Posted on by House of Heart · 46 Comments

Soft as Feathers

the soft edges are frayed, folded paper, folded like wings, folded like feathers.






I left a message for you in a book.
It is like me to mark provocative phrases,
to shake them out in ponderous verses.
Do not read too much in the fallout,
the notes in the border are for nostalgia’s sake.
I dreamt of you again last night,

Your aura lingers though I can barely recall your essence.
The suffering is not in knowing what is real but in what is not, 





“This, only to tell you the color of the day and my thoughts. A day for silence, nakedness, shady rooms, abandonment. My thoughts are the color of your hair. Soon they will be the color of your eyes.”





Albert Camus … Letter to Maria






	



	



			
				



	
		

			

				Posted on  by House of Heart									 · 
					56 Comments
											


							
Blood Rose
					


	

	

	

		
The night is wet


drops of rain glisten


on the slick sidewalks.


In my hurry, I dodge


the  dark puddles that


glisten in the misty glow


of amber street lamps.


There is a trace of rosy


blood where I have bitten


my lip but my eyes brim


with life and nonsensical love.


When we meet, we smile


and kiss silvery lashes


The taste of blood rose on


shivering lips.


For the moment, we forget,


You want too much and


I will take whatever you give.

	



	



			
				


			
				



	
		

			

				Posted on  by House of Heart									 · 
					84 Comments
											


							
All I Need To Know
					


	

	

	

		

It was a damp hot summer,





the air filled with dragonflies  and 





the buzzing drone of cicadas. 





A bird built her nest of fragile twigs, strands of hair, and silver tinsel, beneath the overhang of my porch. In side are three blue eggs dropped down from a turquoise sky. 
I wait and watch intently for the miracle of life to emerge from cracked shells, being careful not to disturb the miracle.





All I need to know is there are birds and nests and eggs, that there is a river flowing to the ocean. That I will have your shoulder to rest my head on, your hand gentle at my throat . I’ve entrusted a heart to you , knowing you will never let it break.





















	



	



			
				


			
				



	
		

			

				Posted on  by House of Heart											


							
Arlington
					


	

	

	

		

As far as the eye can see,

dotted with chiseled teeth that jut through the verdure

vanish  over the wilted slopes fade into the horizon. 

Dead twigs trapped in wrought iron arms 

rustle in the forlorn zephyr trapping

wayward leaves in bronze 

 They  designate where valor lies.

Worn flags, stiff with age,

quiver like the hearts of caged doves.

Red poppies in the common droop,

overcome by the copper scent that fills the

fields  of treasure that flourish hereforever,  

As far as the eye and beyond.













Buffalo Springfield – -1967 







	



	



			
				



	
		

			

				Posted on  by House of Heart									 · 
					241 Comments
											


							
Neil Young
					


	

	

	

		














All art copyright Resa McConaghy 










Neil Young (born November 12, 1945) is a highly influential Canadian-American singer-songwriter and musician known for his distinctive voice and raw guitar style. Emerging in the 1960s with Buffalo Springfield and later CSNY, he forged a prolific solo career, often backed by Crazy Horse, producing iconic folk-rock and grunge-influenced albums like Harvest and Rust Never sleeps. He’s sKnown in for blending acoustic folk, country-rock, and heavy, distorted electric rock (earning him the nickname “Godfather of Grunge”).





    

  • Key Albums: Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere(1969)After the Gold Rush(1970)Harvest (1972), and Rust Never Sleeps (1979).
    • 













Art by Resa McConaghy 

	



	



			
				



	
		

			

				Posted on  by House of Heart											


							
it wasn’t meant to be this way
					


	

	

	

		
We hesitate to call ourselves


human these days


That stone bruise of loss,


the lingering sting


filleted by the bludgeon


of  scorn and hate,


not the same way or on the


same day.


Inconsistency is the surest way


to weaken the bark,


wrench the roots,


slowly wither beneath the boot


of fear and despair and the


never ending needs of ego.













	



	



			
				


			
				



	
		

			

				Posted on  by House of Heart									 · 
					95 Comments
											


							
Sea Breeze
					


	

			
					

	

	

		

When we speak, the air tastes of salt, 





our words wet with fluidity;





 silvery vines of fingers entwine.





We are a tranquil sea. 





The tide sweeps in,





 still the moon is not 





strong enough to part us. 





the sweet-bitter enchantment





of life carries us forward





 beneath a sky of endless colors,





 the sea breeze scattering us across the





windblown sand.













“Sun rays touch the coastline
Warm our feet, show the glare
We walk through the sand in the warm night
The water will take the weight from us





And all our lives we’re told
The stream will take us home
And all our lives we’re told
The stream will take us home”