories come into view.
With many thanks to Sandy Banks *
http://www.retiredforgood.blogspot.com for allowing me to use these very beautiful photos and for dedicating the top rather special Sunset Photo to us both.*
Sandy said… Your poem prompted me to gift those precious moments as the sun slips down behind the mountain and sea – caught, but not stopped – to you and your beloved… I love your words that bring the essence of a season or a moment into very sharp focus. Thank you again….
All Rights Reserved@ October 2009
Autumn Lady – A Vignette by Susie Hemingway
She came rushing in, or though it seemed to me,
disbelief that this colourful Lady with her cloak of reds and golds had
already arrived, when I glanced from my window.
I must have been looking the other way!
but then we don’t count the days pursuing more important matters now.
As the relentless stricken battle appears once more
on the horizon, had she come to distract my mind or bring colours to my heart?
This feckless stunning Lady who sheds her clothes
and scatters them where she will, like drops of tears in
a template of sadness perhaps?
A powerful change of authority as restless and now incipient to decay.
Old roses fade and fall like shattered fragments of glass from a precious mirror,
the hedgerows become bare, no more luscious berries
but still holding onto their thin strips of life.
Leaves, could they ever be more beautiful?
turning to deep maroons and burnished, glinting, jewelled colours.
Conkers appearing from their secret shells to fall in copper splendour
from the impressive stately Horse Chestnut trees.
We arrived, like we had just opened our eyes.
Another Autumn! who would have believed we would
see this majestic Lady together, dumbstruck once more at her beauty
but belligerently waging war on staying in our perfect peaceful Summer,
not for us, the rushing of time.
@Copyright Susie Hemingway 2009
K
“I Missed You” – by Susie Hemingway.
I missed you, when the heated rhythm of Salsa
– that feels so like chillies when they touch
your tongue – drifted across the dance floor.
I missed you as this enticing music reached
my jewelled pinned ears.
Where were you? when the luscious sounds of
Sax blues, caught my needy toes
so carefully encased in high dancing shoes.
Where were those slim ‘sun touched’ hands that would
reach to twirl me to the dance floor.
Where was the graceful dancer, whose gentle persuasion
could spin me like a whirlpool, making me turn
and sway to the sounds of Latin beats and Bluesy tones.
Tell me, where were those magical eyes,
those sparkling rays of light, that always laughed with me.
Where was that smile, those breathy movements on the dance floor, those feet that could glide and coax
the dancer from my soul…
How my heart wants to dance with you once more,
instead of standing alone when the music calls to me.
I watched the others spin and whirl but my arms were empty,
sadness for your charms that made me feel like sixteen again.
I was never a wallflower but she has found me now,
where were you… when the deliciously heated sound of Salsa reached my ears… where were you?
@ Copyright 2009 Susie Hemingway.
Photo Susie and Hamada –Alex 1986. Wallflower Photo courtesy of Janey Johnson Photos. 2009
*This Poem was Posted On The Day Patrick Swazey Died Of Pancreatic Cancer. He Was A Wonderful Dancer bringing much pleasure to many ladies who saw him in the enchanting film “Dirty Dancing†So I dedicate this poem to Patrick and to all lovers of dancing . “May Patrick continue to dance in Heavenâ€
It Was A Comforting Day.
It was a comforting day you said
skies of blue, white vapoury
scudding clouds lifting the
shimmering colourful kites
to the heavens in breezy skitsy way,
I followed your eyes
I tried to see your soul,
in quiet reverie as no one knows
the heart that pushes down this pain
in a day affirmative that popped
like champagne.
Laughter surrounds you
consuming and capturing this
mere moment but for you a life
so difficult and as fragile
as the bubbles in my glass,
breathe my love, live in mind forever
this sun warmed golden day
of perpetual joy,
paint these brushstrokes
on your heart, for life is now,
this time is ours
as precious and as beautiful
as the stunning mosaic sky.
My cares fluttered like the
swooping of the Kites
free and belonging to the skies,
intrinsic as the white opal swirls of the clouds
tossing my sadness into the wind
so carrying us forward with courage
to yet another day
refreshed and replenished
you glanced at me,
in soft light fading…it was a comforting day.
