Aquileana on February 17, 2015 at 8:36 pm Reply Mardi Gras baby is a sort of post apocalyptic versión of Eros (AKA Cupid)… When love is frozen, angels easily fall down from empyrean Grace… Beautiful poem, dear Catherine. All my best wishes to you. Aquileana :star: Loading...
Mardi Gras baby is a sort of post apocalyptic versión of Eros (AKA Cupid)…
When love is frozen, angels easily fall down from empyrean Grace…
Beautiful poem, dear Catherine. All my best wishes to you. Aquileana :star:
Thanks. When I first read myths as a child, the tale of Psyche was a favorite. Now why is that? ; )
Maybe because Psyche and Eros represent Soul and body, respectively?… I have once written about them… I will send you the post via Twitter!… All the best to you. Aquileana 😀
nice! Looks a little like Le Pisseur in Belgium.
Haha. As my southern Nannie said during our first ride through Brussels: “Look theyah, gulls. Ah doo buh-leev that liddle fellah is tinklin’ in public.The Yur-Oh-pe-ahns show no big mo-deh-sty.” Translation: “Look there, girls. I do believe that is a little fellah tinkling in public. The Europeans show no big modesty.”
I love that you froze the wind and made space for a full representation of the cherub. Fellini had a knack of silencing all background noise just before a serious conversation. It’s a rich device.
So I guess you liked it?
I like “Ice sheeted green moss rock” a lot. It suggests the slipping, fall, and sense of burial that befall many, at least temporarily. It is a very concise and universal story—how each of us, at various times, fall “in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes.”
Thanks for reading, Eric! Lady Fortune, turn thy wheel. How odd about words. Intention is not the property of writers. I discover myself in the words of others about my words.