Friendship is simple.
It’s also complex, but let’s ignore that.
It can be what we want it to be.
Well, sometimes. There is such a thing as unrealistic expectations but that’s not what this post is about. This post is simple. This post will simply concentrate on the lovely simplicity of simple friendship.
Take the friendship cats offer just as one example:
Can’t get more simple than that. (And when I say simple, I may mean complex)
Then there is the simple friendship of my
five six year old niece, who I have posted about before with her awesome stories. She is also an amazing artist. Here is some of her work, capturing, once again, the simple friendship cats have to offer:
This cat is obviously simple, as it is talking to itself. (But wouldn’t you agree, this art is simply incredible?!)
I love our nieces. And our nephews. All of our family. But especially the ones who are cute. Pure and simple. They make me feel noble things like this:
And that’s pretty much all I think can be said for friendship. Please do not correct me if I am wrong.
[And please do not steal the artwork from this page.]
For my friend’s adorable cat…and now, truly in his honour and with gratitude for the short time we spent together…(drawing by my niece).
furtively felining into the room,
unannounced, unruly fur unadorned,
blinking in reluctant wakefulness,
he stares into my dishevelled mind,
eyes sparking in the recognition of likes,
“it must take a long time brushing that out?”
pawing my cerebral textiles
for a loose thread of understanding,
I roll it into a ball
to play with later.
Weighed down by the fire
we sink into the magic napping carpet…
originally posted 9th Jan, 2017
basil is no clown
I had the pleasure of spending some rare time with an old friend a few days ago.
The mother of Basil (RIP) actually.
Sometimes things do come together to create the perfect non storm of connection.
We sat swinging our legs from her wonderful, new verandah. The weather was perfect. Could have been scripted. We were transported on our own friendship stage (cf video).
I truly love those precious moments of a collective soul sigh. Thank God for old friends. Old Nick Cave loving friends.
And then I remembered I had written about friendship before so I won’t go on again.
(And if I do say so myself, I don’t need to. I think that old post, bursting with profundity, says it all… mostly…)
tried to leave its bequeath
in the hope
it would heal
in the last
the sunder striking
the darkening claps applause
love’s tears, healing pause
(I’ve always loved this song. I like to think of it in the humble voice of Christ sometimes).
But she really did love those tiles.
They were hand made
and placed with loving
carelessness, in haste.
She picked them for practicality
for their water proof qualities
(not thinking about salt water, of course),
and their quirkiness,
something different for everyone.
He helped her peel them off,
“it’s time for a renovation”, he said.
And they exchanged those looks.
The knowing one she thought she always had
he now wore.
Because really, he knew this was no renovation.
It was simply an unveiling.
(‘Cursum Perficio’ was engraved on tiles in the entrance to Marilyn Monroe’s last home. It wasn’t actually in mind when I started writing this, it came afterwards, hence the title…)
This is a reworking of a poem I wrote a couple of months ago, after visiting an old friend in Arizona. These gorgeous trees surrounded our camp site. A night by a campfire, sharing sorrows and burdens with an old friend, is one of the best things in life imho. Thanks to Charles, the reluctant poet for inviting me to join ‘the back side of the night’ theme started by The sailor poet. I really appreciate their encouragement, as well as that by Davy at Davy D blog. Thanks Guys!
How those maudlin woods enticed us
adorned so enchantingly with unprecipitation
and the black of trees’ core,
begging interpretation from the sympatheticly dressed.
Continue reading “Recurring Dream”
swirling and seen
as we drift into sleep.
so long in the past
our impressions were cast
our friendship to keep.
our young minds so moved
the lyrics manoeuvred
to capture the steep
rise and the fall
of broken hearts’ call
the standing that’s reaped.
Thirty years on
our friendship, blessed, strong
lament’s aura seeps
into sympathetic hearts
For dear Melissa, my friend from high school, the times we fell asleep to this gorgeous song. (I was so tempted, Mel, to write, “manooved” in the poem 🙂 )
And to those who struggle with serious addiction. My heart is filled with empathy ❤
a favourite from December last year:
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.
I had never heard this before. But it’s gorgeously sweet.
The gifts you leave behind
there are no words for,
this bouquet of memories
leaves a scent of a doorway
to concertina-d time,
where I’d wake in the night
so gently enveloped
by the musical dreams
of a fellow insomniac,
composing your art on piano,
transposing your sight onto canvas,
pressed up against the glass in wonder
at our endless sight.
But the only glass that reveals now
with the ends of sand.