Monday, March 31, 2008
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Pic by Swinster94@Photobucket
4 Word Prompt: avail chaotic eschew frantic
Living at The Boardwalk the beach truely is your backyard. Here you can walk directly from your back door to the one kilometre long surf beach along the hardwood boardwalk that winds through the coastal dunes. This is coastal living at its purest. ~ The Boardwalk ~ Sunshine Coast Queeensland(Warning: SURREAL ADVERTISEMENT ONLY! Elements of truth are here somewhere!)
ALTERNATIVE LIVING ~ ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE BOARDWALK
So you thought a boardwalk was just some lonely string of wooden planks stretching out into some chilly stretch of water?
So you thought a boardwalk was just for life escapees and the odd crazy fisherman?
Queensland's Sunshine Coast has a boardwalk made just for you!
*Live a dream by sunny tropical seas with stunning views of Mount Coolum nearby!
*Let chaotic living be just an unfortunate memory!
*Avail yourself of one of the home and land packages ~ strictly for dreamers with a sizeable bank account.
*The Pavillion is set low to sea level to capture every lovely sea breeze throughout the entire house. You may be lucky to wake to water by your bedside in the high tide season! But only if you're very lucky!
*The latest land release, The Waves, offers a mere 5 minute walk through coastal dunes to Marcoola Beach. There are no frantic roads. In fact, there are no roads at all near the sea! So sturdy shoes are strongly advised. Or you may prefer to go upmarket with a bike and extend your adventure on the biking trails to Coolum.
(Aside: *This is Green Living at its best, in spite of the fact you must eschew the hefty price tag to enjoy Green Freedom.)
**And a special feature of The Boardwalk are our exclusive outdoor showers, augmented by the rain when it feels so inclined.
P.S. Marketing is a wondrous but frantic thing. It can sell you a dream; make you pay the price for something that should really cost nothing except time and energy. It stirs a sense of urgency and "must have" with cost as a silent, devious partner.
So for now, I will accept the dream and nonchalently brush the price tag aside.
I will avail myself of my local Dromana Pier and walk the old wooden planks into the sea of Never Never Land. It is the best way I know to let sea breezes untangle chaotic thoughts. I eschew it will cost me nothing (except petrol) to drive down the mountainside to the beach. It's just a 5 minute drive with picturesque, well-kept softly-winding roads all the way!
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Cash flow risk
Financial risk management
Cash flow river
Send in the clowns
Friday, March 28, 2008
But cranberry beer is utopia
A spring is a naked healing place
Where souls find neutral hot waters
Where bathing in glowing earth embers
Becomes a crystal light journey
In dawn colours
Bathing in the spring waters
In afternoon seas
Dreaming in the marmalade
In lonely spaces
Drunk on dark wines
Medicinal vapours of the earth
Are the breath of eternal spring
Relief from the pain of winter’s chill
And the hurt of a stony kiss
FOOTNOTES: In Arkansas the National Park Service estimates the hot springs in the "Valley of the Vapors" have been used for at least 10,000 years and respected as an honored and sacred place by the Indians. It was believed the springs were the home of the Great Spirit who in using His breath brought forth the healing warmth of Mother Earth. These springs were neutral ground for the Indians where warriors from all tribes could rest and bathe in peace, a refuge from battle. ~ Peninsula Hot Springs (pic from website)
In 1979, natural hot mineral springs were found deep underground on Melbourne’s Mornington Peninsula. On a 17 hectare property in Springs Lane near Rye, the 50ºC waters rich in healing minerals flow to the surface and into the thermal pools.
Peninsula Hot Springs opened in June, 2005.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Now is a good time to perhaps remember that it was only October 9, 2007, on the small Iceland island of Videy, that Yoko Ono unveiled John Lennon's dream ~ on his birthday.
