English Rain

 

 

 

 

The Rain

 

 

All night the sound had

come back again,

and again falls

this quiet, persistent rain.

 

What am I to myself

that must be remembered,

insisted upon

so often? Is it

 

that never the ease,

even the hardness,

of rain falling

will have for me

 

something other than this,

something not so insistent—

am I to be locked in this

final uneasiness.

 

Love, if you love me,

lie next to me.

Be for me, like rain,

the getting out

 

of the tiredness, the fatuousness, the semi-

lust of intentional indifference.

Be wet

with a decent happiness

 

 

by Robert Creeley, via 1

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Outfit:

Red Coat: used to belong to late granny Penny

Vintage Crinkle Skirt: from late granny Penny

Green Snood: from the high street years ago

Red Faux Leather Gloves: gift from a friend

Vintage Red Poppy Umbrella: used to belong to late granny Kiki

Hunter Wellies: from Ebay

 

 

 

The Soundtrack:

 

Nick Cave: Push The Sky Away

 

 

All photographs taken by me, self portraits using the self timer on my little digital camera.  Sorry about the even fuzzier than usual images - the camera seems sad about the lack of light, it can only focus clearly in the sunshine!

 

I'm delighted to be a part of Visible Monday, hosted by the lovely Patti from www.notdeadyetstyle.blogspot.co.uk, click on the website link to see her outfit and those of many others.

The Path Home

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They say it is waiting for more, the snow

Shrunk up to the shadow-line of walls

In an arctic smouldering, an unclean salt,

And will not go until the frost returns

Sharpening the stars, and the fresh snow falls

Piling its drifts in scallops, furls. I say

Snow has left its own white geometry

To measure out for the eye the way

The land may lie where a too cursory reading

Discovers only dip and incline leading

To incline, dip, and misses the fortuitous

Full variety a hillside spreads for us:

It is written here in sign and exclamation,

Touched-in contour and chalk-followed fold,

Lines and circles finding their completion

In figures less certain, figures that yet take hold

On features that would stay hidden but for them:

Walking, we waken these at every turn,

Waken ourselves, so that our walking seems

To rouse some massive sleeper out of winter dreams

Whose stretching startles the whole land into life,

As if it were us the cold, keen signs were seeking

To pleasure and remeasure, repossess

With a sense in the gathered coldness of heat and height.

Well, if it's for more the snow is waiting

To claim back into disguisal overnight,

As though it were promising a protection

From all it has transfigured, scored and bared,

Now we shall know the force of what resurrection

Outwaits the simplification of the snow.

 

 

Snow Signs by Charles Tomlinson, via 1

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Outfit:

 

 

Faux Sheepskin coat: very old, from Morgan de Toi

 

 

Silver velvet dress, seen as a skirt: bought from Monsoon when I was about 16

 

 

Black faux fur cardigan coat: very old from the high street

 

 

Faux wolf fur shawl: from an ex boyfriend

 

 

Red faux leather gloves: a gift from a friend

 

 

Wellies underneath: Hunter, via ebay

 

The Soundtrack

Nick Cave: Your Funeral My Trial 

All photographs taken by me, self portraits using the self timer on my cheap digital camera.

Unfortunately I've been unwell this last week, so I'm very behind on reading all your latest posts. I promise to drop by again very soon!

I'm delighted to be a part of Visible Monday, hosted by the lovely Patti from www.notdeadyetstyle.blogspot.co.uk, click on the website link to see her outfit and those of many others.

Paris Stories: La Flaneuse

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"We had our favourite walks a step or two away, and our favourite sights, all happily grouped together! ... Going out for a stroll was not something that tired you out, it was a delight! It gave birth to that eminently Parisian compromise between laziness and activity known as flanerie!"

 

From the play Maison Nerve, written by Victorien Sardou in 1866,

as quoted in The Flaneur by Edmund White, via 1

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Outfit

Grey Blue Coat: vintage Wallis, my mother's in the early 1970s

Red Cloche: Village Hats (still for sale at www.hatsandcaps.co.uk)

Black Boots: very old from Aldo

Red Gloves: vintage, my granny Kiki's

 

Transparent Blue Umbrella:  Paperchase

 

Bag: gift from my mum

 

Paisley scarf: charity shop

 

The Soundtrack

Marianne Faithfull: The Boulevard Of Broken Dreams 

 

 

 

Photographs taken by myself and Mr Eve, using my cheap and basic Kodac EasyShare digital camera, and his IPhone.

 

 

I'm delighted to be a part of Visible Monday, hosted by the lovely Patti from www.notdeadyetstyle.blogspot.co.uk, click on the website link to see her outfit and those of many others.