A Dialogue: November 2011

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Her hair is soft and her eyes are oh so blue.
She's all the things a girl should be, but she's not you.
She knows just how to make me laugh when I feel blue,
She's ev'rything a man could want, but she's not you.
And when we're dancing, it almost feels the same.
I've got to stop myself from whisp'ring your name
She even kisses me like you used to do.
And it's just breaking my heart 'cause she's not you.
And it's just breaking my heart 'cause she's not you.
And when we're dancing, it almost feels the same.
I've got to stop myself from whisp'ring your name.
She even kisses me like you used to do.
And it's just breaking my heart 'cause she's not you.
And it's just breaking my heart 'cause she's not you.

Monday, November 21, 2011

Individuality by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Oh yes, I love you, and with all my heart;
Just as a weaker woman loves her own,
Better than I love my beloved art,
Which, till you came, reigned royally, alone,
My king, my master. Since I saw your face
I have dethroned it, and you hold that place.

I am as weak as other women are:
Your frown can make the whole world like a tomb;
Your smile shines brighter than the sun, by far.
Sometimes I think there is not space or room
In all the earth for such a love as mine,
And it soars up to breathe in realms divine.

I know that your desertion or neglect
Could break my heart, as women's hearts do break.
If my wan days had nothing to expect
From your love's splendor, all joy would forsake
The chambers of my soul. Yes, this is true.
And yet, and yet--one thing I keep from you.

There is a subtle part of me, which went
Into my long pursued and worshipped art;
Though your great love fills me with such content
No other love finds room now, in my heart.
Yet that rare essence was my art's alone.
Thank God, you cannot grasp it; 'tis mine own.