Canigou et l' araignee

Le veille au soir sur ma route
j'ai rencontre une araignee
elle s'etait pendue d'un grand arbre
au soleil couchant elle s'en foutait
de Canigou si clair ensoleille
elle a eu de la chance
une mouche etait son diner
elle l'engloutait vivement
La nature grande et petite
est partout un emerveillement

Beziers beckons

The fog over Beziers
in the early morning light
paints the fairy tale
of faraway beacons
beckoning the foamy town
to be a fata morgana

Des idees

Il faut avoir du temps
pour penser
Il faut être seul
pour se orienter
Bien sur on peut
se sentir abandonne
au milieu d'une foule
mais des idées d'attachée
ne viennent pas
sauf quand on soit isole

Des mots

Des mots me manquent
je resterai timide
devant les gens forts
qui n'ont jamais tort
ma condition est telle
que de moi
des mots se moquent.

Ants anywhere

"Leaving on a jet plane"
an old song - line
diverting a life
off to a new trail
away from the known
into another group
somewhere else -
yet the parallel life
goes on
whether you are there
or not.

Frenzy

Last minute frenzy
jumping crazily
to finish everything
only to realize
the itch for perfection
is just wishful
abstraction.
This rashness
is foolish behavior
and will only augment
my excessive way
so I should stop
wanting excellence
and settle for
ordinality.

Ordinality is
ordinary and reality
ino one word.

Glitzes

How impatient become have I
that I cannot wait ten seconds
before I question the system
within two blinks of an eye
the blip on the screen me beckons
to react fast in my brain stems.
Yesteryear we wrote with quills
now speed up : our daily thrills.
One day not long from now
humanity will alas kowtow
to its own fabulous know how
yet the human beings are slow
a child still nine month grows
in the womb - and then below.

Beware of the werewolf

I met a werewolf
in his disguise of a male
I was marked
not by his teeth -
but his existence
haunted me forever -
so if you meet a man
beware of his 7th sense
under the full moon
and you will transform
yourself to be with him
and you will have lost
your dignity and your self -
so you become what
I am not....

Scarlett fever

Everyone I know has said that -
some time...
"After all ...
tomorrow is another day."
Everyone I know has done that -
some time...
After all ...
tomorrow is another day."
Did I do what really needed done -
this instant?
"After all ...
tomorrow is another day."
Did Scarlett get her Rhett?
I do not know - yet
tomorrow is another day.

Thanks to Margaret Mitchell
for writing "Gone with the Wind"

Escape ... today

Escape to a fantasy land
will alleviate fears
for the future
Flight from reality leads
you to face pickles
one day and the next
Gateway to dreams lends
a hand of coping
with today.

It rains ..dogs

If I only knew
what my dog had been through
when she was very little -
but she cannot tell
only, hating rain like hell -
runs out to quick piddle.

Simple

creating the basic
baking a bread
is living

Congratulations Mr. Punch

Mr Punch has a birthday today
May 9th in the mist of time
He beats his wife
he murders his infant
he is not beyond incest
he is outrageous
kids sense
that evil exists
yet we all laugh
Mr Punch has a birthday today
May 9th in the mist of time

Awake haiku

Sleep no more, Macbeth,
Every night I fear my bed -
alas, sleeplessness.

done it differently?

tromp - tread lightly
on the way to wheresoever
you know only when
the road is run
that you should have
taken a different one -
alas, hindsight is clear
as the morning mist
forgotten features
of parables from your past
may reapppear of nowhere
and the whole world
collapses as a collage
not properly glued on
but at the time
there was no way of knowing
------ maybe

Past pebbles

history has hearty
long lines -
for on the fourth
of the fifth month
in 1945 at night some
euphoric European
countries counted
freedom from
a terrible terror

The solution

Long auburn free-flowing tresses
surrounded her sun-burned freckles
a hearty healthy image of femininity
Völva Vigga treads in her woodsy vicinity
seeking her highborn sister Sophia,
and it turned out that the locale
of sun-and shady woods was palliative
to both their souls - tormented in thunder.

The terrible request from whence
was more than the Völva could conceive
whilst in her mourning for what happened
so she had again required the presence
of her other self, her sister who knew.
Vigga the winsome Völva was in a quandary
a query to go on a violent quest
had been reqested by her ghostly granny
who had herself been molested as a child.
Grosswolf was the perpetrator's foul fame
written on the knife which the Völva
now carried again, helped by Elvish men
to have them grasp it from the raw rapist.

