Words are not just words
they are kisses
on the lips of silence
that speak of your essence

Sunday, December 27, 2009

Emy Reynolds-Surprise Surprise

~I hope 2010 holds some beautiful surprises for you~
~Happy New Year~

Thursday, December 24, 2009

Little Tree by E.E.Cummings

little tree

little silent Christmas tree
you are so little
you are more like a flower
who found you in the green forest
and were you very sorry to come away?
see i will comfort you
because you smell so sweetly
i will kiss your cool bark
and hug you safe and tight
just as your mother would,
only don't be afraid
look the spangles
that sleep all the year in a dark box
dreaming of being taken out and allowed to shine,
the balls the chains red and gold the fluffy threads,
put up your little arms
and i'll give them all to you to hold
every finger shall have its ring
and there won't a single place dark or unhappy
then when you're quite dressed
you'll stand in the window for everyone to see
and how they'll stare!
oh but you'll be very proud
and my little sister and i will take hands
and looking up at our beautiful tree
we'll dance and sing

"Noel Noel"

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

All you need is Love from Bandaged Together

Dear friends,
I hope your Holidays are filled with love and happiness, it's always a pleasure to stay in touch and share beautiful moments with you.
Lots of Love,

Sunday, December 20, 2009

Eric Clapton-Wonderful Tonight

You look wonderful tonight:)

Friday, December 18, 2009

A Dream Within a Dream, Edgar Allan Poe

A Dream Within a Dream, Edgar Allan Poe

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep - while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

The World is Dancing

Andre Rieu - Shostakovich' Second Waltz

Sunday, December 13, 2009


Imali smo trinaest godina i te veceri smo se tresli vise od zadovoljstva sto najzad pripadamo 'velikima' nego od decembarske hladnoce. Dok smo cekali da kupimo karte za rok koncert i sudarali se sa necijim ledjima, rukama, grudima, preleteli smo iz vec pomalo dosadnog detinjstva u nesto novo, ludo i uzbudljivo.

We were thirteen. That night we were trembling more from the excitment that we finally belong to "the big guys" then from the December's cold. While we were in the crowded line to buy tickets for the rock concert we were bumping into strangers' backs, arms, chests... We felt like we have crossed the line from our already a bit boring childhood into something new, crazy and axciting.

Vesna 13/12/2006
Published by Izdavacka kuca Alma

Saturday, December 12, 2009


Spring on the December 13th

Quote from the wikipedia:

"Azra was a rock band from Zagreb (Croatia) that was popular across Yugoslavia in the 1980s. Azra was formed in 1977 by its frontman Branimir "Johnny" Štulić. Other two members were Mišo Hrnjak (bass) and Boris Leiner (drums). They named the Band after a verse "Ja se zovem El Muhamed/Iz plemena starih Azra/Što za ljubav život gube/I umiru kada ljube!" (trans. "My name is El Muhamed/From the tribe of the old Azras/who die for love/And die when they kiss!") from a sevdalinka "Kraj tanahna šadrvana" ("Azra" here being a reference to a shortened versione of "Azera" or "Azeris", rather than a popular Bosnian name "Azra", as commonly thought). They are considered to be one of the most influential bands from the former Yugoslav New Wave rock era and the Yugoslav Rock scene in general.

They released their first single in 1979 with songs "Balkan" and "A šta da radim". The first album named Azra was published in 1980 and achieved commercial success and popularized Azra in former Yugoslavia. Azra recorded its last studio album Između krajnosti (Between the extremes) in 1987. In 1988 the band recorded 4LP live album under the name Zadovoljština (Satisfaction), after which Štulić disbanded the band. He is often at lengths with his past as he lives a secluded life and is often the target of reporters seeking an interview, which he is reluctant to give. Štulić recorded three more solo albums since moving to Houten, Netherlands, where he currently lives. A 2003 rock documentary, Sretno dijete (Lucky Child, the title of a Prljavo kazalište song) depicts Azra as the locus of the rock scene in the former Yugoslavia during the 1980s, along with the influential Bijelo dugme. Even until today, Azra has remained very popular among youth in the countries of former Yugoslavia, unlike many other new wave bands which are now considered, more or less, historical examples."

