Do you know the myth of Danaë?

Tangled up in blue

I'm not there, a brilliant film

Listening to Blood on the tracks this morning. Never get tired of it.











She lit a burner on the stove
And offered me a pipe
“I thought you’d never say hello,” she said
“You look like the silent type”
Then she opened up a book of poems
And handed it to me
Written by an Italian poet
From the thirteenth century
And every one of them words rang true
And glowed like burnin’ coal
Pourin’ off of every page
Like it was written in my soul from me to you
Tangled up in blue

So now I’m goin’ back again
I got to get to her somehow
All the people we used to know
They’re an illusion to me now
Some are mathematicians
Some are carpenters’ wives
Don’t know how it all got started
I don’t know what they’re doin’ with their lives
But me, I’m still on the road
Headin’ for another joint
We always did feel the same
We just saw it from a different point of view
Tangled up in blue

notes about love: by a Buddhist Priest

purple-clouds

A Leonard Cohen poem that I first read when I was 16

and I have always remembered it,  I recognise it in myself, everything I do is a poem even when I don't mean it to be. Leonard Cohen is a great poet and singer of songs.

Gift

You tell me that silence
is nearer to peace than poems
but if for my gift
I brought you silence
(for I know silence)
you would say
    This is not silence
this is another poem
and you would hand it back to me


- from The Spice-Box of Earth

I heard a fantastic local poet, Sarah Tamar, read a poem about her love of Leonard and it was great to meet someone who loved him like I do. Often people think he is miserable or depressing! I find his songs to be uplifting and beautiful. Leonard Cohen has a witty sense of humour, he sings in Tower of Song: 'I was born like this, I had no choice, I was born with the gift of a golden voice.' I adore his voice, it is deep and full of intensity and it suits the poetry he sings.

So many beautiful lyrics and poems, here are just a few of my favourites:

They lay down beside me, I made my confession to them.
They touched both my eyes and I touched the dew on their hem.
If your life is a leaf that the seasons tear off and condemn
they will bind you with love that is graceful and green as a stem.
-from Sisters of Mercy

I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel
you were famous, your heart was a legend.
You told me again you preferred handsome men
but for me you would make an exception.
And clenching your fist for the ones like us
who are oppressed by the figures of beauty,
you fixed yourself, you said, "Well never mind,
we are ugly but we have the music."

-from Chelsea Hotel No2

I'm not looking for another as I wander in my time,
walk me to the corner, our steps will always rhyme
you know my love goes with you as your love stays with me,
it's just the way it changes, like the shoreline and the sea,
but let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't untie,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.

-from Hey, that's no way to say goodbye


So many more, I can't put them all here!

Modigliani's muse : Jeanne Hébuterne

gentle, quiet, shy and delicate

Jeanne met Modigliani when she was eighteen years old and she soon became his lover and muse. He painted her red hair, sinuous body and long neck many times.

He believed the only route to true creativity was through defiance and disorder

She became pregnant and gave birth to a daughter. The couple were quite besotted with one another and Jeanne put up with Amedeo's hedonistic lifestyle, caring for him and supporting him. They were friends as well as lovers.

When she was nearly full term with their second child Modigliani died. Jeanne was completely heart broken and committed suicide by walking backwards out of a top floor window. Jeanne was only twenty-one years old.

Devoted companion to the extreme sacrifice.

Jeanne was also a very talented artist in her own right and one can only imagine what she might have produced if she had lived.

self-portrait by Jeanne Hébuterne




Jeanne painted by Modigliani



Modigliani portrait by Jeanne





April 6, 1898 – January 25, 1920

Jeanne

the tender light came before dusk

it turned my hair burnished red

swallows swooping in the gable

would soon be dead

when he was painting

I did not move

held by his restless gaze

only my lips and fingertips

would tremble at the anticipation

of each stroke that left

peach and pink oil paint

on my skin

and was my skin

Mute

Seven swans hook their necks

Into silent question marks.

Why is the water just there,
Unreachable?

Is this a punishment

For the vain and beautiful?

Waddling on a frozen lake;

The crust of ice denying their elegance.

Sunrise, a church bell parts the fog.
The swans wait in humble

Shapes for the first crack.

cake in two and half minutes...oh yes!

4 tablespoons of self-raising flour
4 tablespoons of sugar (soft brown is yum and you can use a bit less)
3 tablespoons of milk
3 tablespoons of oil (olive oil tastes great)
2 tablespoons of cocoa or chopped dark choclate (or anything you fancy, chopped crystalised ginger is amazing)
1 egg

Mix it all in a bowl

Heat for 2 and half  minutes (although test this as microwaves vary in power and you don't want to nuke it)

Eat. Enjoy. Go for a run to work off calories (to Scotland)

Kids love this, it's like magic : )