How to use this Page

What is Saturday Post-It?

Saturday Post-It is an opportunity to post on my blog. Once a month, I’m stepping away from the publish button and giving the floor to the Write From Karen visitors. Write about anything you want - talk about your current project, a memorable kid moment, a romantic date with your significant other, what you’re doing for that weekend, an issue that’s been on your mind - anything goes (within reason).

If you can’t think of anything to write, I’ll post a question and you can answer that question, if you wish.

Saturday Post-It will be available every last Saturday of the month. All you have to do is sign on, write an entry and publish it. That’s it! This is a chance to share the link love and to write on a different blog, you know, break the blogging monotony.

If you need more information, please read this.

I hope you’ll consider stopping by and posting! I could use the day off.

What is Saturday Post-It?

Saturday Post-It is an opportunity to post on my blog. Once a month, I’m stepping away from the publish button and giving the floor to the Write From Karen visitors. Write about anything you want - talk about your current project, a memorable kid moment, a romantic date with your significant other, what you’re doing for that weekend, an issue that’s been on your mind - anything goes (within reason).

If you can’t think of anything to write, I’ll post a question and you can answer that question, if you wish.

Saturday Post-It will be available every last Saturday of the month. All you have to do is sign on, write an entry and publish it. That’s it! This is a chance to share the link love and to write on a different blog, you know, break the blogging monotony.

If you need more information, please read this.

I hope you’ll consider stopping by and posting! I could use the day off.

Hi, I’m Diana of Sunshine On My Shoulders.  My reflections today are all the things I like about blogging… and what I love about blogging.

I enjoy writing.  I have so many thoughts rolling around in my head so I enjoy the process of freeing them from their confines and putting them in a forum where other people will read them.  I like it even more when I hear other people’s opinions on something I write.  So I love comments.

I enjoy reading other blogs.  I learn so much about life through other people and their personal experiences.  I like exercising my voice by putting in my two cents, or lending what little support and encouragement I can through a simple comment.

I like having blogging friends.  Those who visit my blog, and I visit theirs, on a regular basis.  Even though I don’t know these people in person, I have got to know who they are, what their lives look like, their joys and their struggles.  I’m a relational person and I enjoy the blogging relationships that have been formed.

But what I love about blogging is reading about amazing people – and there are a lot of them out there.  A person’s blog is usually their personal voice.  Everyone has a voice; a story to tell or a cause to promote.  Many blogs are specifically designed to raise that voice.  In other blogs, you can hear the blogger’s voice more in their regular posts.  You can hear their challenges, passions, desires, and wounds through their everyday living.  Either way, the blogging world affords me to meet (in a blogging sense) some awesome people and to hear their voices.

I came across one such voice just this morning.  It’s the voice of a 12 year old young lady who has started blogging about the loss of her brother, who died from a heart defect after only a few weeks of living.  Even though he lived for a short time, he had a great impact on Hailey, who is now performing random acts of kindness and paying it forward in his name.  I think you will find her story inspiring.  You can visit her blog here.

I know blogging takes time.  Time to write, time to visit other blogs, and time to comment.  But for me, the time is worth it because my life is changed by the voices of so many wonderful people.

Thank you, Karen, for the opportunity to post on your blog.  You are one of those wonderful people.

Okay, are you ready for something different? (Don’t be shy! Jump in any time!)

Yes? Excellent. Let’s get this par-tay started …

If you would like to write something and publish it on Write From Karen TODAY, right THIS VERY MINUTE, then here’s what you do:

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1. Go to http://www.take2max.com/blog/wp-login.php (a new window will open)

2. Type in username and password exactly as shown:

Username: Guest (don’t forget the capital “G”!)
Password: spring

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If you need further instructions, you can read this.

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Talk about anything on your mind. Need some suggestions? Here’s one:

What is your favorite part about Spring? (This will also get you in the mindset for the next photo contest. hehe)

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Either answer this question in your post, or write whatever you wish. Ask questions, voice your thoughts, talk about your favorite family moment - the floor is OPEN.

(I reserve the right to edit or delete inappropriate posts without warning and without explanation. If you abuse this opportunity, then you will not be allowed to participate in future Saturday Post-Its. Thanks.)

HAVE FUN!

What is Saturday Post-It?

Saturday Post-It is an opportunity to post on my blog. Once a month, I’m stepping away from the publish button and giving the floor to the Write From Karen visitors. Write about anything you want - talk about your current project, a memorable kid moment, a romantic date with your significant other, what you’re doing for that weekend, an issue that’s been on your mind - anything goes (within reason).

If you can’t think of anything to write, I’ll post a question and you can answer that question, if you wish.

Saturday Post-It will be available every last Saturday of the month. All you have to do is sign on, write an entry and publish it. That’s it! This is a chance to share the link love and to write on a different blog, you know, break the blogging monotony.

If you need more information, please read this.

I hope you’ll consider stopping by and posting! I could use the day off.

Today I awoke feeling wistful and when I feel wistful I always think of the Garcia Lorca poem Romance Sonambula. It's so evocative and the sense of longing is so strong that it just pulls at me. I find myself thinking the words, "Verde te quiero verde" often throughout my days.

The poem haunts me with it's sadness and longing. It makes me think of a man I used to know who exuded longing and sadness.

Federico Garcia Lorca was murdered by Frankist soldiers during the Civil War in Spain and his booked were banned and burned in the Plaza del Carmen in Granada. To this day, no one knows where his body is.

