Writings from Daizie's Place

Uncle G

When praying on Remembrance Day for Uncle G I felt that I had known him impossible because I was not born

The Continental Palace

The Continental Palace was one of those typical imposing, yet stylish French hotels in Saigon build during the colonial era at the end of the ninetieth century and the beginning of the twentieth century.

Nathan

Darkness doesn’t exist forever and curses generally endure 5 generations.

Retired but Roaring

Poets are lions, some quietly roar

What’s Beyond the Beyond?

It may have been sometime in 1957 or maybe it was in '58, maybe it was many nights or maybe just a single one, who knows and frankly it’s not very relevant. My brother and I, oh, and the dog; well of course, he was always around doing whatever dogs do… where was I?

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The chime of the bells still in the air, The chill of the wind cool on my neck...

The strange ways of fate.

It must have been somewhere round eight-thirty, a moonless night in Libya had plunged the Sahara desert into near total darkness, at least seen from the cockpit of my plane.

Under the Painting

The sound in the room is like the lace of a dragonfly's wing. . .

What´s Next

What’s next? This is, Then this. Now this:

Ergo Sum

. . .Who said 'ergo sum' was a master of the craft./ Was he a poet, was he a planner?/ No! Planning a poem often leads to disaster/ and never rings true. Let it be – let it happen/ let the kaleidoscope lead –

Every Breathing Thing

I don't care if you want to call me crazy,/ but this silken roof-top breeze is a living presence. . .

Cloud Mail

You took my hand and then the other one too, and said, 'You're swell, you are. You're the only one here I can talk to. I'd feel lost if you weren't here.' I wanted to kiss you but Mommy always told me don't be forward, they'll think you're cheap.

Brown

As a color, is brown sad?

Childhood Innocence

Childhood innocence shows itself in many ways. . .

Spinach

I wrote about memories previously and I think I said something along the lines of: The problem with memories is, that they are not always very well memorised… and I am now going to have to contradict myself immediately because there are some things one never forgets,

Go with the Flow

I can never step into the same river twice/ or control its flow, stem its meander/ make straight its paths. If I let go/ who knows where I may end up. . .

The Table

The table is wooden with years of livingin its grain, begging questions about itsprevious form and location.Did it stand proud in the sun, or bendingon an exposed hill at the mercy of

Inspired by a Blue Quilt

The sky, the sea/ Places of space and possibilities/ Expansion, openness.

Merganser Mother

Today I walked on the mud-laden path by the river/ Touched by the first soft breeze of spring/ Rounding the bend, I saw them, the merganser pair, returned/ He, so brilliant in contrast to the snowy bank; she, dappled in the sun.

Connection

When I think of connection, I find myself in a cattailed stream full of croaking life and healing mud and swooping shadows cast by red-winged blackbirds.

Reverie

Peace, silence, not a chance! The world is all around/ cannot be muffled no matter how one pulls that duvet over ears/ world noise shatters us. . .

After All

...it was only life that got in the way...

The Maze

I'm in the middle/ of a maze/ and can't get out. . .

Basket of Wonders

On riverbank/ pooling hands in water/ a child/ discovers many wonders:

Infinity

What is important in my world/ is wonderment around