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Somewhere between Jay with Kingfishers samurai armour are you
Exotic, like many here, to be captured by sensors and eyes delight
I am trying to distinguish between you and the others
what language you chirp, caw or sing
I get close, but you stay quiet, perplexed as to what I am
and perhaps why I don’t look like the usual cyclops with zoom lens
Who ironically want to tweet about you not tweeting
as if the flickr of their imaginations can repeat the experience
of sweating under late afternoon’s tropical fragrances.
Escaping Bangkok’s traffic (although never the humidity)
under magnificent shade of this cypress meets grand oak.
I will fetch the name of that pink flowered perch you’re in
Cherry blossom is as close a match as my knowledge pairs.
I too, fancy your portrait framed there, resplendent, surreal
However, you seem to appear then vanish sometimes.
Your azure blue feathers, radiating their neon illusion
but that’s only when I try to snap you at close range
funnily enough, you’re living up to your title; Fairy bird.

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George

And his mamma cried…:P

I tapped cautiously my finger. You scurried that way, only you can do. Upside down on the bathroom ceiling, making me remember your intricacies. All woven in nature’s genial design of air expelling hairs on your feet that allow you traction anywhere.

Macro camera focus on your reptilian armour. Smooth scales but gossamer thin, skeletal, bare.

You’re tragically wasting away. Starving by the looks of the plastic lid bulging painfully in your thorax. Mistaken lunch, or supper perhaps?

I pity I could not help you, or it out.

And those eyes; unique exoplanets and exotic in their own right. Hazel opals with a blunt logo of your former self.  I can see that in your deathly iris.  Inside, infinitely black, endless, yet calm. Perhaps where you departed so easily to, and surprising…no…shocking me.

Or was it I you?

By falling with your half grown new tail. First, onto my lens. Then, I studied your featherweight in my palm. Intrigued and inspiring me to interpret you with this poem come epitaph. When perhaps your days doing your duty were more deserving of a psalm.

You were always going in to the light. In this life for bugs and now perhaps immortality…that makes me smile a bit. Thinking of you in that heavenly place where all the ghosts of your victims await you to devour them all over again.

HK Botanics

Panda food lassoed together with tie wraps

that are made in China

Up, up and away

this scaffold holds

for real estate in the clouds

Beanstalk madness

The gold in those peaks

Lofty status with no quo

Amazed they make is man’s ingenuity

with half an acre

More occupants than rain forest’s canopy

Squeeze pressed, ubiquitous chaos

And content to suicide on pollutants

Airborne legacy of industry greed

Unethical dumping,

moral…something

Carcinogenic bleed

Yellow, Yangtze

Wind Rain, Soil, Sea

Give or take a few city trees

Cages for the wildlife

Feasts for the fleas

and LED discotheques

Hong Kong is not for me

Content to be a minority

Fresh air and water

Again my priority

The sky between us

Trondheim’s yawning fjord

Embellishes a late February’s dusk

This lilac, pink, roseate ghost

Banners horizon’s ceiling

When earth’s shadow

Fuses night from day

An intricate pastel pause

Which is aptly named

Belt of Venus

Wakes divide a few short paragraphs

As fishing boats and ferries acutely slice

This temporary azure sheen

Three silver birch trees lead eyes

From this kitchen window on the stone hill

Up high

The verve of a seer sits on his zenith

Where he’s fed, content and

naturally enlightened

 

This week’s post is short and sweet and something to think about from a guy called Edward De Bono who wrote a book I read years ago  ‘Lateral Thinking’

The trouble with creative thinking in art
is that it is so easy to stop halfway
Indeed the less talented have no choice
Escape from the old ideas becomes a virtue in itself
Originality is all
There is an enthusiasm to step down from the limitations of accepted order
into the limitless potential of chaos
But too often this step is regarded as an achievement in itself rather than only the first stage towards achievement
the true purpose of lateral thinking is not to wallow in formless chaos
but to emerge from it with an effective new idea
The new idea is likely to have a classic simplicity of form
It is likely to have an orderliness which is far from the formlessness of the chaos from which it emerged
The ideal aimed at in lateral thinking is the simplicity of extreme sophistication
The simplicity of an idea that is very effective in action and yet elemental in its form
It is the simplicity of richness
Not of poverty
It is the simplicity of fullness
Not of emptiness

Image

both of us united in a common fear of each others talons

War´s influence
(allegedly, if you believe in astrology)
arose to the South of Jonsvatnet (John´s water)
while I, for a few seconds
cut circles in its path of temporary shine
with the metal fish at the end of my line
Bail arm trip, retrieval slip
then lightning dynamics
Of pike´s waspish violence upon it!
The decoy minnow
Anything but slow as old esox
gave her acrobatic show
with ariel attempts to escape me
After pulling, tugging, plenty of shrugging
twenty minutes later I assumed the victor
But,
as I lifted her water clear
she anticipated me and bit me shear!
My curse was anything but ”Oh dear!”
She either, never shed a tear
but both of us united in a common fear
Of each others talons
Somewhat gently
I set her down in the shallows
Carefully plucked back my hook
Then gave my bloody finger a sook
With a swish of her shovel sized tail
off she cruised with a humoured look
Towards the pillar of Mars
Both she and I perforated with scars
Made our ways home
Under early August’s returning stars.

