Christchurch

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

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
despair covering comprehension and
motionless we linger with a loss of
direction like a sloth hanging

upside down from a tree. Looking at the
world in novel ways, he contemplates.
The new moon reflects the birth
of light, this sight of a silver 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

Childhood home

Childhood Home

Soon I go home to a place
where the smell of soup filled
the air and meatballs filled
the soup. A place where

I bickered with brothers
who ironed out the wrinkles
in my ego and be the
mirror to show that

I am just their sister,
who loved chocolate
too much in a place
where we all knew the

pattern of the wallpaper
hugging the wall, which
didn’t have ears, like our
mother made us believe,

so it can’t tell tales of the past
seen from different angles,
as we used to snuggle in
different nooks of the nest

Autumn leaves

Autumn Leaves

Raindrops slide down

the autumn leaves

like heavenly tears, 

glistening on golden relics

of flourishing times

some flaming reds
hold on a little longer
to limbs of trees
which look frail and
bonier every day, till

a breeze strips the arms
releasing leaves to drift,
twirl and swirl in their final

festival, landing softly to

create a carpet of confetti,

that for wind and humans alike

performs a last rustling refrain

before they let go of their glory

and be enmeshed with earth

to feed new life with wisdom

When sheep sleep

and sometimes I am just plain angry

We met up with friends in the weekend and were getting all hyped up as green and clean (Ugh , ugh) gorgeous New Zealand has most of its sheep replaced by cows, who have  together with all citizens and industry, destroyed all rivers and lakes and soil.

We started talking about guns and we got even more fired up. So I had to pour that in a poem and if anyone feels the need to be defensive especially about the guns than I've got a video for you here. Watch it, and be defensive somewhere else. Excuse moi I don't have time nor tolerance for it. There! I've spoken

When the sheep sleep

Like soldiers we march through life

left, right, left, right, following commands
from invisible forces lingering everywhere.
Whispers intruding, invading the mind
Be rich, be beautiful, listen to instructions
on your gadgets, get hypnotised, mobilised,
like sheep to the slaughter
be, be, beh bah, dead-silence

The greedy wolf needs you, to feed on
need the poor to prop up the wealth
need pawns to sacrifice in their game
need prey to pay for their produce
need sheep who sleep and follow
which one is you?

Sometimes sheep look up
to witness potshots tearing down civility,
tears trickle in disbelieve, tears touch
but the multi-billion-dollar industry
is prerequisite to build power and palaces
The voices linger everywhere
Buy guns loaded with hate,
be afraid, be prepared, to attack, to protect
be, be, beh, bah, dead-silence

Sometimes sheep look up
gazing into cash cows eyes, their waste
piercing earth's halo and fester earth's veins
but the multi-billion-dollar industry
is prerequisite to build power and palaces
The voices linger everywhere
Buy, borrow, consume and groom
delight in deceit, just buy and eat
Be, be, beh, bah, dead-silence

And when the sheep sleep
the truth breaks the silence
the shepherd cries as the wolfs
howl, so he paints himself black
lifting the veil of light to lead his
sheep to velvet, weed free pastures
He calls, will they follow?