Viking's burn

Come every May and June awaits
somewhere in another place
the weird longing for "home"
of a special kind - a dome
childhood and light nights
surprising me with its might
I feel a need to fly away
from a heart's desire
to a yearning stray
somewhere in my quagmire
there is a viking's yearn
that somehow is biological
I must fly a swallow's turn
to quell the thirst's focal.
A medieval's daughter fires
the midsummer's dances
and her flight sires
the dreams she entrenches.

Un petit point

Des mots croises
des gens dans la rue
des poubelles
un chien qui se vide
un homme qui se gratte
dans ses cheveux
une vieille femme regarde
de sa fenetre des gens
en passage
la vie coule ici
et ailleurs - et
pourtant c'est pour
aujourd'hui mon existence.

Une salade

L'amitie un mot excellent
L'amour une phrase superbe
et les deux incomparables
l'aenometrie - l'enfance
de l'art jusqu'au bout
de rires et au serieux
chaque tempeture d'humanite
des confreres humaines
en vous saluant
un jour on ne serait pas la
mais pour le moment - on y est.

(a Francine et Max)

Falling tendencies?

what took you so long
you foolish lady
don't I deserve better?
humbly - I promise
to air and to care
for your walls and roof
of yesteryear
after all we share the
same fate
we all disintegrate
it just takes longer
for medieval walls
not for older females
The only thing is know
is that this building
will still stand
when I fall!

A spirit's house

My spiritual home awaits
my return
the living house says
adieu ajourn.
One day I hope to mix
them both to one
alas I fear the nix
of fate's shun.
Shall I then forever haunt
the future avaunt
from whence my soul's came
I can no one blame
but myself to the nth degree;
pride in that I was me.

Help spring

Noise from lawn movers
projects a beautiful green
tears and snot
is what I've got
every spring it's a scream
almost hit throwers.

A viking dada

Vikings and their Age
somehow escape my page
but I shall take revenge
and learn about the henge

from the Visigoth
via the Voelva
from Dyrendal to
the Gesta Danorum

The blod of the Norse
tells stories in Morse
dots and blots abound
events of history sound.

Out spot

Dissipated anger -
gone almost
frankly I nearly
do not give a damn.
Freedom to be
only me and none
of the usual
meticulously under
the microscope.
Lastly - I can
breathe freely
I can lovingly laugh
for my own foibles.

Tonight a change

A part of me died tonight
and freedom is in sight
realizing that siblings
can be cruel and egotistic
therefore I went ballistic
and sadly I wish I didn't
because I knew it all along
so I shall play my part
and for once I shall be
not myself but my mother
and there is the bother
the family I was born into
is a shitty embroidery
and I will have to unpick
the pieces - one by one
and get one that fits me
switch to knitting a sock
that is the real choc.
Part of me died tonight
not anything more or less
Sadly, that is my behest.

Lovely spring

The days of April
turn into hell
for pollen-counter agents
the numbers are big
the world looks great
alas, out of patience.

A queen's pageant

Beautiful people
showing of their stuff
we others could learn
ever so much.
Sequins and feathers -
jewelry bedeck'd
it's all about talent
self and respect.
Who holds the fire
against gay pride
should really look
deeply inside.
Celebrating life
is that a crime?
We are all different,
life is dearly sublime.

Lobbying is ...

Lobbying is bribery,
legalized, of course -
just buy the votes - no
registration enforced.
This system should be
abolished and out
the honest politician
alas has not clout.
What am I saying?
Honesty and politics
you will only have
conjuring tricks
of democracy or other
it is not the best
but it is by far
the less of the infest'.
Lobbying without
money or power
is like taking away
America's ivory tower.
And as for the honesty
an oxymoron at work
in Congress everywhere
I will show a smirk.

Last scheme of all

The hearty heroine
of so many stories through
rape, birth, healing and joy
was waning valiantly.
The Voelva Vigga was not
going to go silently
but would pick a fight
wholeheartedly.

Dear death will come
to everyone and the souls
flutter away accordingly.
Meanwhile - the time was now
and nobody could take that away.
Living and dying - two sides
of the proverbial coin
you have to give to
the well known ferryman
of Acheron would be most
beings' destiny - not all
because some die in uteri.