Sophia, her highborn and wise sister,
was there to spryly listen and partake
in her sister's debate with the ghost,
a clash she knew that the Völva Vigga
would not take lightly, even though it was
only a spectral visitant of the netherworld.
Yet, otherworldly symbols of conscience
can be as vivid and real as reality
and sometimes even more so - so Sophia
was preparing herself to defend logic
and wonderful wisdom to try and win
the battle royal of wise women versus a view
of an awesome aura of old time hate
and revengeful sentiments of the past.
Sophia had read all the classics, but
knew that all this may be for naught.

Vigga the Völva began by wondering why
their grandmother's ghost manifested
with such vivid force - since she was dead.
Meekly, the spirits were kind and gentle
in her life, Vigga vocalized, but not this time.
After all, Vigga was vacillating and did not
venture into murder, no matter how bad it seemed,
and she had been the perpetrator's victim.

Sophia, surprised by what she heard, had to stop
think what the Völva had just said,
she did not want to kill another fellow human,
so she, Sophia, did not need her elaborate speech
about slaying in vain and how it perpetuated
the same foolish patterns of intricate conduct.
"You are wise - not to adhere to our granny's wish"
was how she was going to phrase her sentiment
when Sophia felt a pang in her abdomen -
she keeled over on the fresh moss next to Ygdrasil
and could barely breathe,"give me some water"
she whispered, and Vigga the Völva quickly went
to the stream and filled her little flask
which she had in her leathery brownish belt.

Sophia drank with such need that Vigga indeed
searched for the answer why the brainy sister
was so heartily inflicted, after all she was free.
For the second time the ghastly ghost of their grandmother
stood before both sisters, Sophia whimpering in pain
and Vigga trying to alleviate her with water.
"What are you waiting for? Kill the male!"
She disappeared in a huff as quickly as she had come.
Vigga and now Sophia, stared at the place
where the appearance had mysteriously materialized.

Sophia, shaken, said,"I saw her. She wants you to kill."
Vigga who had been more used to communicating with
their granny of yonder, nodded and murmured, "yes".

Yggdrasil, the tree nursed to life by Vigga
shielded the women in the wild woodland
and then Sophia proceeded to tell her sister
what she had also seen, in that short time,
the male, for she described him to Vigga the Völva,
was in the process of ravishing a young child
in the woods not far from where they were,
in the village beyond the wild woods.
"We have to go", the wise Sophia said,
"do you have your sharp Elvish knife?"

The two women, the wise and highborn Sophia
and her seeking sister Vigga the Völva,
went on their way to find the malefactor.
Vigga who knew that the male was strong and
she and Sophia, her sister, were not cut out
to battle such an evil force without help,
the Volva, reluctantly, but resolved, drew
her hunter's horn, tiny brass instrument,
formed with a tinge of mystery to it,
because it only shined when tooting it
- otherwise it seemed drearily dull.
Three Elvish men appeared. Sophia puzzled,
"Why" she asked the Volva, "do we need help?"
Vigga, who seemed more like an old hag by now, tired,
told her sister that the male was too strong,
therefore they needed Elvish help, but not the males;
the females and about nine of them.
Vigga the Völva pleaded with the little menfolk
and got them to switch with nine elvish women,
promising them to invite them all to Beltane
near Yggdrasil, once this dreadful deed was over.

The two ladies in their woodland woolen drab clothes
began their vacillating walk towards the village,
the nine elvish womenfolk dancing along chanting
their age-old mystery Elvish song, luring males.

They found the male... he had just done the deed
looking up and smiling viciously at Vigga,
his eyes glinting with such vigor and hate
that she jumped back - the Elvish ladies started
luring him away from the child,
a bonnie little lass of six years of age.
The child was in such a state that Vigga the Volva
only knew this, get her away from the spot,
into safety and loving care of the healer.
She motioned Sophia her highborn wise sister
to take the child to the wise woman's hut to clean her up
and calm her with a memory altering brew for now.

With a whiff of her hand she commanded to the Elvish women
to bind the male with age old charms and keep him tied up,
so he could not move any of his limbs.

'You are evil", she told him, "I have been commanded
to kill you, but that would be too easy for you".
She took out her knife, "you recognize this, I believe?"
his eyes showed no remorse, just dullness.
"I have to wait for two more to arrive", she said,
you will then have your say, you may defend yourself
in front of the twelve confronting you".
The male was still, bound by Elvish treads,
wisely he had stopped moving, because when he made a motion
the Elvish robes holding him whipped his limbs
so strong that he felt being brandished by irons.

