SHALLY A.

is even more fun than going to San Sebastian, Irún, Hendaye, Biarritz, Bayonne or being sick to my stomach on the Travesera de Gracia in Barcelona partly because in your orange shirt you look like a better happier St. Sebastian partly because of my love for you, partly because of your love for yoghurt partly because of the fluorescent orange tulips around the birches partly because of the secrecy our smiles take on before people and statuary it is hard to believe when I’m with you that there can be anything as still as solemn as unpleasantly definitive as statuary when right in front of it in the warm New York 4 o’clock light we are drifting back and forth between each other like a tree breathing through its spectacles and the portrait show seems to have no faces in it at all, just paint you suddenly wonder why in the world anyone ever did them I look at you and I would rather look at you than all the portraits in the world except possibly for the Polish Rider oc

I think it was Robert Frost who said, “ A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness .” And then I would like to believe that after awhile it transforms, changes, molds you, together with the words, until there is nothing left but your hands, holding “ emptiness, wholeness; a cave, a cathedral .” (B.H. Fairchild) Yes!  my heart is driving along the roads of poetry Not because of insane love or lovesickness It consoles the depths of my soul Finds me and makes me a little whole It’s keeping my mute brain alive Am learning to thrive Despite the aches and strive My soul is damningly religiously dancing with fire Crafting simple words lets the pouring down my spirit demands The illusion of my future  Doesn’t seem so hard Its beauty expresses my strangest emotions And let’s me believe Frank O’Hara  Is cajoling me to Have a coke with him (link poem here. ) And mesmerized with power  As Alicia keys

Bright lights flashing, majestic sound of drums beatings, goldness   sprinkles its glow through the thin-horizontal space where the curtains kiss, she sways from left to right, as we count down, ‘4,3,2,1, Action.’ She smiles, as the curtains draw back like they are saying goodbye. Look left and right, she shouts, ‘Welcome to 2013.’  Ok, let’s forget the drama. The curtains of a new year have opened again. How was the previous year? Don’t just say, ‘fine’, take time to reminisce and be grateful for all the ups and downs, the pieces of good fortune and fresh experiences.  In 2012, I put pieces of my puzzling life together, although am still a work in progress. I had those eureka moments when you realize that life is predictable ; you must sow to reap, set goals to achieve and play to win. In addition, preparation will meet opportunity even if the occasion comes along when you are almost 50 years or maybe 48 like Susan Boyle (lol).  The question is, can you wait tha