Wednesday, 28 August 2013

Blog: Come not in darkness

Come not in darkness

This summer vacation isn't going as I'd hoped. Spending most of it at home and my activities restricted because of my damn knees. Second summer in a row. So I create and do things that need to be done. I found an art journal prompt of 50, the first one is: "1. Take a minute to connect with your feelings. Close your eyes and imagine what your feelings would look like, and then draw or paint them." For some reason the image of a little match girl came to mind, which is one of my favorite stories.

Photos taken on trip Tolmin - Bovec in Slovenia

Not taking your life for granted makes your days different, it makes you appreciate them more, and you try to make good memories. Sometimes when you come into someone else's home you get a certain feeling, and I'd like to think it's because the rooms, the walls, hold memories. At lot of the time I wish I knew more of where I come from, how my grand parents lived and aunts and uncles... It wouldn't change who I am, but I'd just like to know. There's a lot you can learn from stories. I like the image of a story as a seed, and how they grow differently in each person.

River Soča and waterfall Kozjak
"Is it hard to part from the mountain range,
The cradle of your waves?
Do you know you are passing by the graves,
The graves of Slovene homeland?
A double grief you suffer here!
In this grief, mournful and sluggish,
You seem like a big tear to me;
But even as tear - splendid!"
- Simon Gregorčič, 1879

Kolovrat and Italian Charnel House of 7000 soldiers

Time flies fast, autumn is getting close...

Sunday, 25 August 2013

Poem: Passing place

photo by Steven Kelly

we run and we hide
then we complain when nobody finds us
for who we really are –
how we contradict ourselves
when making the sweet escape
there are roads we built
through the harsh lands
one-way lines with a promise
of sunshine ahead
and there in between
are passing places –
paths we do not see,
until something stops us
something inside shreds our armour
we're all soldiers here
creating ghost towns
out of people we meet
without a guarantee of a safe crossing
we're in this together
now comfortable in our own silences
we walk towards life
or is it walking towards us?
it keeps breaking
like a blade of grass
in the winter frost
let us howl like the wolves
and follow those paths
before too long we'll be scratching through dirt
to find them
Another visual prompt by Magpie Tales - Mag 183.

Friday, 23 August 2013

Poem: I cried out

as I walked through the forest
I only heard my footsteps making the way
through overgrown shrubs and weeds
my feet felt light, unburdened by thought
still there was an image of death around the corner
which kept haunting, its' fingers grabbing me by the knees
in the evening light white cotton kept a fragment of its' colour
while only wolves cried whole through the night
from somewhere deep in their wounds
their sadness sings itself a lullaby
we all came here to die alone
I cried out
»It's not the time!«
through deafening silence I heard
- as if to reply –
the Earth breathing high above trees
as if to say I am hers'

Written as a poetry prompt by Poets United: I cried out. But it's something that has been there in the back of my head for a while now. Still have a paranoia I'm gonna die soon. I'm working on it ;)

Thursday, 22 August 2013

Poem: Everything you need

Hubble captures spectacular ‘landscape’ in the Carina Nebula

I dreamed of an everlasting light
guiding all our wheels in the right direction
through the years we persuaded ourselves
that the past is just as real as the future
but our vision of space and time is limited
clocks may just as well be an illusion
offering a stairway of back and forth
what if death is the beginning
                and womb isn't our first home?
what if we already lived this moment
                and made a different decision
                in another plane of reality?
what if the things we feel, we have already experienced
                are memories of another self?
what if the things we do shape the current
                in a bigger way than we pay tribute to?
effecting living over longer period of existence
when you tilt the floor by 360 degrees
you find that what matters stays nestled
in the same corner of your heart
there are things you shouldn't and wouldn't do
but that doesn't mean you won't
the shoes you'll wear may have been worn before
but I know you'll take your own steps
for everything you need is already inside you
         and I'll be strong for you

Last night I was listening to a song by Hans Zimmer, Time, the OST for movie Inception. It's just a perfect song for writing... The mood it creates... and everything that you write listening to that song, seems more epic. :)

Monday, 19 August 2013

Poem: We are theirs

Photo by Elena Kalis

                WE ARE THEIRS

water bleeds out the reflection of me
my body can't hide in the blue light
we paint our bodies, setting milestones in time
in the raw pocket of the universe
where we've been for the last minute or two

I crumble into thousand pieces of regret
searching for guidelines, to define a purpose
learning not to let the current drift me away
I breathe the smell of loneliness
above the ashes of burned bodies we walk

let us chase the moon one last time
may the moonlight tie our hands together
and may the wild spirits living in our bones
reach out for the home they once lost
they keep calling through the depths of fire and flood

                -- we are theirs.

 Another prompt by Magpie Tales, for Mag #182. The image and the song Burial at sea by Mono really created the atmosphere from where I could write this.