Sophia came back and then her grandmother's ghost
got her say, "whatever he says kill him, otherwise he
will continue his evil deeds. Anyone who molests a child
should not be allowed to live one day on this earth!"
The ghost grasped the prisoner's throat
and started squeezing, so angry was she,
and only when Vigga commanded her to stop
did she reluctantly relinquish her ghostly grasp.
The man coughed and sputtered and moved vigorously
and then he screamed, he had forgotten the Elvish strings.

Sophia, wise, and worldly, calmly said, "have your say"
and the man condemned the whole world including the ghost,
Vigga, but out of his mouth came the names of everyone
he had violated. He had been violated too,when young.

Vigga, Sophia, and the nine Elves, as well as the ghost
took their vote, and with the exception of the ghoulish
grandmother who, greenish, yellowish, foaming with anger,
commanded, "Death to him". The eleven, the Elvish ladies and
the two sisters voted for him to live as a eunuch,
an emasculated servant who could never do the deed again.
The male screamed his anguish and pleaded "I will rather die"
but Sophia being the lead judge told him, "No,
you will live till you are old and grey and you will never
feel pleasure again - only when you learn to love."

The determined Volva and the elves took him near the brook,
so she could wash off the bloody knife after her surgery
and he was awake, but not moving because the Elvish females
made sure he did not move. His eyes had only fear now.
The knife glistened in the sunlight, and as Vigga the Volva
was carefully cutting and removing the stones and sewing
his empty sack together again with the needles provided for
by the elves, she shook thinking this was the worst
she the Volva had ever undertaken.

But behind her her grandmother's ghost grew
gripping the stones, threw them triumphantly in the air like balls,
and Odin's ravens Hugin (thought) and Munin (memory)
snapped them up screeching their shrill cry
being called upon by ancient magic to vindicate
all the perpetrator's victims. Alas, he had been a lamb too,
but he had a free will, and Vigga the Völva wanted
him to understand the why behind her reasoning.
He was completely quiet, and she had managed to get
some water with some healing herbs in his mouth,
he stared with empty eyes - not really grasping
what had become his fate - an emasculated male
one who could not ejaculate anymore, even though
sometimes it can be reversed, there was ancient
magic sown into his empty, effeminate satchel.
He was being eunuchized - purebred - demaled!
His punishment was harsh, but no harsher
than the many wounds he had inflicted,
and all the children both males and females
were being wound up by Elvish skills
and helped with the utmost authority,
so the dreadful deeds would not perpetuate
in eternity and elucidate authenticity.

The male was released from Elvish binding
and stumbled across the woodland floor,
a little tired, and he was heading towards
the healing woman's hut hoping for a reprieve.
She had just finished her cleaning up of the child,
and the girl was whisked back to her family
by one neighbour helping the wise woman,
with a charm and a witch's brew,
but there were many souls to heal.
So the she-healer, alerted, would not
say no to an extra hand, he could sleep on the floor
near the embers of her stove on a mattress
and in the morn when he had rested,
they would talk about his duties - if he stayed.
That way the whole woodland could then keep
an eye on the misery maker - and be reminded.

The Völva Vigga and her highborn sister
had a feast to prepare being Beltane to next night
and she had promised the elves a feast of renown.

The next eve around a magnificent maypole on May Day
the sisters stood and watched the merriment,
their arms around each other and murmured joyfully.
The Elvish ladies were decked out in their finest
silvery shimmering see-through long dresses,
their hair adorned with blooms and leaves,
the men, handsome, offered to dance the night away.
Yggdrasil had spouted its first flower,
a golden-orangy double knotted blossom, and
the ghost of their granny was smiling benevolently
befitted to a night of mysterious joys.
In the night's sky Hugin and Mugin were but shadows
against the moonlit woodsland - the frogs croaked,
Beltane came and went once again...

Alas - what half?

Equal pay - Equal pay
screams the world's half!
Equal work - equal work
screams the world's half!
Alas - alas - alas!

To-day's Word

Word of the day
from the bible to the lexicon
to-day's winsome
first used in Beowulf
to denote pleasant.
Word of my day
taken from weather perusing
today's winsome
because the sun is out
spring is balmy.
Word of any day
depending on circumstances
you win some - you lose some
wherever you are
your strength is
in your winsome words.

ruffled feathers

feathers of ostrich
featured in old-time photos
of the fair sex
so the males can dream
achieving their little wet
while we today label them
pornographic art -

the Internet provides
wet dreams of any kind
online in real time
and nobody is outraged
accepting whatever
except maybe an old broad
with ruffled feathers