Connecting in silence

My last poem for the year as a busy time at work and home is coming up. I will be back sometime next year :) I wish you all a Merry Christmas and a fantastic 2018. It is going to be a good one. I feel it.

Connecting in silence

They set in a safe distance on a bench in the park,
the morning sun crawling along the horizon eager to
to find them in its sight. Tentative they started talking
than fired a fountain of words onto each other, which
like drops bounced off the concrete next to them.

A whirling wind, caused a gap between their words. They
stayed in this soft place of silence, eyes meeting eyes,
hand meeting hand. Shedding the feathers of the ego,
feelings showed and showered them with pulsing passion,
connecting them to the core, in a world beyond words.

Poets United prompt Silence

Een nieuw gerecht -- A new dish

Two friends, a Dutch and a New Zealand one have dared me in the past to write a Dutch poem. It never came to it but today I tried it for the first time and enjoyed it.
There is an english version at the end for Poets United Poetry pantry

Een nieuw gerecht   

Een pas, twee passen op het pad naar 
mijn eerste poëzie in mijn moedertaal 
na enige tijd in het engels te hebben;
vertoefd. Het voelt alsof mijn voeten in  
                    
oude geliefde schoenen glijden. Het
voelt alledaags maar ook almachtig.
Een zekere vrijheid verschijnt. Plots
pluk ik wolken en zonnestralen strelen

en zichtbaar dartel en dans ik op deze
schoenen die me verzoenen en verbinden
met de dag van gisteren. Deze taal
een deel van mij zoals mijn handen,

mijn ogen, de klank van mijn stem deel
van mij zijn. Het is alsof twee dierbaren;
mijn poëzie en mijn moedertaal, elkaar
voor het eerst treffen, net als twee    

ingrediënten voor het eerst in een recept
samen een nieuw gerecht vormen, and 
na ervan geproefd te hebben denk ik mmm

ja dat doe ik weer, dat smaakt naar meer. 

It was not as hard as I thought it would I suddenly felt much more freedom. It was only very hard to translate and it is not a proper representation. You loose beginning rhyme and the likes so I tweaked it a bit so it is not a literal translation.

A new dish

One step, two steps on the street

to my first poetry in my mother
tongue after spending some time in

english. It feels like my feet glide

in old cherished shoes. It feels
ordinary, yet so almighty. A certain
freedom appears. Suddenly I pluck
clouds while sunrays embrace me

and I visibly frolic and foxtrot
on these shoes which connect

and conciliate me with yesterday.
This language, part of me, just like

my hands, my eyes, the sound of my
voice are part of me. It is as if two loved 

ones; my poetry and my mother tongue

meet each other for the first time, 

just like two ingredients, form a new

dish together for the first time, and after

having a taste of it I think Mmm yes
I hear my encore, this taste like more 

A musical journey

Prompt: Journey for Poets United. Nothing better than going on a journey. In the past I have taken a poetic journey to places, through life and today I go on a musical journey.

A musical journey

Restless I tread on the cobblestones of life.
My weathered heart wishing for the gentle
call of music. A slow pulsing rhythm invades
me and my ragged edges become smooth,

like the surface of the calm sea. Tenderly
drifting back and forwards till the swelling
sea collides with the golden sand,
the place where my soul resides.

Oh, divine music, direct me on a
journey to the magic of yester-year.
The time when the sun seemed
brighter, the hues warmer, the delight

deeper. An aching wistful harmony,
hypnotises me, moves me to a place
where the pain of longing reaches into
quiet rapture, a world beyond words,

enwrapped with peace, filled with passion,
enshrined with the magic of coming home
Oh divine music, direct me on a journey,
to unlock the beauty of life of being alive.

Christchurch, an amazing city in the making

It is exciting to walk through our city again which was completely destroyed by the earthquake in 2011. Here a glimpse of Christchurch. There are still lots of exciting developments going on so in a few years time it going to be the best city in New Zealand. The Christchurch Cathedral is going to be restored as well but that might take a long long time.

A big part of my favourite building is being restored. Art shops have returned to the Art Centre and an exhibition from the university has been set up within the centre. It is starting to become alive again.

The city mall is developing fast and this is one of the modern buildings which is ready. Each time you go to the city there are new shops and new parts of the mall completed.

It looks like a real street again where new meets old as some buildings are ultra modern and some have been restored

Inside this building there are two cafe's curled around a big white artificial tree

Another new development which will house a cafe soon

Christchurch is however much more than this discover some pockets of awesome

Portrait

Photo Prompt portrait

As part of heritage week this gentleman walked around with a lady, at the Christchurch Art centre,  as icons of a different time. They were acting and he had a posh accent as well. I found him and the lady quite amusing and intriguing. I cropped him out and made a portrait in Picasa.
Apparently he was representing Ernest Rutherford a New Zealand born physicist who became known as the father of nuclear physics.
He studied at the Canterbury college till 1895 which is now the Art Centre. In the Art Centre you can visit the Rutherford Den where you can learn about the science of Rutherford and his peers. 

Becoming whole again

Becoming whole again

The dark moon throws a blanket of 

gloom covering my comprehension
and motionless I linger with a loss of
direction like a sloth hanging upside

down from a tree. Looking at the
world in novel ways, I contemplate.
The new moon reflects the birth
of light, this sight of a bright lining

ignites hope, which like seeds of
expectation grows on the fertile
ground of the mind. Ideas sprout
from the shadows and worm along

like the whispers of lovers meeting
in secret places where dreams
become the forethought and focus
of a path lined with wild flowers,

refusing to be domesticated, spreading
fragrance, which like a fountain of
moon dust sprinkles its wisdom to

heal the world, to become whole again