Your poems have a backbone. You operate a mover company, as I feel to have logistically moved me to that Barren land. I feel the sand stuck in my eyes. It doesn't disturb me. It reminds me of Death Valley and Zabriskie Point visited 46 years ago, when my children were teenagers. Now they prepare for retirement...
You brought me back the crazy seventies, so beautifully presented by the film Zabriskie Point. I was young...
Of course, Antonioni's film was provocative the kind of apocaliptic future and this is why I called it the crazy seventies. We had the first oil crisis, people were shot dead at the petrol station, but I can't replace my youth for a different one.
Thank you, Trudi. It's curious how such an arid and barren landscape has been a source of so much creativity throughout the centuries. And you've shown once again that you're certainly not in a desert of creativity.
Trudi, a great description. All I can imagine is the wind blowing and getting on your eyes😱… I know, I’m cuckoo. That marketplace looked amazing, so much fun sprinkled with magic✨
"Evening star" suggests to me both Venus and the sun were visible. In the photo only the sun is. It is possible for both to be visible at the same time, but somehow I don't think that's what's intended. If it isn't intended, changing star's modifier might help.
Just wanted to be sure. Descriptively, the ditty struck me positively. It could also have a dimension beyond the painterly, depending on a reader's point of view.
J’assumerai donc mon privilège et déclarerai la représentation fidèle à tout Tellus dûment honoré. Sauf, bien sûr, pour les spectateurs. Et pourtant me voici, dans un Paradis quelque peu révisé.
Ça dépend de l'humeur, du moment, mais peut-être surtout de si j'ai envie de me parler à moi-même un peu plus que d'habitude. Parfois, j'écris pour me divertir. But I can always flip back to normal in a snap. Occasionally, for some unaccountable reason, translators will convert my short bursts of lingua franca as if they were worth getting right. Merely something I've noticed. At any rate, it's like having to resort to oneself for amusement. I feel lucky I can do it even a little. It helps kill time, which I would frankly prefer dead...................But now I'm wondering, why does anybody write poetry? My own answer must be, just following an evolving native knack. Same as a mechanic's inborn fascination with machines, but more speech-focused. Everybody has a knack for something, to a greater or lesser degree. I may've envied the mechanic's most. In that category, I'm not sure how possible it would be to have less capability than I have. I once called a plumber to fix something which he said when he saw it was in the electrical domain. "How do 2 WASPS change a lightbulb?"................."One mixes the martinis while the other calls the plumber." So I introduce myself as the star of the joke (minus the martinis, I require ambers and straight). Well, I seem to have anglicized my word cumuli. So I guess I stayed snapped out of it. Made anglais an alternative conduit anyway.
Beautiful, Trudi. Your poem really radiates the heat of the desert and taps into deep history.
It was so hot, Heidi! We saw desert dogs playing! So cute! I think they belonged to the people working there.
What a great experience!
Trudi,
Your poems have a backbone. You operate a mover company, as I feel to have logistically moved me to that Barren land. I feel the sand stuck in my eyes. It doesn't disturb me. It reminds me of Death Valley and Zabriskie Point visited 46 years ago, when my children were teenagers. Now they prepare for retirement...
You brought me back the crazy seventies, so beautifully presented by the film Zabriskie Point. I was young...
Thank you🙏
Of course, Antonioni's film was provocative the kind of apocaliptic future and this is why I called it the crazy seventies. We had the first oil crisis, people were shot dead at the petrol station, but I can't replace my youth for a different one.
We can’t rewrite our history but we can learn to view it differently. I wouldn’t change my past nor would I want to go over it again!
Zsolt, that is wonderful to hear! I am pleased this poem evoked good messages for you.✨
Thank you, Trudi. It's curious how such an arid and barren landscape has been a source of so much creativity throughout the centuries. And you've shown once again that you're certainly not in a desert of creativity.
Thank you, Rolando. Your words mean a lot! My creativity has felt barren for a while. I hope it lingers this time! ✨
Trudi, a great description. All I can imagine is the wind blowing and getting on your eyes😱… I know, I’m cuckoo. That marketplace looked amazing, so much fun sprinkled with magic✨
Jo-Ann I was covered in dust. My eyes, too! 😆
Oh no, I’m positive that did not tickle
So gorgeous! Both the poem and the photo. 💛 Enjoy your time there, Trudi.
Thank you, Grace. I will! ✨
"Evening star" suggests to me both Venus and the sun were visible. In the photo only the sun is. It is possible for both to be visible at the same time, but somehow I don't think that's what's intended. If it isn't intended, changing star's modifier might help.
Hi Tom, the evening star (Venus) was visible, but not in this picture!✨
Just wanted to be sure. Descriptively, the ditty struck me positively. It could also have a dimension beyond the painterly, depending on a reader's point of view.
The interpretation is always the reader’s privilege.✨
J’assumerai donc mon privilège et déclarerai la représentation fidèle à tout Tellus dûment honoré. Sauf, bien sûr, pour les spectateurs. Et pourtant me voici, dans un Paradis quelque peu révisé.
As you wish! Why French?
Ça dépend de l'humeur, du moment, mais peut-être surtout de si j'ai envie de me parler à moi-même un peu plus que d'habitude. Parfois, j'écris pour me divertir. But I can always flip back to normal in a snap. Occasionally, for some unaccountable reason, translators will convert my short bursts of lingua franca as if they were worth getting right. Merely something I've noticed. At any rate, it's like having to resort to oneself for amusement. I feel lucky I can do it even a little. It helps kill time, which I would frankly prefer dead...................But now I'm wondering, why does anybody write poetry? My own answer must be, just following an evolving native knack. Same as a mechanic's inborn fascination with machines, but more speech-focused. Everybody has a knack for something, to a greater or lesser degree. I may've envied the mechanic's most. In that category, I'm not sure how possible it would be to have less capability than I have. I once called a plumber to fix something which he said when he saw it was in the electrical domain. "How do 2 WASPS change a lightbulb?"................."One mixes the martinis while the other calls the plumber." So I introduce myself as the star of the joke (minus the martinis, I require ambers and straight). Well, I seem to have anglicized my word cumuli. So I guess I stayed snapped out of it. Made anglais an alternative conduit anyway.
Where is this, Trudi? Haven’t seen your posts in a while—you know, Substack at its best. That looks too hot for me!
Hi Carole, it is just outside of Marrakech, in Morocco. It is very hot and very beautiful. We have stayed cool - there is plenty of shade!
Ah, that explains it! Just stay out of the sun and have a wonderful time!
Thank you! 🙏