Old Books with Memories and Meanings…

Ah the smell of old books on shelves, row upon row, stacked on the floor, in boxes and under tables and in piles above… The local Book warehouse in the city I went to college in was an amazing place to spend an afternoon just wondering the many rooms and areas of this large old warehouse…

While I was in college, I would often come here to locate good deals, getting even tot he point the owner would recognize me, or really knowing my grandfather and uncle who also enjoyed to come to this book store… Here is where I would find great deals on old books or used books while I was in college… The cost I often found for an afternoon of looking would often allow me to save a fair share compared tot he new softcover books in the campus bookstore…

So while taking a few classes on poetry and being rather thrifty, I bought my books at the local Book Warehouse, often old hard cover books… I came across a signed edition of Archibald MacLeish, an American poet… This one poem I found to be interesting to read, and my grandparents and Great Uncle and Aunt also very much enjoyed it after supper’s end, while sipping coffee or tea and enjoying some of Gram’s pie or cake… They having me read it aloud for them…

I had done a photo and added this poem to it, matted and framed for my Aunt & Uncle’s 50th anniversary… And then just a few days before my Gram passed, I sat reading softly to her some of the poetry we had shared while I lived with them while going to the family university…

I still have this signed edition, one of the 500 he had signed so it says, the edges of the cover a bit worn of the 20+years of use… I think to the number of times I have just taken this off the shelf, quick reads of words that paint images in my head, touching a memory or touch of an emotion…

The Old Gray Couple

They have only to look at each other to laugh–
no one knows why, not even they:
something back in the lives they’ve lived,
something they both remember but no words can say.

They go off at an evening’s end to talk
but they don’t, or to sleep but they lie awake–
hardly a word, just a touch, just near,
just listening but not to hear.

Everything they know they know together–
everything, that is, but one:
their lives they’ve learned like secrets from each other;
their deaths they think of the in the nights alone.

She: Love, says the poet, has no reasons.

He: Not even after fifty years?

She: particularly after fifty years.

He: what was it, then, that lured us, that still teases?

She: You used to say my plaited hair!

He: And then you’d laugh.

She: Because it wasn’t plaited.
Love had no reasons so you made one up to laugh at. Look! The old, gray couple!

He: No, to prove the adage true:

Love has no reasons but old lovers do.

She: And they can’t tell.

He: I can and so can you.
Fifty years ago we drew each other, magnetized needle toward the longing north.
It was your naked presence that so moved me. It was your absolute presence that was love.

She: Ah, was!

He: And now, years older, we begin to see absence not presence: what the world would be without your footstep in the world–the garden empty of the radiance where you are.

She: And that’s your reason?-that old lovers see their love because they know now what its loss will be?

He: Because, like Cleopatra in the play, they know there’s nothing left once love’s away…

She: Nothing remarkable beneath the visiting moon…

He: Ours is the late, last wisdom of the afternoon. We know that love, like light, grows dearer toward the dark.

-Archibald MacLeish

Sunrise on Chincoteague’s Beach is Such an Inspiration…

Sounds of the beach with Seagulls mixed with the soft whisper of the wind and the rolling waves as they hit the beach chasing the  Sandpipers back and forth …  Stopping for coffee, before to drive into the Assiteague National park on the beach near Chincoteague Island…  The sun shining already reflecting colors in the marshes as we drove to the beach, stopping every now and then to catch a moment in a photo…

How beautiful it is here, with so many colors reflecting off the water and skyline of the marches…  At one moment, there where 5-6 Heron and Egrets still standing sleeping on one leg giving sleepy eyes to us being early morning passer- bys…

Marshes near Chincoteague's Beach

Marshes near Chincoteague's Beach

Sand underfoot, between toes, watching the many kinds of seagulls fly by, seeking their mornings breakfast, some waiting staring at me, thinking I might share some of my coffee with them as I stood looking over the multi-colored skyline that reflected it’s colors and hues into the ocean and upon the sand…

Slowly the small orange globe of the sun climbs above the waves and Blue Ocean that fades off to beyond eyesight, with the feel of the sand being taken from under bare feet, as the waves came crashing in surrounding my ankles…  The cry of seagulls calling out the solo calls of searching for their breakfasts…

I sit here rolling my toes in the sand, as I write, after watching the sun slowly come up over the horizon line…  The sound only of the rhythmic waves and soft wind, with the cries of seagulls fills the air…  No one in sight along the beach except my girlfriend, who is walking along the water’s edge, every so often stopping to look over the colored sky and ocean…

Solitude filled with the beauty of nature that cleans one’s soul of thoughts and allowing the creative juices flow from the times of business and daily struggles of life that seem to wash away…  I continue to sit at a picnic bench letting the solace of morning’s first light fill my mind, my soul and being, typing till the light of the day no longer allows me to view the monitor…  Finishing my first mug of coffee, I close my PowerBook slowly, and walk to the edge of the waves and allow them to wash over my bare feet and the colors it fill my mind feeding the creativeness within…

In this beauty ideas seem to flow as if water from the waves, one after the other…  Some of images, colors, future paintings, words, the things I need to do for my business the steps I need to take to accomplish my goals and dreams…  Each one flowing through my minds eye just as the many waves on the beach roll in one after another, after another…  Finding it hard to capture them even if I could write them all down, knowing that I couldn’t even speak them fast enough as the ideas flow and grow…

Foot prints in the sand


The moment now s gone, like the footprints in the sand that have now washed away with the coming of the tide, but the ideas are as seeds growing in my mind, and held close with the memories… Closing my eyes now, for a moment I hear the rhythm of the ocean, smell the salt in the air and feel the sensation of the cool water surrounding my feet that sink slowly in the wet sands with each wave upon wave…

Sometimes getting away from all and any and just allow the beautify of nature to fill your mind allows for a cleansing of sorts that I think we all need…  I find myself thinking, I am fortunate; I live the country and can fill myself with the beautify of forests, hills, waterfalls, the different seasons and wildlife of Central New York State at any time…  But to allow myself this beauty of watching the colors of a sunrise over a vast ocean is something all should experience and hold close…

Lost in dreams once upon a time shared…

Sometimes when even dreams wash the sadness of realities loneliness away, fill your cup with memories so soft and sweet… Only the fear to wake, to open one’s eyes, to again find yourself alone, the silence empty, and the colors gone-
only a tear remains, falling down your cheek, missing the warmth, and care of a memory now gone… Closing your eyes again, wishing to feel the speed of your heart beating again, the reflections shared within warm eyes full of care, lost in dreams once upon a time shared…

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