In #Istanbul

In Istanbul

April 2016 – Some friends and I spent some days in Istanbul Turkey as tourists cum pilgrims.  We loved it.  In recent days the sadness that has descended is crushing.  The good and hospitable people of Istanbul could well do with our encouragement.

 

In Istanbul

 

We travelled in,

We trod the streets,

We slopped the beer,

And ate the treats.

In the Bazaar Grand,

Some tried their hand,

At a haggle or two,

For a rug or a shoe.

And we loved our days,

On the ‘Gold Horn’ way.

They took us in.

Made us at home,

And it made us grin,

To see spruikers roam.

 

But the terminal we travelled,

Has now been unravelled,

Leaving crumble and rubble,

From the hateful trouble.

And streets we walked in peace,

Amidst crowds and police,

Now could appear,

To become pathways of fear.

But people! O people! Of Istanbul,

Do not lose heart when others kill,

Those you looked after

From far across sea,

Call out to you from a land roaming free.

You hosted us,

And we toasted you,

Do not let hatred or fuss,

Your spirit subdue.

Your history is splendid,

Your hospitality is fine,

When the hatred subsides,

You’ll return to your prime.

 

 

Simon C.J. Falk 30 June 2016

 

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I Saw a Grey Nomad

I Saw a Grey Nomad

This cheeky little piece plays with the notion of ‘grey nomads’ and the irony of finding one who is brown!  It plays with our quest to keep on looking younger than we are and of not taking our appearance too seriously.

I Saw a Grey Nomad

I saw a grey nomad in a brown rinse

Not many sleeps had passed

Since she had been seated

Not in the campervan

But in a hairdresser’s chair

With colourful conversation

And now

With colourful hair!

Hair with constructed youthfulness

Telling a different tale

To the face there beneath it

Shaded somewhat more pale.

May their adventures on the highway

Be colourful too.

 

Simon C.J. Falk 20 June 2016

Trapped

Trapped

 

A partial response to the Australian Story segment, ‘When the Call Comes’ 20 June 2016 http://www.abc.net.au/austory/ about a man referred to as ‘Mouse’ and his circle.

 

First strike

Trapped

By tragedy

A man trapped

By his painful past

A cycle

Of abuse and torment

Through his days.

Second strike

Trapped

By the ‘street scene’

The rounds

By the moment

Like a mouse

Cornered

Stabbed and

Struck

Gone.

Third strike

Trapped

By the memory

Two families broken

This is

No score.

The bystanders

We

In the background

Look

In sad horror

His place

Abandoned

Monument of memory

Of a life taken way.

 

* * *

 

Memoriam

May he find peace now

A true home forever

And peace for his family

May the torment

Become peace.

 

Simon C.J. Falk 20 June 2016

Hope is… with Sydney Story Factory

is

Having

Our

Passion

Encouraged

This was tweeted as part of a poem collage for the Sydney Story Factory.  Check them out.  They do great work!

Poems That Changed Your Life

One of my friends (who, incidentally, used to work in a bookshop – what a job!) recently posted about books on another sharing platform.  The question posed was: “Have you ever read a book that fundamentally changed the way you thought or behaved? What was the book and how did it change you?”  I thought it a fabulous post and naturally joined in.

Here I thought we could ask a similar question: Have you ever read a poem, or poems, that changed the way you thought or behaved?  Can you share the poem, or poems, and what was the change that occurred? 

There have been numerous poems for me.  I keep returning to two specific ones:

Rudyard Kipling’s “If

If you can keep your head when all about you   
    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,   
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
    But make allowance for their doubting too; …… 

Oscar Wilde’s “The Ballad of Reading Gaol

I never saw a man who looked
With such a wistful eye
Upon that little tent of blue
Which prisoners call the sky,
And at every drifting cloud that went
With sails of silver by….
Yet each man kills the thing he loves,
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!….
Then there is Emily Dickinson’s “I heard a Fly buzz – when I died
I heard a Fly buzz – when I died –
The Stillness in the Room
Was like the Stillness in the Air –
Between the Heaves of Storm –…..
For Kipling and Wilde there are two things that strike me.  First, is the quality of their writing.  It impresses me and challenges me to better expression.  Second, the depth of what they share.  They move to weighty matters of our very human struggles.  That also impresses me.
For Dickinson, I love the way she plays with the presence of such banal things. Someone is dying, meanwhile a fly buzzes.  This hit me with great irony when we were sitting for school exams. We had been examined on Dickinson’s “I Heard a Fly Buzz” and, in the background, flies buzzed, cars parked, the sun shone.  It struck me that Dickinson was teaching me that the poet can appreciate the weighty and the light, the sublime and the banal, all at the same time, and write of it to boot.  Wonderful.
Many years before that a poem changed me.  But I was the one who wrote the words down.  It was called “Drought” and has been posted on this site before.  What struck me about the process of that poem was that it was the first time I felt the rush, the animation, that comes as a poem emerges from the cocoon of our creative self. I loved that feeling and have loved feeling it again since then.
Have you ever read a poem, or poems, that changed the way you thought or behaved?  Can you share the poem, or poems, and what was the change that occurred? 

