Archive for Basho

Winter…and winter white…

Posted in Fashion with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on December 11, 2013 by Mj Rains

winter white I love the fact that December is the start of winter here in PA and it certainly has been cold enough to make this so true. I feel suddenly inspired by white, even with the most colorful holiday coming up.

tumblr_mbmlifNedL1qjofotWhite hooded coats…

White-PianoA winter white room…with a white piano…

“In the depth of winter I finally learned
that there was in me an invincible summer”
~Albert Camus

winter white knit

whitewonderlandI love, love holiday whites…

Marion CotillardMarion Cotillard via my Marvelous Marion Pinterest Board…follow if you wish…

winter white cat

Winter solitude–
in a world of one color
the sound of wind.
~Matsuao Basho

winter white fashionWinter white fashion… I have a deep desire for this one…

Michael FassbenderMichael Fassbender in white and off-white… via my Fass-ination board…

this is glam

Burberry Prorsum Spring 2013Burberry Prorsum Spring 2013…

everything whiteAnd everything white and white… via Fashion + Beauty board

vintage white bentleyVintage white Bentley… via my Car Love board

Paris in winter white

Some, too fragile for winter winds
The thoughtful grave encloses —
Tenderly tucking them in from frost
Before their feet are cold.
~Emily Dickinson

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Rain, Rain, go away…come again some other day.

Posted in Photography, Poetry at large with tags , , , , , , on September 7, 2011 by Mj Rains

photo: RAIN by Maozi

Much as I sometimes love rain, and rainy days, and any excuse to stay in
and read a good book, I’m just plain old getting sick of it this week. And it doesn’t seem like it will be stopping…

First winter rain
by Matsuo Basho
First winter rain–
even the monkey
seems to want a raincoat.
photo: rain lights by kateey
Horses and Men in Rain
by Carl Sandburg
LET us sit by a hissing steam radiator a winter’s day, gray wind pattering frozen raindrops on the window,
And let us talk about milk wagon drivers and grocery delivery boys.

Let us keep our feet in wool slippers and mix hot punches—and talk about mail carriers and messenger boys slipping along the icy sidewalks.
Let us write of olden, golden days and hunters of the Holy Grail and men called “knights” riding horses in the rain, in the cold frozen rain for ladies they loved.

A roustabout hunched on a coal wagon goes by, icicles drip on his hat rim, sheets of ice wrapping the hunks of coal, the caravanserai a gray blur in slant of rain.
Let us nudge the steam radiator with our wool slippers and write poems of Launcelot, the hero, and Roland, the hero, and all the olden golden men who rode horses in the rain.

photo: After the Rain by Grace-Note
When The Sun Come After Rain
by Robert Louis Stevenson
WHEN the sun comes after rain
And the bird is in the blue,
The girls go down the lane
Two by two.When the sun comes after shadow
And the singing of the showers,
The girls go up the meadow,
Fair as flowers.

When the eve comes dusky red
And the moon succeeds the sun,
The girls go home to bed
One by one.

And when life draws to its even
And the day of man is past,
They shall all go home to heaven,
Home at last.

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