the river slides by
much like the sweat
enveloping my body
leaving a sheen
Photo: dievca, Delaware River 07/2020
The sun is peeking up to reveal a world cocooned by humidity.
Moist air smells of the ocean, a river glistens like glass.
broken by the cry of a seagull, the honk of a car horn
William Blake – 1757-1827
O Thou who passest thro’ our vallies in
Thy strength, curb thy fierce steeds, allay the heat
That flames from their large nostrils! thou, O Summer,
Oft pitched’st here thy golden tent, and oft
Beneath our oaks hast slept, while we beheld
With joy, thy ruddy limbs and flourishing hair.
Beneath our thickest shades we oft have heard
Thy voice, when noon upon his fervid car
Rode o’er the deep of heaven; beside our springs
Sit down, and in our mossy vallies, on
Some bank beside a river clear, throw thy
Silk draperies off, and rush into the stream:
Our vallies love the Summer in his pride.
Our bards are fam’d who strike the silver wire:
Our youth are bolder than the southern swains:
Our maidens fairer in the sprightly dance:
We lack not songs, nor instruments of joy,
Nor echoes sweet, nor waters clear as heaven,
Nor laurel wreaths against the sultry heat.
drift out softly
bare feet silent
sink to your knees
grasp Master gently
close your eyes
worship to the music
Only Hearts ‘shine on’ lingerie
Pink, small, and punctual,
Covert in April,
Candid in May,
Dear to the moss,
Known by the knoll,
Next to the robin
In every human soul.
Bold little beauty,
Bedecked with thee,
POEM of the ROAD – Walt Whitman (excerpt)
To take to your use out of the compact cities as
you pass through!
To carry buildings and streets with you afterward
wherever you go!
To gather the minds of men out of their brains as
you encounter them! to gather the love out
of their hearts!
To take your own lovers on the road with
you, for all that you leave them behind
To know the universe itself as a road—as many
roads—as roads for traveling souls!
The soul travels,
The body does not travel as much as the soul,
The body has just as great a work as the soul,
and parts away at last for the journeys of the
All parts away for the progress of souls,
All religion, all solid things, arts, governments —
all that was or is apparent upon this globe or
any globe, falls into niches and corners before
the processions of souls along the grand roads
of the universe,
Of the progress of the souls of men and women
along the grand roads of the universe, all
other progress is the needed emblem and
Full poem HERE
dievca found a rental car and is making her way to her Mom. If there’s no hotel – sleeping in the car will do. Food is packed for along the way. Always an interesting first 30 miles when she hasn’t driven in a while – but it will be dievca and the trucks most of the way. Wish her “good luck”! XO
All the long day the vapours played
At blindfold in the city streets,
Their elfin fingers caught and stayed
The sunbeams, as they wound their sheets
Into a filmy barricade
‘Twixt earth and where the sunlight beats.
A vagrant band of mischiefs these,
With wings of grey and cobweb gown;
They live along the edge of seas,
And creeping out on foot of down,
They chase and frolic, frisk and tease
At blind-man’s buff with all the town.
And when at eventide the sun
Breaks with a glory through their grey,
The vapour-fairies, one by one,
Outspread their wings and float away
In clouds of colouring, that run
Wine-like along the rim of day.
Athwart the beauty and the breast
Of purpling airs they twirl and twist,
Then float away to some far rest,
Leaving the skies all colour-kiss’t–
A glorious and a golden West
That greets the Lifting of the Mist.
The Lifting Of The Mist – Poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
Photo: NYC East River View
The Census-Taker ~ Robert Frost
I came an errand one cloud-blowing evening
To a slab-built, black-paper-covered house
Of one room and one window and one door,
The only dwelling in a waste cutover
A hundred square miles round it in the mountains:
And that not dwelt in now by men or women.
(It never had been dwelt in, though, by women,
So what is this I make a sorrow of?)
I came as census-taker to the waste
To count the people in it and found none,
None in the hundred miles, none in the house,
Where I came last with some hope, but not much,
After hours’ overlooking from the cliffs
An emptiness flayed to the very stone.
I found no people that dared show themselves,
None not in hiding from the outward eye.