 

A few notes about this piece, which I will get around to fitting in here with the poem.

Mars was at its closest to Earth in 60,000 years this night.

*Esox Lucius is the latin name for a Pike
A bail arm is the piece on a fishing reel. It catches and gathers the line as it rotates.
The last line is to do with the fact that there is no night between late May and early August where I live. The Arctic Circle is another 400 km`s north, from Trondheim, where you get the famous midnight sun.

Time’s measure, the clock
Pulses along, never to stop
Be it nano-seconds,eons
Or crumbling rock
Only Black holes
(Allegedly)
Can store its tock
Clip its wings,
Freeze its flock

Brig Portrait
I am no cosmogonist for suggesting
That the end and the beginning
Are one and the same
Winter opposes summer
Death, life and so forth
On a perpetual journey
Of violence, rest
Love, hate
Science fact
Metaphoric beliefs
Everything shares one common truth
The unzipping of creation
The four bases
Adenine pairs with Thymine
Guanine pairs with Cytosine
All split open
Then reborn in puzzling sequences
Ribo and Deoxy Nucleic Acids
Forged from a star collapsing
On the edge of our solar system
Gravitating, tugging, pulling, spinning,
BOOM!
Just like the other BIG-inning
Circa 14 billion years earlier
But before that
The quiet, stillness, nothing
How do we know?
After…
The present
The future
The past
Alpha and omega,
First and the last

Hello  and many thanks to my new readers and followers. I’ve also been very impressed by those of you who do take time to read my work.

Depending on what rocks your boat, you can never really get bored with the sky at night and with today’s new technologies in telescopes (in space) we really are on the verge of seeing the marvels of things that were just too far away to learn about in the past. What’s actually visible inspires and spaceweather, such as borealis, noctilucent clouds and the frequent meteor showers we can see – given the weather is with us – are worth piling on the layers and getting out there to witness. I do or I’ve just been out there camping, fishing, even hungry and homeless on a couple of occasions, but I can’t say I’ve ever found them anything short of inspiring. I also like to pass time by counting meteorites against satellites or I join the dots and think about the size of those Goliaths like Sirius, Betelgeuse, Acturus.

Also, for those of you who enjoy things celestial, there is a fantastic resource here (https://www.zooniverse.org) that are always looking for help identifying blobs in space and other stuff.

My last poem about the aurora borealis (Lambent Scent) was well received and I forgot that I had written a few more about their brilliance. Here is another…Borealis

Borealis Bliss

As if looking at the sunshine

From ten metres under an unpolluted ocean

(If one exists that is)

A wave, here and there

Carries the shaft of that sunlight

For a split second

Rolls it in a long dancing ripple

Where it meets a rip tide

And frantically disperses

Its colours, they are better than fine

They are in comparison to St Elmo’s fire

Occasionally dusted with violets, crimsons

But nearly always nuances of electric green

They differ too,

Take tonight; a corona

Not a school of celestial sardines

Fleeing imaginary porpoise

Or a well seasoned wood

Being devoured by flame

I learned through the Internet

There are seven different orchestras

Each a random, inviolable masterpiece

Of stardust and magnetic collisions of

Ionosphere’s molecules and Van Allen Zone

They amaze my brain each time

No matter how faint

With wonder and brilliance

And enough inspiration

To drag my tired self indoors

Pick up a pencil

And shutter my thoughts of them

I have a small collection of my astronomy poetry ‘What IS The Stars’ that I’ll make available for a free download in the next months. Reading about e-publishing is one thing, but the actual formatting and doing it is taking a bit longer than I anticipated. Advice of you who have been there already is welcome.

Powertiyerpens

Image

Lady, I never knew you
But I mourned you recently
Because the day you decided
Enough was enough
Ripples traveled outwards
Until their forces
Came back on themselves
Not as singular crests
But as tsunami waves
So giant, even the Leviathan
Of the stupid ignorance that created
‘their’ laws would never again dream
 of paddling out in their shallow slopes
The ones that fall away sharply
into an abyss of rage,
that still exists at this time
Lady; you quoted
“Without vision, the people will perish
and without courage and inspiration
dreams will die
the dream of freedom
the dream of peace”
Lady Rosa Parks
Forever a soul of freedom
All humanity sends thanks

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rosa_Parks

 

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