I’m spending a peaceful weekend at my place in the country and just as I opened the door of my car….. I got a friendly visit from a local. 🙂
Guys, do you remember Elatha Jarlath McGhille? No? Okay! Don’t sweat it!
The most important thing is that you remember Gregory. His blog, cocktailmolly, supports independent artists, writers, poets… Greg pushes up young talents and does his best for the purpose of every new voice so they can be heard. But not many people know that Greg is a brilliant poet by himself. Yes, he does! You can believe on my bare word. (No? Can’t you believe me? You can check cocktailmolly and make sure that I’m not a liar!)
I’m lucky because I enjoy the privilege not only of reading Greg’s stunning works but collaborating with Greg! So, it’s the next part of our saga ‘The Odd Days & Life of Elatha Jarlath McGhille’. Ladies and Gentlemen! Take your plaids and thermoses! Today is pretty chilly…
This story starts where other stories end.
It was just…
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Wonderful work!! I hope to see more from this guest!
Pussy willow, pussy willow,
Where have you gone?
Hiding far away
From the madding throng.
Her feeble paw stretched out in a futile attempt to grab his attention. There was a new cat on the block, lean and lithe and graceful. The old cat had been ravaged by age and sorrow. Her face and body showed every single line of her life, every punch that had been thrown at her.
He sat there between his two lady loves, happy, content and blissful, blissful in the love that filled the room.
The old cat continued to stay lit upon his lap. He instinctively stroked her, tenderly, gently and often. She mewled and purred with pleasure.
The young newcomer quietly took up a position near the old cat. She was in sacred space now. The old cat was battered and bruised. Her beauty had been washed away by the tsunami of time…
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Well… According to Wiio’s laws every next word in this headnote increases the risk of misinterpretation what I tried to say. Let me be terse. Let me present my new collaboration and my new fantastic partner.
Will Tigs, thank you! You gave me some really important lessons…
(Oh…. And now I will stop blabbing! Wiio’s laws are upon us!)
Yellow face (Female face), 1921. Kuzma Petrov-Vodkin
My cheerful face seems very bleak
and the hopes I have are hollow.
My mouth is dry and unable to speak.
I live my life in sorrow.
My instincts seem so synchronized,
yet my genitals are sterile.
My eyes are weak and hypnotized,
I spend my days in peril.
My death is near. I have gangrene.
Pray for me, you happy fools!
On you alone I vent my spleen,
Don’t play with edged tools.
My memoirs I now will edit
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What can I say?? Just read, it’s great!!
“Tell me all about yourself.”
I sniff the air. Cinnamon and anise do play well together, and the smell of coffee is an expected though welcome accompaniment. The taste however is less welcome. Downright crappy you could say. I’ve imbibed once or twice but I don’t seem to have been able to develop a taste for that lurid bean. I prefer a good smoked tea with milk.
Sigh. Another evening. Another stranger. And probably the same outcome.
“Do you really want to know all about me?” Her voice is playful. That’s a change. Usually she won’t make an effort to hide her boredom. She must be in a good mood.
Her legs shift beneath me. She leans forward. I have no intention of moving so I gently dig in. She doesn’t notice. Something about this stranger intrigues her. That’s fine. I’m sleepy and this lap is my soft…
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You’re out for
a walk every day
throat to knees
the hood pulled over your head
by the Sun and rains
Nothing can hurt your soft pith
But one day
one beautiful day
a strange rain
flecked your coat
You didn’t care, you were careless
You got home
You hung your wet coat
on a hook
and you missed
shimmering rainbow spatters
on your heavy sheath
you put on your coat
throat to knees
and went out into the street
A few steps…
and… what the devil?
You felt how
the Sun heats
your back… Something strange happened
with your heavy sheath
You’re so scared
You run to your home
You should clean
You should wash
You can’t let the Sun disturb
your soft pith again
You can’t sleep
You have a nightmare
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A butterfly dies
with wings putting together
Palms of a prayer
Confession and repentance
of a happy careless life
An ant who devours
death and flesh, feelers and legs
never touches wings
never cuts off a prayer
It’s the greatest blasphemy
by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2015
Just awesome work!!
You and me
take three simple words
You and me
start to compose a haiku
You and me
Look – ‘The Sun
The Moon shimmers tenderly
in the boundless Sky’
You and me
It’s the same
as we spot the difference
Your Sun warms
My Sun burns, ground out
Your Moon is
My Moon is for those who have
Your Sky… well,
Skies are similar
a blank sheet of paper for
You and me
lay under the blue
where two Suns
where two Moons
hang out in one boundless Sky…
Well, guys… It’s the first part of my journey where I have been kicked by one charming Babe. And it looks like I decided to turn to dismemberment. Dammit! Yes, my sweetie, it’s too late to…
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This is soooooo awesome!!!
We, girls, love fairy tales. Yes, we do. We believe in Prince Charming, Eternal Love, Happy Endings and Other Bullshit. We believe in ‘They Lived Happily Ever After’, of course. Who can blame us? You? And you too? Hey, you, go away!
For those who stay… I’m happy to present my new collaboration 😛
OMG… She is the creator of the mythical realm of Jyndari and author of the recently published epic fantasy, “Dark Fey: The Reviled”, which draws the reader into a mystical realm of primordial forests, magic and the lives of Light-loving and Darkness-revering Feykind. Can’t you believe? Me neither!
I was brazen (and full of boundless self-confidence… as always) and sent my request about our collaboration to Cynthia… She agreed… Can’t you believe? Me neither!
But it’s true! Cynthia is an amazing and kind person, very cheerful, very friendly and open to collaborations, despite of the…
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