under
the umbrella tree
two deck chairs
fresh green tea
teahouse open
above a cemetery
a crescent moon
a fox climbs a tree
cloudless night
dreams fly
in the jetstream
Month: May 2012
Inspiring Blog Award
Phew – three awards in a row! I am overwhelmed. Many blessing to Abigail aka @The_linnet for this award. I urge you to visit her wonderful blog – http://phoenixofthelinnet.wordpress.com/
The rules for this award:
1. Thank the person who gave you the award
2. Tell 7 things about you that will not come up in your blog entries.
3. Pass it on to 7 blogs you find inspiring and explain why.
So seven things about me
1. I adore poetry
2. I am addicted to yoga
3. I wish I could play a violin
4. I listen to classical music to relax
5. I am a night owl
6. My family is scattered around the world – Germany, Belgium, USA, Canada, Russia
7. I have met many wonderful friends on Twitter
And now to choose 7 blogs because they inspire me – once again I am struggling to choose between so many fabulous blogs:
http://dversepoets.com/ @dversepoets
http://ladynyo.wordpress.com/ Lady Nyo
http://mamaneedsshoes.blogspot.com.au/2012/05/aurelia.html Mama Zen
http://www.tashtoo.com/ The Tashtoo Palour
http://tom-eliot.blogspot.com.au/ Zero Summer
http://versiscape-lifesentences.blogspot.com.au/ Verse Escape
https://evavonpelt.wordpress.com/ Eva Von Pelt
One Lovely Blog Award
I am honoured to receive this blog award from my dear friend Louise Hastings. If you haven’t visited her blog you really should. Her poetry is superb.
The rules of acceptance for this award nomination are as follows:
- Thank the person/people who nominated you and link back to them in your post
- Share 7 things about yourself
- Nominate 15 or so bloggers you admire
- Contact your chosen bloggers to let them know
Now seven things about me:
- I speak to cats and dogs
- I love reading anything but especially crime fiction, fantasy and magical realism
- I adore travelling and getting lost in unfamiliar cities
- I am obsessed with Zen but I’m working through this
- My greatest fear is that kindness will disappear from the world
- If I don’t write poetry or take photographs I get depressed
- I have trouble making decisions
And now I must decide among all the wonderful blogs out there which 15 to nominate, so here goes. This mix is somewhat eccletic – something for everyone – do visit and enjoy the blogs of these interesting folk.
@Amielieja http://ameliascrapbook.livejournal.com/ and http://mieliefishareinthehouse.blogspot.com.au/
@Mariam_Kobras http://mariamkobras.blogspot.de/
@grasscraig http://thegrassisgreenerontheudderside.blogspot.com.au/
@bmiller007 http://www.waystationone.com/
@gennipher http://gennepher.blogspot.com.au/
@cat_cat_ http://www.somehowconstant.com/
@TinaNguyen http://tina.mnnguyen.com/
@modernistdream http://mediamongrel.wordpress.com/
@beezlaine http://www.beezknez.com/
@coyotesings http://coyotesings.weebly.com/
@tigerwindwalker http://tigerwindwalker.com/tigerwindwalker.com/Poetry.html
@mssuzcatsilver http://suzcatsilverdesigns.wordpress.com/
@wyrde http://www.positivelywyrde.com/
@remittancegirl http://remittancegirl.com (Adults Only)
@gidgetwidget http://gidgetwidgets.com/
Sunshine Award out of the blue
I was nominated for a Sunshine Award at the start of May. It really touched me and literally brought sunshine to my life when I was going through a very busy and stressful time. I would like to express my heartfelt thanks to Jyothi for nominating me for this award. Please visit her blog for songs, book reviews and more. Here is the gorgeous award
And as per the rules for the award..
1. Need to include the award’s logo in a post or on the blog
2. Answer 10 questions about yourself
3. Nominate 10-12 other awesome bloggers
4. Link your nominees to this post and comment on their blogs, letting them know they have been nominated 
5. Link the person who nominated you.
10 questions about myself ..