Ono explained that the tower came to Reykjavík partly because she did not want it powered by fossil fuels and also because, “Iceland is in the north, and in mythology the north is where the power and wisdom comes from and we can spread the power downwards.” ....The light will shine every year from Lennon’s birthday (October 9) until the anniversary of his assassination (December 8), as well as on New Year’s Eve, the first week of spring and other carefully selected dates. ~ Iceland Review
Videy occupies a historical place in Icelandic history, being the location of the nation's first stone building and the site of its first church and a monastery.
"I have chosen Iceland for the Imagine Peace Tower because it is a unique eco-friendly country," Yoko Ono, 73, commented at a special conference.
"Eighty per cent of Iceland's energy is provided by water, not oil. Because of this, the air, earth and water are surprisingly pure and clean.
"Geo-thermal energy has made Iceland independent, and I think that Iceland is now more independent than any other country. ~ The Age
Perhaps, until the Olympics are complete, the Imagine Peace light could be turned on. After all, this is a special occasion for both One World, One Dream AND One World, Many Dreams.
P.S. INTERESTING FACTS: Iceland has one of the highest literacy rates in the world and one of the lowest crime rates in the world. For more interesting Iceland facts (check out bananas and Coca Cola) see Iceland Tourist Board.
(Pic from Easy Street Prompts. For more inspiring pics for writing, see the Easy Street Widget on the sidebar!)
Miss Havisham - Miss Havisham is the wealthy, eccentric old woman who lives in a manor called Satis House near Pip's village. (Pip is narrating his story many years after the events of the novel take place, there are really two Pips in Great Expectations: Pip the narrator and Pip the character—the voice telling the story and the person acting it out.) She is manic and often seems insane, flitting around her house in a faded wedding dress, keeping a decaying feast on her table, and surrounding herself with clocks stopped at twenty minutes to nine. As a young woman, Miss Havisham was jilted by her fiancé minutes before her wedding, and now she has a vendetta against all men. She deliberately raises Estella to be the tool of her revenge, training her beautiful ward to break men’s hearts. (Estella - Miss Havisham’s beautiful young ward, Estella is Pip’s unattainable dream throughout the novel. He loves her passionately, but, though she sometimes seems to consider him a friend, she is usually cold, cruel, and uninterested in him. As they grow up together, she repeatedly warns him that she has no heart.) ~ Spark Notes on "Great Expectations" by Charles Dickens
20 minutes to 9
In Satis House
Heartbreak has nowhere to go
Once it is carved
Sharply in ice
Graced the wedding foot
Yin and Yang
Turned karma into a weapon
Innocent youth ~
A child soldier
Who never knew
Of a child
20 minutes to 9
Is an eternal flame
The phoenix into
(Pic from Easy Street Prompts. For more inspiring pics for writing, see the Easy Street Widget on the sidebar!)
We’re just friends is
I can face the old track
To yesterday ~
Even in an old borrowed
Green velvet arm chair ~
But you just bring your formal
Adopt the role
Of a plastic doorman ~
Bow stiffly in the doorway of yesterday
Open it for me ~
Then walk away
To your next
But if you turn around right now
You may find
I hold the real red blood
Of your lipstick ~
The one that is not yours
The one you stole from me
The one you wear on
The back of your
The one you can’t see ~
The one I hold
Limp and grunged
In just one hand
Powered with boiling revenge
Tautly psyched for the next
It is called
And I know ~
It looks remarkably like
The meaty coils of
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
I know that’s what you think
Splayed out in party dress
High heels and all
In some old arm chair
I have obviously dragged
From some curbside
And here I am
Waiting for the 9:15
On a rusty old
Which obviously has not seen
(am or pm)
For quite some years
And the smoke approaching
Is quite clearly
By an accommodating wind
From the old chimney stack
That also should be considering retirement
So what’s the game
All you see
Is what you want to see
You don’t see
I am the girl
10 years ago
You were going to marry ~
The 9:15 is your train
The one you meant to catch
It slipped your mind
It was the last train
On the last run
But you retired from our destiny
The grass between us became overgrown
And the wind blew the smoke
Of our fire
Away from your view
So here I am
A discordant note
In the symphony of your time
Is your drama
