We dress our souls with masks of words, as if covering our bodies with fine garments,
Every morning, we choose masks from the closet of the heart, full of unspoken stories,
Words are embroideries stitched onto the fabric of life, hiding the fragility that lies within us,
We place the masks upon our hearts like veils that filter the light of truth and shadows,
We are artists of appearances, painting on the canvas of the soul with shades of deep silence,
Beneath the masks of words, the face of truth is a broken mirror, hidden in silent gazes,
We fear being bare, stripping our souls of the garments of words that enwrap us,
Yet beneath the layers, we harbor a universe of dreams and desires, a cosmos of unrest,
Truth is a song that resonates muted within us, smothered by the masks that stifle our whispers,
We learn to dance between the light of sincerity and the shadow of pretense that defines us,
In the end, remains the desire to reveal ourselves as we truly are, letting the masks fall,
And perhaps, we will dare to be honest with ourselves, gazing into the mirror of the soul.
My daily routine.
Every day, as always,
Wake up at four.
Start the chores.
Go to the gardens,
Do some maintenance.
Visit the M Central
Play the piano.
One hour goes past,
Enjoy some breakfast.
Go to the library,
Take up space,
Use the computer/internet,
Lunch with meal set.
In the arvo,
Play more and more piano.
Otherwise, visit "Maker Space".
Do some embroideries
For the rest of the day.
What a wonderful day with appointment free.
Tomorrow is another day,
With hectic classes and clinics.
Appointments and treatments
Do not know how to describe,
How the rest of the week was like?
Few words maybe.
Busy and very busy.
Life moves on,
Regardless how you want it.
Six months with six fond memories.
1. Helped correct the official document.
2. Taugh me to learn how to download songs and save my corrupted USB. Firmware and privacy apps like Conversations, KeePass and Gajim.
3. Three wonderful trips to my favorite beaches.
4. Inspired me to get back knitting, piano and started embroideries and poem writing.
5. Putting lipsticks on the pig which I see it every early morning.
6. Shopping, healthy meals preparating and consuming.
Then came the Lunar Calendar spirit month,
An official name of the Chinese
Calendar month of ghosts and evils,
On Lunar calendar 7th day of 7th month,
After you wrote "Thank You" replied to my message
"Good morning. On behalf of Chinese culture,
Wishing you Happy valentine day.
???????????????"
You shocked me with a ghosting friendship
And a cold blooded goodbye.
It's Valentine’s
think hearts and
roses she said --
roses she prefers
so like herself
her own gracefulness
enticing petal scent --
the blossoms she adores --
think of rapturous nights
and Roman Candle dawns
such passion as hers never
seemed to need break --
entrancing patterns of fine drape
silk dappled with sunlight
beams of arousing romantic kneading
a second heedless amorous skin duplicating
transposing quixotic embroideries
of desire and forever --
like Salome she revealed all of her
beguiling fond nakedness
making instant jello of
my rational mind -- I will never
forget...vowed we would never forget!
Damn, where was that?
and who the hell was
I with?
Oh to be young and divinely foolish again!
I am drying the dews of dawn
in glittering luster
Crystalline clarity
A golden sapphire splendor
that makes you impressed
The midday sun, a brilliant blaze
where the UV index is at its highest
Attempt to avoid me at the most intense hours
Watch my nightgown, feminine lace
exquisite colorful embroideries
Always a warm smile
I bringing love to every heart
It's not just a silver lining on the black cloud I find,
An entire rainbow on each of my gloom clouds has signed;
Painted into a perfectly artistic masterpiece,
Inner equilibrium, like a calm lake, is at ease;
Existence, like a stainless steel surface, gorgeously shines,
Midst those mockingly peeping charcoal black distorted lines...!
Abandoned clothes have been stitched now in embroideries new,
To draw water from my, now cleaned-up well, are in the queue;
These paintings of my ancestors were created with care,
Dumped, lacking an aesthetic sense of the progeny, rare;
These are identified; and now in the exhibition,
Tenacity has commenced a new vision and mission...!
All that had seemed symbols of gloom once are resplendent now,
Space betwixt the known and the unknown is short, anyhow;
Graves do not look like places of scare or loathe or detest,
These are divine decorum, wherein virtues are blessed;
With the birds and beasts, I am a part of the universe,
Imbibed by the agape, each being I tenderly nurse...!!!