The time was autumn, but how anyone
Could tell the time of year when every tree
That could have dropped a leaf was down itself
And nothing but the stump of it was left
Now bringing out its rings in sugar of pitch;
And every tree up stood a rotting trunk
Without a single leaf to spend on autumn,
Or branch to whistle after what was spent.
Perhaps the wind the more without the help
Of breathing trees said something of the time
Of year or day the way it swung a door
Forever off the latch, as if rude men
Passed in and slammed it shut each one behind him
For the next one to open for himself.
I counted nine I had no right to count
(But this was dreamy unofficial counting)
Before I made the tenth across the threshold.
Where was my supper? Where was anyone’s?
No lamp was lit. Nothing was on the table.
The stove was cold—the stove was off the chimney—
And down by one side where it lacked a leg.
The people that had loudly passed the door
Were people to the ear but not the eye.
They were not on the table with their elbows.
They were not sleeping in the shelves of bunks.
I saw no men there and no bones of men there.
I armed myself against such bones as might be
With the pitch-blackened stub of an ax-handle
I picked up off the straw-dust covered floor.
Not bones, but the ill-fitted window rattled.
The door was still because I held it shut
While I thought what to do that could be done—
About the house—about the people not there.
This house in one year fallen to decay
Filled me with no less sorrow than the houses
Fallen to ruin in ten thousand years
Where Asia wedges Africa from Europe.
Nothing was left to do that I could see
Unless to find that there was no one there
And declare to the cliffs too far for echo,
“The place is desert, and let whoso lurks
In silence, if in this he is aggrieved,
Break silence now or be forever silent.
Let him say why it should not be declared so.”
The melancholy of having to count souls
Where they grow fewer and fewer every year
Is extreme where they shrink to none at all.
It must be I want life to go on living.
The eyes are open
Aware but barely knowing
To slide thru the day
Open hearts and open minds allow one to look beyond a surface appearance to gain insight into a deeper level of existence.
May we be so lucky.
Healing to occur
Surroundings shift and change
Climb a Hill
Slide into the Valley
dievca returned a $1000 item, only to spend $500…
but, that is the danger of visiting SoHo~
the final push
off the bottom
and leaves a trail
blurs into the beginning
with a gasp
dievca’s final push through an insane week concludes at 4 pm EDT
What’s in the sack? What’s in the sack?
Is it some mushrooms or is it the moon?
Is it love letters or downy goosefeathers?
Or maybe the world’s most enormous balloon?
What’s in the sack? That’s all they ask me.
Could it be popcorn or marbles or books?
Is it two years’ worth of your dirty laundry,
Or the biggest ol’ meatball that’s ever been cooked?
Does anyone ask me, “Hey, when is your birthday?”
“Can you play Monopoly?” “Do you like beans?”
“What is the capital of Yugoslavia?”
Or “Who embroidered that rose on your jeans?”
No, what’s in the sack? That’s all they care about.
Is it a rock or a rolled-up giraffe?
Is it pickles or nickels or busted bicycles?
And if we guess it, will you give us half?
Do they ask where I’ve been, or how long I’ll be stayin’,
Where I’ll be goin’, or when I’ll be back,
Or “How do?” or “What’s new?” or “Hey, why are you blue?”
No, all they keep asking is, “What’s in the sack?”
“What’s in the sack?” I’m blowin’ my stack
At the next one who asks me, “What’s in the sack?”
Oh no. Not you, too!
What’s in the sack?
dievca’s wallet, phone, schedule book, lip balm, Master’s Cuffs and Straps – would you like to see?
dievca’s happy there aren’t bag checks
for the NYC subway system. 🙂
There is no glory in star or blossom till looked upon by a loving eye; There is no fragrance in April breezes till breathed with joy as they wander by.
William Cullen Bryant
Redolence is the way something smells.
dievca always pauses on her way to work to enjoy the redolence of the flowering crabapple trees. The trees are in blossom earlier this year than last.
The word redolence almost always refers to the very best odors and scents.
The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees
Is my destroyer.
And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose
My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.
The force that drives the water through the rocks
Drives my red blood; that dries the mouthing streams
Turns mine to wax.
And I am dumb to mouth unto my veins
How at the mountain spring the same mouth sucks.
The hand that whirls the water in the pool
Stirs the quicksand; that ropes the blowing wind
Hauls my shroud sail.
