Love is like iron.
Love is like the jaws of a shark; full of bite.
Love is like willow trees in the rain, bending their tears into the water.
Love is like coffee too hot to drink, it burns your mouth with its heat.
Love is like a mirror you look into and all you see reflected back is more love.
Love is like a duvet; warm, comforting, smothering.
Love is like that itch between your shoulder blades that you just can’t reach.
Love is like a symphony played slightly out of tune.
Love is like that jingle on the radio that you end up singing all day until it drives you crazy.
Love is just love.
This is a poem I wrote a while ago. Using it now is probably wishful thinking as the last few days have been so hot I would actually welcome a bit of cooling rain right now.
Curtain of water,
Familiar blanket of wetness,
Grey skied creator of puddles,
Stealer of the sun;
Drowning warmth in your cold dampness,
Sliding over the street and dripping from drainpipes.
Playing on the ground.
English is a mongrel language because bits of it come from all over the world. But a lot of the days of the week are actually taken from the Viking gods.
Monday is short for Moon-day; this is from a time when people worshipped the sun and the moon.
Tuesday is from the Viking God of Justice, Tyr; and means Tyr’s day.
Wednesday is from Woden or Odin and means Woden’s day.
Thursday is from Thor and means Thor’s day.
Friday is named after Odin’s wife, Freeya, and means Freeya’s day.
Saturday is named after the planet Saturn and means Saturn’s day.
And finally, rather obviously, Sunday means the day of the Sun.
Now as a practising pagan, we all have our favourite Gods and Goddesses but my personal favourite is Odin. Sometimes I feel guilty and think because I am a woman I should honour a female Goddess more but Odin’s hold on me is too strong and I always come back to him. He is the God of my three favourite things; wisdom, poetry and magic. Odin has a reputation for being deceitful and cunning but I think he’s just smart. Who would want to worship a stupid God, after all?
Today’s post is a re-blog of a poem by the wonderfully talented poet, Beth Camp. I subscribe to her blog which I have been following for a while and it is my opinion that her poetry is really good. Click the link and I’m sure you’ll agree.
Today is the anniversary of the death of Jim Morrison; he died on July 3rd 1971. Now I realise that in some respects he is not the most admirable of people. He was essentially, an alcoholic who beat up his girlfriend. Now I never have and never will condone violence against women (or men) but I do realise that alcoholism is an illness that does tend to bring out the worst in people. It certainly did in Jim Morrison.
And yet. He was and still is, a music business legend and a rock God. He did have an immense talent as a rock performer and a poet and writer. And my God, was he sexy! In his younger days he was easily the sexiest lead singer the music business ever produced.
Now for some time I’ve been planning to write a book loosely (and I mean loosely) based on the life of Jim Morrison because he strikes me as one of those larger than life characters that you normally only come across in books. You might not want to live with the guy but as a character in a book, he’s absolutely perfect. He has all the conflict you could ever need before he’s even stepped outside the door!
So if we accept ourselves as all that we are with the good points and bad points then I think we can accept Jim for all the darkness and light that he had. RIP Jim Morrison.