1. what is my zodiac sign? I am an Aries
2. what is my favorite food? My current favourite food is Korean
3. My favorite book ? My current favourite book is 1Q84 by Haruki Murakami
4. What is my favorite color? Yellow
5. What is my favorite movie? Casablanca
6. Which place would I love to go for vacation? Spain
7. Which is my favorite inspirational read? Rumi
8. Why do I blog? To share my poetry
9. What do I love doing best? Drifting in new cities, making art and writing poetry, conversations with friends
10. One thing which I would like to improve in myself: Impatience
The next step is to nominate 10-12 awesome bloggers.
And my nominees for this award are:
http://peterwilkin1.blogspot.co.uk/ @peterwilkin1
http://1emeraldcity.wordpress.com/ @fumanchucat
http://louisehastings.net/home/ @louisehastings
http://athingforwordsjahesch.wordpress.com/ @JAHesch
http://repressedsoul.wordpress.com/ @Awdures
http://themindssky.wordpress.com/ @denfemte
http://poetjanstie.wordpress.com/ @poetjanstie
http://phoenixofthelinnet.wordpress.com/ @The_Linnet
http://chrisgalvinwriter.wordpress.com/ @ChrisGNguyen
http://poemblaze.wordpress.com/ @poemblaze
ttp://semaphore1.blogspot.com.au/ @semaphore
http://juca2.wordpress.com/ @expatinCAT
There are heaps more I wanted to include 🙂
Slip Alley XI
The strangler on the train
had titian hair,
Greta was certain
his beard was ginger,
she saw him clearly in the light.
He was of a solid build
looked like he’d been
working out and
had a Celtic tattoo sleeve.
Ollie raises an eyebrow,
takes a long sip of Scotch
and orders Greta a martini.
He leans forward
looking straight into
Greta’s violet melancholy eyes,
he tells her he smells danger.
He asks her about the numbers
on the slip of paper
found in the carriage
with the corpse.
The date doesn’t match
the night Jane Doe died.
There was another victim,
male, shot in this very alley
on that date. There could be
a connection. And did
the strangler see her watching?
Did he see her face?
Greta’s eyes sparkle,
she lets one tear fall
from her right eye.
It tracks a course through
the silt of her makeup
and drips off her chin.
Ollie scratches his left eyebrow
and hands her his clean
white handkerchief.
He escorts Greta to a cab
at the corner of the alley.
He implores her to take great care
handing her his card.
Slip Alley X
Sveta sits alone
in her apartment
lights a jasmine scented candle,
pulls the curtains tight
against the patch of moonless night,
shadows double on the walls.
……………………………
A woman with porcelain pink cheeks,
kabuki eyes and rosebud lips
taps along the alley
in grey stiletto boots
affecting nonchalance.
She spots a new stencil
repeated
on the red brick walls.
It’s of two cats smoking pipes,
Magritte springs
to mind on velvet paws.
Who put it there, she wonders.
Her heart is racing.
At night the light outside the cafe
hangs like a peach.
She enters,
finds a table in corner,
drapes her coat and Prada bag
across a chair.
The waiter with crystal studded ears
takes her order;
two expressos,
one Scotch and a glass of water.
She looks expectantly
towards the door. A man enters
right on cue.
“Hello Greta.”
Ollie fiddles with his coat lapel
and sits.
…………………………..
Lounging on her umber couch,
Sveta starts to type.
Slip Alley IX
Ollie’s blue cat
chews a rubber band,
Ollie sips his Scotch.
On his coffee table
lies the slip of paper from the train,
creased and square
once an origami crane.
He takes out a graphite pencil,
rubs, six words appear:
For sale: A coin, never used.
and two numbers underneath.
He thinks of Earnest Hemingway
and baby shoes.
4 11 2012
0444 444 444
The top appears to be a date,
Ollie smiles, the date aligns
with John Doe in the alley.