And I am dumb to tell the hanging man
How of my clay is made the hangman’s lime.
The lips of time leech to the fountain head;
Love drips and gathers, but the fallen blood
Shall calm her sores.
And I am dumb to tell a weather’s wind
How time has ticked a heaven round the stars.
And I am dumb to tell the lover’s tomb
How at my sheet goes the same crooked worm.
The Force That Through The Green Fuse Drives The Flower
dievca is feeling reborn in her submission. The Spring Equinox and ‘Worm’ Supermoon have jump started her closet clear out and renewal of presentation outfits for Master.
she is feeling the call to serve her Dominant.
Come slowly – Eden!
Come slowly – Eden!
Lips unused to Thee –
Bashful – sip thy Jessamines –
As the fainting Bee –
Reaching late his flower,
Round her chamber hums –
Counts his nectars –
Enters – and is lost in Balms.
Emily Dickinson, "Come slowly - Eden!" from (02138: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, ) Source: The Poems of Emily Dickinson Edited by R. W. Franklin (Harvard University Press, 1999)
The equinox will arrive at 5:58 p.m. ET on today, less than four hours before the full supermoon. In the Northern Hemisphere, the equinox is the official start of spring, but in the Southern Hemisphere, it marks the beginning of autumn.
March’s full moon is sometimes called the “worm moon,” because according to folklore tradition, it occurs at a time when the frosty ground is melting and earthworms start to emerge.
The moon reached its closest point to Earth on Tuesday at 3:47 p.m. ET, but the moon won’t be full until Wednesday at 9:43 p.m. ET. The moon is usually about 240,000 miles away from Earth, but at perigee this month, it will come within about 223,300 miles of our planet, according to NASA
But what is an equinox? It’s the year’s first “equal night,” meaning that on Wednesday, we Earth-dwellers will see about 12 hours of daylight and 12 hours of night.
On the equinox, the Earth will also begin to tilt so that the North Pole gets more sun, making it spring here in the Northern Hemisphere and fall in the southern. It officially “marks the turning point when daylight begins to win out over darkness,” according to the Old Farmer’s Almanac.
BLAND as the morning breath of June
The southwest breezes play;
And, through its haze, the winter noon
Seems warm as summer’s day.
The snow-plumed Angel of the North
Has dropped his icy spear;
Again the mossy earth looks forth,
Again the streams gush clear.
The fox his hillside cell forsakes,
The muskrat leaves his nook,
The bluebird in the meadow brakes
Is singing with the brook.
“Bear up, O Mother Nature!” cry
Bird, breeze, and streamlet free;
“Our winter voices prophesy
Of summer days to thee!”
So, in those winters of the soul,
By bitter blasts and drear
O’erswept from Memory’s frozen pole,
Will sunny days appear.
Reviving Hope and Faith, they show
The soul its living powers,
And how beneath the winter’s snow
Lie germs of summer flowers!
The Night is mother of the Day,
The Winter of the Spring,
And ever upon old Decay
The greenest mosses cling.
Behind the cloud the starlight lurks,
Through showers the sunbeams fall;
For God, who loveth all His works,
Has left His hope with all!
John Greenleaf Whittier (1807–1892)
Molded and Bound
challenging my natural form.
Does anyone have burnout from the Holidays? Can dievca distract you with a Hot Chili Pepper or two?
Definition – What does Chemical Play mean?
Chemical play refers to the use of chemical substances, often in liquid form, during sex. These chemicals are means of increasing excitement through different tactile sensations. They are applied sensually through caresses and sometimes, even using sexual body parts such as the penis or nipples. Substances used include chili peppers, tabasco, lemon, cinnamon, ginger, Bengay, Tiger Balm, and Vicks Vapor Rub. These are applied anywhere on the body, including favorites such as the genitals, anus, inner thighs, and tongue.
Chemical play can be very exciting. It adds another level of sensation during sex which can increase the intensity of orgasms. Remember that introducing foreign substances to ones body has innate risks. At the very least, applying these chemicals can cause temporary burns. Safety FIRST! When one intends to play with chemicals, test the substances and have items that can counter their effects nearby, such as water, milk, and anti-inflammatory medicine.
A comprehensive primer on CHEMICAL PLAY – please read before playing!
