A Cycle

Hello my dearest friends,

It is with a bittersweet feeling I take up writing today. I have written about my father in this blog and dedicated poems to him as well. It is with deep sadness that I learn how to deal with a new situation, since he recently had a stroke and is going through what I consider Hell. Unable to move of speak, unable to eat or swallow… a prisoner in his own body, the stature of the proud man shattered forever.

These are times of reminiscing, times of looking at his mirror and thinking about life. What have I done with the life I’ve been given? Have I given more than I have taken? Have I been righteous, have I seized every day? The answer is difficult since we try to do our best and sometimes it just isn’t enough. I fear my father’s situation, and know for a fact he would much rather leave this World than remain as he is. The thoughts that cross my mind are sometimes so ominous they choke me with their tight embrace…

I’ll drink many cups of Earl Grey and milk, to remind me of better times, when I was just a child and everything was potential.

………………………………….

Again,
Up in the air.
Watching the cotton-like clouds
And the tidy fields
From above.

The Peace from above…
No ringing phones
No daunting news
No rush.
Only a capsule in the sky,
Suspended in time.

Times are a-changing.
Too fast paced for me
Those I have known have either departed,
Are about to do so,
Or are just growing old… (As do I)

How did it come to be?
That yesterday’s maiden
Turns tomorrow thirty and three.
That my younger sister,
Whom I held with tiny arms,
Is now with child.
That my strong, hardened father
Is tied to a hospital bed,
His essence lost forever…

So many before me
Have written about time,
The passing of time,
Its fleeting nature
And how it changes the nature of man.

But to endure it…
That’s a totally different thing!
To watch beauty fade
To be called a madam
Instead of a girl,
To lose the reflection of your own self.

These are the hard times
Of growth and endurance.
May the New Year ahead
Bring forth the courage
To accept and embrace
The changes brought forth by time.

………………………………….

Sibling Bliss

My friends,

The weather has become colder, I have moved to a new house which needs lots of work, I have been toiling incessantly, me and my partner in love and life have started a new venture with which we are not entirely content...Time rolls by as it tends to do, mercilessly. But the most important news from Lady Astor’s World is the recent marriage of my beautiful and always sheltered sister.
The church ceremony and ball was yesterday, with everyone dressed to the nines. Even Rob donned a grey smoking jacket! I was fortunate enough my sister requested I read a passage from the Holy Book - Corinthians 13 - and even when I was overwhelmed by emotion I did my best to make the words sound clear.
It was a happy day I will recall for the years to come. My younger sister is not only a woman, she is now a wife.


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On Love

Love
And hold,
And cherish
And protect.

Forgive,
Forget,
Caress...
Bring forth kindness.

Create the World you live in,
Rather than conform.
The future is yours,
Live in the Now.

Two people wander,
They errantly walk the lands.
They have never seen
Each other’s face.

Until they stumble
Across each other.
And a tiny spark
Is ignited within.

It is the energy of potential.
Of “might be”.
It’s the seed of Love.

The selfless feeling,
Capable of making an egotist
Into a believer.
A gentle vibration
Which invades the Soul.

We are forever changed,
And we no longer walk alone,
When we allow the spark
To grow,
Become a Light,
And guide us through this Life.
Embrace it, nurture it,
Do not be afraid to let your ego fade.
Love is Magick.

.........................

Dedicated to Mr and Mrs Ferrari-Hernando.

The blend of love is Rosehip, a soothing tea which combined with rosehip jam - my favourite - will warm the hearts of those who reside below the Equator.

The Joker

My lovely ones,

First of all I would like to thank the lovely words I receive in comments and e-mails from those who read my poems. Some of you I met through this space, and even if I haven´t met your acquaintance yet, I sincerely hope to do so very soon.

We are all passengers in the same old ship, we share so much and yet pretend we are above or below decks in regards to our fellows. We are not, and through Art it is that Culture progresses, as someone wiser and older than myself shared in her Manifesto "Active Resistance to Propaganda", I´m talking about Dame Vivienne Westwood. I translated such Manifesto to the Spanish language a few days ago, and it will be published in Galera Magazine for the benefit of those who don´t understand the language of the Bard.

Today I will share a sentimental piece, which is unlikely in me. I rarely share poems inspired by my personal life and the sentiments I feel towards my life partner and companion. But there is always the exception, and since I thought I had lost him for good due to my foolish ways, I hereby present it to the World.

A nice energetic Chinese ginger tea should be sipped through each paragraph to greet the Year of the Tiger. This is my personal recommendation.

Blessed Be
Lady Astor



………………………………………………………


Everything has an ending
Endings being bitter
Tearing our hearts
Drowning our souls with tears.

You look at all the pieces.
The puzzle of the memories
Comes to life.
And then you see the first smile,
The very first kiss.
You were falling in love.

We were young and beautiful,
Full of hope.
And the river of pure life
Was strong and its waters deep.

The little face full of wonder,
As I saw the very place
I had dreamed of all my life – Piccadilly Circus.
And it was the most precious gift
Given to me by anyone.
And it was all you.

I became your wife,
Your partner.
I lost my innocence
In a foreign land.

We fought together
Against forces much stronger
And far wealthier than us.
We lost and we won – sometimes.
But maybe what we lost,
Was that hope we had from the start.

And the river dried
And the bridges were broken
So we couldn’t hear or see
The heart on the other shore.

