Sweeter Words Saturday: Sweeterchord

If you are on Instagram, I highly recommend to

check out the account, sweeterchord, by Katrina.

I do not know more about this young writer and poet,

but her words are beyond beautiful and touching. 

Her combination of written word and photography is 

incredible. I look forward to seeing more and more 

work from her. Checkout more of her work at her
website and blog. 

Quick note: The below peom as well as the images
are all rights reserved to Sweeterchord aka Katrina
D Photography. 

[ The Dawn Doesn't Apologize ]

by Kat (aka sweeterchord)

"Just watch the sun, please, my dear.

And then someday you will look around 

and realize that I'm still here no matter 

how many times you didn't believe it."

Unwritten, Unsent; poem 82

Sweeter Words Saturday: Elizabeth Barrett Browning Edition

I am not ashamed to say that my first exposure to the 
works of Elizabeth Barrett Browning is from Robert
Zemechis's "Who Framed Roger Rabbit?" Eddie Valient 
had just pressed Roger Rabbit for his alibi, Roger Rabbit 
begins to describe how he had spent the evening writing 
his wife a love letter. Roger proceeds to quote Browning's 
work before jumping up and down literally counting out 
aloud his love for his wife, Jessica Rabbit.


It seems that out of Browning's work, that stanza is 
commonly used and cited in the media. I quite enjoyed 
her sonnets from the Portuguese and will be sharing some 
stanzas.

Browning's own life seems to have influenced the songs 
of the Portuguese. I hope you enjoy these sonnets.

Songs of the Portuguese's by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Sonnet 6

Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall

      stand

Henceforward in thy shadow. Never-

      more

Alone upon the threshold of my door

Of individual life, I shall command

The uses of my soul, nor lift my hand

Serenely in the sunshine as before,

Without the sense of that which I for-

      bore -

Thy touch upon the palm. The widest

      land

Doom takes to part us, leaves thy    

     heart in mine

With pulses that beat double. What I 

    do

And what I dream include thee, as the

    wine

Must taste of its own grapes. And    

    when I sue

God for myself, He hears that name of

    thine,

And sees within my eyes the tears of 

    two.

Sonnet nine

Can it be right to give what I can give?

To let thee sit beneath the fall of tears

As salt as mine, and hear the sighing

     years

Re-sighing on my lips renunciative

Through those infrequent smiles             

    which fail to live

For all thy adjurations? O my fears, 

That this can scarce be right! We are

    not peers,

So to be lovers; and I own, and grieve,

That givers of such gifts as mine are,

    must

Be counted with the ungenerous. Out,

    alas!

I will not soil thy purple with my dust,

Nor breathe my poison on thy Venice -

    glass,

Nor give thee any love - which were

    unjust.

Beloved, I only love thee! let it pass.

Sonnet 12

Indeed this very love which is my boast,

And which, when rising up from 

       breast to brow,

Doth crown me with a ruby large enow

To draw men's eyes and prove the

      inner cost, -

This love even, all my worth, to the 

      utterance most,

I should not love withal, unless that 
      thou 
Hadst set me an example, shown me   

      how,

When first thine earnest eyes with mine 

      were crossed,

And love called love. And thus, I can-

      not speak

Of love even, as a good thing of my own:

Thy soul  hath snatched up mine all    

     faint and weak,

And placed it by thee on a golden 

     throne, -

And that I love (O soul, we must be 

    meek!)

Is by thee only, whom I love alone.

Sweeter Words Sunday: When I was in Love

Once a upon a time, I took a creative writing. I bored people with my words about things I didn't care about, while I stored away the words that hit home. Other students bored me with their words while others blew me out of water with their raw talent.

We also read lots poetry about love, break ups, and pain. My professor was in a rough patch of his relationship. It pained him dearly. 

Our "textbook" was "The Hell with Love: Poems to Mend a Broken Heart"edited by Mary D. Esselman and Elizabeth Ash Velez. It was full of pain, resent, anger, and regret. At nineteen, those poems of pain did not move me. I barely understood what they meant or let alone identify the feelings of the poems. I read my notes written on hallmark heart-shaped "love" sticky note, I see how clueless I was about the words I was reading. I also had failed to see the irony of heart- shaped sticky notes in a poetry book about heartbreak.

One poem did stick out and I understood it at once. I thought I would share it. 

"Oh, When I Was in Love with You" 

By A.E. Housman

Oh, when I was in love with you,

       Then I was clean and brave,

And miles around the wonder grew

       How well did I behave.

And now the fancy passes by,

       And nothing will remain,

And miles around they'll say that I

       Am quite myself again.

Sweeter Words Saturday: The Tables Turned

Spring fever and senioritis are nowhere to be seen, but the call of the mountain sounds and brambling outdoors never loses its charm. Even in the dead of winter, I want to wander across fields and forgotten woods.

But until the nasty winter winds die down, here's a poem by Wordsworth 
to tide me over.

The Tables Turned by William Wordsworth

Up! Up! my Friend, and quit your books;

Or surely you'll grow double:

Up! Up! my Friend, and clear your looks;

Why all this toil and trouble?

The sun, above the mountain's head,

A freshening lustre mellow

Through all the long green fields has spread,

His first sweet evening yellow.

Books! 'tis a dull and endless strife:

Come, and hear the woodland linnet,

How sweet his music! on my life,

There's more of wisdom in it.

And hark! How blithe the throstle sings!

He, too, is no mean preacher:

Come forth into the light of things,

Let Nature be your teacher.

She has a world of ready wealth,

Our minds and hearts to bless --

Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health, 

Truth breathed by cheerfulness.

One impulse from a vernal wood

May teach you more of a man,

Of moral evil and of good,

Than all the sages can.

Sweet is the lore which Nature brings;

Our meddling intellect

Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things:

We murder to dissect.

Enough of Science and Art;

Close up those barren leaves;

Come forth, and bring with you a heart

That watches and receives.

Sweeter Words Saturday:

Children literature and prose is my favorite section in every library and bookstore. I am drawn in by the colours, the typography, book design, and the quirky stories that lie within each book. I have the refined taste of a twelve year old and I am not a ashamed. 

I read a bit of children poetry and prose a while ago and copied the poems I liked into a small journal. This was one of them. The age is evident in the old choices and how people are described, but the sass is undeniable there.

I will share a bit more information about the author later. I also think that a poodle can substitute for a lamb.

"If No One Ever Marries Me" by Laurence Alma-Tadema

If no one ever marries me-

        And I don't see why they should,

For nurse says I'm not pretty

        And I'm seldom very good-

If no one ever marries me

        I shan't mind very much;

I shall buy a squirrel in a cage,

       And a little lamb, quite clean and tame,

That I can take to town.

And when I'm getting really old,

        At twenty eight or nine,

I shall buy a little orphan girl

        And bring her up as mine.