Cape peoples hark now
Xhosa tata Madiba
binds you to his path
Pied tombstones circumscribed
by misted mountain nearing
under adumbral clouds.
Pressed down by black umbrellas
timeworn melancholy mourners
slate-faced under chrome-combed hair
stone-eyed through mantilla mesh
their kindred ebon overcoats
casting contoured silhouettes
on granite-gabled chapel wall.
Vestment black and collar white
protect priest mumbling doubtful aid
that begs a leaden counter-lie
from peons’ pæan in undertones
of hum-sung hosanna…hallelujah…
Grave digger in grey dungarees
smokes withering butt
breathes ashen veils
in weeping cinereal rain
as all fades to grey.
To pour a poem onto page
select a well of ink
try one with mood
or brooding shrewd
perhaps a wistful ilk
Some brands can have a tad of fear
or fourteen heartbeats loud
to use it in
a pulse of sin
and flash from thundercloud
Some others mix in seasonings
and oil to give it pace
or hints of blood
in dirty mud
with perspiration paste
My ink is just a quiet thing
I buy it off the shelf
and nothing grand
a simple liquid self
Quick’s debut novel is a brilliant inceptive; a gifted work. It is told in the voice of the main character, thirty-something former teacher Pat, a mental patient who has just been released from a psychiatric facility into his parents care. The use of Pat’s voice for narration is inspired. His childlike utterances are both frank and funny. The author brings the reader inside the jumbled mind of a Read more…
Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests; snug as a gun.
Under my window, a clean rasping sound
When the spade sinks into gravelly ground:
My father, digging. I look down
Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds…
I went along to see London Mayor Boris Johnson open the 2013 Melbourne Writers Festival last night. The man declared himself impressed with the venue, our city’s quaint mid-nineteenth century neoclassical Town Hall, deeming it more appropriate than his own sterile and modern energy-saver abutting the old Pool of London.
In case any of you are wondering why a politician travelled 16891 kilometers to open such an event, Boris Johnson is a writer with a dozen or so successful books under his belt. He came up through the newspaper ranks Read more…
David Gilmour of Pink Floyd interprets Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm’d;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.
A Sunday morning; the cold winter sun footprinting the carpet; wearing warm wool; the tea green and the fruit peeled; John Updike’s latest exceeding expectations; playlist pumps Tal Wilkenfeld, tactile and mellow on her Sadowsky strings; my five senses dovetail. Brain sends a wave when a particular soundbite agrees with the flash of sunlight on a crystal vase – synchronicity or synchrony? Whateva. It’s a sunny Sunday in winter and I’ll take what I have.
I heard the waterfall before I saw it. I allowed its thundering tenor to leech me in along the nebulous path, mud sucking at my bare feet. Then between dark birch branches a bright movement shimmered opaquely. It focused first as a covert cloud, then as serial stalactites sloping and sliding downwards. I finally viewed its full might Read more…
25 JANUARY 2013
Women and girls have been discriminated against for too long in a twisted interpretation of the word of God.
I HAVE been a practicing Christian all my life and a deacon and Bible teacher for many years. My faith is a source of strength and comfort to me, as religious beliefs are to hundreds of millions of people around the world.
Embrace me in your language.
Fold words around me, as if they
were your arms enveloping my skin.
Let your expressions
my expectant mind,
my life's lexicon of loving.
Rhythmically, I'll dance
to your creative meter,
and pulse to your I-AM(bs)
measured in lilting intonations.
Feel my imagination burn
with climatic desire, as
meaning traverses distance,
I expected James Joyce’s Ulysses to be dense. I looked forward to it. Was I not equipped for the experience? I had been reading books for a long time; I enjoyed ‘Dubliners’ for its superlative renderings of human beings; I knew the route and streetscape of Ulysses and could picture the settings of the day; I was familiar with the Dublin vernacular and a good mimic of the accent to boot; I had schoolboy Latin hanging on by a thread to my vocabulary (both Joyce and I suffered Jesuit colleges); my Greek mythology was weak but could be bolstered by Wiki-places so yes, all in all I felt well equipped. I was wrong.
In Ulysses Joyce invented a literary voice and for this experimentation and courage he has become justifiably celebrated. This famed ‘Stream of Consciousness’ or ‘interior monologue’ has been emulated ever since, becoming a mainstay of modern literature and giving impressive voice to authors like Jack Kerouac, Salman Rushdie, Joseph Campbell, Samuel Beckett, Flann O’Brien, uncountable others and those yet writing.
To the professional reviewers who have phrased some of the most beautiful language and metaphors ever used to describe a piece of literature I say, ‘bullshit’.
Ulysses is not a good book. Joyce failed the most basic test of any author – Read more…
This Michael Frayn comedy of errors caught my eye on the Man Booker Prize 2012 longlist when I spotted it’s ‘humour’ tag. As man’s humour and Man Booker are strange bedfellows my cocked eyebrow signalled that I have a peek. The book is a comedic gem.