Thursday, December 10, 2009

Something got me started by Simply Red

This was the last video I had featured on Imeem. Something got me started, I found the music, the poetry group, wonderful blogs, awesome people... then it was hard to stop. If you have used the website you may know it was really great one for sharing music and before it started to fall apart (sometime in June 2009) videos and photographs too.
What made it really great is truly phenomenal, creative, generous, cool people from all over the world with unlimited positive energy flowing.
With a touch of magic through music and other artistic expressions, strangers were easily becoming friends.
I just wanted by writing this to accentuate the positive: website may be gone, but positive energy stays forever.

Keep smiling, the best is yet to come (one can only hope:))


Tuesday, December 8, 2009

"There was one apple..."

"There was one apple that was the nicest one out of all the hundreds of other apples..."
I knew I could read this story tonight to Manuel. He had a good dinner and he will not get hungry when I read about the food.
I was trying to calm down my mind. It was busy analyzing each word that I was reading. Thinking about the numbers: One, Hundred...Hundred is nice, it has two zeros, if you put the zero on top of the zero you get the 8. I like number 8. A Hundred, like the hundred euros that I will need to buy Manuel a new bicycle next spring, he is growing up so fast.
I tried to concentrate on the story but it wasn't really working: I was already at the end without any recollection what I have read. I looked at Manuel, wondering if he has noticed that I wasn't quite with him. I felt a relief: he seemed quite content and amused. He told me: “I have an idea, wait here daddy." He jumped out of the bed, and in next moment all I could hear is the sound of his little, fast feet running to the kitchen: First running away, then some silence and then running back to me.
Manuel came back with an apple. His face was glowing. He looked as he has made some very important discovery. "I found the nicest apple daddy." he said giggling. "This one is a house for the worm; it must be really nice if someone lives in it".
We both fell on the floor laughing.


Please read more stories with the same title here http://miguel-a-c.blogspot.com/

Sunday, November 29, 2009

Unending Love ~Rabindranath Tagore

Unending Love
I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times...
In life after life, in age after age, forever.
My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs,
That you take as a gift, wear round your neck in your many forms,
In life after life, in age after age, forever.

Whenever I hear old chronicles of love, it's age old pain,
It's ancient tale of being apart or together.
As I stare on and on into the past, in the end you emerge,
Clad in the light of a pole-star, piercing the darkness of time.
You become an image of what is remembered forever.

You and I have floated here on the stream that brings from the fount.
At the heart of time, love of one for another.
We have played along side millions of lovers,
Shared in the same shy sweetness of meeting,
the distressful tears of farewell,
Old love but in shapes that renew and renew forever.

Today it is heaped at your feet, it has found its end in you
The love of all man's days both past and forever:
Universal joy, universal sorrow, universal life.
The memories of all loves merging with this one love of ours -
And the songs of every poet past and forever.

~Rabindranath Tagore

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

In the deep-Bird York

It takes my breath away...

Sunday, November 22, 2009

Fiona Apple and Elvis Costello

Isn't it just great when somebody puts the heart in the performance like this? I wanted to take us all to this concers for few minutes. Let's go:)

Thursday, November 12, 2009


It makes her happy
to put on big shoes,
or even bigger boots.

It makes her happy
to walk in them,
and hey, if it works
why not even run?

She is so much fun:)

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Happy Birthday Art Garfunkel

A silky veil

in a slow dance.

A perfect partner
in a lonely evening.

A scent of serenity
in a crowded place.

A humming joy
while driving the car.

Your voice is a warmth,
a comfort.

You are simply
unforgettable ...

BRIGHT EYES - 14/04/1979
6 weeks at #1 - 19 weeks on chart

Is it a kind of a dream
Floating out on the tide
Following the river of death downstream
Oh is it a dream

There's a fog along the horizon
A strange glow in the sky
And nobody seems to know where it goes
And what does it mean
Ohoh is it a dream

Bright eyes, burning like fire
Bright eyes, how can you close and fail
How can the light that burned so brightly
Suddenly burn so pale
Bright eyes

Is it a kind of a shadow
Reaching into the night
Wandering over the hills unseen
Or is it a dream

There's a high wind in the trees
A cold sound in the air
And nobody ever knows when you go
And where do you start
Oh into the dark

Bright eyes, burning like fire
Bright eyes, how can you close and fail
How can the light that burned so brightly
Suddenly burn so pale
Bright eyes

