| Alyosha's Thread
Posted: 4/8/2009 8:01:22 PM | I cannot speak in tongues
I feel on a simple plain
how then does my saying
"I love you"
end in so much pain?
and no ...some SOB did not hurt me
just a random thought....... | |
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| Alyosha's Thread
Posted: 4/8/2009 9:20:00 PM | iv alwegs thot the anglishe er the funniest of the lot. dry.
the Italienas were touchie all over funny in diverent way
the men the vemen pusing the the brests in your face smoothering ur dullness
leafing you very breathless
how do they do that
when you are in an elevator
and they see yhou standing way up above
is it because you have blue yeys
yer lips are thin
sun moon rain
run come sit
then you are smoothered in even patches of pale smooth flesche
this evening was a moon just below the tree tops
among the skinny pines
with the rosette tops
then you are smothered by silk
the light of the moon
with a trace of yellow in it
so yo dance yourself outside
now dance me outside, sweet
still in my shirt sleefvs
chao | |
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| Alyosha's Thread
Posted: 4/8/2009 9:21:53 PM | Mosiac, glass, pieces..questions.
Light stalls. captured... dizzy whirlwind.
Escaping the cacaphony
is the central piece.
think...a heart
think...a palm
holding together all. | |
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| Alyosha's Thread
Posted: 4/9/2009 5:44:47 AM |
I cannot speak in tongues
I feel on a simple plain
How enviable, that second line, because how many of us no sooner feel, or think we feel, than we put those feelings under a microscope, asking ourselves, Is that what I really feel? Don't I/Shouldn't I rather feel something else? Something stronger or more loving or angrier... Only the lens of the microscope is always a bit smudged with yesterday's anger or last year's disappointment... | |
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| Alyosha's Thread
Posted: 4/9/2009 5:47:20 AM | Puzzled by the eccentric spelling throughout much of this, but I love these lines:
this evening was a moon just below the tree tops
among the skinny pines
with the rosette tops
then you are smothered by silk
the light of the moon
with a trace of yellow in it | |
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| Alyosha's Thread
Posted: 4/9/2009 5:48:53 AM |
Mosiac, glass, pieces..questions.
Light stalls. captured... dizzy whirlwind.
Escaping the cacaphony
is the central piece.
think...a heart
think...a palm
holding together all.
How much you manage to say in so few words! Thank you. | |
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| Alyosha's Thread
Posted: 4/9/2009 11:33:57 PM | speaking in tongues today, the birds of paradise held sway,
their orange beaks in the super market with green surging
superflous leaves, the carts went round towards the vegetable
section, but women eyed that bird of paradise, wanting
someone to buy it for them, so their carts eventually
made it to the check out stand, and one woman, with a huge
line behind her, stalled - 'wait a minute! I didn't get what
I came here for!' damn It! she held up the entire store!
the man behind her started checking his watch...
the teenagers behind him were staring at People magazine...
then inexplicably the woman turned into a bird of paradise and started
singing and flapping her wings around and round the whole
super market - then they had to send in a professional zoo keeper
to catch her! but only then, in the zoo with other Wild Beasts
of burden... did she finally have the ones she wanted to
sing to... | |
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| Alyosha's Thread
Posted: 4/10/2009 3:46:40 PM | Tangelos from Spain
memories of a simpler time
just the need for fresh fish
and earthy wine
paella from the little restauant
just off the main drag
Llafranc
planning to stay
forever....
Dali and Hemmingway
my secret lovers
how different life would have been.....
Llafranc is in Catalonia and is a hidden gem....first went there in 1972 and it is still relatively unspoiled....Calella de Palafrugell is a fishing village nearby.....just as wonderful
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| Alyosha's Thread
Posted: 4/16/2009 1:17:43 PM |
Tangelos from Spain
memories of a simpler time
just the need for fresh fish
and earthy wine
paella from the little restauant
just off the main drag
Llafranc
planning to stay
forever....
Dali and Hemmingway
my secret lovers
how different life would have been.....
