Tove

Tove was an ash
she swayed for the wind
her wood was hard
but inside
she was mellow
loving trusting
believing that
even when it was raining
storming, a blizzard
the outcome would be good
she sometimes wavered a tad
too much and at times
her branches were hurt.
Bearing one fruit
late in life will be
her claim to fame.
You could lean on her
and she loved when the deers
in the wood surrounded her.
Her leaves shimmered with joy
when a squirrel found food
near her and needed her for shelter.
But like all trees and beings
who follow mother nature
she also needed to obey..
To many, however, Tove will remain
an ash of renown in our minds -
an Yggdrasil.

Long and full

It did not last long
the joy I felt for a moment
somebody close died.
A merciful short fight
with death.
When you stand and look
at the dear face
you wonder how life
and not life
has run its course
then symbols and traditions
and public services take over.
For the nonegenarian
the run was long,
truly interesting
so I should not cry,
but celebrate a long
interesting life,
however lonely she felt
during the last years
when everybody she knew
either moved or left.
She did everything.

Facing yourself

The portal closes
and fears return
where shall I look
when anguish shakes
my inner core
joy vanishes
facing myself
somewhere of my youth
I must stare away
from these moments
and just cope.

Let me enjoy the moment

Party going from on to the other
it can be a little too much
but then when I think of home
there is not a whole of such
and a person needs friends
good or sweet or even "bad"
the sheer feeling of being
is something to be had.
So summer eves full of joy
laughter and petanque
will forever stand out as fun
not as a great think tank
but light smiles of simplicity
certainly beats the dull
and lack of creativity
Of course I know that life is hard
for humankind and thee and me
but let me enjoy my moments
cause life often turns to a dire quotient.
Knowing that Faust was guilty
of saying "You are so wonderful"
what hubris was for Goethe
never stop thriving but this was cool.

Des vent d'ici

Vent marin en ete
donne de l'humidite
vent de nord en hiver
fouille de la froideur
vent de l'oest en autommne
fait pleuvoir en commune
vent de l'est au printemps
on reve des meilleurs vins.

Something about learning?

dehydration
rehydration
cultivation
deformation

humanizing
dehumanizing
accidental
intentional

observation
sensation
partition
incatation

reformation
mastication
implication
variation

Fleurette

A unique flower popped up
one day in mid-August
a timid one, but with dreams
beyond what her kins see
her filaments a bit irresolute
but her style surely forceful
and oh her dreams to fly
with the wild eagle
to find the great apple
and sow her ovules, her spores
and design her fresh views
differently while conquering
a whole other continent.
Her peerless qualities will
show when she actually blooms,
it takes - sometimes -
a lifetime, but when she does
she shall outblossom
the queen of the night
and become fleurette of the day.

Snapshot

Photography - at war
weddings in pictures
two extremes polarized
can they be united?
What make one person
turn to photojournalism
the other to families in joy?
Both are necessary
for one or the other reason
who is to say that
families are not important
in time of conflict
juxtapose that with strives
of kin of your own flesh
humans are beastly souls
this snapshot reminds.

(Thanks to Chandler for letting me read:
The Painter of Battles by
Arturo Perez-Reverte)

Charm in a village!

A comment received moments ago
flattered my battered ego
you are the only other person
in the village who would read this!

Professing no real capacity
but a healthy curiosity
I shall now delve into a work
stimulating my brain cells!

It goes to show that someone
knows how to charm my electrons
even though this person fights
for his life and the other.

Myopia Nostalgia

A crowded beach in August
sun baked bodies like sardines
my oldest friend and I

another crowded northern beach
sun and clouded shrimps roasted
as teenagers

today she still loves being cooked
whereas I have become cautious
as older girls.

Today was as if we were on
one of our European trips
in our early twenties.

Looking for the tan and water
we chatted not so much about
topic of our youth: men.

But hubbies, kids, grand kids
filled our conversations. Yet;
As sexagenarians, we can still look!

Saturday Morning at Denmark House in Aussie

They are there on the screen
in colors - for me to them see
a few hours after the event
I see their lovely smiles
their curls - their laughs
as they eat hotdogs and whatnots
I have been to this place
so I know exactly what it entails
they ran then - they ran now
so I know but cannot hear their sounds
only in my mind - instant replay
so hurrah for Facebook and the rest
silently participating - fabulous!

Asserting - smoking

Confrontations avoided
with nice neighbors
but it has to be done
their smoke gets in my food.

Being a child of the 50es
I was not taught to speak up
but to quietly accept
what life offered me.

Asserting myself vividly
is going to be difficult
move away from my windows
when you puff - please

Your habit hinders hopelessly
my enjoyment of eating
but I hope that my disgesting
does not endanger your smoking.

A scenery

Sorrow blended itself
with absolute divinity
of a certain glade
filled with eaglets
and snakes and trees.
All this was blended
with vines old and young
in full bloom all
the wind of the mountains
flew about my head -
standing gaping at the dale
with backdrop of a range
of kind space between the clouds
spare colors except verdure
stark grays and bright blue
No painting - no photograph
would bring out the depth
of one Thursday in August.

Why

Why here - granny?
Why not with us or your love somewhere else?
Why in this odd little place?
it is just a village somewhere
in the country called France.
I am living in Melbourne Australia
Farmor - and I dare ask - why?

