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Jun 08, 2009
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For Ann who sent her walk across the oceans, & who makes me smile - every time (the first of several "odes")
She walks
Sky blue gentleness
The backdrop to her art
The forest neat
Unlike the stringy, raw tree strewn bush of my beloved surroundings
She knows of my soft hibernation
And sends to me images of her walk
To soothe me, and bring cheer
With love and friendship
Accompanied by patchwork wonder - woven and stitched
Of words and history
Reflections more and varied to add colour to my distant picture of her kindness
and her creativity
I recognise the Buttercup (we call them here)
Simple yellow delights once held beneath the soft young chins of friends
“Do you like butter?”…
(I didn’t then, and always felt betrayed when the yellow petals glowed beneath my chin,
disapointed that the magic failed for me alone, it seemed a constant in my life).
But Ann, glowing from her morning visions, skyscapes vast and vigilant, clouds bulging with beauty
She brings, memories of forest fern fronds
Wild adventures as a 4 year old among the fern trees
Glimpsing Lyre birds, (a treat even then)
She is an artist, these images extraordinary
Carry me away
In reverie
And gratitude
To pleasant greenery and gentle waters
Yesterday, I took my Thursday baby to the bookshop on the lake
(Found, indeed, the Shakespeare poems to replace the book I gave away, again,
and some flippant works of Leunig)
We travelled (delightedly) through the lovely clouds that snuggled round the hills here
And reached the lake, five minutes drive away.
Through the leaded windows the sun shone onto raindrops hung on bare Birch
(Here where winter settles in)
And carried on to play so perfectly on the stillness of the lake
I snatched a photograph onto my mobile
But it could not contain the beauty
Never doing justice to such delightful serendipity
She could have done so I believe
Without a 4 year old in tow
I vow to bring her something for her effort
Some small token of my adoration
For her generosity
And her lovely being
She pulls love from me, this woman I have never met
As real and true as any
With her woven history
Lovely playful wickedness and underneath a rebel I am sure
But only of the silly acts of man
And mediocrity
She shines
A million different arts reflected in those humble facets
And makes me smile
Every time.
Sky blue gentleness
The backdrop to her art
The forest neat
Unlike the stringy, raw tree strewn bush of my beloved surroundings
She knows of my soft hibernation
And sends to me images of her walk
To soothe me, and bring cheer
With love and friendship
Accompanied by patchwork wonder - woven and stitched
Of words and history
Reflections more and varied to add colour to my distant picture of her kindness
and her creativity
I recognise the Buttercup (we call them here)
Simple yellow delights once held beneath the soft young chins of friends
“Do you like butter?”…
(I didn’t then, and always felt betrayed when the yellow petals glowed beneath my chin,
disapointed that the magic failed for me alone, it seemed a constant in my life).
But Ann, glowing from her morning visions, skyscapes vast and vigilant, clouds bulging with beauty
She brings, memories of forest fern fronds
Wild adventures as a 4 year old among the fern trees
Glimpsing Lyre birds, (a treat even then)
She is an artist, these images extraordinary
Carry me away
In reverie
And gratitude
To pleasant greenery and gentle waters
Yesterday, I took my Thursday baby to the bookshop on the lake
(Found, indeed, the Shakespeare poems to replace the book I gave away, again,
and some flippant works of Leunig)
We travelled (delightedly) through the lovely clouds that snuggled round the hills here
And reached the lake, five minutes drive away.
Through the leaded windows the sun shone onto raindrops hung on bare Birch
(Here where winter settles in)
And carried on to play so perfectly on the stillness of the lake
I snatched a photograph onto my mobile
But it could not contain the beauty
Never doing justice to such delightful serendipity
She could have done so I believe
Without a 4 year old in tow
I vow to bring her something for her effort
Some small token of my adoration
For her generosity
And her lovely being
She pulls love from me, this woman I have never met
As real and true as any
With her woven history
Lovely playful wickedness and underneath a rebel I am sure
But only of the silly acts of man
And mediocrity
She shines
A million different arts reflected in those humble facets
And makes me smile
Every time.
— Cloudthings, Jun 08, 2009
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Critiques
Nordic cloud
17 years ago
Awwywowy yauy Anni really I love you too
Cloudthings
16 years 12 months ago
I am recovering somewhat, so must spend more time work & life
faerybeki
17 years ago
Anni, a wonderful tribute to
Cloudthings
16 years 12 months ago
"lovingly clustered together these magic words of yours", well m
faerybeki
16 years 12 months ago
One word.. dictophone lol!
Cloudthings
16 years 12 months ago
& to you gorgeous one... I made another one today, & I can post
paparazii
17 years ago
Gorgeous one
Cloudthings
16 years 12 months ago
I wrote this for Ann in pure gratitude, & I feel showered with w
bjp
16 years 12 months ago
Dear Anni,
Cloudthings
16 years 12 months ago
Neo brings us friends unexpectedly across these expanses of the
bjp
16 years 12 months ago
Dear Anni,
Cloudthings
16 years 12 months ago
Thank you Brian, & as you well know these things are such lovely
Candlewitch
16 years 12 months ago
Anni
Cloudthings
16 years 12 months ago
Dear Cat, I love your articulate precision & warmth
Nordic cloud
16 years 12 months ago
Oh goodness me there must be
Cloudthings
16 years 12 months ago
am firmly placing the spotlight (of friendship & gratitude) on y
themoonman
16 years 12 months ago
Anni...
Cloudthings
16 years 12 months ago
glad you have come to add your voice to this praise of our lovel
Nordic cloud
16 years 12 months ago
Mercy buckets and buckets
Ink Dragon
16 years 12 months ago
Anni,
Cloudthings
16 years 12 months ago
Thanks & yes, we are among such lovely creative folk here, I fee
Nordic cloud
16 years 12 months ago
I felt I had better lie low
Cloudthings
16 years 12 months ago
My dear Anushka, how it feeds us when we acknowledge each other
Seren
16 years 11 months ago
Awwwwwwwwwww this is so