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The following lines from

The following lines from your poem really touched me. It is simple, it is beautiful.

Coming, all is clear, no doubt about it.

Going, all is clear, without a doubt.

Great poem, Thank you.

Great poem, Thank you.

Because I could not stop for Death

by Emily Dickinson

Because I could not stop for Death –

He kindly stopped for me –

The Carriage held but just Ourselves –

And Immortality.

We slowly drove – He knew no haste

And I had put away

My labor and my leisure too,

For His Civility –

We passed the School, where Children strove

At Recess – in the Ring –

We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –

We passed the Setting Sun –

Or rather – He passed us –

The Dews drew quivering and chill –

For only Gossamer, my Gown –

My Tippet – only Tulle –

We paused before a House that seemed

A Swelling of the Ground –

The Roof was scarcely visible –

The Cornice – in the Ground –

Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yet

Feels shorter than the Day

I first surmised the Horses' Heads

Were toward Eternity –

good

very good

Oh I'm sorry ks I no longer exert any influence whatsoever on

Harry Potter whatsoever, contrary to previously when he was at my beck and call as regards the website, trusting in my lucid opinons like a little puppy dog.  Now it's quite the opposite.  Whatever I ASK him to do (no longer TELL him, that's not allowed. times have changed) he does the exact opposite. So I couldn't ask him OR tell him to feature your lovely blog.  I have a hard enough time getting him to feature mine.  And anyway as you well know, he's a bit of a Philistine.  The only poetry he understands is music. Close, but no cigar.

But you know, if you go back to my SATIRICAL blog, you will find that a fan of yours has nominated you for Iranian of the Day for your poetic soul.  And I have seconded it.  So you're drafted.

Where's the photo?

Bravisimo!

//www.youtube.com/watch?v=V8Sz06qaVK0

Good, Koroush, that's my boy. Oh god, K., when I posted to you

about the satirical blog I edited it to tell you to read this one, it's a very serious poem.  You'll like it. I'm sure you will. For some reason, the addition didn't "take."  So I'm reposting here.//iranian.com/main/blog/rosie-t/vermillion 

It is best read out loud, very slowly pausing at the end of each short line, elongated vowels, but softly softly yavaash yavaash, doucement, doucement.  The experience which it recounts is absolutely true. Yes, I did. I really did.

And you know something? It was, once I was able to assimilate and process it, the deepest and most meaningful experience I have ever had in my life. And I don't regret it at all.  And I'm not ashamed.  And I don't give a SHIT what other people think. I'm an artist.  I'm SUPPOSED to live on the parameters of experience while others go about their busi-ness. And this experience lay lurking there for me like a shadow calling me from time to time but always returning, ever since I was...perhaps...six years old, I don't know.

And you know, in German, blood and river have the same etymology. Blut and Fluss. And actually so do they in English. Blood and flood, and fluid, and flow, and in German flow is fliessen and it's related to fly, fliegen, and oh it goes on and on and on like a stream filled with precious stones of gleaming, gleaming red and blue..and oh..it was...still and mute..and then suddenly... ecstatic...in the rememering...well anyway, here I am. New and different and same. So happy to see you.  Missed you very much.

Rosie

PS The robe he wears, your avatar, it's burgundy and crimson, and the sky is blue imagination...well...you'll see...