I love this spill of exotica! Reminds me a bit of Goethe's
Know'st thou the land where the lemon-trees bloom,
Where the gold orange glows in the deep thickets gloom,
Where a wind ever soft from the blue heaven blows,
And the groves are of Laurel and myrtle and rose?
Goethe, Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship | |
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| Alyosha's Thread
Posted: 4/17/2009 11:45:16 PM | so you, smothered in,
felt,
the paler patches
on your skin
over a course of days,
dinners with friends
whether it was moonlight
in the land of shadow
and it showed
elsewhere or
the patches were the reflection of straw
left in the sun overwinter
repeat, it showed
you as you were, amnesiacal,
no longer knowing
the past
only because you never did have a life
partner...and that was
due to age
or living in the present
the name:
moonshine heavenly toadstool,
her real name was Tod,
or Colleen
and she was 19,
and blond,
rode horse,
whiskey jacks collect
about her, crossbills are at it,
prepare, in flocks,
above treeline....
and Zapus saltatus
(invention of hers)
or jumping mouse
large pad at the end of tail
for escape, leap away, surprize,
this tail, preponderating, meant
for gaming, or shewing, or retreating,
and counter-assault in huckleberry patches
along the Blarney board
huckle terry berry islands
foliated by juniper and lichen | |
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| Alyosha's Thread
Posted: 4/18/2009 5:32:37 AM |
so you, smothered in,
felt,
the paler patches
on your skin
over a course of days...
Astonishing, how the narrative flows and seems to breathe poetry rather than striving for it. | |
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| Alyosha's Thread
Posted: 4/22/2009 7:57:14 PM | Remembering
memories resurfacing
tastes and smells of a time gone by
fragrant sandalwood
cardomon, cumin
pungent coriander
freshly ground.
sounds of life
surrounding the bubble of a life
lived in ghettos
beteljuice stains on walls
colours of saffron and indigo and carmine
suffused into everything
Brahmin cows meandering
caste marks and dhotis
and the punkah wallah.......
thank God for the punkah wallah
my Amah
I loved her
sometimes more than Mama
or Papa
although he was a distant figure
not really real.
Boarding school
back "Home"
bleak skies
everthing damp and grey
colourless
Purgatory
those years sublimated
survived only because my soul
would return
one day. | |
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| Alyosha's Thread
Posted: 4/22/2009 9:10:44 PM | nice pickales
I used to put coriander in with black pepper, so fragrant,'
it appears you have traveled a lot, which is the best,
and used to make my own curry:
fenugreek, cummin, black peper and coriander
fresh is best | |
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| Alyosha's Thread
Posted: 4/23/2009 3:13:26 AM | trulio...
there is nothing like a curry made from scratch.......great blog called Route 79...has the best recipes....
Grew up in Africa but my mother was in India and these are really her memories......with a bit of poetic licence! | |
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| Alyosha's Thread
Posted: 4/23/2009 5:32:23 AM |
Remembering
memories resurfacing
tastes and smells of a time gone by
fragrant sandalwood
cardomon, cumin
pungent coriander
freshly ground.
What a glorious reminiscence, the whole of it, redolent of so many colours and tastes! | |
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| Alyosha's Thread
Posted: 4/25/2009 9:05:50 PM | Ta me ol china.....
en Montreal Mai 9/10 avec ma fille....peutetre du cafe ou du vin avec toi???
Bisous cheri
xo | |
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| Alyosha's Thread
Posted: 4/25/2009 10:11:40 PM | Upside Down in the Reverse Position
Drops on any
reflective surface,
- plunk and ding -
sodden and sudden
- plink and sink -
they disappear
leaving echo-like rings
outward radiating
concentric waves
undulating
and receding
into the still and far
off-shores
a strange cadence
raindrops
not like snow
or wind
which push
and cause
our eyes to blink
except in a furry
they cause too much
color like our eyes
white coronas
gardenias
violets she has them
and purple loose strife
to accent her jubilant eyes
all a strange rhythm rain
on a day without purpose
then she ran aground
my sandals got wet
I tripped on a rope and
landed upside down in the reverse
position | |
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| Alyosha's Thread
Posted: 4/25/2009 11:15:11 PM | The wind receded
exhaling the fervent scent of nature
through the open dormers
stippled blinds bending awkwardly noses to screens
the smell of ozone vividly alive and breathing
as Spring unleashed a barrage
of tears and foot stamping childish shenanigans
blossoms scattering blush pink petals
leaves shook in their birth
and arched their backs
wind chimes serenaded
melodious chameleons trilled dangerously close to breaking
and from their nest the birds stunned by this sudden onslaught
cried out in indignation as this
glorious orchestra erupted
to awaken on the doorstep of May. | |
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| Alyosha's Thread
Posted: 4/26/2009 8:37:22 PM | ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
trulio and AF....what beautiful poetry from you both....