The second seems
to be an invitation,
Ollie dials the number.
A woman’s breathy voice
answers telling him
she’s been waiting
for his call, she’ll meet
him in the alley now,
at the cafe, he knows the one.
Ollie shrugs on
his Burberry coat and cap,
steps into the moonless night.
He stands on an empty street corner
waiting for a tram
meditating
on power line silhouettes
cutting up the sky.
He pulls his coat closer
against the biting wind.
Mournful streets lights shed
cool penumbras.
In the kitchen
Ollie’s cat pounces
on an errant mouse,
jade eyes gleam.
Twitter Moments
dust moats
fandango
in my reading light
_________
Night whispers love
across the sky
morning blushes
_________
I stretch
the old book spine
cracks in half
_________
Wind chimes stir
birds startle
moon mirrors silent
_________
Sun sets
behind the ocean
a wet peach
_________
occluded moonlight
caught in a stone
framed in silver
_________
no silver coins in ponds
the wind billows
her kimono
_________
Blue stone cobbles
singular footfalls
detection afoot
_________
The moon admires
reflections
in bedraggled streets
_________
For
OpenLinkNight ~ Week 45
Slip Alley VIII
Isamu sits cross legged chanting,
dressed in an antique black kimono,
incense smoke curl
ribbons grow dense,
shimmering in slanting golden light.
He weaves the smoke
into a woman’s body
using the samurai sword
he won long ago.
It was etched with dragons in his honour.
His yellow cat watches intently, purring
to the rhythm.
The cat meows,
stands and stretches,
her front claws scrape on the tiled floor,
Isamu smiles,
the woman’s soul has spoken.
He seizes a silk scarf,
wafts away the smoky shapes,
smiling secretly he pours himself a saki,
shells a crab, shares it with his cat.
Isamu throws his window wide,
leans out watching the incense smoke
stream towards Cat Ba Island
and the sunset fizzle
in the haze of Halong Bay.
Tomorrow he will hire a boat,
he strokes his cat.
……………………………..
Jack sits in a bar in Haiphong,
the men with matching tattoos play dice,
Jack sips his Scotch on rocks, looks
for entertainment. A slender
beauty catches his eye,
she smiles pneumatically.
Her name is Thi,
her English is divine.
She likes an original
Victor Begron Mai Tai.
Tomorrow he’ll be in his room
at Cat Ba Resort, he wonders
if she’d like to share.
He flips a coin.
Slip Alley VII
Sveta sits at some urban
railway station,
listening to an announcement
in an Indian accent,
“Due to an incident at
Bunyip, all trains
have been delayed. We are
awaiting further instructions. Please
listen for further announcements.”
Sveta frowns, takes out her
moleskin notebook,
and chews her pencil.
…………………………….
Ollie shows his warrant card,
the uniforms motion him through
the tape; the gap on the side
of his left shoe leaks,
he squelches
across the muddy grass
avoiding puddles,
heaves himself up the steps
into the crime scene carriage.
Jane Doe sits slumped,
airbrushed makeup
on skin now wax,
dark pink lipstick smudged
on pouting lips, a face
to rival Marilyn Munroe,
framed with chestnut curls;
a slight scent of lily of the valley
reminds Ollie of his great aunts,
powder faces with dead foxes
draped around their necks.
He scratches his eyebrow,
the overalls will do their job
interrogating Jane, he spots
a slip of paper on another seat,
pocketing it he walks
through to the next carriage,
the makeshift incident room.
He grabs a teabag,
puts it in a double paper cup,
the urn is hot,
he fills the cup,
smells red dragon oolong tea;
a young pale uniform
in hushed tones tells him
a witness called,
hung up, they’ll trace the call.
Ollie reads the note, it’s
a bank slip for ten thousand.
His left foot’s cold,
he removes his shoe and sock
to massage it,
tries to connect some dots,
his eyebrow itches.
Jane Doe looks familiar…
Marousia 