I'm adding his haunting poem here in the original Spanish with the translation below it. The Poetry Friday roundup is here.


Romance Sonambulo

by Federico Garcia Lorca



Verde que te quiero verde.

Verde viento. Verdes ramas.

El barco sobre la mar

y el caballo en la montaña.

Con la sombra en la cintura

ella sueña en su baranda,

verde carne, pelo verde,

con ojos de fría plata.

Verde que te quiero verde.

Bajo la luna gitana,

las cosas la están mirando

y ella no puede mirarlas.

Verde que te quiero verde.

Grandes estrellas de escarcha

vienen con el pez de sombra

que abre el camino del alba.

La higuera frota su viento

con la lija de sus ramas,

y el monte, gato garduño,

eriza sus pitas agrias.

¿Pero quién vendra? ¿Y por dónde...?

Ella sigue en su baranda,

Verde came, pelo verde,

soñando en la mar amarga.

--Compadre, quiero cambiar

mi caballo por su casa,

mi montura por su espejo,

mi cuchillo per su manta.

Compadre, vengo sangrando,

desde los puertos de Cabra.

--Si yo pudiera, mocito,

este trato se cerraba.

Pero yo ya no soy yo,

ni mi casa es ya mi casa.

--Compadre, quiero morir

decentemente en mi cama.

De acero, si puede ser,

con las sábanas de holanda.

¿No ves la herida que tengo

desde el pecho a la garganta?

--Trescientas rosas morenas

lleva tu pechera blanca.

Tu sangre rezuma y huele

alrededor de tu faja.

Pero yo ya no soy yo,

ni mi casa es ya mi casa.

--Dejadme subir al menos

hasta las altas barandas;

¡dejadme subir!, dejadme,

hasta las verdes barandas.

Barandales de la luna

por donde retumba el agua.

Ya suben los dos compadres

hacia las altas barandas.

Dejando un rastro de sangre.

Dejando un rastro de lágrimas.

Temblaban en los tejados

farolillos de hojalata.

Mil panderos de cristal

herían la madrugada.

Verde que te quiero verde,

verde viento, verdes ramas.

Los dos compadres subieron.

El largo viento dejaba

en la boca un raro gusto

de hiel, de menta y de albahaca.

¡Compadre! ¿Donde está, díme?

¿Donde está tu niña amarga?

¡Cuántas veces te esperó!

¡Cuántas veces te esperara,

cara fresca, negro pelo,

en esta verde baranda!

Sobre el rostro del aljibe

se mecía la gitana.

Verde carne, pelo verde,

con ojos de fría plata.

Un carámbano de luna

la sostiene sobre el agua.

La noche se puso íntima

como una pequeña plaza.

Guardias civiles borrachos

en la puerta golpeaban.

Verde que te qinero verde.

Verde viento. Verdes ramas.

El barco sobre la mar.

Y el caballo en la montaña.



Romance Sonambulo
by Federico García Lorca
Translated by William Logan


Green, how I want you green.

Green wind. Green branches.

The ship out on the sea

and the horse on the mountain.

With the shade around her waist

she dreams on her balcony,

green flesh, her hair green,

with eyes of cold silver.

Green, how I want you green.

Under the gypsy moon,

all things are watching her

and she cannot see them.



Green, how I want you green.

Big hoarfrost stars

come with the fish of shadow

that opens the road of dawn.

The fig tree rubs its wind

with the sandpaper of its branches,

and the forest, cunning cat,

bristles its brittle fibers.

But who will come? And from where?

She is still on her balcony

green flesh, her hair green,

dreaming in the bitter sea.



--My friend, I want to trade

my horse for her house,

my saddle for her mirror,

my knife for her blanket.

My friend, I come bleeding

from the gates of Cabra.

--If it were possible, my boy,

I'd help you fix that trade.

But now I am not I,

nor is my house now my house.

--My friend, I want to die

decently in my bed.

Of iron, if that's possible,

with blankets of fine chambray.

Don't you see the wound I have

from my chest up to my throat?

--Your white shirt has grown

thirsty dark brown roses.

Your blood oozes and flees a

round the corners of your sash.

But now I am not I,

nor is my house now my house.

--Let me climb up, at least,

up to the high balconies;

Let me climb up! Let me,

up to the green balconies.

Railings of the moon

through which the water rumbles.



Now the two friends climb up,

up to the high balconies.

Leaving a trail of blood.

Leaving a trail of teardrops.

Tin bell vines

were trembling on the roofs.

A thousand crystal tambourines

struck at the dawn light.



Green, how I want you green,

green wind, green branches.

The two friends climbed up.

The stiff wind left

in their mouths, a strange taste

of bile, of mint, and of basil

My friend, where is she--tell me--

where is your bitter girl?

How many times she waited for you!

How many times would she wait for you,

cool face, black hair,

on this green balcony!

Over the mouth of the cistern

the gypsy girl was swinging,

green flesh, her hair green,

with eyes of cold silver.

An icicle of moon

holds her up above the water.

The night became intimate

like a little plaza.

Drunken "Guardias Civiles"

were pounding on the door.

Green, how I want you green.

Green wind. Green branches.

The ship out on the sea.

And the horse on the mountain.

From The Selected Poems of Federico García Lorca, translated by William Logan. Published by New Directions, 1955. Used with permission.

The round up is here.