 

 

#

#

Just a playful, petite poem. By the way, for those who like short poems and micro poems, check out anthonymize.

#

Get on to google

and

#

lists pages

and pages of results.

But

put #

with a word

and a whole

new vista

of possibilities

enters a network

on screen

and between

our many screens.

 

Simon C.J.Falk 11 June 2016

Random Voicemail-Answering Machine Messages

Random Voicemail-Answering Machine Messages

This one is from the archives.  Just when you are sick of hearing dumb messages when no one is home this one is there.

I’m here, when I am here

and not, when I am not.

So try when I am here

and not,

when I am not.

 

Simon C.J. Falk  April 1996

Another Side of Loneliness or ‘On Living Life to the Full’

Another Side of Loneliness or ‘On Living Life to the Full’

 

Paul Murray, who is a poet, scholar of Christian Spirituality and a Dominican Friar, writes in his book, Scars: Essays, Poems and Meditations on Affliction (Bloomsbury: 2014), on both the gift of our uniqueness and the loneliness that can be felt along with it.  Part of our lives are unique to us alone and others cannot perceive, think and feel exactly the same way that we each do. By the way, I’m fine at the moment.  I just recognise having had this experience before and wondered if others may identify with this in some way.

 

‘On Living Life to the Full’

 

When you heart is empty

And your hands are empty

 

You can take into your hands

The gift of the present

 

You can experience in your heart

The moment in its fullness.

 

***

 

And this you will know,

Though perhaps you may not yet

Understand it,

 

And this you will know:

 

That nothing

Of all you have longed for

Or have sought to hold fast

Can relieve you of your thirst,

Your loneliness,

 

Until you learn

To take in your hands

And raise to your lips

This cup of solitude

This chalice of the void

 

And drain it to the dregs.

 

(All rights to Paul Murray, OP and Bloomsbury Press 2014)

 

Interesting that I had read this, as, in recent times, the author Hannah Kent tweeted on her @HannahFKent account “My favourite new word: Waldeinsamkeit (German, noun). The feeling of being alone in the woods, an easy solitude, connectedness to nature.”

 

I partly covered what Murray is talking about in a closing section to one of my previous posts, “The Great Alone

How do we hold them,

Their damp, dark spirits,

In the fog,

When they realise

That we each

have an alone

that is unique to ourself,

and no other human

can truly dwell

with us

in that beautiful

yet alone

place?

 

Simon C.J. Falk 10 June 2016

Still Responding to ‘Still Alice’ and Others We Know

Still Responding to ‘Still Alice’ and Others We Know

Some time ago I read ‘Still Alice’ and was struck by the plight of the story.  I also know a number of families who have, or are, journeying with a loved one who has a dementia-related condition. This is partly a response to all of this, and also, to a fabulous post ‘Still Emily’ from the Bookshelf of Emily J.  

 

Still Responding to ‘Still Alice’ and Others We Know

Still

Spinning the cycling conversation,

We were last here

Around five minutes ago.

Still

Asking the same questions

And heading down the same trajectory,

As the narrative arcs out

And returns

Like a jet

Waiting for ground clearance

To finally come

To rest.

Rest

There needs to be rest

For this person

And their loved ones,

From this demented process,

The ‘in and out’ of reality,

Where

Some moments are Ok

But others, oh

No!

Who is this person

Behind the face

Of one I thought

I knew?

Maybe it is I

Who have the problem?

I can be a bit,

You know,

Lost in my world.

But wait.

He’s

Not following

The plot.

The poor family

How can they

Stay with this

Still?

Still

On the journey

The merry-go-round

Of thought loops.

But the go-round

Aint always so merry

Just round.

 

 

Simon C.J. Falk 4 June 2016

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