Alexander - all brilliant questions
but you know what - grand son of mine
so far away - loved firstborn of my firstborn

This little life is truly mine
and nobody else's - I can talk or not
I can walk or not
and often in the evening I listen to opera
- and reminiscence of a certain time
when I learnt to appreciate this art form
especially tenors
my Spanish uncle introduced me to Placido
in the early seventies ...

Why does Farfar let me go?
I tell you - it is true love and freedom
and therefore I am faithfully happy.

These summers alone gives me joy
and I learn to cope with life alone
because grandson of mine
my mother told me when fairly young
that a person is always alone
She did never elaborate
so I had to realize that loneliness
which most people fear and hate
or feeling lost is being human
overcoming that - you get stronger
so when one day you and yours sibs
are old enough to read some of these
little scribbles - left for you
you may realize - that
old silly Farmor was right
- being alone is a gift
but you just have to appreciate it
in the manner to which it was intended.

If you can combat loneliness
then you as a person can do anything!
and calm in my body and soul
I am ready to tackle the world
I have recharged my dead batteries!

Odd verity

Letter from a friend
reminding me what
I ought to be doing
which I am not
I write poems - not books
and live my quiet life
in a little village
not far from the sea
the crowd of this area
is as bad or as good
as anywhere else
this micro cosmos of mine
is why I am diverted
in my light travails
one summer's odd verity
therefore what ought to be
is not what is and who cares.

Under an orange tree

Under an orange tree
sitting people three
chattering about all
and nothing at all
enjoying their wine
their eyes and mine
encounter each other
feelings sister to brothers

Under an orange tree
three fates of variety
we were Europeans all
standing up and tall
in each of us combine
life's experiences entwine
here in a village souther
our selves ruled our rudder

Under an orange tree
our chats were of society
one lost his wife to squall
two were just having a ball
flirting to a bantering line
knowing it was just the wine
prizing the company of each other
one surely after another.

Under an orange tree
graces joined in unsobriety
just to events forestall
ending not in a port of call
where misunderstandings whine
but serious friendship aligns
with a smile of the calligrapher
bowing deep to the philosopher

To Tony and Adrian

Pataphoric non-poem

I wanted an allegory
alas could not find it
therefore creating a pataphor
the flower on my neighbour's windowsill
overlooking the empty alley
is the glass I drink
standing in the little street
looking at life passing by.

Vigga and her tree

Expressly - the end of her world
her wondrous tree Yggdrasil
standing up tall and vibrant
vegetated waiting for death
Vigga kept its kernel verdured
except in the happy height
of a glorious summer's day
it settled subtly for frigidity
she talked to it sitting at its foot
her eyes welled wishfully over
her saline compelling wet drops
hit the tree trunk at its receding roots
but to no appellant avail - .
Vigga the Voelva realized readily
that even she could not stop death
dousing the one taciturn being
to whom she had always turned
with her futile wishful tears
she now sat at its tall torso
and she waited until the cancer
had meticulously massacred
convulsively the rearmost root
with its stratagemic stranglehold.
She held the trunk tightly
as Yggdrasil finally yielded.
She sat next to the giant
who had given so gracefully
of itself to other living spirits
and she rested sadly ruffled
knowing that no one can change
the victory of destructive death
but in Yggdralsil's yellowing case
its whole being would take years
to its dreadful but sure demise.
Another alternative - Vigga the Voelva
thought animatronicly torn
between sorrow, anger and acceptance
would be to divide the tree up
and create new (albeit dead) objects
and objectively its appeal appalled
the sombre seeress - and she shook
her head in shock for even having
that slight thought - but as always
she would ask her wise sister Sophia
one day when her raw rage of anguish
had left her and she again would accept
that life takes turns - towards
an entirely randomized reality
you live and you die - and there is
nothing you can do - but bitterly
bow to this existence or with gratitude
smiling seeing in fond flashbacks
having known a tree named Yggdrasil.

Fight for life

... a friend fights
my wish to extend a lifeline
or a life jacket
in frustration
mission impossible
fucking bloody cancer again....

to Chandler

Un jour d'ete

Un jour plein des amis de passage
presque dans les garriques sauvages
les fleurs bruts s'entendent
entre eux et la vielle lavande
les vents violents les embaument
le monde etait leur royaume
pour un seul air du temps perdu
la vie propre et courte tordue.

Gorilla glass

Waiting for Godot
can be of value
one day -
a new invention
may not be of use
right away -
but the future
one can never predict
so it is with
Gorilla Glass.

Waiting patiently
until the fish bites
the trades ring
a new option
not truly seen
for what it is
right here and now
so it is if
you hold the passion.

Waiting for inspiration
will yield nothing
so you can try
opting for the rainy day
solution to the problem
it will never come
and yet - in the desert
there is sand to be found.

Midinette

Une midinette vient de apparaitre
dans mon cerveau irregulier
pourqoui ce singulier etre
me hante sans me laisser?
Midinette, petite filleule
de ma jeunesse lointaine
dans la nuit je bois un tilleul
et je te revois - corneilienne
pauvre petite - tu etais moi
sans le savoir tu m'as apprit
etre en bonne ou mauvaise foi
cela ne fait pas un pli
dans la vie il y a des betises
qu'on fasse tous les jours
meme sous les belles cherises
la mort les soigne a son tour.