what the? (edited)

· 19 Comments ·

Today I got a notification that a comment I made, under someone’s blog post, was liked. I read the comment and wondered when I wrote it as I had no memory of it. I clicked on it to go to the actual site, and I saw that it was made by someone else! But WP attributed it to me! Yikes!

Has this happened to anyone else? I am not tech savvy…

Here’s the post: Marge

 

Edit: My Admin bar also keeps disappearing when I go to my site and to some others…it seems to have affected my ability to “like” things as well. So apologies…I have read lovely things today, and the last couple of days, and haven’t been able to “like” them. I have contacted WP, so we will see.

it was Friday. she made a list for him. lists are not her thing

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wednesday – part one

he called her thursday – part two

one sweet potato and
one eggplant, listed after the fact
of purchase
one notepad
one pencil
one cup of Russian Caravan tea
one wind chime, dulcet tenor
one sugar craving
one lizard
is that a sack of potatoes?
stop thinking about chocolate
one ‘learning French’ app not accessible
one ladder, with a hammer, on top
one vignette of a tree behind a tree behind a tree
one speech balloon wafting from a person passing
intercepted by thought balloon puffed up by farce-ing
birds
rustling
distant echoes of congratulatory applause, not imaginary
one pale butterfly, resolutely flying, accidentally beautifying

one letter discovered on the next page, never sent, of something half forgotten
one match lit

 

~

Quite a while ago, this amazing writer: Fitfulfearfulphantasmal
did an awesome post, which was a story in list form.  She challenged me to try it and it fell by the wayside for many reasons. But I just remembered it, so inspired by the idea, I finally got around to this feeble attempt, as part of a longer story.

his eyes cleared…

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when he looked at her,

his eyes

carrying the caveats

of a thousand dreams,

 

and in just the right light

when she angled her perception,

her kaleidoscopic-ed name

he’d arranged

as invitation…

 

“…how rare, and beautiful it truly is, that we exist…”

 

~

and how quickly this year has gone. It was lovely to watch this beautiful video again. Life IS precious

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this zipper that we are

each tooth an infinite word

unconscious and inherently

reaching.

devastating, jagged edges

formed of unhearing,

the cacophony of selves

buckling and distorting

 

devastating, the beauty

that comes with Time

soul of audibility

awakened peregrination

through quiet

 

 

lake-balaton-sunset-lake-landscape-158045.jpeg
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

 

 

 

Marryuna

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Mar/re/ooh/na; verb; Let’s Dance

I went through the store trying to find a particular kind of eraser I used to love. Oh foolish me. All good products seem to disappear.
Thank you, but maybe not this eraser that spreads my mistakes around, magically darkening the crystallized regret to embed the paper with bloodied molecules of ridicule.
And you know how I hate melodrama…

I went home instead and started cleaning out some closets. So straight forward in theory. But I found all kinds of pieces that opened up holes in me. And filled them perfectly.
And then I emptied the pockets of an old purse I no longer used.
And there they were.
Crayons.
I had forgotten I used to carry them with me everywhere. I mean, you never know when you might need them.

How silly. I thought I had needed erasers.

“In Yolngu culture dance plays a pivotal role. There’s ceremonial dance, celebratory dance and then there’s Marryuna; to dance with no shame, to freestyle for the sheer elation of dancing.”

 

wish you well

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I had the radio on, and heard this for the first time. My immediate thought was, “holy cow, this glorious man is somehow channelling Emma Louise!” and it turns out, it is her. She has had her voice pitched down for the whole album. Something she has wanted to do for years apparently. Her voice is angelic, but I love this too. (She calls him Joseph.) If you feel like a gorgeously heart breaking moment…

Lyrics:

(more…)

he called her thursday

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How I long to write you in all of your shifting
but its interminable nuance is impossible to pin down
and these glasses like tunnel vision are cramping my mind.
I could take off my glasses, I suppose,
but maybe you are just not meant to be written,
only spoken,
and probably in an ancient language’s complexity
with those musical scales we don’t even use anymore,
and that celestial spectrum our human eyes fail to see.
And then I started thinking about Jesus cooking breakfast on the shore after everything he had been through. If anyone’s profundity and humility came close…

He thought for a moment, that he was over doing it. But he wasn’t sure because of the compartments in his mind.
She didn’t have those compartments. And it moved him. Moved him.

