Your Words Will Always Be

“It is not true that people stop pursuing dreams because they grow old, they grow old because they stop pursuing dreams.” ~ Gabriel García Márquez

Death can’t take
the tales you gave me.
Your words will
always be
part of the girl I once was,
of the crone I’ll be.

(not so) wee note…
Gabriel García Márquez was the first writer who made me admire the magic that can be conjured out of words. His novels, essays and short stories inspired me to ask difficult questions about people, about society and about myself. Decades later, I am still asking… and learning. If he hadn’t walked through The Veil in 2014, he would’ve turned 90-years-young today. I suspect he is still enjoying himself, telling stories to angels and demons… And if dying didn’t change him, he is probably terribly pissed off because Death kept him from living during this time of socio-political chaos. It’s not that Gabo loved trouble, just that his muse was so good at turning turmoil into magical realist art that made most people think.
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Tuesday Platform.

Every time I look at this candle (thank you, Rommy!), I grin… and wonder if Gabo is also grinning at the sight of himself as “A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings”.
Happy Birthday, mi querido Gabo.

Minding Naught and Seeing Zilch

“That is the eternal folly of man. To be chasing after the sweet flesh, without realizing that it is simply a pretty cover for the bones.” ~ Neil Gaiman

Fear no skull,
child, bleached bones don’t lie.
Grinning flesh
with hard eyes?
Yes, mind the real reaper—
wails ooze through his teeth.

The child laughed,
following the flesh
and the grin,
minding naught
and seeing zilch, missing all
hints of the past kills.

the wee notes…
– Bastet, over at MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie, is reading two of my favorite books (American Gods and Anansi Boys, by Neil Gaiman). Since these novels are part of a series where my beloved Gaiman weaves fantastically dark urban legends around the myths of old and new gods, Bastet invites us to conjure our own tall tale or poem. I found inspiration in the quote at the beginning of this post and a pair of prescription glasses I saw sprouting out of a naked tree.
– This is my first dance with Shadorma, a poetic form consisting of a 6-line stanza presented as such: (3/5/3/3/7/5). The form is alleged to have originated in Spain. The form is short and asks for no rhyme. So… you’ll probably see more of them around here. Also, they can be linked together to create a shadorma series.
–  Linked to Poets United ~ Poetry Pantry, 342.

yep, it seems someone went home in a blur