What gives you pain?

Raspberry taste buds

What gives me pain
is
the last fresh Summer’s
Raspberry

Continue reading

Life’s A Raft

gericault-raft_of_the_medusa
 
My ship, my Titanic

Has hit an Iceberg

Her last passengers

Move to the tip and

Near-vertical

gaze at  with

foundered horror

the last lifeboats’

departure

Continue reading

Alice Munro Nobel Prize: Appreciation for the Short Story

I was so glad when I heard that Alice Munro won the Nobel Prize. 1st Canadian to win it, but also (still only) 13th woman. I’ve noticed that some of my favorite authors are Canadian women, like the late Carol Shields and Margaret Atwood, who also write fine short stories . I’ve only discovered them in the last 4 years and I can trace my becoming more conscious of the (female) fool’s journey reading these female Canadian authors. Continue reading

“Dreams” by Wislawa Szymborska

” He looked at his own Soul with a Telescope.
What seemed all irregular, he saw and shewed to
be beautiful Constellations: and he added to the
consciousness hidden worlds within worlds.”
Coleridge, NotebooksXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I have reblogged this post from dreamrly and got acquainted with it from http://symbolreader.net/
If you’ve read any of my posts, you may have noticed my interest with “the dream world”.This post /blog shares this interest and an astute poem by Wislawa Szymborska open to discussion, especially about dreams beyond analysis. I find it a po(e)tent means (one “Telescope” of sorts) at “looking at [one’s] soul “as Coleridge so aptly put it.XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

dreamingly yours,
MichalXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Related PostsXXX
https://happyheuristics.wordpress.com/2012/12/04/metaphors-coaching-with-right-brain-modalities/
https://happyheuristics.wordpress.com/2013/07/01/mythology-1-evolution-as-revelation/

Lookin’ Up, Lookin’ In

There was too much to look around, so  I looked up… Continue reading

Hide and Seek at Rosh Hanikra

 Dolce Far Niente or …

My idea of a holiday is far niente, dolce far niente, to my husband’s dismay. Not even reading. And I have an outstanding talent at doing nothing without any feeling of guilt. Continue reading

Scheherazade

Scheherazade

I wish I were, the daughter’s vizier,

sly Scheherazade,

Who wished she’d never had

her nakedness to hide

from king Shahriyar,

with one thousand

and one veils.

 

For, as the Persian story intim-

ates: ardent King once bitten,

three thousand shy, slaughters

bride, after bride, after bride,

after bride, until the kingdom,

Shahriyar’s bleak landscape,

of noble virgins runs dry.

 

Queen! Must always deceit and

intimacy pair to make

hearts in the end unite?

 

Ours, was love at first sight,

but oriental intimacy un-

veiled a two stories house

encumbered with,

at the bottom,

your Mum and Dad’s apart-

ment, your boyhood room

atop, tear our alcove apart.

 

Only bedtime stories,

veiled parables, intim-

ideation will the ancestral intim-

idation, one veil at a time,

strip off, un-

till our souls coalesce.

 

 

For Rim A.

Happy Heuristics