18 May 2023
evil elise either emitted or emoted expansive everyday E’s
elroy elephant embodies extemporaneous entrails with ease
ellie eggplant embroideries endometriosis, exacting it to its knees
emma emissary’s elderly eels expect eyes to show off their ESPs.
etta elegance extravaganza excites earthworms, electrician’s tease.
edward expectations entices earaches edging out evergreen trees.
elise, edwina and eloise eagerly expect estimated exactness in sprees.
evil elise either emitted or emoted expansive everyday E’s.
The cloth aged
Likes the wrinkles of the face
The colours of the embroideries faded
Likes the eyesight of an old woman
The threads gone loose
Likes the screws
Between planks of an olden hut
Only the stains of an old lipstick
Still fresh in the heart
Of a sun-set love
There’s a deep burning encumbrance
Lagging within my torso
Its lacerating my soul
No explanation, ask Picasso
Occasionally, I wish I never knew you
Un-acquainting my best friend
I bind fast and then I bruise
When I feel like I’m losing you again
I can’t express it verbally
And it’s something you wouldn’t comprehend too
You have human embroideries
And what I have is you
Cognizant of your concord
You’re taking my unique one too
It was like a smack in my face
Asking me for something, I didn’t want to do
How could you not know the backwash
That cracked my benevolence
I thought we were so adjacent
Tout de suite moved my smile into spins.
No explanation, just “Picasso” the sense of my verse
I’m not devoted with love for you, I just feel demolished
Like a once colourful stained glass
Now gray and cannot be polished
Bazaar
The nights’ chest opens up -
strings of illusions
rattle in palms
the knowing buyers haggle
for a dream
while the fascinated women
try on
toles of princesses or odalisques.
In the shell of hope
genuine perls are priceless.
Silk labyrinth
of amber and incense,
amulets of shamans hidden in death,
a mirage in golden cases,
the drug of success
paths and passions
unknown potions
scaffold question.
Merchants with epheb faces
skillfully spin shadows,
scarves, dependences, embroideries,
compasses, elders, rings, sapphires,
open
conspicuous roads.
Rubys, gold,
sealed fates
days delirium
forgotten writings
bracelets and silver girdles,
old things,
new objects
disturb the untold air.
The world’s cornice
crunches upon the stalls
heavy stars
cramped into bags
shriek
with undecipherable voices.
Thousands of dead and living worlds
rise to the skies
from eyes
touched by temptation.
Her lips are purple with words
that crown and not demean;
Her mind is laced with golden threads of
thoughts seamed into rational words;
on them are actions like embroideries,
hand crafted by wits above sweaty brows,
by wisdom above hard labour.
Her purple lips is beyond the shade of a purple lipstick
Smudged on her lips while she gazed at reflection in a mirror,
But it is a shade of her femininity beyond just being pretty.
The ground is chained in frozen iron
Snow crystals glued on pine cones
Overhangs embroideries of polished ice
The wind shakes and shatters them into millions of pieces
Slowly more brightness toward longer days
A new light is born across a white landscape
With its beauty and bliss a squirrel in a pine tree
Thoughts and reflections how beautiful it is
04.02.2016
A-L Andresen :)
Silent saxophones sing the reverberating echoes, the songs of the night as chirping crickets conduct
Violin strings drip flavor into each moment with melodies like embroideries of serenades
Cream painted roses lie lusciously on helpless guitars scenting the sound of earth’s praise like would the balm of Gilead on her skin
Speaking to her the languages of sanity, eternity’s cadence as the flute whispers the culture of angels
The romantic noises of trumpets sensual resound at the site of wingless butterflies on deciduous trees as water lilies are teased by bracken ferns
Conifers whisper the tales of organisms in various ecological niches
As osmosis dances across semi-permeable membranes balancing the division of symbiosis while diffusion spreads the news via ~ between harp’s hips
While enabling the stealth of each chord’s intensity to penetrate with dramatic fragility,
Dissolving ~ melting ~ stripping the exotic essences of resonant reasoning
Leaving her to ponder among realities, fairy tales, abstract nights and concrete dreams?
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