March

I'M
PROJECTING NOW...
THAT AT SOME
TIME DURING THE
MONTH OF MARCH,
THE LION WILL LIE
DOWN
xxwith the
xLamb.





I know I'm right, because the sun is shining
brightly this morning, the light so sharp, it bounces
off the drifts of snow that swept across the East Coast
yesterday. Lion must roar. But in the month of
March, I pray that the burgeoning hope of
springtime will urge the beast in us to calm down.
x
Foolishness and hopefulness permit me, as an Aries,
to rush to the gate, push it open, and ask all to
walk this way!
x
I'm offering a Triolet, a one stanza poem of
eight lines, of a form that is sort of rigid. I'll
get over that. From my book of poems/
Two Ghosts, here it is....
x
x
xxxxxxxxxxxxAGAIN
X
March tosses its lion's mane
Every year as the month begins.
The bite of ice, a slice of rain
March tosses its lion's mane
As the lamb starts to walk again
Free of death, devoid of sins.
March tosses its lion's mane
Every year as the month begins.


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Senlis

xxxxxxxxCHURCH of NOTRE-DAME, SENLIS, FRANCE
x
x
I was reading an article in the paper about a French Cinema Series coming to Lincoln Center. One of the featured films, already acclaimed, was Seraphine de Senlis, about an early 20th Century artist. But "Senlis" started playing over and over in my head, I was remembering...what?....
x
I jumped over the hedge of memory.
x
We were strolling from the Cathedral, Pierre and I on the sidewalk, Gerard somehow straggling far behind, then running to catch up. "What's the matter with you two today"? Too hot to answer. "Have we fallen into a black hole or what"?
x
My last day in Paris, we decided to show me the 11th Century Church of Notre Dame at Senlis, not too far a drive from Paris. I always stayed with Pierre and Gerry, and when they came to New York, they stayed with me. We would walk along Park Avenue and try to peek into posh windows, reaffirm that one day we would buy a place like that together.
x
Gerry was an American from Boston. It was I who convinced him to give up his great career in New York, go to Paris, find Pierre, and for God's sake, be happy for a change. We met on a job. He was the greatest makeup artist in the world, and I was a makeup artist. It was love at first sight for the two of us. Figure that one out. We were just these utterly compatible strands of DNA that laughed all the time. I asked for no more.
x
I didn't know why we were all so picky in Senlis. I, as usual, fell into a deja vu trance upon entering the Church. Place me in an ancient church, or let me stroll a Gothic
Cloister, and I'm sunk in the thankless task of trying to retrieve my past. But only
in France. You can probably figure out what I believe.
x
The stone floor in the church had deep indentations, smoothed through the
centuries by a parade of souls praying for salvation from wars, famines, Kings, and plagues. I look back at the moments spent within, gazing upwards, past the illuminated clarity of the windows. I'm sure I asked a few questions of the cosmic air about my concerns, never letting a Holy opportunity pass me by.
x
How do you address the Plague? Do you cower, do you pray, do you deny? I do. I was leaving France, and I had seen the leering face of the Green Man lurking at my friends doorstep. So this was going to be the last time I saw Gerry? I didn't know that in Senlis. I knew something though. Pierre could be glum. He was French. Did Gerry know? He was always in a dream anyway, but a creative, beautiful one. His spirit had begun to hide. That day in Senlis had a prediction in it of days ending. Black hole indeed.
x
It wasn't immediate, of course. Another year. Blindness, mindlessness. A phone call from Pierre. Gone...but, Lyn, he just looks so beautiful, he looks so much like himself.
x
x
x
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Petals

XXXXXXXXXXXXBALM
X
X
XXXXXXXXXXXXI will not allow
xxxxxxxxxxxxthe blight of the world
xxxxxxxxxxxxto sit upon my face
xxxxxxxxxxxxor find a place to nestle
xxxxxxxxxxxxin my body.
x
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxThe messengers
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxhave strewn the path
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxwith petals of joy.
x
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxCan I be so remiss
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxto let them dry
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxand blow to dust,
x
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxor should I not
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxjust turn them into balm?
x
x
x
from: TWO GHOSTS
poems/ Lyn Rochelle

Beauty.

PORTRAIT OF A YOUNG MAN/ BRONZINO/ 1530's
x
TODAY, nothing will save me
but beauty.
I have to find it, bring it to my heart,
bring it to my soul. Like an armful
of fuchsia peonies, I will make it obvious,
so that I do not miss it.
Imagine calling BEAUTY, "it".
x
Say "beauty" to me and I have a
Pavlovian response.
I see the Young Man, by Bronzino.
I've got a thing for him.
So I'm going to visit him today.
x
If I could, I would take the steps up
to the Met two at a time. Breathless
I will be, as I race past the monolithic
glass doors, into the Museum,
thrust my card at the guard,
get my button, pin it to my lapel,
and dash up the center staircase
straight to the Renaissance gallery.
x
I stop the first guard and whisper,
"Where is he today"? The guard has
seen me before, knows of my need.
"Turn left at the Giotto,
they've moved him".
x
Within seconds I see him. I stop
and approach slowly. He's not
surprised. After all this has been
going on for five centuries.
We are almost eye to eye.
I smile a sort of teasing Mona Lisa
smile, and greet him.
x
" Hello, gorgeous".