Copyright@ 2009.
Photo courtesy of Matt Rutherford.
This poem is dedicated to Dianne and Vern West, Nevada, Arkansas USA
for their courage.
~ A Lovely Quote ~
Found this quote on a great blog – I like it a lot.
Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry.â€
Mark Strand.
Hamada Called it “A Very Comforting Day”
We decided as we had a full house at “Hemingway†for the Bank Holiday Weekend to visit a lovely beach close to our home here in the East Midlands. The weather was fair with plenty of warm sun and a brisk breeze that helped the colourful Kites reach their blustery heights. There were ten of us in all, so plenty of willing hands to push Hamada’s chair along the old fashioned promenade to reach our base for the day at one of the brightly coloured chalets perched high with their watchful eyes, newly painted wood and so many memories of families gone before. They made a stunning border along the seafront.
Hamada was thrilled with being by the sea again, such a favourite place and reminding him immediately of his childhood growing up close to the Sea in Alexandria, Egypt, where as children they also had a beach hut. A smile seldom left his face all day. He watch intently at all about him, enjoying his family and the fun and laughter we all had. Savouring the good fish and chip lunch, nothing quite so enjoyable as eating this English delight, washed down with a nice glass of Bollinger’s. Much flying of kites , Matt, Jo and Stuart steering their garish coloured Kites high for us to see clearly at our good advantage point and our little Grandson even braving the cold North Sea!
A loving family like many others, tucking into ice-cream, happy to be together and enjoying the banter and fun of a typical English Summer Day. Just as Hamada said “ A very comforting Dayâ€
10561 view @ September 1 2009.
"Calm Are The Seas"
Â
Calm are the seas we travel now,
the sail is down
how tranquil is the ocean,
we drift past the deserted islands
with their scattered palms and
fallen coconuts,
we lay on the deck, with bronzed
skin and salty mouths
calm are our seas,
the soft magnolia smell of warm breezes
whispers through our hair
all is blue, placid and serene,
I am here with you, for once
essential as the mainstay
Calm are our Seas…
Photo: Personal Oil Painting – somewhere special in Oman.
* N.B. See Comments for Dedication.
@ Copyright Susie Hemingway 2009
Pies Poetry And A Pint Of Gin.
I’ve never made a fancy cake
a malt loaf is really me
I can make a lovely cuppa
so I can always have Assam tea.
I can rustle-up a chicken pie
with the shortest crust you’ll ever find
with a tasty bit of gravy too
but I never make tiramisu,
or even glorious meringues that rise
in heavenly peaks that reach the skies!
I’d rather have a drop of gin
and write a little ditty,
I’m getting on a bit you see
but I really don’t need your pity.
I truly like to dance and sing
with music playing in my ears
a duster in my hand,
like I was seventeen again
as I listen to rock-bands!
I like the music blaring out
put on my heels and gad about,
It gets the work done double quick,
then a drop of Gordon’s, does the trick.
Pies,Poetry and a pint of Gin
my life’s complete, I dream within
of Para-gliding in sunny climes
but to be quite honest I haven’t time.
I’m busy selecting the brightest hues
of brand new hair colours
and when I stand in queues,
I love to listen to the latest chat
of pretty girls who admire my hats!
I love to spray the testers too,
such fun to smell like a famous star
with Chanel and Gucci, I’ll go real far…
Never mind the ‘leccy bill, would
love a new lipstick, better than pills!
Ah! this ones, the one for me
scarlet red, smooth as can be
will make me feel like twenty three,
Pies, Poetry and a Pint of Gin
to dance down street, new life within.
I’ll spend the days reviewing years
I like to write and think a lot
not much one for knitting socks,
nor for mowing or removing weeds,
I think I’ll move overseas
and sit all day with skirt to knees!                                                                                                                                                                                                               In deck-chair on sand and feet in sea,
with wrinkled face and cigar for me.
I can dance all night in Latin clubs
with swarthy handsome younger coves,
then come home at dawn for a cup of tea,
perhaps I can learn to water ski?
But really all I need is
Pies, Poetry and a Pint of Gin !
Copyright @ Susie Hemingway 2009