Bright eyes, burning like fire
Bright eyes, how can you close and fail
How can the light that burned so brightly
Suddenly burn so pale
Bright eyes

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Walking Across The Atlantic by Billy Collins

"Big Blue Avenue"photo by Vesna

Walking Across The Atlantic

I wait for the holiday crowd to clear the beach
before stepping onto the first wave.
Soon I am walking across the Atlantic
thinking about Spain,checking for whales, waterspouts.
I feel the water holding up my shifting weight.
Tonight I will sleep on its rocking surface.
But for now I try to imagine what
this must look like to the fish below,
the bottoms of my feet appearing, disappearing

Billy Collins

Monday, October 5, 2009

On Climbing Orchid Mountain In The Autumn To Zhang by Meng Haoran

Blossom in Four Seasons, 2006
copyright Wang Yuhui

On Climbing Orchid Mountain In The Autumn To Zhang
Meng Haoran
On a northern peak among white clouds
You have found your hermitage of peace;
And now, as I climb this mountain to see you,
High with the wildgeese flies my heart.
The quiet dusk might seem a little sad
If this autumn weather were not so brisk and clear;
I look down at the river bank, with homeward-bound villagers
Resting on the sand till the ferry returns;
There are trees at the horizon like a row of grasses
And against the river's rim an island like the moon
I hope that you will come and meet me, bringing a basket of wine
-- And we'll celebrate together the Mountain Holiday.

Sunday, September 27, 2009

A walk by Rainer Maria Rilke

My eyes already touch the sunny hill.
going far ahead of the road I have begun.
So we are grasped by what we cannot grasp;
it has inner light, even from a distance-

and charges us, even if we do not reach it,
into something else, which, hardly sensing it,
we already are; a gesture waves us on
answering our own wave...

but what we feel is the wind in our faces.

Translated by Robert Bly

Rainer Maria Rilke

(1875 - 1926 / Prague / Czech Republic)

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Autumn Inspiration

Thinking of You by Joseph Mayo Wristen

a leaf falling in the air

from the time it leaves
the branch of the tree
to the time it touches
the ground
I will
have thought of you
my love,
a thousand times

my hand resting
against jagged rock
our life nettled

above velvet clouds
shadow of softness
your mind touching
earth's diverse reflection

words of love
your image
inherited in my soul
unity of our

two hearts beating
hoping you can feel
the unalloyed love
I possess for you

from the time it leaves
the branch of the tree
to the time it touches
the ground I will
have thought of you
my love,
a thousand times

a leaf falling in the air

Friday, September 18, 2009


She was looking forward to this day for a long time and she felt completely ready. She found an attic that she will rent and move out to. She went to hairdresser and had her fist perm done. All the plush toys (except a little monkey and a pink elephant) she gave to her nine year old neighbour Sashka. Mom and dad were content that she was admitted to the University to study medicine and they were approving all the other changes in her life easily. The mirror was also approving her new image, with light, everyday makeup.There was only one thing remaining, something that will mark the point of no return to her childhood.She was a bit surprised how confident she felt. Even if there would be a fear poking its head, she would step on it mercilessly.The culmination was waiting for her and she didn't have time for doubts. For her 18th birthday she gave herself the gift: a boyfriend who loves Jazz.
JazzMan Pictures, Images and Photos

published in www.priče.co.yu
Zbornik kratkih priča
Dugo je iscekivala taj dan i bila je potpuno spremna. Pronasla je potkrovlje u koje ce se preseliti. Stavila je svoj prvi mini-val. Sve plisane igracke ( sem malog majmuna i roze slonica) poklonila je devetogodisnjoj komsinici Saski. Mama i tata su bili zadovoljni sto je upisala medicinski fakultet i sa odobravanjem su pratili i sve ostale promene. I ogledalo je odobravalo neupadljivo ali svakodnevno sminkanje. Ostala je jos samo jedna stvar, nesto sto ce zaista oznaciti nepovratnost u detinjstvo. Bila je zacudjena kako se ni tu nije mnogo kolebala. Ako bi negde i izronio strah, nemilosrdno ga je gazila. Vrhunac je cekao na nju i nije imala vremena za sumnju. Za svoj osamnaesti rodjendan poklonila je sebi mladica koji je voleo jazz.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009


Dear friends,

I wanted to invite you to visit new blogs that I am proud to be part of:
Migue (http://miguel-a-c.blogspot.com)

I think working with other people always brings new spin to the creativity and as the upper image shows collaboration is a win-win combination in life:)

You are also invited to join Continuum Art, as a contributor. There we'll pass the ideas one to another, creating continuus thread through writing, paintings, photography, music...
Thank you for your wonderful support and visiting. I have added the contact button beside the profile picture so feel free to get in touch.

