Thursday, 20 November 2008

My heart just skipped..

Weeeeeheeeee!!!!!!

I just had minor heart failure as I saw the title of this blog listed on the side of the delightful peonies and poloroids under beautiful places and beneath my absolutely faaaavourite flower website in the whole world, saipua. Ooo what a thrill! What a compliment and what company to be amongst. Will have to keep my mad ramblings going now!

I am such a newbie to this game, it is taking me a while to get my luddite head round all the techie things to do- I am the girl that only got an email address 2 and a half years ago and entered the wonderful world of the interweb.

Peonies' world was amongst the first that I discovered and have had countless MOP's from reading the lovely words and drooling at lovely things! Her photographs suspend you in time, the moment captured and often the colours are like muted watercolours. I think I was enraptured by her wedding planning as it seemed to have many similar points of inspiration as mine. An outdoor ceremony in a beautiful garden and a bohemian style with garden flowers and cakestands.And this post contributed to our day directly as I bought the beautiful labels to use as name tags.
And seeing the story of her day unfold has been a joy.

I know it's just a small thing but it has made me very happy! When I rushed up to The Shoe bursting with the news, I don't think he really grasped how big it was... Humph-boys just have no idea sometimes!

Just popped over there and peony has written about the wedding ceremony, always my favourite part of a wedding. There hasn't been a poem for a while and this quirky one by W.H Auden would have brought a wry smile to what must have been a very moving ceremony.

Oh Tell Me The Truth About Love


Some say that love's a little boy,
And some say it's a bird,
Some say it makes the world go round,
And some say that's absurd,
And when I asked the man next-door,
Who looked as if he knew,
His wife got very cross indeed,
And said it wouldn't do.



Does it look like a pair of pyjamas,
Or the ham in a temperance hotel?
Does its odour remind one of llamas,
Or has it a comforting smell?
Is it prickly to touch as a hedge is,
Or soft as eiderdown fluff?
Is it sharp or quite smooth at the edges?
O tell me the truth about love.


Our history books refer to it
In cryptic little notes,
It's quite a common topic on
The Transatlantic boats;
I've found the subject mentioned in
Accounts of suicides,
And even seen it scribbled on
The backs of railway-guides.


Does it howl like a hungry Alsatian,
Or boom like a military band?
Could one give a first-rate imitation
On a saw or a Steinway Grand?
Is its singing at parties a riot?
Does it only like Classical stuff?
Will it stop when one wants to be quiet?
O tell me the truth about love.


I looked inside the summer-house;
it wasn't ever there:
I tried the Thames at Maidenhead,
And Brighton's bracing air.
I don't know what the blackbird sang,
Or what the tulip said;
But it wasn't in the chicken-run,
Or underneath the bed.


Can it pull extraordinary faces?
Is it usually sick on a swing?
Does it spend all its time at the races,
Or fiddling with pieces of string?
Has it views of its own about money?
Does it think Patriotism enough?
Are its stories vulgar but funny?
O tell me the truth about love.



When it comes, will it come without warning
Just as I'm picking my nose?
Will it knock on my door in the morning,
Or tread in the bus on my shoes?
Will it come like a change in the weather?
Will its greeting be courteous or rough?
Will it alter my life altogether?
O tell me the truth about love.

W.H Auden

2 comments:

Peonies and Polaroids said...

Aww, you're so sweet!

Isn't that the most lovely poem? Our lovely Best Woman read it so well, i think most people would find it a bit hard to read out loud!

Flora said...

It's a fab poem-love the last verse, about love coming whilst picking our nose.. always the way!