but then be decide my would it aspire like ever you be while giving over of and brother as to ask Mother have for I not moody captive thought the any envious noble that knew wooden branch his sap Spring tulip lotus beauty the of scent smell flower bloom bud leaf a sit I charming President poetry by stable army in writing bending flowing falling deer wilderness white curl stones mist blind shimmering Travian field resource blood shed attack village alliance build troops gift I pink dye egg grass rabbit Easter blood goblet drink lamb goose feast God Sunday palm petal delicate green driven wanted wet little book television 1936 door lamp dragon fingers chair blossoms girl cat opaque shine bubble splash pour fizz champagne matches incense fireplace flirt wink candles giggle lit lipstick cordial sip vines winery ferment polish the I it we a an when then which on
Of the branch
On wilderness vines
The incense ~
Shed it in
Some summer moons ago…
I lingered away holidays…
Walking familiar drives…
Walking to seek a new look at the small things…
Missed in the daily haste of highways…
And traffic lights…
And there, tucked between gaudy facades
Of gummy colours and red hot sales…
Was a park…
A tall tall elm…
And a bench and table…
Tender coated shapes
Hunched over the table…
Poetically tapered fingers
A bunch of cards…
2 shadows…playing bridge…
I began to walk daily…
To the park…
Round the park’s elliptic secrets…
Through the park’s dappling lights…
And any time…
The dews of morning…
The glare of midday…
The hush of late afternoon…
2 shadows…playing bridge…
But that was many summer moons ago…
And today a friend told me
I should read a book called Geophysics for the Wandering Spirit…
A book lost in the dust left by
Gummy colours and red hot sales…
But still there…
A tiny crystal trapped in the web of progress
Waiting to be discovered…
The book was written by some guy with a PhD in Geophysics…
Who loved to play bridge…
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Divisions, barriers, boundaries
Are just a few words for a fence
But unlike stoic, crusty walls
Fences have many viewing platforms
Many perspectives lurk in tiers
All framed in some tight, organized lines
Wooden or metal parallels
Hold a gallery of tactile frames
The other side of a picket fence
Is often a cottage garden
Budding with aromatic herbs
And nostalgic daisies and roses
The other side of a wrought iron fence
Is draped with sweeping royal walkways
Neatly clipped geometric hedges
And perhaps a King Charles corgi
A fence style is often a lifestyle
Parading a clear dimension
Where another side of the fence
Is another reality
I am the other side of your fence
I am landscape you dread to tread
I am some wild Serenghetti
Just a dot on some forgotten map
You are the silent, yesterday’s fence
You are the endless, lurking tiers
You are another murky fence
You are my other reality
Like a frozen waiting game
Whitening expectancy ~
The prologue of dialogue
Longing for the sun or the moonlight
To make some sense of it all
But 4000 year old Callanish standing stones
On Lewis in the West Hebrides
Could be older links to
Does that mean a closer connection
To the why
And the when?
Or can we only finger
Limestone icons ~
Turning them listlessly
In ignorant palms ~
The next chess move
Is the right one
The mind is a wonderful attic of cobwebs and secrets
A few pools of knowledge
And the occasional raindrops of wisdom ~
It is where the skies celebrate a seasonal corroboree ~
Storms, sunlight, dawns and sunsets
Wallow in a crucible of delights and agonies
Is the treasure trove
Of peeling family portraits
And the moment when some child
Simply drifted through life
On a garden swing
I have created a video using this poem.
The video represents how creative writing may live well in the digital world.
Click on the link on the right side bar!
Shopping is not just shopping malls
Locked into temptation galleries
Where credit cards lean into debt
And morrows gum into yesterdays
The beauty of synchronized shopping
Is carrying an empty spirit
To a misty mountain by the sea
And letting the soul of the landscape
Buy you a hope laden dream
Free of use by dates and fashion fads
Monday, March 24, 2008
A crinkled world with grained secrets
Ancient pimply domes scarring earth's face
Frozen contortions like sphinx relics
Luminous riddles thatching Time
Like a moonscape of yesterdays
Begging to breathe alone; lost in peace
But the eyes are charged with dynamite
Ever since reading "The Handmaid's Tale", for high school studies, I have been totally fascinated with the work of Margaret Atwood. But I have selected "Surfacing", her small second novel (of 1972), because this one seems to be fragmenting in the wake of more recent "heavies" such as "Blind Assassin" and "Cat's Eye."
