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From Working Women - My Mother's Hands
by Marianne Bindig
Used by John Greer in his song cycle "The Red Red Heart," available through the Canadian Music Centre.
when finally I see you
my dear and ancient friend,
I shall cast off the mantle of my Catholicism
and embrace you with an open heart
a heart full of love and memories as tall as our shadows after dinner
a naked heart
an unabashed and unrelenting heart
a red red heart
a light by the altar that never goes out
your Christly heart
a red red heart.
IV.
Laughter brings wine red as blood
flowing from her like the fountain at Cana.
With open hands she releases her soul and
peacocks spread themselves about The Room.
They whirlpool up, fans of dazzling green and blue,
[Her head sprouts daisies
where she thought you'd give her roses.]
Fantastic birds, tiny and thousands,
settle on a heart now southern with colour.
From Love Poems, A Zealot in the Promised Land
by Marianne Bindig
Used by Harry Freedman in his song cycle "Spanish Skies," available through the Canadian Music Centre.
Go down to the water love,
Go down to your ocean where the moon already glows
on that sorrowful sea that separates you from me,
Water of my tears and grief,
Viscous lover, liquid thief,
Go down to the water And send your thoughts to me.
Here the sun does not shine;
The last of the leaves reach, disconsolate, to a selfish winter sky.
Cold winds and frosts and poets' pens bleed all our colours dry.
Go down to the water still my love -
Benijo - by the castillos; that hang stolid in the evening air,
Go down that blackened, heart-broken beach,
Wordlessly go,
And find me waiting there.
goldfish in a winter pond
deeply steeped in marmalade dreams
evoking autumn trees
when their thoughts have turned to mandarin oranges,
firesides,
and amber ovals on snow-white throats;
it is a drop,
a falling through,
when sky meets earth
and all my thoughts
fly east to you.
novels read on hillsides green
as Spring displays her ardent sex,
a breeze laced in chill
reminding me of a kiss in winter
so hot it knocked on Summer's door
and found her furnace stoked
and burning bright -
all our soul-sparks darting out,
pitched into the blackest night.
we are Victoria's champion fire,
and Washington's fourth of July;
our souls, and time, and earth, and sky take wing!-
we stand amazed and watch them fly!
You never knew
that on the bright mornings
of late summer
When all things come 'round again,
I would dress in my finest funk
And glide by your store
on the south side of the street
Where you worked out front with the fresh corn and watermelons.
The light was just right
for your shadow
to stretch out long before me
as I passed you by;
And every time I waited,
And every time I looked and yearned,
And every time your shadow turned
For one long, last look
As you read me like a dirty book.
From Transformations and Revelations for Casually Sunlit Days
by Marianne Bindig
Adapted by Ben Beverge for his CD "the Parlour Sessions," available at www.sandrockranch.ca
i.
In this country
where a hawk
is no surprise
and roses slice
the evening skies,
we wander
kidnapped by surprise
and view the plains
through lovers' eyes.
ii.
A distant whistle
straightens us
makes the air and us stand still,
A puff of smoke
metal's breath
recedes behind the hills;
we are alone
Dog and us
on this soft sea of wheat
Time bends us back
and evening's sun
casts shadows on
our feet.
iii.
We turn away
still dreaming
on feet that smell
of grass
and crush beneath us
as we go
a million stars
that bloom and burst
on plants fashioned
from glass.
From Transformations and Revelations for Casually Sunlit Days
by Marianne Bindig
here
bright leaves
fall through skies
so tight with promise
their pleasure
screeches
through swollen September veins
air-borne sirens
whose song promises peace
beneath the coming blanket
of white.
there
white roses dot the pathways
that lead through the
village midnight white
under the unending harvest
moon hanging gourd like in the blue
to the little white house
in the field.
you say
"I love you"
over and over
and the ocean
that kneads your love
and the sun that leavens it
and the wind that brings it
to my door
ignore
for these moments
titanic with hope
in Montreal
the morning air tastes already
of winter
a young woman
waits to gift her
love her
youth her
son
and you have left
before our time's begun
because you feel you've won,
you've won me.
Sweet Crab -
Even as the Sun
set high above the Wood
casts his gold medallions
through the trees
So
letting all my Love out
at the seams
would I spend myself
On You.
All poems copyright Marianne Bindig 2007
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