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

Our inner universe by Colleen Anne Carroll

Our inner universe

You can stare forever at the diamond black sky,
You can think you know everything there is to know,
And then there is more,
The greatest universe to conquer,
Is not in the blue glowing heavens,
That spills over into golden lights,
That shine beyond time,
Then they drift farther away,
And the universe expands,
The greatest universe to conquer,
Is in our own minds,
Thought are tools that kill and heal,
If we reach deep within ourselves,
We will see that the meaning of life,
Is trying to find meaning in life,
Dreams are ships that take us where we need to go,
As they sail the waters of Our Inner Universe.

Colleen Anne Carroll

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Why is the airplane erasing the sky?

"Why is the airplane erasing the sky?" she said. I had no idea what is she talking about. It took me a little while to get in synch with her thoughts. My thoughts were busy knocking on the doors of possible tomorrows, looping through never-ending list of things that are waiting to be done during the day. Her question made me aware. Aware of her little hand, of her great wisdom, of beautiful possibilities that are here and now... if we look carefully. "What do you mean, airplane is erasing the sky?" I asked her. I felt like talking to the Little Prince, feeling a bit ashamed being in the role of an adult who doesn't get it! "Look." She answered simply. Yes, that's all it takes. Just look. It clicked in my mind.
A blue, bright blue sky has been clearly erased by the airplane, leaving behind the white trace, as if all we can see now is the paper on which the drawing has been made. I felt suddenly so much joy.
As if: her question erased that boring never-ending task list;
As if: all the doors of tomorrows are now wide open for us, if we decide to go through them;
As if: nothing else really matters but to look at this drawing around us from different perspectives and hold hands.
Once again I have realized that I need so much to learn from my child. I just simply forgot to look.
Many years later I met somebody who is an adult but never forgot to look. She became my friend instantly, my inspiration and support. I never met anybody who can look and see so much, who gives so generously and makes everything more interesting.This is her painting of the airplane erasing the sky and her imaginative vision.
This is a true story.

My thoughts while making the drawing:
So, when i was thinking about the image Vesna had given me of erasing the sky, I thought I would make it so that he was clearing space for a new "world." When I was thinking about two worlds, or being able to see into more than one world, I thought about Ghede, a voodoo loa. He is usually shown with a top hat, and sunglasses with one eyeglass cut out--this shows that he can see into two worlds, the "outside," and "the world beyond" (or inside...). He acts as psychopomp, moving the dead to their realm (and he's called on to communicate with them), but also he's a great healer, a trickster, and, especially a protector of children and pregnant women. So he is there at the very beginning of this life, and also at the end, when you travel to a different life. Maybe he's there when your soul enters a new form, I'm not sure--but that would fit with the theme here :)Because St. Gerard Majella is a saint famous for protecting children and pregnant women, and because he is usually shown in icons with a skull (although i don't know why), he was syncretized with Ghede. Also, he is known for the gift of prophesy and the gift of bilocation, making him a great match for Ghede. So, my main themes were: being able to see into more than one world at once (knowing many things as a result) and protecting/ nurturing children. I made it sort of circular by having the birds (sky creatures) come out from the "edge" of the central world, out of a blank space, as if the different worlds maybe circled into one another (also, note that the stairs keep going down behind them, they circle both up and down). I was thinking that the two girls were the same girl, at different points in their lives, but it doesn't have to be that way. The plane is also a kite, completely under the control of the long, stretched-out arm of God (who can touch the ground and the sky at the same time), who is seen here visiting us and entertaining the child in the form of Ghede or St. Gerard.

Monday, August 31, 2009

You begin by Margert Atwood

You begin this way:

this is your hand,

this is your eye,

this is a fish, blue and flat

on the paper, almost

the shape of an eye

This is your mouth,

this is an O

or a moon, whichever

you like.

