I really enjoyed this and hope you will also. There is more on Button Poetry.
I really enjoyed this and hope you will also. There is more on Button Poetry.
The Star of Christmas
I started something last Christmas when I showed a star of Christmas from my garden in Bellbowrie, Queensland, and surprisingly – I discovered yet another star recently. Like the previous bromeliad flower, I called this bloom a “star” because of its aesthetic features and perfect arrival, just before Christmas. This pineapple species reminded me of christmas lights. And, as bromeliads often do, it sat there flowerless for years and one day, it put out a fascinating flower.
This bromeliad has been growing for over three years, and I had no idea what its flower would look like. This star of Christmas is for you too, whether you are a Christian and celebrating this time of the year or not, it is a thank you from me to you for supporting and being part of the Tribalmystic blog family.
This Christmas is a special time for my sons and I. It is the first time since we moved to Brisbane that we enjoy the season with my 74-year-old mother, visiting from Papua New Guinea. While we celebrate the meaning of Christmas as christians, it is also a time we enjoy the love we share as a family. I am grateful to have had six months with my mother after a long time of separation. My mother moved away and eventually re-married when I was about nine and I grew up with my grandmother. We spent time in between the years that have flown by, but briefly and always with other members of our family. Despite this time apart, we still do a lot of things that we can together, such as, her composing her songs and singing them to me over the phone or sending me a bag she made with new designs.
My mother and I share similar interests, so in Bellbowrie, we have spent a lot of time in the garden planting, making art, telling stories and making music. We talk. There have been many, many stories. Sometimes she plays her flute or we sing and other times we enjoy the birds and the plants.
And, it is from the garden that the star of Christmas bromeliad came from. My mother has not seen bromeliads before she arrived in Brisbane so she now understands that they look like the pineapple plant and her daughter is obsessed with the plant.
I wish all my readers, friends and family members, a very Happy Christmas and best wishes for 2017. I hope that you find what you love and enjoy your life as much as you can. Life is full of surprises, sometimes not all good ones. But, the good ones are hard to forget and they are the ones to hold onto.
Personally, while it had been a tough career year for me, I have had a few wins in other parts of my life and people I have met or worked with. As a parent I was moved by the number of friends and family members that came to celebrate and gave so much for two milestones in our family – Chris’ 18th and Nathan’s 21st birthdays. Nathan moved out from home and graduated with a Science Degree, and that is a big win for me. Being a family and having love is the most important thing for me. As I often say on this blog, nothing beats love and I wish you all the same for this festive period and beyond.
A father rethinks his professional life and his passion after his daughter is born. Moon Line is a project featuring Professional skier Mathieu Bijasson and focuses on his new outlook on life. With the arrival of his daughter and his new role as a father, Mathieu takes this passion and love for life and rethinks his approach to night freeskiing. Children always change us when we become parents.
Soaking Hearts with the Night – Love Poem
We soaked our heart in the night.
Oblivious to time and weather,
we shared the tea of love.
By the firelight, where winds engulfed our embrace,
mushrooms glowed, transcending our emotions.
And like heart-beat, the fireflies echoed the rhythm.
Long and steady, into the morning light;
letting the moon slip by, and the shadows dissolve.
When we let our words melt into nothingness, our bodies
rushed to the voice of our desires.
The Wild Orchid and the Tasmania Oak – A love story
The Tasmanian Oak, is a robust, proud and resilient tree.
Years of wisdom engrained; it stood tall amongst trees of heights and sizes. Fibres of complexity, the oak tree held gave it presence.
Guarding at a gateway, the oak remained alert at all times.
When it stormed, travellers sought refuge under its wide, branched embrace where other travellers often stop. But they all braved the gateway – seeking better life. Many stories were told and left behind, under the oak.
While the tree was secretive, and always remained in silence, the Tasmanian Oak absorbed and collected these stories, one at a time for many years and became a tree of knowledge. The stories were; wisdom of great learned, adventures and lives torn, and tried and forgotten escapades. Some of these stories were of sad and glum kismet. Then one day, it stormed far away. The rains brought an unusual traveller, an exotic wild orchid. Delicate in nature, soft in physique and with light form, the orchid floated by the gateway in the rough tide. Brief glimpses and words were exchanged between the Tasmanian Oak and the orchid.
After the orchid’s journey far beyond the seas, tides changed and
once more, the gateway passage became a meeting place for the tree and the orchid. This time, the orchid floated too close and was caught by the root of the oak tree.
Days went by and the orchid clung on for safety, and unable to free itself, it grew roots. The oak remained tall, aloof and on watch and unaware of the life growing at its ‘feet’.
The orchid grew beyond the gateway canopy and above the shadows. It loved its new place and wanted to say thank you to the oak tree. Where the sun rays played and the birds greeted each other warmly the orchid grew into the Oak’s hollow. This place was warm and dry. As days turned to weeks, the orchid felt warm and safe and finally where the oak tree felt the softest, the orchid budded and flowered. In gratitude, the orchid continued to offer the the tree with its beautiful offerings of bloom, one season after another.