It is a fabrication about mistaken identity between a crotchety academic and an impulsive playboy set on a Greek island. There’s a girl caught in the middle Read more…
Yahoo CEO Marissa Mayer has today reversed existing company policy regarding employees working from home. From June all employees will have to show up at the office in a decision that goes contrary to current thinking on this type of working arrangement.
A wealth of reputable research indicates that working from home increases productivity and this is backed by the experiences of major international entities that encourage the practice. The system saves employer costs such as office space, energy etc. and saves the employee commuting time and expense, and in some cases childcare costs and allows greater personal flexibility. Read more…
I was writing a rant recently about a member of the ruling al-Assad family of Syria – the wife I think, Marie-Antoinette or whatever her name is – the blind, dumb, deaf simian posing as a dictators wife but actually a morally-bereft product of the British privileged class. But I digress. Anyway, my fingers vacillated over the keyboard momentary as I typed her surname – they always do when I am typing an Arabic name. But this time I decided that I would make good on a former good intention to delve into Sumerian grammar and learn the correct usage of the word ‘al’ in order to prevent future interruptions to my train of thought as I strive to become a better blogger. I thought my findings worth sharing with anyone who notices the increasing occurrence of eastern matters in our western world and recognises the importance of protocol and polite communication with our fellow man. Read more…
My TV channel count is gone up to a much-duplicated 55 but 8 are actually radio channels. “WTF is SBS Radio doing thinking it’s a TV station?” asks Melbourne comedian Dave Hughes in his raucous new live stand-up act. And he’s right! Slyly infiltrating my Electronic Program Guide (EPG) using an alias like ABC Dig exceeds the duplicity of the pirate radio station I was once part of way back in the North Sea radio heydays when I fancied myself as their landlubbing prosopopoeia. But this is legal – though it seems somewhat incestuous. Or at the very least a bit bi.
Imagine all those poor, what…viewers? listeners? – the ‘populi bewilderus’ who just sit there listening to watching the music and waiting for a phantom TV show to start with the patience of Ratzinger’s gay admirer. Read more…
Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast will usher you into the romance (and it was romantic) of 1920s Paris just like Woody Allen transported Owen Wilson there in his 2011 Academy Award-winning screenplay, Midnight in Paris. As in the movie and this celebrated book, you will meet such luminaries as Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, Gertrude Stein and her partner Alice, Ezra Pound, T. S. Eliot, James Joyce and of course, Hemingway himself amongst many other notables from all schools of the arts. I personally was moved to pound the pavements of Paris tracing the journey of these pages and would do so again before ever traipsing through the Dublin of Ulysses like so many Joyce aficionados do on Bloomsday each year. And I’m Irish!
But before any inspirational people populate the pages, the book is principally un hommage to the city itself. Read more…
Ever since first day at school I’ve heard about the Golden Rule
It says that if you cram and learn then heaps of money you would earn.
I saw that this approach made sense and studied though my brain seemed dense
The brainy kid took all my tests – not that I threatened to molest,
I gave him what he shyly stated (let him see my girlfriend naked) Read more…
Every drop of rain so pure, Every soul is ready to endure, for hope love and dreams this heart beats for sure
defying sanity with my guns and vanity...
Writings and Witterings
A fine WordPress.com site
The creative bits from a scratch and dent mind.
rants, musings&mutterings about books, music, poetry, movies&life in general
Just another WordPress.com site
Awesomeness Investigator, Mummy Supreme, Office Lady & Open Minded Observer
My Imagination is the DEVIL on my shoulder
Issues lost in the shadows
A Place For Writing, Poems, And Dreams.
"THE POSITIVE THINKER SEES THE INVISIBLE, FEELS THE INTANGIBLE AND ACHIEVES THE IMPOSSIBLE."
This WordPress.com site is sizzling hot
Words of Giants
A fine WordPress.com site
Poetry and Prose
This WordPress.com site is the cat’s pajamas
"We're all out there, somewhere, waiting to happen."
Exploring mindfulness meditations on Jazz...
Grab some grog and read this blog!
With the strokes of creativity, communicate pictures of zeal.
18+ for mature content....Smile! You're at the best WordPress.com site ever!
Curating the Museum of a long, lost mind.
the inner thoughts of a modern day romantic spiritual rebel...
(everything under the sun)
Shining the Light on Hate Speech, Racism, Homophobia, etc. on City Data Forum. With Poetry, Musical Parodies, Music Videos, Social & Political Commentary, Humor & Reviews
A great WordPress.com site
Nurturing the creative within.
But once again, you realize that life is an expert illusionist which makes you climb the stairs of happiness, of success and then removes the ladder from beneath and like a thousand times, you fall on your back, totally helpless, and shattered into pieces. And the cycle continues.
Thoughts and Ideas about life.
Writing, Poems, Life lessons
have ideas. will travel.
A Space for Enjoying Writing
by Mike McGuire
My Photographic Journey of God's Amazing World!
Let's spread peace
Honestly, I believe poetry comes nearer to vital truth than History
I wish you Peace and Joy
Finding my way back out of motherhood -- while mothering
A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.
poetry by j matthew waters
My heart, mind and soul...transcribed!
Hang on, Hang on