Of All the Footprints

Of all the footprints in the forest
those of the elephant are supreme.
The forest has a leeway that it always hides
by erasing all signs out of view.
But the signs of the elephant are hard to erase.
 Follow them, if you are lost; they will surely lead you to the edge and lead you out,
out to the world which you lost.
There is another way too.
Give up the search, and stay where you are,
and make the forest your home.

The Party

The dainty elegance of her white organdie,
the bouquets in the vases, like ladies who are careful not to touch
the alien color of the white tablecloth ,
and everything sacrosanct,
towards everything else untouchable;
the party goes on into the night.
She smiles, a vivacious, conquering, winning smile
and everything pales, lacklustre,
as she glides like a swan on the wings of intoxication.
Painfully, excruciatingly close
to the night of passion,
she fights the tears, hides behind the facade
of peals of laughter that open and close.
In the moments between the laughter ceasing,
and  the sneaking in of  silence when her mask falls,
he catches a glimpse of the shadow,
falling between the conquest and defeat,
and that is the moment for the wolf.

And a silent witness in another corner across the room
watches the precursors playing on her face and quickly reads
 the fugitive marks of lament
for the buds not opening and dying in the seed .

By Sushama Karnik

Kostas Michalis originally shared:

Passion Flower Plays: A Performance!

Music: Empty Arms / Hughes & Herbert / Blanchard !!!!
https://vimeo.com/44541919

Music: Empty Arms / Hughes & Herbert / Greer
https://vimeo.com/44540569

This urge, wrestle, resurrection of dry sticks,
Cut stems struggling to put down feet,
What saint strained so much,
Rose on such lopped limbs to a new life?
I can hear, underground, that sucking and sobbing,
In my veins, in my bones I feel it --
The small waters seeping upward,
The tight grains parting at last.
When sprouts break out,
Slippery as fish,
I quail, lean to beginnings, sheath-wet.
(T. Roethke)

Image: Imitation of Life / D. Sirk

Listen, lay your head down,
close to the earth and breathe,
and listen, quietly,
you will hear
the sounds of waters rising forth,
the osmosis,
of the surface and the depth of sounds,
blending, merging into one
earthy sound
breaking forth
grains parting
and speaking
a new language
not yet known,
a tightness , parting
with a gentle pain
into the darkness below the earth,
the seedling tearing the cover apart,
and a subtle sobbing,
a sobbing of joy,
the joy of the seed, the earth and the sun
watching a stem braking into light 

2015-04-02

2 photos

The Lost Moon

A morning Moon

with half his splendor lost in the fog

and half still shining in the mist,

was about to say adieu.

But the world of vegetation stirred, invisibly and subtle,

the magic lingered in the air still.

Suddenly the borders vanished.

The grey sky touched the earth.

And a world hitherto unseen, opened to me.

I saw before my eyes, the massive clusters of the roots,

restless, deep, as if with thousands of feathered quills,

they were writing a script for the earth to read

and decipher at some later date,

finally to dedicate

to the force of Life that stirred within.

Sometimes in the month of an April
a day comes like a raven poised on a rock.
I wake up with a start.
A restlessness stirs, a moment of a curious regard,
for the rays of wisdom the shy sun brings.
Hopes peer from behind a cloud of smog,
an entreaty by the season's winds
sweeping over the callous rock.
A moment's respite
when the swing stops in the midair
and asks me if it's high or low,
thus suspended in the middle of the flow.

Sushama Karnik

Image credit Tamriko Pasjuk - 1 comment

Je čas....možno zajtra....všetkym dobrý vikend....