At first the Tasmanian Oak was intrigued and enthralled by the beauty of the orchid’s flowers. It felt proud that it could provide a safe haven for the orchid. More days slipped into weeks and months.
The Tasmanian Oak once more became fully engaged with the travellers and their stories. With all effort, the orchid rooted in the tough stringy bark and climbed higher and held on with all its might. It tried to grow new shoots after the flowering but the bark became harder to get close and grow into. The oak tree could not see the orchid anymore as its branches also grew and eventually covered the sunlight and stopped rain water from falling through.
One day, the winds blew and became very strong. It grew into a big storm. It shook both the orchid and the tree. With its delicate nature and roots not planted well enough into the Oak’s bark, it was too hard for the orchid to hang on. The orchid tried to grab onto the bark, branches and even the roots of the Oak tree, when it fell, but the winds were too strong. Once the winds ripped and threw the orchid back into the rough tides, torrents quickly tumbled and washed the orchid away from the tree. And once more, the orchid was swept out into the open seas leaving the Tasmanian Oak, at the gateway.
Image website: the perfume project.
Love is best expressed when you show it from your heart. Isn’t it just like story-telling? Here is how Lizz Wright puts us straight in her song “Speak Your Heart”. Lizz Wright has been one of my favourite singers for a long time. She composes and sings jazz, blues, R&B, gospel and soul music. I discovered her by accident, while listening to music at a store over a decade ago. I hope you like her too. This is her official website. She is also on Wiki and can be easily found on Google and Youtube.com
The Carménère Moment©JLeahy Short Story
Mondays Finish the Story with Barbara W.Beacham
“The only residents remaining in the small town of Miners Hill are spirits.” Uncle Joseph said.
A tear rolled down his wrinkled tired face. The Eastern Belt explosion left several hundred dead last week. The town was evacuated. I watched another tear form and my eyes salted.
“My first thoughts were Josepha, Maria, and Antonia”.
“Where were you?”
“We sat for dinner. I went down to get a bottle of wine from the cellar – only minutes away”, he covered his face with bloody bandaged hands and wept.
My 50-year-old uncle cried as I rubbed his shoulders.
“I…I heard a single explosion, it sounded so far away. I thought it was the daily blasting at mine site. I should have come up. Antonio wanted a Carménère to celebrate Maria’s first communion. I couldn’t read the labels…suddenly I heard the crumbling, screams upstairs and everything went black”.
“Don’t cry, please uncle. They are with God now”, I whispered, as I cried with him.
Monday Finish the Story. Hosted by Barbara W. Beacham
Feeling the Music © JLeahy
“Are you laughing at me?” Enoch asked me. His voice quivered and softened at the end of his question. Self pity.
“No! I love the orchids. They are beautiful.”
I looked at him, the sincerity in his large brown eyes made me want to laugh again, but I stopped myself. Without the harshness of the piercings in his nose and above his brows, and his terrible haircut, you could call him handsome.
“How did you afford this?”
“Oh, I had some money; my casual job.”
I looked at this 18-year-old boy and wondered what his parents would think, especially his mother – if she knew he was chasing his middle-aged music teacher. I held the orchids closer and observed the silky tenderness in its intricate layers of petals. I knew these flowers so well.
Each morning, I admired them as I passed the flowers at the front of the principal’s office.
I turned 50 a few days ago and I got asked how I felt and what were my plans etc. I have had a good life so far. To be honest, I felt nothing different physically nor mentally. My present goal is to publish my memoir and a book of short stories. I also want my boys to complete university and do what they love.
When I look back at it, I have led a life that has not been ordinary and I am so grateful for many things. One thing worth mentioning is that I do know now as I have grown older, life is not complete without love. Every human craves love and nothing can replace love. I treasure the love in bonds I have with my sons and my family and friends. My belief in love came from those who loved me and the ones who continue to love me. Every human deserves to be loved.
I am a ‘closet poet’ that writes love poems sometimes. I was asked recently if I could write poetry (and I guess I can) and if I had any. I have never been taught, but I love to read poems and I have written a few as gifts over the past decades for friends and family. I believe poetry is one great way to express love. Lucky for those men I have loved and written free poems for, I hope they still appreciate the verses, even if they don’t want to remember…
Here is one such collection of lines which you may call poetry if you wish to. I am happy for my blogger friends and the real poets out there to critique me.
A mess of feelings
Soft strings twisted and tangled
A lore to be unfold soon
Waiting, yearning the unknown
Once for-warned heart dazed
Consumed in immense chaos
Riddled with beauty
Warmed and rendered with lightness
Well, that’s what those who conducted this experiment say. I say, why can’t Valentine’s Day be any day for love? Pick any day and call it your special day for you and your loved ones.
LOVE should be celebrated every day!