Cliché Ridden


Cliché Ridden

Do you consider my
a flaw?
Is silence not golden?

I am
no longer a character in
your passion play.
The sacrifice was too great.

You want to hear
a solo
on my heartstrings.

I did that for
too long, wearing it on
my sleeve, while you
looked the other way.

Sadder, but wiser,
I’ve learned
my lesson. Consider that
book closed.

We have become
a cliché.

(In the past.)
This a poke at myself. I’m slowly learning to avoid common terms and phrases in my poetry, but lapses occur. Consider this a way to purge myself of the habit, get it out of my system. Damn! There I go again. Sometimes it just can’t be avoided. Damn!

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A child of the Army of the Rhine

Broadsides - A collection of bits and pieces

Viersen. It must have been a small agricultural village at one time. Set in vast acres of open fields of sugar beet and potatoes which ran all the way to the Dutch boarder. It became a satellite village, or a town, to Monchen Gladbach but I suspect it retained its primary agricultural nature until the coming of the railways. A major permanent way was built across the fields to the south east of the village, with sidings and sheds and workshops and a very handsome bahnhof. The rail line ran all the way into Belgium and Holland and North to the industrial Rhur. It was undoubtedly this that attracted the attention of the occupying British forces at the end of the second world war. It became, with its easy rail access to the ports at Antwerp and Ostend, the perfect place to locate a forward supply depot for the Army…

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Para andar dentro do sonho

Livros e bichos

Neste sábado, fui ao Museu da Fotografia pela primeira vez. Embora não me perdoe por ter adiado tanto tempo esta visita, ainda vivi a felicidade clandestina de deixar para ver o acervo numa próxima ocasião. Hoje à tarde, o evento era a palestra da querida Izabel Gurgel, sobre Frida Kahlo – e como foi bom passar três horas inteiramente mergulhada numa inteligente conversa sobre artes, culturas, épocas!

Assim como o empenho de Leminski ao biografar personalidades, Izabel estava interessada “em como a Vida se manifesta na forma Frida” – com as múltiplas visadas que o tema permite. As reflexões passaram pela fotografia como uma “insistência na repetição”, pela perda da memória (que equivale à perda do próprio rosto), pela “elaboração estética de si”, por álbuns de família vistos após um luto, pela ficção como “uma potência de desenho interior”… até a ideia de uma Frida-palhaça, com “sua entrega radical de…

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Frankfort Avenue rescued

Barry Comer's Blog

Today, I began an illustration of Frankfort Avenue in Louisville. It is an old avenue with wonderful restaurants, coffee venues and people. The perfect place to sit, sketch and relax.

As the illustration progressed, I was pleased to share my sketch with people passing by and with my friend Kathy. It took me all day to believe I had succeeded in what I started, and to put it aside during dinner. I told myself that if I wished, I could bring out the paint to brighten and make it come “more alive”.

I was wrong. I hurried through the process, became aggravated and worked faster. Haste made waste and the sketch was ruined. I had just told Kathy the other day, that my ability to show patience had much improved. Sigh.

Thankfully, I took a photo of this image before I began painting. It was fun to sketch, yet the…

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