The setting is a remote, wild island in a northern Quebec lake. The narrator travels here to find her missing father, and slowly finds it is actually a journey of consciousness, peeling away the layers of her own past. The young woman travels there with her boyfriend and two married friends. All shape the perspectives of her journey.
Using quotes from the novel as a foundation, I am the narrator voicing a kind of shredded, dramatic monologue.
I envy people whose parents died when they were young, that’s easier to remember, they stay unchanged.
My father is a vague being
Shaped by his island and people there ~
When I am ready I will find him
If he is ready to find me
Nothing is the same, I don't know the way any more.
Perhaps I am inventing pain
Because I fear to face our shared pain ~
Is it more hurtful to run away
And never know what truth there is?
Or face the shadows of agony
And free fall in a wise abyss?
I can't really get here unless I've suffered; as though the first view of the lake, which we can see now, blue and cool as redemption, which we can see now, should be through tears an a haze of vomit.
Billboards announce island lifestyles
Blue Moon Cottages sound so tempting
But peeling paint sours the magic ~
One diseased spirit knows another
Now I'm in the village, walking through it, waiting for the nostalgia to hit...but nothing happens.
I am a soft, damp parchment slate
Longing for a pen to find me
Longing even for some stray ink pot
To spill some ancient life on me ~
Even my mother's old diary
Is no key to what I should be
The weather and duties are noted
But thoughts and emotions are empty ~
I was not there at her funeral
I was just a blank page to her
Probably when we get there my father will have returned from wherever he has been, he will be sitting in the cabin waiting for us.
I need hope no matter how fragile
I must know I am shape and substance
He turns toward me and it's not my father. It is what my father saw, the thing you meet when you've stayed here too long alone.
Surfacing from deep water worlds
I know there is no heart in darkness
Friday, March 21, 2008
In my mind
Sharing an exotic
An endless ocean of bliss
In my mind
Dreaming on an endless ocean
Means touching worlds
Kissed by endless rainbows
In my mind
White purling skies
Refract blue light
In my mind
A touch of wings
Is just my soul
Photos for Sale on RedBubble
My Poetry Videos on TeacherTube + Google Video
SONGS ABOUT AUSTRALIA
- Damien Leith - his citizenship ceremony in Tenterfield + he sings "Tenterfield Saddler" - Australia Day 2007
- "I Still Call Australia Home" - Peter Allen's beautiful song sung by the Outback Singers - absolutely stunning!
- "I Am Australian" - delightful Australian images synchronise with a song of the Australian spirit - The Seekers
- "Great Southern Land" - the deepest wells of the Australian spirit - Icehouse (1989)
Australian Photography, Painting & Music Links
- Tia Kane Art - Chinese art through Australian eyes
- Kieran Murphy - Amazing 19yr old (2008) guitarist - Melbourne = "The Chase"
- Ian Wallace - Award winning photographer from Tasmania
- Lindsay Buckland - Music - Eclipse of the Common Sense - Melbourne, Australia
- Andonis - Heroic Mosaic Art - Melbourne Australia
- Michelle Wrighton - Pet Portrait Artist - Perth, Western Australia
- David Webb's Nature Photography - Queensland
- Robert Todonai - Painter of Australian Life & Landscapes - Western Australia
General Interest Australian Websites
- Australia's Weirdest Wineries
- Mornington Peninsula Tourism
- Unusual Facts About Australia ~ Some serious, mysterious and fun
- Desert Art - Broken Hill NSW
- The True Blue Roo Poo Company - Funny gifts from Down Under
- Scribbly Gum
- Truly Australia - Travel Australia
- ABC Rural Australia
- ABC Northern Tasmania
- Australian Snapshots
- Message Stick - Aboriginal & Torres Strait Islander Online
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- 3WW LXXVIII ~ Whose Money Tree? ~ Money + Tangled ...
