a smile to remember , Charles Bukowski

Lots of Bukowski Poems, Letters & Postcards ~ 1968 to 1992 here..

a smile to remember

we had goldfish and they circled around and around
in the bowl on the table near the heavy drapes
covering the picture window and
my mother, always smiling, wanting us all
to be happy, told me, "be happy Henry!"
and she was right: it's better to be happy if you
can
but my father continued to beat her and me several times a week
while raging inside his 6-foot-two frame because he couldn't
understand what was attacking him from within.

my mother, poor fish,
wanting to be happy, beaten two or three times a
week, telling me to be happy: "Henry, smile!
why don't you ever smile?"

and then she would smile, to show me how, and it was the
saddest smile I ever saw

one day the goldfish died, all five of them,
they floated on the water, on their sides, their
eyes still open,
and when my father got home he threw them to the cat
there on the kitchen floor and we watched as my mother
smiled

Charles Bukowski

The morning walk from area 17 to the college of liberal arts, by Francisco Arcellana (1916-2002)

The morning walk from area 17 to the college of liberal arts

by Francisco Arcellana (1916-2002)

The faithful hounds, his ranging eyes, too early probe
the lonely morning macadam empty for the sight of her.

She comes upon the startled pavement in pa vane:
cool early morning doesn’t come until she comes.
The sun is clear, open only as her given eyes.

The faithful hounds, his eyes, are roused at her approach
and with her passage roil the air with flurried cries.
The faithful hounds, his eyes rise and follow after.

She doesn’t need to speak to say the silent speech.
She nods and her eyes smile: her cool unspeaking lips
soundlessly articulate the quiet words Good morning.
Indeed in deed it is morning: sure enough it is day.

She walks – she grinds beneath him even as she walks:
how his heart rocks with the singing of her hips
how his heart reels with the sighing of her feet.

The green sea burning parts before her plowing legs.
The clay path writhes in furious brown beneath her heels.
The subtle snake, recalled, uncoils and forward creeps
to meet her warm, unknowing eyes: confounder of the cold –
rout the slinker back into the brush, the original slime
leaving the clear, clean day unsullied for her sake,
the cooler early morning that her moving makes.

Ashes to Ashes, Faith No More

Ashes to Ashes

I want them to know it's me
It's on my head
I'll point the finger at me
It's on my head

Give it all to you
Then I'll be closer

Smiling with the mouth of the ocean
And I'll wave to you with the arms of the mountain
I'll see you

I will let you shout no more
It's on my head
I'll pick you up from the floor
It's on my head
I'll let you even the score
It's on my head

Give it all to you
Then I'll be closer

Smiling with the mouth of the ocean
And I'll wave to you with the arms of the mountain
I'll see you

Give the same to me, then I'll be closer, closer
Give the same to me, then I'll be closer, closer

Smiling, with the mouth of the ocean
And I'll wave to you, with the arms of the mountain

Give the same to me, then I'll be closer, closer
Give the same to me, then I'll be closer, closer


:)

Finale From Petite Mort - Jiri Kylian - Mozart

memories wishes dreams; i did ballet for 1 year when i was 5, then i had to leave, i don't know why, i just know that i didn't want to.. a long time later, i was blessed to watch my daughter do ballet for 5 years from 9- 14, and see all her ballet concerts.. her last one was among 20 dancers and she kept up completely.. i welled up, and was breathless and full of smiles at the end.. clap clap clap :) :) :)

sometimes, for a moment, i wish i had fulfilled my dream as a ballerina..

moving art