Words wanted to see
what they could become
on other tongues,
a desire to startle
avoiding the obvious, simply
sprinkling polysyllabic sounds,
classical allusions
with purple abandon
and adjectives
to roll in the mouth;
not blue, azure,
not green,verdant,
not brown but cinnamon,
and how many words
for yellow?
A muse flies away,
just out of reach
a mosquito
buzzes in
blades of grass.
For dVerse
OpenLinkNight ~ Week 7
They named you Ulysses,
after Penelope’s husband,
you soar canopies,
humble suburban gardens,
swift black edged
piece of tropical sky
you ride currents
seeking your lady,
blue glass flashes
catches your eye,
you dance close by,
but it is not she…
A folded brown leaf
breaks from a canopy branch,
flashing electric blue blurs,
an insect heart
flutters with love,
the rainforest air buzzes.
Fading lace
remnants of glory
setting
~~~
Embossed gold
spine gleams
warm to touch
~~~
Mahogany chest
blushes deeply
caress of the sun
~~~
Lacy shadows
creep silently
along the wall
~~~
Sun flowers
caught on
a windscreen
~~~
Blushing buds peep through the luscious grass,
Her footprints lightly touch the warming earth,
In her hands, an enamelled looking glass;
She touches clouds, skipping in her mirth;
Sunlight dances soft in fine water sprays
Making rainbow magic, hastening spring,
Pink camellias, floral cabarets
Abundant treasures longer days shall bring,
Flood her mind as her thoughts fly swiftly north
To visions of rain forests meeting seas,
Bold sea eagles hovering back and forth
Above a sacred canopy of trees.
Beneath her feet peep wee pink flowers
Absorb each second of the sun’s short hours.
A few of the people I follow on Twitter have multiple personas for a variety of reasons. This got me thinking. Some changed their persona name to better reflect who they wish to be in the Twitter world. Others found that too many work colleagues etc knew who they were; this cramped their style. Some found their timelines too busy and wanted to pare things back. Some were hacked and needed to start over. It seems we can build up baggage in these floating worlds that can weigh us down. Some vanish for a while, only to re-emerge with a new name and avi. They give themselves away quite quickly.
No matter how hard we try we are only ever ourselves even if we are playing a character role. And we reveal ourselves no matter how much we try to remain ‘in character’. I have had the same handle but like to change my avi – I have at various times been a set of Vietnamese water puppets in an image I made, a pre-Raphaelite painting, myself and an upside down cat. I am not sure what ‘face’ I will have next. But I know I can never be anyone other than myself. Even if I try on a disguise, I will betray myself and you will spot me.
Others have a couple of twitter handles, one may be associated with a business venture or community, the other is used as a tool for personal expression. I find such machinations fascinating as I try to unravel the new ways of being together in the floating world we create in social media universes.
I have also being trying to figure out whether I want to spend time in Google+. There one can have only one identity but multiple circles of acquaintances that can be kept separate. Perhaps the designers got it wrong. Maybe what people want is a space where they can have multiple personas in the same space to express different aspects of themselves.
I wonder how good we are at spotting people with multiple personas … and how easily can we be fooled by people who create multiple personas …
I am your palimpsest
illuminated
dragons
holding
lightning rods
________
her body
his nectar
a palimpsest
traced
with love’s mark
_________
They wrote
sounds
of power
over and over
palimpsest prayers
_________
Scratched train window
screams
passing factories
photographic
palimpsests
________
Voices slide
cut betwixt
indentations
floating out
a palimpsest
________
Urban palimpsests
bulging
columns
graphics jostle
breathing space
________
A page flutters
voices
spinning webs
untold stories
oozing
palimpsest
________
The pavement
beneath my feet
a palimpsest
of ghostly
footsteps
Palimpsest Fragments series appears in The Poetry Tree, Edition 2
________
In green half light
a stoic flourishes
soon to bloom
with a coy
pink blush
________
Outside my house
a flower of the sun
in my camera’s lens
_________
Spring wind
petals cling
to my moist cheeks
_________
Sense of place
distinctive features
invented spots
_________
Shadows building
Interiors for dreams
of permanence
_________
Green Stiletto Shoes
She wore green stiletto shoes. She strutted in the faded sunshine.Rose lights bounced off the high rise buildings. It had been a frustrating day but she was looking forward to meeting friends in a new little bar tucked in a lane-way.The best bars had no signs and were quite a challenge to find unless one knew where they were. She was a Melbourne girl through and through. She admired her elongated shadow on the pavement.
She turned right into a lane-way. The graffiti fitted the description her friends had given. There was a kabuki doll painted on the brick work. Now, to find a deep red door. She passed by a dust encrusted window with an exhaust fan. She peeked in, it was an artist’s studio with large plaster mannequins. She heard footsteps shuffling and the tap of a cane behind her. She held up her phone using the screen as a black mirror. The alley was empty. She turned, expecting to see a blind man with a cane. Nothing.
In that moment, she felt a silk tie around her throat and quickly grabbed at it. She kicked hard at the figure behind her, connecting with a soft part. There was a muffled groan. She realised her assailant was no longer holding onto the the scarf when she saw both ends slither down. She heard the sound of retching behind her. She took off her shoes and swivelled around.
He lay moaning on the ground clutching at his groin. His hands were covered in bright red blood. He screamed when she met his eyes. She could see the cobblestones through his torso and legs, he was fading fast. She stood transfixed with a shoe in each hand, watching as he faded clean away until an oily patch of bright red was all that remained. She spotted the dark red door just ahead; put on her green stiletto shoes, rolled up the silk tie, put it in her bag, refreshed her lipstick, fixed her hair and walked through the door.
She trips lightly
leaping gaps
between tectonic plates;
obsidian eyes
glitter uneasily, swimming
in murky streams,
half remembered fragments
sutured into stories;
beginnings, middles, ends
float just beneath surface,
spinning memories
into sticky threads
knotted from mouth to ear,
whispering to her,
‘you have no place in reality’.
Rain diamonds
sparkle
on her web
natures gesture
abundant
________
A misplaced key
he seeks
attention
________
Commedia mask
an ant
crawls out
________
Barks
rend the air
a spider
mends
her web
________
Sky sweats
fiery glow
birds huddle under eaves
________
Round raindrops
puddle
mercury and gold
________
Marousia 