We were too naïve
We thought love conquers all.
But the World…
Oh, the World isn’t built upon love!
The World is built upon blood,
It’s built upon blood and coin.

So we each fail.
And the root of failure
Is the fabric of our fears.
Our haunting childhood fears.

In me it’s envy.
Fear of being derelict.
Lack of trust.
I miss my father,
Who is too crazy,
Even crazier than my mother.

I become weak
And disappointed
With a life far too normal.
And I really hate getting up.

A job I dislike so much
Brings back resentment.
I have no time to live
I have no place to be me
Then I cease to enjoy life.
I want the time that you have!

Days are monotonous,
They keep piling up.
Until they become months…
And I keep getting up early,
While you keep waking up late.

God is the ultimate Joker.
Today I understand The Comedian.
I have everything a person could want,
But nothing I want.
And I just lost
The only person I have ever loved.


………………………………………………………

A Year

.....................................

It is today the first birthday of this little space.
A year to feel and share,
To meet new people
To weave a thread like Arachne
That links me to other worlds.

The year of one plus one
Was a year of loss,
Deception and betrayal,
Unfulfilled projects and dreams.

I became aware of my body
I acknowledged the passage of time
I went from Maiden to Matron.
Though still childless…
I grew up.

I wrote thirty-three original poems,
I aided my loved ones and learnt
Humility and compassion,
And found joy in despair.

I saw my biggest fears
Eye to eye
And realized that you can lose everything.
But when you find yourself
Nothing you can lose is lost.

I am again about to move,
In a few weeks only
I will be packing again
And changing the roof above my head.

It is the fate of some
To move, to transform, to change,
To become new incarnations
In this very world.

To all those who ever read these lines,
If they made you think, or fantasize,
I thank you for coming by.
See you later!
Good Year.

.....................................

Heat

I am much to hot to even address you my pets...

Love,
Lady

........................................

Heat.
On barely clothed refusing to work moiself.
That evil green duck on the screen
Is waiting for me to return
And keep working after lunch.

There was no lunch.
I lied.
It´s too hot for me to eat.
And yesterday I heaved over the lovely pasta I dined.

I have no pool.
Oh, how I wish for a pool!
The crystalline chlorine filled waters
Of a large man made pond.

I feel trapped in my working room.
It is the only air conditioned room
In the whole house.
And it isn´t as cool as I would want.

A large bottle of water
Lies by my desk.
I have poured a million glasses,
I feel faint…
Heat.

........................................

Clumsy

Dearest Readers,

I have decided to open up a little bit, become less mysterious and cryptic, therefore sharing some of the common pains of the Lady’s life.
Three months ago, after a disastrous summer season in Europe (only business wise) I was forced to take up a job I soon discovered I absolutely loathe. It doesn’t do anything to my self-esteem and the daily interaction with my co-workers leaves me drained. I understand in this day and age everyone – including ladies such as myself – need to take up jobs in order to get fulfilment and also money…
Yes, the dirty coin has become an utmost necessity I’m afraid. No longer a classical education in the Arts and Social Sciences is sufficient to succeed with the current state of affairs… But I digress.
Basically, what I have also discerned is that I am quite incompetent when it comes to routinely mimicking the same boring stuff.

A cool lemonade recipe for the unbearably HOT weather in Buenos Aires:

Lemon + Lime + Water + Ginger + Mint + Lots of Ice

Be well my dears!


…………………………………


My clumsy self!
I sprained my foot
And now it hurts.

It is being soothed by warm water
And lots of salt,
As it sits in a blue basin
On my kitchen floor.

Upstairs
Rob plays disco records
To practice for Saturday night.

I wish I could climb
The stairs in a flash,
But as I hurt myself
I can’t.

I wonder why have I
To be so ungainly…
I have such a will
To have it all done yesterday
That sometimes it makes me sloppy.

I bore easily
And it enhances my awkwardness.
I realize I should learn
How to become more patient
And hence, more graceful.

Although…
I am not as eager
When I read or when I write
I have also realized.

It is only when I have
To fulfil the menial tasks
I am imposed to survive.

Then, if reason comes to aid
I am pretty sure to say
I am unskilled to perform gracefully
The lowly tasks of daily toil.

…………………………………

The image portrays Lady´s own feet.

Ink Stain

Dear Friends,

A new year has started, a new decade has dawned. We are now enjoying either the cold Winter of the North, or the hot Summer of the South. As for myself, I am now in the Southern Hemisphere, following the warm weather, like I have in the last couple of years.
I will share with you a poem I wrote while flying Alitalia towards Barcelona, in June 2009, and suddenly became aware my pen had burst with the pressure.
Chilled ice lemon tea is suggested, in these unbearable Southern climates.

……………………

An ink stain
While flying over the Atlantic.
The pressure
Made the ink go pop.
Stained finger
As I try to scribble
In a tidy manner
Avoiding a possible mess.

Pen swells.
It’s a fine needlepoint.
Couldn’t handle the altitude
Of the skies beyond the clouds.

It glides softly however,
Nestled in my expert grip.
Years of practice have skilled
The touch of my crooked fingers.

Soaring through the Ocean,
Still five thousand miles to go.
Nobody yet here knows
Which way it may be home.

Easy…
Mitsubishi Pencil Co.
Maybe Japanese pens
Aren’t too fond of flying after all.

……………………