This is yellow.

Outside the window

is the rain, green

because it is summer, and beyond that

the trees and then the world,

which is round and has only

the colors of these nine crayons.

This is the world, which is fuller

and more difficult to learn than I have said.

You are right to smudge it that way

with the red and then

the orange: the world burns.

Once you have learned these words

you will learn that there are more

words than you can ever learn.

The word hand floats above your hand

like a small cloud over a lake.The word hand anchors

your hand to this table

your hand is a warm stone

I hold between two words.

This is your hand, these are my hands,

this is the world,which is round

but not flat and has more colors

than we can see.

It begins, it has an end,

this is what you will

come back to,

this is your hand.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009


Enlightenment is like the moon reflected on the water.

The moon does not get wet, nor is the water broken.

Although its light is wide and great,

The moon is reflected even in a puddle an inch wide.

The whole moon and the entire sky

Are reflected in one dewdrop on the grass.


Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Albert Einstein

"A person who never made a mistake never tried anything new. "

"Any man who can drive safely while kissing a pretty girl is simply not giving the kiss the attention it deserves. "

"I have no special talent. I am only passionately curious. "

"I am enough of an artist to draw freely upon my imagination."

"If we knew what it was we were doing, it would not be called research, would it?"

"It is strange to be known so universally and yet to be so lonely. "
"All these fifty years of conscious brooding have brought me no nearer to the answer to the question, 'What are light quanta?' Nowadays every Tom, Dick and Harry thinks he knows it, but he is mistaken." (Albert Einstein, 1954)

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Miroslav Antić - An Immortal Poem

If you hear: I died and I was dear to your heart Maybe something inside you will also suddenly turn gray…Have you ever at all thought about the true meaning of life?Like snow on your palm, childhood melting away in you.Worries…. Are there any worries? Sorrows… Are there any sorrows? On the ladder of imagination boldly climb up to your youth.That beautiful but enticing rainbow is waiting for you over there.And live your life. Live it to the very last drop. Don’t nibble days like a mouse. Chew the air with all your teeth. Run faster than the winds and the birds. Overtake them all. Because, in the end, nothing lasts for long.
Smiling faces, in some mirrors, all of a sudden become wrinkled. Unexpected: at some corner, a tear ambushes you. Troubles come tiptoeing. Years turn grayer. All of a sudden, the world, while you’re walking becomes more and more narrow And your laughter quieter and quieter and somehow distortedTherefore, live, but completely!…
Really, have you sometimes thought about what does it mean to die?And where in fact does a man disappear?What is it that takes him away forever? Don’t go to cemeteries. You won’t understand a thing.Cemeteries are the darkest fair and an ugly theatre.You are not meant for such theatres, with no hope and fire,the theatres of dried up tears, where graveyard rules reign,where there are no quarrels and songs, and no applause.And the end is known in advance. When playing riots and your formlessness,don’t you ever wish to secretly reach new dimensions of sensein neighboring futures?I’ll explain it to you one day. If you find me there.You know what I’ll do: I’ll brake your toy,the one called pain,if you get up the courage.I’m not lying to you - I invent things that have to exist,but you haven’t discovered them yet, because you haven’t even looked for them. Remember: reality is more real if you add unreal to it.You will know me by silence. The eternals don’t talk.
To outwit the wisdom, learn how to listen.Great answers show themselves to you After countless births and some petty deaths,when you realize one day that all that breathing doesn’t make a life,Really, come to me,to touch you with light and turn you into thought.Even the farthest future has its future that carries inside the voice of its futureAnd there are no empty worlds.The thing that we are not aware of is not nonexistencebut existence without us.
If you hear: I died here’s what it will really mean:Thousands of colorful fish will be fluttering through my eye.And the ground will hide me. And the weed will hide me.And, in the meanwhile,I’ll be flying high… High Remember: there are no limits, but only temporary limits. I’ll be sailing above you at downs. Downwind, slippery like silk.I’ll be showing you horizons, outlines of rising eraand future sights with beauty of invisible wings.…I’ll be resting from unimportant, like galactic flocks,that have grown together by pulsation ongoing in their souls. I’ll be resting from unimportant, like deep forests,that have grown together by branches into dense embraces.I’ll be resting from unimportant like big birds,that have grown together by wings and weaved a net in the entire sky.I’ll be resting from unimportant like great loves, that had grown together by lips, even before they met.Do you really think that my hand, knee, or head, could, tomorrow, turn into clay,willow’s rootand grass? Do you really think that a small secret, or a silly fear,could, tomorrow, turn into silence,darkness,and dust? You know I come from somewhere from the stars.I’m all made out of light. Nothing in me will extinguish or shorten I will only, as simple as that, at one random dawn,return to my distant Sun, with gold in my eyes. Because, I was meant for theatres with plenty of heart and zeal, theatres of laughter and tears, where there is no order, where there is quarreling, and singing, and screaming, and applauses. And the end is not known in advance. Being punished for my every thought, let alone my every deed, I’m suspected of tenderness And found guilty for not extinguishing love with hatred but with new, bigger love and I don’t extinguish life with death,but with something differently alive.The last borders of infinity are just the beginning of more endless. He who lasts longer than more lasting knows not for short term knowledge. Never torture yourself with the question: how to survive, But: how not to die after the final death.
If you hear: I died Don’t worry. In every century somebody mistakes me for the tired and old.There’s nowhere as many people as in one man.There is nowhere as many differences as in the same things.If you scratch through the spaces, you’ll dig me out of the wind. I’m in the water, in the stones, in every dusk and dawn. Being humanly versatile doesn’t mean being dehumanized I am dividable by all sorts of things, but not destructible as well. And all those miraculous states and renewal of myself are nothing but a maelstrom dull,persistent,long. Do you know what are prophecies? Molds of past occurrences and their breathlessness that chases itself around.So why say goodbye? What are we sorry for? I have lived a magnificent life because I really knew how to do it If you hear: I died,- don’t believe it. Because it’s something I don’t know how to do. Love is the only air I’ve ever breathed and laughter the only language in the world that I understand I have just dropped by on this earth, to give you a wink. To leave something behind like a fluttering trace.Therefore, don’t be sad.The only thing I care for ist o remain silly in your eyes and strangely dear to your heart.At night, when you look up to the sky, you give me a wink too let it be a secret. In spite of gray days,when you see a comet turning the horizon red,remember: its me still silly flying and living.~ ~ ~

