Rainbows

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Israel Kamakawiwo'ole

1959-1997

Thank you, Israel, for the beauty you left behind! He always puts a smile on my face - here's hoping You smile too.

WoRDs

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I am pleased to finally have a website in the www that provide details to the word services I offer! I hope you'll visit me at Marjo Speaks!
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I learn by going where I have to go.

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THEODORE ROETHKE

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art innatendu

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Joy in the morning . . .

200 dancers decide to take Central Station, Antwerp, by storm one morning in March.

how to be an artist

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learn to watch snails.
plant impossible gardens.
invite someone dangerous to tea.
make little signs that say YES! and post them all over your house.
swing as HIGH as you can on a swingset, by moonlight.
take lots of naps.
believe in magic.
play with everything.
listen to old people.
give money away. do it now. the money will follow. it will.
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These are 10 of many, from Sark's 'artist' rules I posted on my wall a decade ago, there to remind me (when I need reminding) of what really matters...
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Apple

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A bowl of green granny apples sat on her table, each a shifting shade the colour of things unripened. I found myself with the most unusual desire to grab one and bite into it, feeling my teeth coming down hard on the fruit, gnashing down at the sour sweetness. It didn't seem fair that she should have a bowl of beautiful fruit in her place of business, where they seemed just out of reach to a stranger. My body sunk into the soft Italian, chocolate leather armchairs. I watched the rays of afternoon sun settle upon bowl, shadowed, untouched. It took a moment before I realized she had entered the room.
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ANNIE

photo: Stuart James

New Moon Haiku

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under new moon
.........gold and copper
she dances;

....................bunny arrives

....................she dashes!

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Language is the autobiography of the human mind.

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Max Müller

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Up for the Aqua Books Lansdowne Prize for Poetry, tonight at 7, is Nereo II, now a regular on La Charpente. This poem was recorded during the filming of the Artist's Series, the telling of how words can save a poet ...

enJoy!

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joan mirò

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Thanksgiving

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According to an I.R.C. study, 5.4 million people have lost their lives in the Congo since 1998. Another 2 million Congolese remain internally displaced, and conflict continues. Unfortunately, it doesn't stop there. Rwandan rebel forces, Congolese army soldiers and their allies continue to commit mass rapes on Congolese women, who are then often victimized a second time when their husbands abandon them, wanting no further contact with victims of rape.

Women for women is one organization who is providing help and life skills to these too often neglected victims of war. To see their changed lives, new hope and smiling faces immediately put a smile on my face. And I felt compelled to share their challenges with you this Thanksgiving.

To have a reason to give thanks is a wonderful thing, but I also know that providing someone else with a reason to be grateful truly fills the heart! Of course, we all have to find our own way to contribute to the global village. Sometimes, we don't even have to leave our neighbourhood. What may seem insignificant to us can make a big difference to someone else's life..

Oh! And...thanks for listening :-)

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It is a face seen once and lost forever in a crowd,
an eye that looked, a face that smiled and vanished
on a passing train, it is a prescience of snow upon a certain night,
the laughter of a woman in a summer street long years ago,
it is the memory of a single moon seen at the pines'
dark edge in old October- and all of our lives are
written in the twisting of leaf upon a bough,
a door that opened, and a stone.

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.Thomas Wolfe,
Of Time and the River

little boy blue

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bright suns
and broken moons
you point to in the sky,
and to the clouds we sleep in
you and i

out and in
we breathe together now,
in and out and on & on
dreaming till the dawn
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snow falling on elms

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The snow comes early this year. Leaves have barely begun to fall and some people worry that the branches will bend and break beneath the weight of the white. They might be right, but worry is not useful. There is so very little we control in this vast universe of ours.
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Just another day..

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Yes.
I remember now.
Cold damp days when even the sun doesn’t want to come out.
And now . . . I remember last October 1st. I can’t say for certain that it also was cold or grey, only that it felt that way. It was the death of a season, the death of Poon, the death of forever ties. And in one week, I would begin my season of Grief. How fitting that one year later, to the very day, I should be invited to read my works along with a poet who has lived a not-so-very-different mutability. This is how I hope to shed my year of Grief, next week at Aqua Books.
And then what? Two years after ‘coming to the page’ publicly on La Charpente, will I continue to share my creative ebbs and flows with you? Will Violet keep leaving her moon? What will I be writing about on the 9th?. . .
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