Writings from Daizie's Place

...This fable, this voice of singing poets and Penelope and her threads and sirens luring, combing and calling.

I felt like a bumble bee, sometimes a bit clumsy, with a slower orbit, but being lifted by a current rising from deep within the Earth. It felt so intimate, knowing that I carried my baby within me...

If we have to believe the art of astrology then we may well be predestined to follow a specific path in life, because allegedly, our “destiny” is written in the stars. One day you’ll get there whether you want to or not.

Monday night, thanks to a little virus going by the dubious name of Covid 19, was the last night restaurants, bars and cafés were legally open...

A friend is with you 'til the end when soul to memory can wend. Attributes are: faithfulness, humour, love for lifetime. Always in mind like the sea on the shore,

It was late in the afternoon, too late in fact. With the setting sun in my eyes about to disappear over the endless horizon of the Sahara desert, landing an aircraft between the sand dunes was always going to be a risky proposition...

Queen of the night, the scent of the dama de noche flowers enchanting the senses, love is in the air. Laughter, Brazilian songs, a starry night. Maiden with flowers in

There is a twilight zone – two states of being overlapping, one flowing into the other, still awake and yet already dissolving.

...a magic carpet allowing me for a split second to look into the lives of these people who were foreign to me, revealing a secret moment of connection, recognition, and respect for a different world.

We had found the militia soldier slumped forward over the wheel of his jeep with the engine still idling. For how many hours had he sat there?

It is a land far to the north, but you can also get there if you travel to the south, or east or west, for that matter.

Nancy wanted to wait to see the lilacs bloom. "That will be my sign," she said.

The message of spring is the light after many dark months of winter, curtains not thick enough to block the powerful rays of the cool morning sun from penetrating into

It wasn't Icarus, but a yellow tennis ball that flew across my mind, and I saw it lost in the tall grass at the end of its glorious flight, arcing

The Camino de Santiago. A new adventure that life was magically offering me.  We were to meet in Madrid, visit a few museums and then together drive to St Jean

by Helen McCormack The Prompt  – A Walk; and with my coffee mug in hand I've got lost in a walk down Memory Lane, really Lanes. Couldn't find my Saturday notebook

That morning I was resting by the wall And gazing out, I saw a family of cats   Stalk pigeons, bodies crouched and serious, As silent as approaching sleep, hungry In

While my soul was falling Falling The dog still needed walking In my coat The leash went on We stepped out the door The hole in my heart Vast I

The Alhambra lay before her in the shimmering sun, hovering above the western horizon; showering golden light over the sparkling city, jagged mountains, and green fields. Alone, after parking her

San Francisco Ballet had their school and studios on 18th Avenue between Geary Blvd. and Clement, facing the glorious Alexandria Theater, and only a few skips in ballet slippers across