Perles de pluie
In their hundreds
March outside your eyes.
#micropoetry #geopoetics fae #60N
— Sandwick, 22 March 2016
mean to islanders
inside a storm?
Candle-lit world, cinnamon scented sanctuary as darkness creeps earlier than thought…
open tokens of love, and
reconvene with a few friends – enjoy the magic of powder propelled & sparked to light us up for a moment. Live music shared in between hail and rain showers… Then a hot drink before retracing our own steps.
Time to regain precious seconds and gaze at return of the sun.
Have a wonderful Yule, festive season, Solstice Day, whatever side of the Equator 🙂
There are moments of pleasure in one’s life. Now, what would you take with you as desert island reads? This was exactly what our local island library asked us last month, and, considering our great cauldron of voices. I had no doubt this would turn out to be a fantastic night among friends, words and voices.
Classic kaleidoscope where time vanished in between lines & smiles, Karen Fraser gave all present one of those delectable moments.
Folk just shared their selected prose and/or verse whilst others came to simply listen. Linguistic twangs allow imagination to travel, as they ranged from native Germany, England to Shetland, via Orkney, Scotland, France & the US. Very geopoetical all in all. The very fabric of our community 🙂
What a fantastic night we had! With renewed thanks to our very dynamic & nurturing team at The Shetland Library. It was a case of fabulous desert island reads!
When librarians get together and open the great hall of books to celebrate the spoken word,
my county library comes alive.
On this occasion, the theme read “ageing creatively”.
So we gathered at the Hillhead, and read our favourite poems, when not our own.
Great night out!
I chose to read Atlantic Canadian poet Joe Blades’ Storefront Poem 24, followed by newly written material for the event – a triptych of micropoetry, followed by “Sophie”, a stand alone piece.
However, members of the audience added their own marks through different readings & performances, including young Elvin, followed by his mum.
Our chief host,Marghie, closed the night as she opened it, with flair and smiles.
All in all, a brilliant night. Thank you, dear librarians & Shetland Library for such a great event.
Their website is to be checked for the myriad of events held by our spirited gang of librarians 😀
I spent so many nights on the roadside, I came back home with a lantern.
Miles of darkness, cloaked inside white, with an ankle strapped to endure grit and tarmac, the very edge of the known world – with resilience as an ally, I made my way amidst hitchers, kindred spirits. On my way home, I found all sorts of cars and other four-wheeled vehicles. Apocalyptic, teenagers’, knitted (aye, a very Shetland tradition) – even a Volvo filled with free running spirits that came alive as dancers glided through darkness – amazing cars and occupants. A camper van so hospitable… And a bus. A bus filled with wild stories. “Through the window, I can see, I can see, I can see…”
I braved the unknown after dusk and dared to knock on car windows – hopped my north in between Brae and Cullivoe, via Bigton, Levenwick & Ninian – where theatres are void of walls; where The White Wife (originally from the most northerly isle of Unst) waves at lone cars, eyes and hitchers. She too travels in the same way. In any case, she seems to protect
us with one reassuring waving hand. And then we find her once again inside a village hall, where she serves tea & ignites smiles
with her army of white aproned choir-waiters. each journey starts without control.
Have you ever wondered about strange and peculiar things that happen through your life? Your car or sense of ignition? Have you ever noticed how life can sometimes fall under a spell or a strange jinx?
Such was my own journey in the past months… Funny how tarmac turns into the middle of nowhere – a headland or a precipice. You never know till you taste tarmac and the kerbs. “Sit back and enjoy the ride!”
As a hitcher,
I find my way in between junctions & ferry terminals. From Hay’s Dock to Cullivoe, via narrow roads, miles of dreamt cats’ eyes, white lines and stops. I, forgotten ghostly figure, suddenly turn storyteller, who sometimes waves at The White Wife… Meet with others who have their own story to share,
whatever they carry with them – a broken shoe, heart, or milk jug…
a frozen trow, gnome, skimming stone,
camera or ukulele…
In the footsteps
the Final Gathering.
Dancer, hitcher, storyteller, free runner-performer, choir-waiter or musician.
We shared our words through the beauty of ignition,
made new songs, drank tea & soup,
thanked hosts and friends,
and sang our hearts out to the world.
Some felt a new journey has begun. It is my case. Let us define the next stretch of road 🙂
IGNITION through CAR YARNS – with shared notable words:
Road runner –
roaring rubber & clicking clutch,
red scent of dead flesh on tarmac…
#haiku fae #60N
Boy racer –
to every change of gear,
quartet of ravens by the road.
#haiku fae #60N
needles off the speedometers,
I knit,you knit by the roadside.
#haiku fae #60N
rings of fire on wet tarmac,
with numbers inside
circles of chrome –
cold wax on hazelnut dashboard.
#micropoetry fae #60N
Now, let me enjoy my lantern 🙂
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