- Leech Woman ~ Prompt #45 ~ for Easy Street Prompts...
- The Boardwalk ~ for Jane's Inspirations
- Corporate Risk Trapeze Artist ~ Prompt #44 ~ Easy ...
- Torrid Cauldron ~ for Writer's Island
- 3WW LXXIX ~ Answer Under Glass ~ Question + Token ...
- Quacky Cranberry Fling ~ Friday 5 ~ for Poefusion
- Spring ~ for One Single Impression
- A Thought for Peace
- Fire Bride ~ Prompt #2 ~ for Easy Street Prompts A...
- We're Just Friends ~ Prompt #17 ~ for Easy Street ...
- Waiting for the 9:15 ~ Prompt #46 ~ for Easy Stree...
- Opaque Champagne ~ Drops of Poetry for Poet Sanctu...
- Memory ~ Playing Bridge ~ for Jane's Inspirations
- Other Side of the Fence ~ for Easy Street Prompt #...
- Limestone Carvings ~ for Poefusion: Monday Mural
- Upstairs ~ Easy Street Prompt #107
- Synchronised shopping ~ Easy Street Prompt #110
- Hoodoos ~ Drumheller, Alberta
- The Poetry of an Old Face
- Margaret Atwood's "Surfacing" ~ for Totally Option...
- Déjà Vu Dreamcoat ~ for Writer's Island
- Surreal Worlds ~ for Totally Optional Prompts
- Random Beauty ~ for Jane's Inspirations
- Reflective Easter
- Awakening ~ for Writer's Island
- Cornucopian Smorgasboard ~ for Sunday Scribblings
- Spellbound Dark Landscapes ~ for Writer's Island
- Smoke and Mirrors ~ for Totally Optional Prompts A...
- Are we there yet? ~ for Writing Companion ~ Prompt...
- Mascots for the 2008 Beijing Olympics filled with ...
- Crystalline Doors ~ for the House in Marrakesh Blo...
- Why I Blog ~ Prompt from Mind Bump
- One Photo Could Be My Life ~ Prompt from Mind Bump...
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- Describe your first memory of the rain ~ Prompt fr...
- I Cannot Be ~ for One Single Impression "Change" p...
- Announcement from Poets Who Blog
- Change ~ for One Single Impression
- Kindness - for One Single Impression
- The Amber Room Mystery Continues
- The Experiment ~ for Sunday Scribblings
- Butterfly Delight ~~~ for Cafe Writing ~~~ ...
- Autumn is the Bridesmaid of Spring ~~~ Option 4 f...
- Destiny and Fate - for Writer's Island
- Rising - for Writer's Island
- Riches and Rich People
- Empowered and Rivalry - for Writer's Island
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Archive of Blog Quotes
- A perfect summer day is when the sun is shining, the breeze is blowing, the birds are singing, and the lawn mower is broken. ~James Dent
- Autumn is an introspective season when stray thoughts of the mind dive into the mystique of the soul - Gemma Wiseman
- Autumn is the bridesmaid of Summer and the flowergirl of Winter ~ Gemma Wiseman
- Autumn whispers the tones of yesterday in a minor key ~ Gemma Wiseman
- Love is born / With a dark and troubled face, / When hope is dead / And in the most unlikely place; / Love is born, / Love is always born. - Michael Leunig's Christmas Song Cycle "Southern Star"
- Spring paints the stars of heaven in Earth colours ~ Gemma Wiseman
- Summer sizzles with a sibilant hush / Broken by dreams of / Clinking ice ~ Gemma Wiseman
- The object of a new year is not that we should have a new year. It is that we should have a new soul. - G.K. Chesterton
- Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all. - Stanley Horowitz
- Winter is the fire, simmering lonely in the soul ~ Gemma Wiseman
- Winter is the shadow, the etching of the seasons in the mist ~ Gemma Wiseman
| My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is: |
Lady Gemma the Unique of Walk upon Water
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