Unforgetting you

A book of Korean love poems, includes this poem called “Unforgettable:”

If you cannot forget,
Let it be unforgotten.
One day you will forget.

If you cannot forget,
Let her go unforgotten.
Some part, or all, will fade one day.

But you will answer still
“How can I forget
When this flame burns in my heart?”

There is no way to pull back or retreat, in other words, no way to douse that flame, not if the love is true. A heart given fully can not be retrieved.

“Like the pines, I am lonesome for you…”

There’s a Laurel and Hardy clip for every mood, every place and every occasion — including a road trip from New Jersey for a stay in  faraway Virginia:

 

If we never meet again (or the Blue Ridge fare-thee-well blues)

I’ve been in Virginia for more than a week now, working on a couple of short stories and reworking a couple of longer manuscripts –

Here’s a photo of my writing studio, which is set atop a hillside of the peaceful former farm where the Va. Center for the Creative Arts is located.

studio exterior

Here’s a photo taken inside, where I’ve been spending a lot of time writing — and looking out of the window at the sky (which has mostly been blue) and those treetops.

interior of studio

 

Here’s what I see when I get a little stir crazy and go for a little drive (took this  photo yesterday )

blue ridge foothills

And here’s some of the music I’ve been listening to late at night:

Time is a jet plane/It moves too fast…so wrote Bob Dylan…I can’t believe time can pass so quickly in such a slow-moving place, but I’ve been here for ten days already and have just four more to go….I’m going to miss this place, but I’m sure I’ll be back….and until then I’ll just have to listen to lots and lots of old Stanley Brothers songs…

 

 

 

Nothing is Real

Happy John Lennon’s birthday (Oct. 9)

! I think this is my favorite post-Beatles Lennon:

And here’s my favorite John Lennon/ Beatles song….Take 26 of Strawberry Fields Forever:

Terpsichore in Blue Jeans

I didn’t think I would ever do such a thing. For one thing, I don’t dance very well. For another thing, all of my fellow writer and artists here at the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts are still pretty much strangers to me, since I’ve only been here for less than two days. But last night after dinner, someone shouted out “Hey, kids! Let’s put on a show!”

And somehow they managed to get me to agree to participate. See if you can figure out which one is me:

Soft looks and pilgrim souls….

It’s a raining  in the Blue Ridge Mountains, and I’m looking through a book of poems, and here’s a poem by William Butler Yeats,  and it’s just the poem for tonight, and it’s addressed to you (and you know who I mean):

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,

And nodding by the fire, take down this book,

And slowly read, and dream of the soft look

Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,

And loved your beauty with love false or true,

But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,

And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,

Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled

And paced upon the mountains overhead

And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.