Gemma's ~~~ "Greyscale Territory" ~~~~~~~ Poetic Songlines: wrong number

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Sunday, August 30, 2009

Three Bells

Multiple exposure collage of phone at Tyabb Art and Craft Village + night lights in Dromana Hills, Mornington Peninsula
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Carry on Tuesday #16 ~ It was a wrong number that started it, the telephone ringing three times in the dead of night ~ Opening to Paul Aster's City of Glass (1985)
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Monday Poetry Train Revisited #43
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In the dead of night
Telephone ringing three times
Like the dead walking
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Heavenly chaos
First love was a swirling place
No rhyme or reason
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Far away island
Just clumps of rhododendrons
Coloured packaging
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Island castaway
Eden was a savage place
Second chance crumbled
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Skimped reality
Cold telephone reminders
Wrong number wrong place
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Three chances to love
Last life is ringing now
For whom the bell tolls
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Archive of Blog Quotes

A perfect summer day is when the sun is shining, the breeze is blowing, the birds are singing, and the lawn mower is broken. ~James Dent
Autumn is an introspective season when stray thoughts of the mind dive into the mystique of the soul - Gemma Wiseman
Autumn is the bridesmaid of Summer and the flowergirl of Winter ~ Gemma Wiseman
Autumn whispers the tones of yesterday in a minor key ~ Gemma Wiseman
Love is born / With a dark and troubled face, / When hope is dead / And in the most unlikely place; / Love is born, / Love is always born. - Michael Leunig's Christmas Song Cycle "Southern Star"
Spring paints the stars of heaven in Earth colours ~ Gemma Wiseman
Summer sizzles with a sibilant hush / Broken by dreams of / Clinking ice ~ Gemma Wiseman
The object of a new year is not that we should have a new year. It is that we should have a new soul. - G.K. Chesterton
Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all. - Stanley Horowitz
Winter is the fire, simmering lonely in the soul ~ Gemma Wiseman
Winter is the shadow, the etching of the seasons in the mist ~ Gemma Wiseman

Over 50! And Motoring!

T.S.Eliot's poetry has never failed to intoxicate me! In fact, his sunlight on a broken column, his midnights and lamp posts, his female rhythms mouthing Michelangelo pleasantries are all bound up in the "overwhelming question" of our real biorhythms and souls! ~ We are cups, constantly and quietly being filled. The trick is, knowing how to tip ourselves over and let the beautiful stuff out. ~~~~Ray Bradbury ~~~~ Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass. ~~~Anton Chekhov ~~~ Those who danced were thought to be quite insane by those who could not hear the music. ~Angela Monet

AUSTRALIAN BLOGGER

Footfalls echo in the memory, Down the passage which we did not take, Towards the door we never opened Into the rose-garden.- T.S.Eliot .............................. My page was too white/My ink was too thin/The day wouldn’t write/What the night pencilled in -'The Book of Longing' Leonard Cohen..................... Creative discord of fractured harmonies! Between the Question and the Answer is A Hush... A Whisper... A Dreaming...

The grit of raw desert lands whirls on the winds in erotic rhythms - sometimes. - Greyscale

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Sunday, August 30, 2009

Three Bells

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