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I dream of ice-skating

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I think the frustration boiled down to either

A) it was 8.45pm and it was still +32C outside and the open windows did not help a damn bit, it wouldn’t get any colder today, fact

B) there was no time for the wine to chill before I opened the container, and lukewarm White is such a pleasure to consume, right

I reckon it is probably both plus the fact that I realised that learning a new language requires either sound proof walls or… Yeah that’s about it, repeating out loud on a bus or whilst walking down the road is just asking for trouble. Plus plus a fact I haven’t considered, maybe learning a new language through the means of a second language is a bad idea to start with.

So right now I picture frozen lakes at Christmas time, people on skates, a cold drink in my hand – covered by mittens.

(A|B)ware

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I was not aware; no
the warning sign;(s)
well obscured; hidden
unsighted by choice
seemingly, lustless
dreams and longings
for goal yet lacking
the ball(s) to kick

the day would come
sooner than so; so
so written
among the leaves
scattered; so spoken
by those gone before me
so blatent
yet impervious my skin
filled of sin; and rotten
acorns

I was not aware; no
one day my steps
would shorten; the
pace; cadence actual
no longer matching
the thoughts driving
me forward; or back
undeniably

I was not aware; no
that one day I could
feel older
older than I actually
was
older than so and so
those word once spoken
though true
ultimately ignored and
all lessons to be learnt
once more
by living

Courbevoie

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I walked the streets of
Paris, le gay Pari’, though
no rainbow I saw; just the
gray that was beneath me,
my mind uneased by
the not knowing
the not speaking
them not speaking
the not quite belonging
not just yet – anyway

Walking in Paris

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I walked
from bed to bath
down creaking stairs
of a shabby Paris
hotel

Passed passed-out
drunks and on to
Louvre – a sunny day
sun block was
bought

Through the trees and
the park up to the
arc so triumphant
an Italian wanted trade
leather for much needed
petrol; no, no, no

Down towards Seine
through smelly back-ways
I found myself lost
dreaming of riding
bareback to relieve the
pressure upon my feet
so sore

Towards the tower Eiffel
with snakes of fellow
Parisian I join the queue
for Northern lights but
patience ran out quick
I left

Onward and upwards
Trocadero in my grasp
the views not spectacular
but I would not miss them
for the world

Submission to the Metro
line 6 to Etoile
then further out to
Le Defense majestic in
its sight

With hope of rest my
day so ended, RER A back
to Les Halles my friend
no one waited, just the
open window of the
shabby Paris hotel
I stay in

thus far

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You say “thus far”
implies
there is more to
come
as a promise
given
of more more
much more
but I say “thus far”
will only take you
here
no more will be given
except the final
stop – on its own

.

underground

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You might say
I was a Toddler of
the Underground

The layers of
blankets wrapped
up harder so hard

I cannot say for
sure as the memories
are fading, I am
getting older and
the blankets long
gone go figure

You might say
I was a Child of
the Underground

Seeking solitude
among worms and
rotten bones

Comforted by moisten
soil beneath my skin
and echos of
silent dreams

I cannot say for
sure as the memories
are fading, I am
getting older and
the soil has washed
away, still dreaming

You might say
I was a Adolescent of
the Underground

Tunnelling deeper and
deeper into
becoming one

I cannot say for
sure as the memories
are fading, I am
getting older and
the tunnels
never ending

You might say
I was an Adult of
the Underground

Building my house
on solid foundations
should have been the
plan, now crumbling

I cannot say for
sure as the memories
are fading, I am
getting older and
with age comes
another burden

You might say
I will become the Hero of
the Underground

Rising above the petty
squabbles, embracing the
love I have so far
not bothered with

I cannot say for
sure as the time is
of limit but I pray
you are right and the
remaining days be
b.l.e.s.s.e.d

Prompted by a @reinventingwednesday  prompt: underground

The Other Side

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I long for The Other Side, where
the grass is green, and the apples hang
just within my reach, just so.

I long for The Other Side, where
the sea is still, but with a breeze to
keep me cool, and the seagulls sing
to please, if at all.

I long for The Other Side, where
the sky is blue when blue it so should be
the tears of god would only fall
through the night, so still.

I long for The Other Side, where
I can stand strong; alone, my voice
carry power, there where I would
belong.

I belong on The Other Side

(Prompted by a @thatrandomprompt​  prompt: The Other Side)

Untitled (4840)

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It is full of words, stacked in piles too high for their own good, blown about by the turmoil of life and then set alight by the fire that once burned inside.

Me – trying to explain my blog to god
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