Tuesday, September 24, 2013

Guarding a fountain

Except when sleeping...
A dark dog keeps barking guard                              
Over a fancy fountain,
Gaily giggling

He hears every footstep passing
Like an assault on/or
Justifying his existence

Woof! woof! woof!
Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle

The fancy fountain
Bubbles on brightly
Blissfully oblivious

Light and dark
Bliss and bark
Guard each other well

Thursday, September 19, 2013

Air Force One

I've just received a call from a woman with a voice that sounded like gravel being run through a blender - pleasant enough, in small doses, from a distance greater than one centimetre and when you're not otherwise absorbed in a task that requires absolute concentration and silence, I dare say. But not so much in my present circumstances.

Still, because of the obvious urgency of what she had to tell me: something about 'Air Force One', no less, 'the President's plane', indeed, I felt compelled to give her gravel-voice my full and undivided attention, lest a matter of national security be at stake.

'BUT WHAT IS IT PERTAINING TO?' I said, finally, in a frantic and appropriately dramatic voice, when the woman was clearly having difficulty explaining the matter of national security she had been charged with telling me about, using the cryptic, gravel code that she had obviously deployed for the purpose in order to be sure I was who I said I was, perhaps, before she spoke more directly. I hadn't exactly said who I was, but I didn't have to, because she knew already, even the Mrs part.  But she has to be sure.

'Heat Pumps' turned out to be the cleverly-coded message the woman with the gravel voice urgently had to tell me about. So I now sit here, no longer entombed in a cone of concentrated creative silence listening to nothing put the productive tap-tap-tapping of the keys, and churn-churn-churning of my marvellous mind, trying to figure out what the heck the President of the United States of America could possibly want with me that he couldn't just come right out and ask me directly, without having to resort to a woman with a gravel voice speaking code. I haven't figured it out yet, but when I do, you'll be the first to know - after the President of course.  

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

A room with a view

Spring getting more serious now, this is the view from my study window today, with only a little cheat adding a stoop to clear the top frame of my little window, and a good portion of zoom. Still, not a bad view to write to, methinks.  

Sunday, September 15, 2013

Cal 15!

My baby turns 15! (yesterday. I needed a day to recover). And to let everyone know just babies do grow... he ate a scorpion. Nice. No joke there, it's the latest culinary novelty: scorpion on a sweet sugar stick. All flavours, his was banana. Naturally I took snaps for the sceptics. Also a few other photos from the big day to prove the boy is baby no more. Happy Birthday Caldy!

Boy's 15th birthday, 21st century style
Sleepover LAN party

Thursday, September 12, 2013

Old Dog

Pocketed hands, forwarded feet
Along my trusty, tide out,
Old beach

Sandy shore stretched thin
Salty puddles, like
Blisters on the skin

Sand-coloured dog walks alone
Blends with the beach,
Slow and steady as you go

People pass, couples match
Not even a look
For an old dog to catch

Perhaps he's alone, taking a stroll
Delightful thought
Makes the poem

Monday, September 9, 2013

Spring soon...

As the rain runs down my study window chilling the air inside and out, into our second official week of spring, this picture caught my eye during research on spring flowers in the central South Island of New Zealand for the book I be currently working on, which has very little to do with flowers. But I thought the blog could do with a visual spring after the grey gloom of the last image. This is the best I could do without exaggerating things - and springs - too much.  Without being too springy...