Sunday, 30 August 2009
In perpetuity
Something stirs in the grass
And ripples through the yellow wheat fields.
Weighed down with salt scented spices from the sea,
The west wind rides the lazy sun shine East.
Waves of heat blur the line on the horizon,
Obscuring the view of the houses in the distance.
On the line, the washing dries, quickly;
Motley flags waving him on his way,
A patchwork of nationalities, t-shirts
And socks, black and white and grey.
Wieldy white windmills towering gracefully nearby,
Greet the wind on his course eastward,
Performing their vertical three-armed pirouettes
Humming a low frequency love song into the air stream.
2009@MBJ
And ripples through the yellow wheat fields.
Weighed down with salt scented spices from the sea,
The west wind rides the lazy sun shine East.
Waves of heat blur the line on the horizon,
Obscuring the view of the houses in the distance.
On the line, the washing dries, quickly;
Motley flags waving him on his way,
A patchwork of nationalities, t-shirts
And socks, black and white and grey.
Wieldy white windmills towering gracefully nearby,
Greet the wind on his course eastward,
Performing their vertical three-armed pirouettes
Humming a low frequency love song into the air stream.
2009@MBJ
A Thousand Lines
(Contemplating an ink sketch of a tree)
I love the way one line
Runs into another.
The interconnectedness of
a thousand black ink lines on paper
Reminds me of people –
of everyone I ever knew
Or met, or saw for a brief moment:
A passenger on the bus in Aarhus,
Someone waiting at London Stansted,
A driver in another car on the M5,
A man reading a newspaper in a pub in Kerry,
The lady in the train kiosk at Struer Railway station,
Classmates, all teachers – a teacher.
An old lady who once taught me
how to read music and
the most precious gift of smiling –
‘bringing sun shine into a room’.
Defining self against oneself
or despite oneself.
Sun shine and smiles,
and beautifully old, wrinkled hands,
stocky built after many generations of farming and labour,
but at 80 years old playing Mozart and Chopin, arthritically,
and Kuhlau, drawing out those amazing sounds
from the black grand piano
taking up the whole of the bungalow living room,
like the music, taking up a whole life –
A long life,
her skin defined by a thousand delicate lines,
happy smiling lines
criss-crossing her cheeks and chin, and
giving her an even more ancient and wise appearance.
A long life which had been in touch with so many lives before mine,
spreading sunshine and smiles,
teaching music and laughter.
(2007/2009)
@MBJ
I love the way one line
Runs into another.
The interconnectedness of
a thousand black ink lines on paper
Reminds me of people –
of everyone I ever knew
Or met, or saw for a brief moment:
A passenger on the bus in Aarhus,
Someone waiting at London Stansted,
A driver in another car on the M5,
A man reading a newspaper in a pub in Kerry,
The lady in the train kiosk at Struer Railway station,
Classmates, all teachers – a teacher.
An old lady who once taught me
how to read music and
the most precious gift of smiling –
‘bringing sun shine into a room’.
Defining self against oneself
or despite oneself.
Sun shine and smiles,
and beautifully old, wrinkled hands,
stocky built after many generations of farming and labour,
but at 80 years old playing Mozart and Chopin, arthritically,
and Kuhlau, drawing out those amazing sounds
from the black grand piano
taking up the whole of the bungalow living room,
like the music, taking up a whole life –
A long life,
her skin defined by a thousand delicate lines,
happy smiling lines
criss-crossing her cheeks and chin, and
giving her an even more ancient and wise appearance.
A long life which had been in touch with so many lives before mine,
spreading sunshine and smiles,
teaching music and laughter.
(2007/2009)
@MBJ
Wednesday, 5 August 2009
Tzatziki, morsan och polisen
One of the sweetest films I have seen in a long time. It is the simply told story of Tobias Johansson alias Tzatziki and his search for love, roots and friendship. See part one here. Apologies, it is in Swedish, but the swimming pool scene is just awesome ...
Three years later!
It has taken me three years to get around to completing the layout of my blog and to write this. I have no idea where I found the Einstein quote, but I really like it so it can stay.
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