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Happy Birthday Louis

We have all the time in the world

Time ENOUGH for life


All the prescious things

Love has in store
We have all the love in the world

If that's all we have

You will find

We need nothing more
Every step of the way

Will find us

With the cares of the world

Far behind us
We have all the time in the world

Just for love

Nothing more

Nothing less

Only love
Every step of the way

Will find us

With the cares of the world

Far behind us

We have all the time in the world

Just for love

Nothing more

Nothing less

Only love
Only love

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Busy Family

For Zoe and Art Odyssey who are for me unlimited source of the Ideas and Inspiration

Busy Family

"Arvo! Jani! Onni! Ritva! Get ready and come down for lunch, mom will be here any second." Father shouted from the dining room. Mom had attended the World Peace Council meeting and came very inspired and hopeful. Dad felt very content and proud after his morning violin practice when Sybelius himself had clapped to him from the Heaven's above. And us, kids, we had spent an ordinary day. We went to school, behaved well, we did our homework, we stayed quiet, unnoticed. We could have probably done much more then that, but it was not appropriate. Maybe later, when we grow up.

"It is never late to have a happy childhood" I read somewhere...

Monday, July 20, 2009

Lost In Metaphors

You move forward.

There is a shadow.

As it gets longer makes you aware of the time.

There is a footstep.

Sand is letting you transform its perfect stillness only so much.

You live your Life:

One step at the time.

Saturday, July 18, 2009

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond


somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

Friday, July 17, 2009

Variation on the Word Sleep

I would like
to be the air
that inhabits you
for a moment only.
I would like to be
that unnoticed
& that necessary.
Margaret Atwood (b. 1939)

Thursday, July 16, 2009

A love story

Her hair is grey, Her face is wrinkled. Her slim, even thin body has become somehow cumbersome and has the shape of the pear.
I am watching how she tastes the boiling soup and how she is about to burn her tongue, like every other time she does it.
I would never replace her. I am getting up, looking for my walking stick, rushing to cover her mouth with a juicy kiss

Monday, July 13, 2009


A man and a woman. I don't know the name of the city or the street. Or if they are going to a party or to work. As they were walking down the street they didn't look at each other's faces. They would stop in front of the big windows of the stores and look for the reflections. They were too shy to speak, too shy to turn their heads but curiosity was strong enough to keep them walking one beside the other. They were chasing the reflections in the sunglasses of the people walking by, in the mirrors of the cars. They were enjoying the game. It was fun, flirtatious, promising, cheerful, mysterious, seductive.

