i'm not really here

Epictetus was right.
APRIL 11, 2011 6:08PM


Rate: 40 Flag

the lifting of the head at a particular
moment, mind still delighting in the
gladness of the growing of green things
a sky rent, an almost sky, a grey sheet
bleeding brilliant white
a gliding visitor waving hello
and i am (0f) tamarind-fleshed earth,
staring unschooled at beauty
my own greeting, sluggish, remembered
and accomplished after it is so far as to
only be recalled,
a distant pulse,
an imperfect memory of a single
beauteous arc


copyright 2011 Vanessa Seijo

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meteors at dusk

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you never said a word, but this _feels_ like spring, and smells like warm earth and living things. thanks dear.
First to comment ... an imperfect memory of a single beauteous arc.

Spring at long last... comes to mind. So glad you're here, Vanessa.

I miss your words when you are not here.
Warm earthy hugs
"...an almost sky, a grey sheet
bleeding brilliant white."

Such lovely imagery!
I learned a new word - I had to run and look up tamarind
Beautiful - "the gladness of the growing of green things".
"tamarind-fleshed earth"
Vanessa, you are another one here who makes me love poetry...~r
This is so lovely, vanessa...what happened to all of your favorites?
hey, what happened to all your favorites?
You caught a falling star and put it in our mind's pocket. You are the star catcher.
Wonderful imagery ...
A vivid spring painting of spare words. Lovely, Vanessa.

"... staring unschooled at beauty...." I so understand.
I read your words and look across at your avatar and see the lifting of the head. Thinking of you.
to be "unschooled" in Beauty
is actually a favorable fate, for you
will never be made timid
by comparisons of yr exquisite raw mind matter
to what a less-talented Teacher would recommend
to de-construct...

"mind delighted in the gladness of
the growing
of green things"
is musical...
a beautiful day seen through a window, real or imagined, a scrap of sky and those gorgeous 'growing green things.' you convey so easily the peace of this scene, vanessa.
"a single beauteous arc"...the imagery is stunning Vanessa.
my dearest, dearest friends
thank you so for reading and commenting, i've been in an empty space, this
began yesterday and today, as i drove home from that place i call work, (the one that puts food on the table and temper tantrums in my soul, i felt the tugging of the words pull me forward, hurry! hurry! and a smile came to me, and it's been quite a while

and yes, my favorites are gone (but really not so, you are all in Google Reader and have been RSS--and bookmarked appropriately)
the reason for erasing everything
and the changing to the Bouguereau avatar, i was tempted i confess, to disappear
for a while, perhaps minding Keats overmuch
and research, confounded research!, and there's the book/literary fair next month and there's this manuscript that needs revising (and having already promised to do so this summer)
i even tried to erase my birthday date, and asked how, but i guess kerry is too busy (or something)
but, think me almost transparent, slowly coming back to life
Glad you changed your mind. BTW, you can't erase your birth date, but if you leave it blank it will come up as Dec. 31, which means the same thing as blank in this place.
Oh, and I had thought your Bouguereau avatar was you without your glasses.
It must've been me without my glasses.
Vanessa, we've had too many good people disappear from here lately. Glad you've decided not to join them.
dianaani: there was a soft breeze that day, and even in the midst of the sea I could imagine it
Vivian: I've missed your wit, truly
Linda: one of these days, if I ever write that vamp tale, you'll be in it
FusunA: thank you for that
trilogy: ah, trilogy! I have to get you some tamarinds, then!
Joanie: kisses your way, the tamarind was a reminder of a conversation with another poet
Rooobiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnn! you are sharp my dear
Joanie: :-)
ah, Matt, you flatter me. And you will always make me laugh (glasses and all, I looked like that...fifteen years ago)
Marty's Husband: thank you, honored that you think so
Lezlie: thank you, my dear, thank you
anna1liese: and I think of you
James: damn! such praise (I am of those who blush)
femme: it was not until the day after that my husband and I found out we were watching a meteor, such a lucky thing to witness
BuffyW: you are so, so kind
Cranky: thank you for that. I miss my friends at OS. You, my friends, are the reason I come back.

Now, Kerry, honestly, how difficult is it to leave that date thing blank??? hello....anybody home...
beauty is in these few well placed words. TY..
You are over educated in beauty. You have multiple Ph.D.s in beauty. You could be president of beauty school (not the hairdo and manicure kind).
:D love your poetry Vanessa
When I read your words I often think pretty.r
I am just checking in before - way past bedtime.
I can almost see you (imagination) in bare feet.
You probably love gravel roads and sunflowers.

There are a few roosters that call the sun forth.
I just heard some red and grey fox howling too.
The one time I was in Puerto Rico? Great fruit.

I was gonna mention a sad rooster. They fight.
I watched betters gambling in the streets. Sigh.
Do they do that often? Spain bull fights are sad.

Your poem makes one pause to imagine. Keats.
You could imagine him with you eating a peach.
You see and help readers see what your seeing.
Oh the 'growing of green things' the 'almost sky' the 'tamarind-fleshed earth'. This is just so irrepressible. Vanessa, my dear, if you are transparent, then sun must love to shine clear through you. You cannot come back to life. You are life.
Still, I know this.
The richest surprise, every time, when the earth breaks open again.
Or, reading you, that works, too.
Back in Bluefields, we called the fellas on the corner The Tamarind Boys for the tree they told their jokes under, the one that held them up straight when the girls they whistled at actually looked back and tried not to blush.
Mission: thank you for that
greenheron: you made me laugh out loud, and blush
h-Julie: thank you, thank you
hugs, me: thank you for thinking that
Chuck: deep curtsy
Art James: so honored, so deeply honored you have visited me.
were i to sit with Keats, wordless and speechless i would be, perhaps i would insist on tamarinds, let tartness rule, if he so wrote of peaches what would he say of those?
Fred: thank you!
oh, Gail! I saw that link of yours...thank you...your comment has me the shade of ripe fruit...i so wanted to turn the word tamarind into a verb, but couldn't, sigh
catch-22: I love that! the tamarind tree and love-shy men, write me a poem, will you?
c&v: yes, pulses, and paintings, and patterns. so true, so very true
It's a like a gift, seeing that arc, that "distant pulse." Very nice!
allí esta...

...when poetry communicates and visits other poems...how very satisfying! Lovely, lovely....
And what a beauteous arc it is. You have really captured that nameless thing here. rated
Arc of a slow falling meteotr
paints an angel wing in light.
bleeding brilliant gorgeous
"an imperfect memory of a single
beauteous arc"

A beauteous arc, this, both piercing and somehow soft.
Bellwether: that line was the last thing incorporated into the poem. I was about to hit publish and the words told me they needed to be there.
catch-22: thank you!!! you are truly a dear
mhold: you are absolutely right
Seer: breaks we need, I am a bit exhausted at the moment
Caroline: from you, thank you!!!
Surazeus: thank you
Scarlett: ha!! thank you, thank you
Pilgrim: had you been there, hermano, I have never seen one like that
Wonderful words framing a beautiful place in our minds.
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