Today

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so i sit to count my sins
.....no rest for the wicked
ringing in my ears.

do i write them as i see them
or set down their account as
they were told to me once?
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Tomorrow

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the child has come
.....the sun has fallen on
crisp white oblivion.

now we search for next
and wonder what tomorrow
has in store for us sinners.
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b l a n k

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empty lines
on a sheet of scrap
.................................white on white
no words can come
to those so Full

A change of diet is in order,
.................................she thinks to herself.
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what you leave behind
is not what is engraved in stone monuments,
...............................but what is woven
.........................................into the lives of others . . .
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PERICLES

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Rainbows

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Israel Kamakawiwo'ole

1959-1997

Thank you, Israel, for the beauty you left behind! He always puts a smile on my face - here's hoping You smile too.

WoRDs

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I am pleased to finally have a website in the www that provide details to the word services I offer! I hope you'll visit me at Marjo Speaks!
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I learn by going where I have to go.

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THEODORE ROETHKE

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art innatendu

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Joy in the morning . . .

200 dancers decide to take Central Station, Antwerp, by storm one morning in March.

how to be an artist

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learn to watch snails.
plant impossible gardens.
invite someone dangerous to tea.
make little signs that say YES! and post them all over your house.
swing as HIGH as you can on a swingset, by moonlight.
take lots of naps.
believe in magic.
play with everything.
listen to old people.
give money away. do it now. the money will follow. it will.
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These are 10 of many, from Sark's 'artist' rules I posted on my wall a decade ago, there to remind me (when I need reminding) of what really matters...
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Apple

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A bowl of green granny apples sat on her table, each a shifting shade the colour of things unripened. I found myself with the most unusual desire to grab one and bite into it, feeling my teeth coming down hard on the fruit, gnashing down at the sour sweetness. It didn't seem fair that she should have a bowl of beautiful fruit in her place of business, where they seemed just out of reach to a stranger. My body sunk into the soft Italian, chocolate leather armchairs. I watched the rays of afternoon sun settle upon bowl, shadowed, untouched. It took a moment before I realized she had entered the room.
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..................................

ANNIE

photo: Stuart James

New Moon Haiku

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under new moon
.........gold and copper
she dances;

....................bunny arrives

....................she dashes!

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Language is the autobiography of the human mind.

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Max Müller

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Up for the Aqua Books Lansdowne Prize for Poetry, tonight at 7, is Nereo II, now a regular on La Charpente. This poem was recorded during the filming of the Artist's Series, the telling of how words can save a poet ...

enJoy!

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