He decided he wouldn’t work on his rhyming on Friday, afterall.

 

Part one – wednesday

 

WordPress Anniversary… holy…

Here we go, just doing our thing. Living in bewilderment as we bump into each other stepping out of time machines.  I just did so tonight, when I looked at the calendar and realised it’s been 2 years since I started blogging. I am pretty sure it was only a couple of months ago I wrote a post for my first anniversary. This post actually:

+

“So check it out, it has actually been a year today since I started my blog!

And I am a little drunk right now for all kinds of reasons, so I don’t plan to wax long and lyrical about what a freaking honour it has been. Okay, maybe just a little…”

via WordPress Anniversary… holy…

+

I’m sure there is a perfect song somewhere to capture this credible moment in time. But it is almost the 8th now, and who cares really?

And, I also have glasses for my astigmatism and blah blah. I do see things differently. It’s been startling, to say the least.

IMG_1141 (3)

This is me with my glasses, not looking startled. I texted this to my husband one night when he was working late, to show him I had started the fire. It made him laugh. I am not photogenic. But I consider this my “all I do is win” look. Which kind of goes without saying. Which also goes with the song I posted last year. And in case you can’t be bothered even looking, and who can blame you really, I will repost it for you. I love it.

(I have cut to the relevant moments).

 

PS, in case you didn’t know this about me, it’s not about winning. Unless, you consider not tripping every time I step out of that dang time machine, winning. In which case, I have been quite the winner lately. Could be my glasses…

Peace, love and perspective, Everyone. Thanks for enriching my life, I am so appreciative.

Quote · · 41 Comments ·

forget you (k)nots

· 50 Comments ·

(originally posted Dec 2016)

~

 

attempts to alienate confusion

decaf, a necessary intrusion

I miss you.

 

float me past the contusions

the knots in my shadow crave fusion

I spill you.

 

the fragments in frosty perfection

arranging the shards of reflection

I see you.

 

memory’s space incandescing

cauterise weds convalescing

I place you.

 

the pieces not lifed in competing

the peace not in ice but the heating

tapestried sensed in the meeting

I love you.

 

 

 

paperback rider 1

· 8 Comments ·

Another series of Steve’s I’m loving. His creativity appears to be infinite 😁

inconstant light

the_old_library_s

Before the new days, ancient currawongs
hammering bells awoke me.
The new birds want my moto perpetuo,
my clockwork drive to nonexistence,
to eternal giving up before beginning.

~/~

I was seated at a table in bibliographic
co-ordinates, aligning ping-pong balls
in rows, to start and finish with the first.

View original post 260 more words

Lazy easter weekend share

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I have been spending some time with my lovely mother, and we just had a great time laughing at this. I thought I would re-share it.
It pretty much left me thinking, what the hell am I doing writing this crappy poem? So I am sharing this instead.❤

say no to clowns

!cid_001c01ca2c98$416acd50$0300a8c0@blucher

This looks lazy. Although, remember, looks can be deceiving. Well, except in this case. I am being lazy.

But, this is worth your time, I promise. It went around a couple of years ago, and because I’m so obviously filled with love for fellow humanity, and not just chocolate, I thought I’d bring it back around. Maybe counter clockwise this time.  But when you get a chance, do yourself a favour and read it. For all of its philosophical poignancy/hilarity/downright jocularity.

the most important cat pictures

View original post

· 20 Comments ·

 

She sighed.

“I can’t write like you,

with your weaving wrinkles

and dime shaped gold

your nesting tableaux

in colours that fold

so neatly in parameters

that have never been told…”

said Lily to her bear. Her very first bear. Still first after wonderful, adventurous, fun filled, pensively shaded years.

“Well, that’s because you aren’t a bear”.

 

 

Drenched… (revisited)

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in lost.

 

Willing sacrifice

to the haunting of nature’s

ephemeral linguistics,

so lovingly stripping

mind’s creases,

ribboned into staff –

the soft landing place for notes

beloved by two

abstractly wooded dreams.

Spring shoes of eucalypt scent

skipping through snow

and leaving imprints

I don’t want to follow home…

(PS. this video is mesmerising in full screen)