Thank you!
 | |
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| Alyosha's Thread
Posted: 4/29/2009 9:22:22 PM | Don't know where you are darlin.....
You are missed.
Examening the detrius
that was our love affair
I picked apart the layers of deceit
one by one
and came to the conclusion
that your heart
is made of papier mache
and really cheap glue. | |
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| Alyosha's Thread
Posted: 4/29/2009 10:26:18 PM | detitrus
is what lends fecundity to forests
otherwise
nothing
exactly how did we describe it?
"detritus based ecosystems"
so each tear shed is recycled | |
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| Alyosha's Thread
Posted: 4/29/2009 10:59:59 PM | we then absorb what others shed'
detritus | |
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| Alyosha's Thread
Posted: 5/11/2009 9:23:27 PM | Since your name comes from this book Alyosha I thought I would bring this in here. First posted in Black Mary's.
The Brother's K
The book is old
covered in that musty scent
of obligatory obscurity
has anyone stopped to stare at
this classic relic of organized stature on the third shelf down
and processed the thought of scooping it up for a reflection on utopian socialistic mortality
expulsion of etiquette
upon visiting the reclusive
sanctuary of a mind still freshly coated in circus paint and dalliance
the octagonal library
where all sides are extensively
woven around many characters dressed in false garb sometimes remaining faceless as they speak
myriad names hatched out of other names
sometimes confusingly so
in Russian dialect
how many have diligently toured
beyond the monetary walls, the weeping garden
and into the hearts or lack there of
flippant old men with pompous masks
youth flaunting pragmatic narcissism
introspective brothers who have sequestered
themselves into years of wasted dreaming
with microscopic pedantic pleasures
dramatic outbursts
and unyielding opinions
on just about anything society had to offer at that time
page 120 out of 700 or so, I pause, in dire need to refresh
the correlation between names
and relationships and yes
sporadic reading has taken its toll
this isn’t a book for the garden
or a room full of voices
you have to imagine your place as observer, it’s not given to you freely
neither judging nor condemning
the scholar, the saint or the fool
I think I have only just begun
to watch the bees let out of their hives. | |
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| Alyosha's Thread
Posted: 5/12/2009 7:40:46 AM |
The Brother's K
The book is old
covered in that musty scent
of obligatory obscurity
has anyone stopped to stare at
this classic relic of organized stature on the third shelf down
and processed the thought of scooping it up for a reflection on utopian socialistic mortality
Wonderful! I liked the whole of it, but especially these lines:
how many have diligently toured
beyond the monetary walls, the weeping garden
and into the hearts or lack there of
flippant old men with pompous masks
youth flaunting pragmatic narcissism
introspective brothers who have sequestered
themselves into years of wasted dreaming
And:
page 120 out of 700 or so, I pause, in dire need to refresh
the correlation between names
and relationships and yes
sporadic reading has taken its toll
this isn’t a book for the garden
or a room full of voices
you have to imagine your place as observer, it’s not given to you freely
neither judging nor condemning
the scholar, the saint or the fool
I think I have only just begun
to watch the bees let out of their hives.
But, please, don't stop your reading there, not before you come to the section called, as I recall, "The Grand Inquisitor" | |
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| Alyosha's Thread
Posted: 5/12/2009 7:47:10 PM | | I won't stop reading now. Only 100 pages to go to "The Grand Inquisitor" | |
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