She was threading thoughtfully
along the beloved pathways
that she had journeyed
forever in her life and
also her grannies of the
outer Isles. Her mother
she mused had not been as
strong as she the sibyl.
The sight had bypassed
and gone straight to
her and her daughter .
Samuel the healer
with whom she went
north one sensuous summer
did not hinder the sight
To be passed down.

Her highborn sister
Sophia the Sage
did not inherit
the scopic seeing
but was solemnly wise.
The last day the Volva
reflected with reason
her memory's menanderings
took her from the time
she realized her gift
from her stone grannies
to the wealth of weeks
and behemoth's bygone
extraordinary experiences
that any soul has who
has embraced life's
golden granite throws.

She walked slowly
to memorize the path
so often taken behind
her humble hovel
in the woodsy - she was not quite
there sans everything
but she was getting closer.

She took a breath of life
and saw herself as a young child
near to proverbial brook
asking her one gracious granny
why she sometimes saw something
which she could not explain.
Her foremother declared
that it was the sure sight -
but she should not have gotten it
until the first moon blood.
and here the vigorous Vigga
was barely seven years -
and she could foresee the
future in her own way.
Vigga the Voelva had taken
the vision with the grain
of disbelief but as she matured
and her monthly flow came
the sight could no longer
be ignored no invalidated.

As she matured the fealty fate
of her views began to change
from a young girl of the woodlands
she became a wholesome healer
to her village - always bearing
in mind that one day
she would stand up and do
something that would become
her pride - her loving legacy.
But now looking back
there was only one -
her dearest daughter -

The valiant Voelva as everyone
else must come to embrace
that the deeds we do
leave very little but
passing on the generations
of genes - our only offering
to the pool of passions
will eventually become
the galactic gala of Gaea.
Whether or not the world's end
would be the fairy fate
of the melting pool of mankind
the Voelva Vigga wholeheartedly
knew that she on her last day
had done what she
by her foremothers' creed
had been fated to do
- nothing more -
nothing less - she had lived.
When you play genteel games
someone's has to win
others will have lose
it is all to her Lady's luck.

Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
(Shakespeare "As you like it")

I am the Change

Change of plans
change of fate
change of
change

"Charge of the life's brigade"

Taking charge
of one's own health
is a decision
of monumental
proportion.
About bloody time
some would say
but you can only
do a feat when
you wake up
to whatever you
needs are.
Ne'er before
nor since
and even though
it may be too late
it is what it is
But I will live
to my abilities' end.
Charging forward
and realizing
that now is truly
now.

Chandler's view

Masks mask your view
on gents and women
to the nth
alas, your sight died
your oevres live
all over the world
in Aussie your tree
blossoms as on
the day it was taken
two happenings
in the US , here there
Mick Jagger professes
his strength
An orange wall
in a small town
lightens a room.
Your pantomime
swirls derwishly.

a haiku on beethoven

A Russian trio
played Beethoven this eve
Panache of fun notes

Another year

Joel the Aussie guy
Of my youth
Your day is surely
Entangled
In my weird brain.
Such sweet a friend
Left too early
But when I see
The daffodils
It is Cambridge
And your letters
Of 33 years
I envision encore.
Happy swimming.

Olefactoid

April Fool's Day
A google nose appears
To dream a Proustian memory
Of Athens forty years ago.
A coincidence unreal
lying on my night stand
"The perfume Lover"
Spins a smelly tale
Of recreating an
Andalusian night.
Noses abound in
Dr. Seuss' universe
Sniff out their special
Ambrosia for kids.
Rank mustiness of
fecal stench in
The back streets
Everywhere.
Mouthwatering
Flavors of mom's
Kitchen rest within
Most of us -
Except the unhappy
Anosmic animals
Who cannot get
A whiff of white lilies
Or their culture's
Wildly wantons' vittles.
The essential fumigator's
Byword in an olefactoid
Aphorizes the humor
On Buffoon's shoal
Of the bard's tale.
But one day science
Will just invent
By atomic transmorgrifation
The bit of nosetalgy.

Sunday morn in Central Park

New York enfolding
Central Park
on a Sunday morn
middle of March
cold wintry sun
dogs and owners
taking a stroll
playing ball
bare trees
with spring buds
watching the scene
runners thump
thump thump
the traffic's roar
remaining quiet
for now - only
the bustling
playground of paws
and shoes
embracing
a vivid memento.