Is there anything left to speak of love? Surely the minstrels and the troubadours serenaded it all to their damsels, centuries ago; lingered beneath their balconies, stroking their lutes and singing of the myriad delights and horrible miseries of love. … Continue reading
February 13th. I am dazzled, frazzled By the vajazzled array. Cupid’s lurid display. I blink, can’t think. I delve the shelves – The cards wink, flash, splash: Scarlet garnet cherry Berry-reds, fleshy pink. Silver crystal … Continue reading
I am attempting to write this blog in the centre of a maelstrom of far too much feverish, childish excitement. It’s like Christmas Eve, the night before the holidays and National Poetry Day* all rolled into one. And what is … Continue reading