After some time another person joined them. It was hard to tell the gender or the age. The coat and the hat could've been for men or women, same as the shoes or the jeans. Walking beside them, stopping when they stopped, the stranger became part of the game. Nobody spoke a word, nobody turned to meet face to face, they kept looking for the reflections.
Doubt and jealousy entered the flock of feelings that was flying above them. Flirting, cheerfulness and seduction got tired. Mystery took the lead, fun was hesitant.
What did each one of them try to catch in the reflection? Why did the feelings change?
I guess it will remain a mystery.

Saturday, July 11, 2009


You are stuck in the studio working. Thinking should you make a fresh pot of coffee although you know it will keep you awake longer than you wish. The studio is warm and you take off your jacket hoping that a new model won't mind meeting you in the old T shirt. You are not too concerned what she will think anyway. You are Picasso for God's sake. You just want to finish this session and go home and enjoy the night.
She comes in, her hair is soaking wet, same as the black raincoat. You can sense she is nervous. Her first time. That is always special. You always feel responsible for making the model comfortable. Suddenly it is not hard for you to find the energy to talk, to create something beautiful. You take her raincoat, give her a warm hug and kiss her hand.
Only three strokes to finish the masterpiece and the rest of the night to enjoy the model.

Thursday, July 9, 2009

Old Robots

One day I'd like to tell you a story,it is very close to my CPU, my son.
Maybe today is the day. It is raining....
The story is about one unusual female robot GHBF0234. She was made with some imperfections, one of them was the material of her body was prone to rusting. So she should have avoided humidity to remain functional. Contrary to logical behavior she was always going out when it was raining. The little girl that owned her, would oil her carefully and polish rusty spots if they would appear. Girl didn't mention this odd behavior of her play robot to her parents. One reason was that she was afraid they would take GHBF0234 away from her for a long time, to repair her, or even worse to replace her with a new, probably a perfect one. And little girl didn't want that. She enjoyed this little game. She enjoyed taking care of her friend robot who against any logic went out in the rain and became squeaky and rusty.
How do I know this story? Well, I was programmed to mow the lawn in the neighborhood. I am made of the perfect, stainless steel material, so I could go out in the rain. Of course it wasn't logical either to mow the lawn in the rain and I didn't do it the first 27 times it rained and I spotted GHBF0234 outside. I am not sure how I reprogrammed myself to start working in the rain, but it happened. It was influencing my performance in a good way so my owners never had a problem with it. I was so perfect and so not interesting to them, they hardly noticed my existence. Well, then I made you, from some old materials, similar to GHBF0234 and they started to notice me and to love you. In my logical mind they could love you because you needed attention, same as them. But how would I know? I am merely an observer.
I have heard humans talking about their experiences, the memories, it has very little to do with logic my son.
But it is all I can leave you now, the experience of us sharing some moments together and the hope it will stay in your memory forever.

Sunday, July 5, 2009


Her hair today again had a new shine. It was more red and made a different kind of frame around her face.“I’ll never finish this portrait”, he thought. He really needed the provision from this painting but he didn’t feel angry that the work was prolonging. Little Elizabeth, his daughter, brought light and warmth to the studio with her presence. One day her hair would have the color of gold, the other day the color of a young chestnut, or, like today, shine of bronze.He looked through the window and saw his wife planting purple flowers. It seemed to him like the grass around her was all blue. His heart sent colorful fireworks through his eyes.“Maybe it is time to paint what I feel, not what I see.” He thought.Then the inspiration came by itself, he didn’t have to call it.

Thank you Zoe for the Inspiration, your gentle guidance makes everything possible.
(Painting by Duy Huyhn)

Monday, June 29, 2009

I am

I am

a droplet

I am

a moment

I am

not here

I am


And what else really matters

except that clouds float through the sky?

Up, above in the blue

my dreams are.