Post- It

xx excerpt from Two Ghosts:

xx

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxHAPPINESS

X

xxxxxxWere you ever happy?

xxxxxxxDid you write the moment down

xxxxxxxon a Post-it and place it on the wall?

xxxxxxx

x x xxxxDo you have so many stuck there

xxxxxxxthat you've all but lost the count?

xxxxxxxCan you pull one down at random

xxxxxxxto remind you what was yours?

xxxxxxx

xxxxxxxDoes it help at all right now

xxxxxxxas you kneel

xxxxxxxand pray in doubt,

xxxxxxxfor some deity to hear you?

xxxxxxx

xxxxxxxCan the wall contain another instant

xxxxxxxof notated bliss?............

xxxxxxx

xxxxxxx

xxxxxxx

order:

call 888-795-4274 ext.7876

http://www.xlibris.com/

http://www.amazon.com/

http://www.bn.com/

http://www.borders.com/

or at your bookstore

x

Two Ghosts/Lyn Rochelle

Blink !

I'D LIKE TO NOMINATE MYSELF FOR
AN OSCAR IN THE CATEGORY OF...
"BLINK OF AN EYE".
FOR A CAREER BEGUN AND OVER,
WITHIN THAT AMOUNT OF TIME.
X
THERE IS A MOMENT THAT ACTUALLY EXISTS,
THAT DIDN'T LAND ON THE CUTTING ROOM
FLOOR, BECAUSE IT WAS A VERY IMPORTANT
PART OF THE PLOT. I PLAYED MY ROLE
FLAWLESSLY, THE STAR HAD TO DO
SEVERAL TAKES. I'M ONLY SAYING.
X
Being discovered and auditioning
at the same time:
Hanging out with girlfriend. Wow!! 29 years ago!!
Sidewalk cafe, Ruelle's, Columbus Avenue
Upper West Side, NYC. Hot summer
afternoon, I'll work tomorrow.
All tables taken, sunglassed eyes sweeping
over every passerby.
x
Lots of equipment, cameras, etc. blocking the
sidewalk. "Hey, what's the movie?"
"Chapter Two, Neil Simon's story.."
"With?" "Marsha Mason". Pointing starts.
Pointing at me. Director sends assistant over
to my table. " Would you like to be in this scene?
all you have to do is react, turn your head, when
Ms. Mason runs by your table. OK? No pay".
x
I say OK. Why not? Something to talk about,
TWENTY NINE YEARS LATER?
We do it. Marsha runs past my table, my
head turns to observe. "Cut". We do it
again. And again. It's alright with me, I'm sitting,
she running. My very long curly red hair is
floating like a nimbus in the breeze, it's why
I'm in the scene. It always comes down to that.
Fourth take, that's the one. Thanks from the
assistant, a nod from the director, nothing
from Miss Mason. She's in the trailer.
x
I'm given a business card to go to the Studio
to pick up some photos they'll have of me in
the scene. Swell! Except pics exist for every
scene in every movie ever made, except mine!
But... you can catch a stellar performance by my
hair if you ever rent "Chapter Two". Towards
the end of the movie, red hair, glasses, head turn...
you can't miss me.
x
BLINK OF AN EYE!
And the winner is.......

Lemonade !

THE TERRIFIC LEMONADE AWARD

WAS GIVEN TO ME BY THE MOST

GENEROUS NATALIE, Musings from

the deep.

X

THE LEMONADE AWARD

FOR FRIENDSHIP, FOR

GOODNESS SAKES!!

Now those of you who may have

looked in on my little

Blog yesterday would have

seen a post labeled "Friends".

This was posted before I had any

idea about the award, and when

I did become aware,I still didn't know

what it was for. I've done this sort

of jumping the gun,

Twilight Zone act before.

x

Coincidence, you may say. I just don't

believe it. I sort of fall into line with

a point of view that's

a tad more spiritual:

x

A coincidence is a small miracle

in which God chooses to

remain anonymous.

xxx Anonymous

x

Friendship:

A friend knows the song in my

heart and sings it to me

when my memory fails.

xxxxxxxxxxxDonna Roberts

x

Well, going back to yesterday's

post, c'mon down! We can all

squeeze together under

those umbrellas!!

x

What seems very real right now

is to trust my intuition.

x

THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK Y.......