Coin purse, earrings and dress from Kate Spade.
plus a haiku from a Cape Cod hot sauce maker Rooster Fricke called “The Chili”:
Ooooh! It’s way too hot.
I will not do that again.
Until the next time.
Photos: Top two – Bryant Park Christmas Village Starlight shop, Middle – January 1987 Poem, Bottom two – the star dievca bought.
Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart.
Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language.
Do not now look for the answers.
They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them.
It is a question of experiencing everything.
At present you need to live the question.
Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer.
~This little worm is digging in and sleeping the morning away~
You? Have a good day.
The composite elements of dievca’s bed:
Ethan Allen, Ralph Lauren, The Company Store. Hotel Collection
elegant glowing nether
flexible sinuous exotic presentation
THERE ‘s a thing that grows by the fainting flower,
And springs in the shade of the lady’s bower;
The lily shrinks, and the rose turns pale,
When they feel its breath in the summer gale,
And the tulip curls its leaves in pride,
And the blue-eyed violet starts aside;
But the lily may flaunt, and the tulip stare,
For what does the honest toadstool care?
She does not glow in a painted vest,
And she never blooms on the maiden’s breast;
But she comes, as the saintly sisters do,
In a modest suit of a Quaker hue.
And, when the stars in the evening skies
Are weeping dew from their gentle eyes,
The toad comes out from his hermit cell,
The tale of his faithful love to tell.
Oh, there is light in her lover’s glance,
That flies to her heart like a silver lance;
His breeches are made of spotted skin,
His jacket ‘is tight, and his pumps are thin;
In a cloudless night you may hear his song,
As its pensive melody floats along,
And, if you will look by the moonlight fair,
The trembling form of the toad is there.
And he twines his arms round her slender stem,
In the shade of her velvet diadem;
But she turns away in her maiden shame,
And will not breathe on the kindling flame;
He sings at her feet through the live-long night,
And creeps to his cave at the break of light;
And whenever he comes to the air above,
His throat is swelling with baffled love.
Oliver Wendell Holmes
The last day of summer is also the same as the first day of fall: Saturday, September 22, 2018
Also known as the Autumnal Equinox and the fall equinox, the Autumn equinox occurs when the sun crosses the equator. According to The Farmer’s Almanac, both the Southern and Northern hemispheres receive the same amount of sunshine at this time, and day and night are of nearly equal length. The Northern Hemisphere will start seeing shorter days and longer nights, where the Southern Hemisphere will see a reversal in seasons due to the Earth’s tilt.
On the Autumn Equinox, the sun astrologically enters into the zodiac sign Libra. Her balanced scales mark the equal length of day and night on the first day of fall, as well as signify a need to balance the body, mind, and spirit with self-care.
The Harvest Moon will be on Monday, September 24. 10:53 pm Eastern Time (shake your wallet)
And coming back to those Toadstools that dievca photographed:
You know its been really wet in NYC when dievca rides past those very large Mushrooms or ‘Toadstools’. she thinks they are the poisonous Green-spoored Parasol…its a definite ‘no go’ to eat them no matter how much they look like a Portobello mushroom cap.
A quote from a mushroom web page composed by Tom Volk of the University of Wisconsin-La Crosse describes the potential of this mushroom. “According to Dennis Benjamin (Mushrooms: poisonings and panaceas, 1995, W.H. Freeman and Company, 422 pp.) ‘In some individuals the gastrointestinal syndrome, which occurs about 1 – 3 hours after the meal, can be very severe, especially the colicky abdominal pain, which can mimic that of a ‘surgical’ abdomen. Symptoms persist for up to six hours, and even longer in a few patients. Nausea, vomiting and diarrhea complete the picture. The diarrhea can be explosive in nature and become bloody.’
Umm, yeah, a pass.
Welcome to LIBRA – dievca’s birth sign. XO
Diving deep for release
Cares and worries sluicing off my back
Finding peace in honesty
Joy in the ability to be
(a quick trip to the West Coast – necessary mental health time)
There is no glory in star or blossom till looked upon by a loving eye; There is no fragrance in April breezes till breathed with joy as they wander by.
William C. Bryant
Take a look around you.
Find beauty and renewal in the air, land and sea.
These are the gifts Gaia gave to us.
Let’s not ruin them.
Enjoy Earth Day!
Photo: from a European Friend 04/2018