Ode to the Virgin Moon

                                      I

                                       

I behold in my heart her supernal beauty which no eye could show nor tongue attest…

though veiled in silence, modestly there in luminous shadow, her simple pose emits a sound...

like a budding rose, red and flush, her radiant cheeks give tepid hearts a vivid blush…

familiar now with the virgin's tale, she need not speak but simply smile,

and in this manner her love so fills my memory’s sail...

like copious cherubs about her throne, a crown of lilies encompass her gown with greeting echoes like Ave and Hail...

                                              II

  

Right by the Sun, she cares not t'eclipse or flee its 'fulgent rays, 

though sits like the Moon, still on a starry stage, and endows her virginal gaze...

yes, even the brilliant seraphs bow to the billows of  light

where she is, as they warm their wings in a flutter of whispering faces...

but the serene little maiden whispers more softly than they,

and is heard like a trumpet of graces...

for 'tis often her joy to mimic the choir with embellishing beauty,

again and again, yet more and more perfecting praises:

“Here I stand and still I sing: I am the handmaid of the Sun,

And through the power of his Light, my word is his, thy will be done…”

Ya Amali

As my thoughts and feelings come and go, 

groping for comforts in this world,

no image returns as oft' as hers...

though many faces compete for ponder,
her cherubic countenance and ivory veil
have plundered my store of 

weary hopes and neglected sentiments...

                                                                            yet the candid flame she brought to that dreary room

                                                                             shall soon burnout and the chamber locked,

                                                                           as she sets her gaze Eastward carrying away

                                                                      both lock and key to Bilad al-Sham.

True Love < > True Friend

But if good faith has such attractive power that we love it in those whom we have never seen, or -- better yet -- in an enemy, how amazing is it if the minds of men are moved to affection when they behold the virtue and goodness of those with whom they can become intimately united?

Love is, indeed, strengthened by favors received, by witnessing diligence in one's service, and by habitual intercourse (e.g. conversation); and when these are added to the first impulse of the mind toward love, there flames forth a marvellously rich glow of affectionate feeling. If there are any who think that this proceeds from conscious weakness and the desire to have some person through whom one can obtain what he lacks, they actually give to friendship a mean and utterly ignoble origin, born, as they would have it, of poverty and neediness.    Cicero,  De Amicitia 9

Palestinian 'Sleep of Peace'

"Funeral Custom Among the Arabic Christians of Palestine--As a missionary, now residing at Bethlehem, informs us, the Arabic Christians of the Holy Land still observe the ancient and noteworthy custom at every funeral before burying their dead, always to place a fresh olive branch beneath the head of the departed. In doing so it is their object, as they way, 'to enable the departed to reach eternity with the olive-branch of peace.'"   Oxford Journal (Firm)

Hate, From Conscience of Deserving To Be Hated

"To have done more hurt to a man than he [the doer] can, or is willing to, expiate, inclines the doer to hate the sufferer. For he must expect revenge or forgiveness, both which are hateful." (Hobbes, Leviathan)

This quote is maybe an accurate psycho-analysis of the dynamic between the Palestinians and Israelis.

http://miriammarzouka.blogspot.com/

Promise me the moon

In my heart of hearts there is a place
where light and darkness share a room,
forgotten faces shed alight
like a luminescent moon...

and in that place a shadowy lamp
refracts a glorious sun...

where warmth and cold encompass me
like placid thoughts that come and go...

they rush and seek, here and there,
until they come to know
that surrendering smile and steady eyes 
filled with unending promises...

                                                      VTalamas   8.7.11

Tea's Company Too

This Wednesday is Afternoon Tea, one of this week's more cultured---and perhaps "artsy"--events marked by the Coral Gables Community Calendar. As I read the announcement, I couldn't help but imagine some delicate group of  well-seasoned ladies (50 and older) getting all spiffed up with feather hats and greeted by young & handsome valets who briskly assist them as they drive up in their silver cadillacs on a perky summer day. I mean, this is just the crowd I would expect to find at a 5 star hotel and a place where fellows like George Soros and Obama like to pass their time.
I can't really say much yet, because my version of afternoon tea is probably outdated and definitely sexist. Don't miss-judge me, I am an unrepentant Tea drinker and approve of the drink for almost everyone. 

Secret Humor

 I suffer from a secret humor,
yes I do—a very private laugh.

When an image arises in
satirical thought,
an intractable grin bursts
from the fore...

It’s a laughing disease,
(yes it must be)
which I cannot just quit—
a sappy reaction to an
unsavory wit.

While my humor isn’t brittle,
there lies a risible flaw...
when it takes only noses and ears
to trigger my jaw!

So it matters not who might be ‘round,
                                                            for silent humor is my jester’s crown.

                                                                      VTalamas     8.7.11 

Simply Pear-fection

                                                                  

What is it about fruits or vegetables, or anything in nature, that would inspire an artist to create a still-life painting or any kind of re-representation? Why go through so much hassle to depict what nature has already masterfully revealed to the eye? I have always asked myself this question, especially when I run into people who haphazardly repeat that hackneyed slogan: "art for art's sake." These are the same folk, mind you, that still consider fortune cookies something esoteric, who buy sunflower bobble-heads for their car, and who like to furnish their spaces with things they find "artsy." But, I digress.

Here, I would like to mention that the focus of this article--and all future posts--is not to be overly critical of any person or group; rather, it centers on the elevation of all things human, and in that light,  statements like "art for art's sake" can be construed as an innocuous, though fragile, attempt at self-expression. This is in fact is the reason why I created this blogger: so that visitors like you could engage your curiosities in a noble pursuit--that of legitimate self-expression.