in honour of a birth (revisited)

Heaven takes a breath

then breathes out Love,

a Child wakens.

 

Bows of Colour

whispered

as the air filters a new Light.

 

Stilled

by the Cosmic Embrace

of Humility,

the world changes depth

perception,

 

Music oxygenating

the space in between

the prostrating tears of angels and those

undone

 

trembling

 

at the foot

of that mysterious cradle

of vulnerability

Divine.

 

there’s a season

Spotifying silences most salient

playlist preambles this poignant

pinpoint of poly- arcs’ pensivity.

’tis the season!

the clown rebukes itself

then embraces,

there’s a reason for Velcro

and not laces

(because I used to work in a pre-school, but I digress),

and I refuse to put on this dress

of nostalgic knitted hue,

a new song, right on cue…

 

 

(A friend shared one of his videos on FB, it was new to me. I haven’t seen many, but this one…p.e.r.f.e.c.t.  And so me. Apologies to friends I have already bothered with this, but not really. Best move at 2.56)

 

 

 

chapter 51 or something

He came through the door and she wasn’t surprised. Whenever she was struggling to arrange her alphabet, he would appear.
He watched her as she typed. The clicks of her delete key were in time to the ticking of the clock.
He wondered why she had moved it into the kitchen from the living room.

You moved the clock…

Er yes, it was kind of interrupting my living.

So, what do you call this?

What DID she call this?

He knew he was her reverse genie in a bottle, that his presence freed her from her own mind. They had pretty much established that in chapter 2.

They did cover quite a few of the clichés in chapters 3 to 10.
From 11 to about 26, when they realised they both held their tongues in the same cheek, they sifted the nuances with greater intention.

After that, the chapters were water colours, impossible to number.
And now she couldn’t remember what the question was.

Oh yes…he loved to remember when one of the clichés was water coloured:
she looked up at him, and the clock stopped.

 

 

 

 

 

When Hindsight Comes A-Calling

I love this. Just another piece of FFP’s I don’t want to forget!

Fitful, Fearful, Phantasmal

Hindsight knocked.
He brought Bravado,
And close behind, Blame did follow.
I invited the First
Then shut the door
To keep away the Second and Third.
I pulled out a chair for the guest to sit
To stay and chat a little bit.
We sipped our tea,
(Hindsight and Me),
And no one else sat in between.

View original post

I’m not sure where this is going, or at what speed… (revisited)

The grey sky and sea are one today.

The only discernible difference,

the texture of the latter.

The encumbrance of the matter

in mind’s funnel

distracts and disturbs.

Protracts and perturbs

still the distilling,

the stone at my neck

is blunt from the milling.

I ponder this song about addiction.

Another one I’m addicted to.

The frictionless sky

and the turbulent sea,

I sway between

the knowing way you look at me

oh mind’s eye,

and the mystery of unease,

the sky gets me there so soon

compared to the past,

on the sea,

in a tempested moon.

(photo credit: my brother)

Negative (revisited)

drawing murray

toxic fumed bathing,

clarity blooms from dark, the

coloured light haunts my

 

imagination.

Memories developing:

my jukebox romance –

 

cigarette, beer in

one hand, the other rests on

sound waves lovingly

Sometimes, I just need Nirvana.

“if you ever need anything please don’t
hesitate to ask someone else first,
I’m too busy acting like I’m not naïve…”
Gold.

 

Ms. Georgia Park We Are With You

I just can’t imagine!
(There’s a GFM page for Georgia and also one for others in the same building.)

A Global Divergent Literary Collective

45795001_523154098162543_8714408641228177408_n

Sudden Denouement is a community of special people. I don’t know if we would have made it without you. Collectively, we are working on how to be of assistance to one who has brought such joy to people all over the world. We have your back. More details will be forthcoming on how we can help be of assistance to Georgia in her time of need. Material things can be replaced, luckily you and your dog survived. Our thoughts and prayers are with you.

Jasper Kerkau

UPDATE:

We have established a GoFundMe for Georgia to help her right now as she has lost the majority of her belogings to this fire. Please do what you can to donate and if you can’t, please share our GoFundMe

A number of SD collective writers and members have stepped up to donate the next 3 months of their royalties to the rebuild efforts…

View original post 72 more words

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

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.

what the? (edited)

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.

his eyes cleared…

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

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

orient

 

October

memories bare

reticulate stair

what do I wear?

 

October

symptoms rise

and symptoms fall

 

please

go on

 

 

 

 

Marryuna

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.”

 

he called her thursday

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

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

 

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.

forget you (k)nots

(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

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