Friends

I FEEL AS IF I'M JUST STEPS AWAY
FROM THOSE CHAIRS. I'M WITH A
FRIEND, WE'RE CARRYING
A LITTLE PICNIC: A LOAF OF CRUSTY
SEMOLINA sesame bread, a brie that will
ooze in the sun, hurriedly placed in the
shade of the umbrella, a straw basket
of peaches (surprise!), a bottle of
very cool, dry, Pinot Blanc.
x
The sun is glinting off my oldest
silver knife, and the crystal glasses,
atop the basket, have a
music all their own as they
touch and part with the sway.
x
x
Emerson said:
xxxxxxxxFriendship, like the
immortality of the soul,
is too good to be believed.
x
x
Pending:
Another big surprise this morning!!
From NATALIE at Musings from the deep,
the LEMONADE AWARD!
I'm really thrilled, though I don't know
what it's for!! As soon as I do, I'll post
it. But many thanks, Natalie, for
thinking of me!!!
x
x
x

Award !

THANK YOU, LINDA S. SOCHA/
PSYCHE CONNECTIONS
X
I AM ALMOST AT A LOSS
FOR WORDS !
STUMBLING OUT OF SLEEPY OBLIVION, I TRIED ONCE MORE TO BEAT MILO (CAT)
TO THE COMPUTER, (HE OVERSEES ALL MY MOVES). I SWITCHED ON, SAW FAMILIAR NAME IN MAIL,AND WHAT'S THIS???
X
Tucked into comments from the estimable
Linda S. Socha/Psyche Connections is a note
that I, (imagine) have been given
one of the awards for
BEST BLOG THINKER !
x
So, two months of stumbling to keep up with
blogging has produced this! Wow!!
I'm more than surprised. And extremely grateful.
We do all know how much we treasure even a nod
of recognition, how it can inform a day, a life.
x
So thank you dear Linda, and I apologize for not
knowing how to highlight your Blog.
Obviously, I'll never get an award
for Best Techie.
x
x

Mischief !

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx MONKEY SHINES
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx from Two Ghosts
by Lyn Rochelle
x
x
I was ten years old and believed in telling
the truth. Yet there I was on my way home
from the park with my girlfriends, Evie,
Marcia and Joan, making up the very best lie
to tell my mother.
x
Earlier, after school, it being the first day of
Autumn, we dropped our books off, then met
up at the candy store. We lived near
The Bronx Zoo and decided to hang out there
for a while. An overpass separated the
Zoo from the Botanical Gardens. Boosting
ourselves onto a large stone, we spotted
Monkey Island on the river below,
about a hundred feet away. There were some
Orangutans romping and scratching. We started
to yell and scratch and called them some rude
names. Then a gorilla saw us and we were
convinced that he would find a Tarzan vine,
swing his way up, and eat us. Headline in the
Daily News the next day:
FOUR WONDERFUL GIRLS EATEN BY ENORMOUS
GORILLA. FAMILIES MOURN.
X
We decided to go back to where the playground
and ball fields were. Maybe we'd find a ball that
someone had lost and toss it around. The
grass was still mostly green, but some
of the trees had rusty leaves flying off them.
We rolled in them, and scrubbed ourselves with
the crunchy little bits, still making gorilla sounds.
x
I was wearing my brand new brown corduroy
pants with a blue belt around my waist.
Yet the pants kept slipping and I hated them
because I would never grow fat enough for
them to fit, being the skinniest kid on earth,
according to my Mom. And brown was not my
favorite color.
x
Looking for treasure, we sifted through leaves
that we kicked into a crumbly pile. A small
square appeared in the heap, a picture of a
glamour girl smoking a cigarette. It was a
book of matches.
x
Since all of us lived in apartment buildings
along Pelham Parkway, we never shared the
all-American autumn ritual of leaf burning.
Until that day. It seemed like fun and it was
what they did in those small town movies,
before the hoedown. A little voice in my head
started yelling, " Don't play with matches".
Sounded like Mom.
x
We lighted a match, set it to the leaves.
Nothing happened. Screeching at each other
for a chance, Evie then singed her fingers,
and the match fell with a puff of smoke. Joany
did better, striking and holding a flame, which
she threw into the pile as we all screamed,
"Lucky Strike". We turned into Indians, dancing
and whooping as the fire started to spread. A
Park Ranger was heading our way.
x
I jumped onto the burning ground. I would
smother the flames with my shoes. A slight wisp
of orange caught my hated brown corduroys.
I was glad for a split second, then sanity took over,
and I started to scream. The Ranger pulled me off,
patting down the left leg of my trousers. For a
Park Ranger, he sure knew some bad words. He
told us to leave the park and that I'd better have
a good story for my mother.
x
Goody-two-shoes Marcia said my mother would
kill me. Evie said I should just run away to
Hollywood. Then I thought of a thoroughly
plausible lie.......
x
x
x
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