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Author Archives: ZQ

The Illumination of Beatrice in the Glass cube

Town Hall meeting in ZoralinQ NH 1864

Moderator has yielded to an open floor:

Young Woman (who taunted Beatrice) rose and walked to the center of the assembly in the Middle aisle:

Thank you Moderator for allowing me to speak on behalf of my acknowledgment— that I will  never be friends with Beatrice nor will anyone else in this settlement.

            Pain in harmony with joy— is in the world we choose. One cannot be without the other. However, the joys of love without the souls acceptance, made Beatrice seem shallow, mired in the misunderstanding that settled in her heart.

            Laugher’s joy was often at her expense; causing confusion— what laughter was, or, for that matter, for her, what it really meant. Beatrice learned to be silent, as everything in her life was her fault, always her accident. Reprimanded, then silenced.

            Assembly, I am not here to fill in all the details I found within her copious notes, but I do want to read for you—  from the small piece of white cardboard that Beatrice wrote. (Looking at the moderator as he nods approval).  I believe she left this behind for me. To help me understand what I had seen, all of us watching her leave—  in a Royal Carriage, fit for a Queen.   

Young Woman holding a white piece of cardboard begins to read:

            “Every evening just after dusk, I prepared myself for bed. Knowing I would sleep, again, in a mysterious space hidden only in my head; unable to be found during the light of day. Not that I was afraid, it had been repetitious for some time. The mounting source of my anxiety was waiting for what I had to accept, when and how it ended.

                                    Sleep would capture me in a glass cube. At first, it would hold me a short time then melt away during my sleep leaving me with pleasant memories, of myself in a glass cube. Each night however, I was held in that glass tube longer and longer until I was released just before daybreak. Each time, as always, I remained silent, though this time I awoke with a gasp.

                                    A few nights ago, the moment I fell to sleep, I found myself already captured, in the floating glass cube. But, this time at the bottom, water was starting to trickle in. I assumed it was a stream of illusion from another dream.

                                   As the night wore on, the water was filling the square of the cube unable to speak or scream I began hitting the glass with my feet and hands trying to break the glass. As the water continued to rise by feet broken and my hands bloody with muscle and flesh showing— I saw a bright light, so blinding I thought it was the light of eternity. I still do not know if I was in the water or above the water when the light began to dim, fading; it illuminated the cube as it shattered, and drained.

                                    I awoke unscathed to an open window with the breeze blowing the curtains, creating a strobe that flashed a soft incoming new day’s sun. I went to my desk and wrote you this note wishing you a better life and a peace sublime”.

~Beatrice~

Young Woman, as she returned to her seat, several other young people stood up, one at a time, each repeating :

           “I believe she left that behind— for ME. To help me understand what I had seen, watching her leave— in a Royal Carriage, fit for a Queen”.           

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4 Comments

Posted by on October 22, 2017 in Prose/Short Story, short story, Spiritual, Theater

 

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Autumn Haiku(s) 2017

 

I taste food at dusk

I eat my meal in the light

by shadow of moon

 

Blue Haiku(s)

Blue mussels cling rocks

Tide and moon are true lovers

Boiling for supper

****

Blue skies parting leaves

Green grass below aging feet

Balance beneath me

****

Blue birds sang in spring

Announcing flower trumpets

Shook summer to rise

****

Morning Glory blue

Summer’s last call before fall

Welcomes winter frost

****

 
18 Comments

Posted by on October 7, 2017 in Haiku, Morning Glories, Poetry, Sittting still

 

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Another Royal French Canadian Boîte à savon performance

The Bended Black Steel Arbor And The Morning Glory’s Vows [The Legend Of The Black Knight, from the Pine Cone Diaries]

    “Oh, bended steel arbor, planted firmly in the ground… father of the black knight. You have stood staunch through frost and snow until, in soft ground, I am able to rise upon you —and grow. With spring rain into summer sunshine you courted me becoming my first and only love; supporting me to stretch, to trust my wanderings, betting on me to win, lose, or draw.

    I will crawl up your season’s steel arbor. I will rise above your bended arch. I will cover you with the cloak of my groping summer hearts.

    With vines entwined, we will drink the sun— and hide to spoon beneath the moon; until I rise, unable to stand, so drunk from this climb, you will let me gently fall; bending to blossom our true desires. They will be bright sky blue, reflecting the sea; with a sprinkling darkness of the sky before the rain. And, every morning from their center’s light, they will release —the captured vanilla moon.

    They will stand staunch with the colors you expect in a parade. They will be a delightful explosion of blue and vanilla moon surprises. One maybe two— maybe some— sometimes maybe none, depending on the bees and the hummingbirds and how we are groomed. I will promise the birth of our black knight, in our season’s last bloom; expelling the sun for our love to take flight, fleeing from winter’s moon”.

 Bended black steel arbor planted firmly in the ground, pleasantly listening to a dream, streaming by, of an upcoming meeting and the exchange; now, of his vows. He begins to rehearse again, as he has in all three seasons. When suddenly— she peers from the earth— arrives with blinking, sun sparkled green eyes.

Well! Without hesitation, the bended black steel arbor, planted firmly in the ground, breaks out in his sincere well-rehearsed vows.

“Oh, love of love in my gloom and despair,

My patience is resilient as thou art fair.

 

Cast my season’s dis-pleasures in late summer air.

You arrive before fall, in regal fashion flair;

Paling all colors, that frost will peak and fade.

I have stood tall waiting and staunch.

Stretch and climb onto me. No time to yawn!

Awaken into your destined place. Embrace me,

Climb onto me, for the delivery

 Of our love’s, sweet morning glories.

 

Oh, love of love in my gloom and despair,

My patience is resilient as thou art fair.”

photos: Arbor: ZQ   MGz: by Zeezee Ceecee

 

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Notes Found On The Refrigerator September 2017

     There are three trees in this two-acre yard. The one palm tree in the front yard stands near the sandy part of the lawn, standing alone.  It offers little shade, keeping the sand warm.  I take comfort for its resilience, reaching stunted bright green leaves above brown, in a September Florida sun.

     Awakened with the morning light and heat, at sunrise and sleepless till’ midnight, are the other two; one tall, the other a strapping offspring evergreen. They provide shade throughout the day on an oasis of shade in the back yard.

Everglades ripple

Gator and snake are dancing

Enjoy illusion

*****

     Depression is not the snake that crawls up your leg. It is the caterpillar you kiss, before you turn into a butterfly for a day ending in despair. Or you go flying around the world without reason or care. I wear goggles and always know where I keep my parachute. Smiles.

*****

     Moon through pines needles— shines my path through night.

     Swaying black maple branches along the way— gives light in-between dark shadows.  Without discrimination —and without apology.

****

          Love is not something you look for and find— It is something you discover and keep to yourself—  in the darkness of your heart teaching you, waiting for your understanding…

           To wake up, unable to hold it anymore having to share your discovery —a  spark from existence, so small yet so bright,  mutual hearts  burst from darkness into light.

****

Note:Unfortunately I have very little service to read other’s creative work. I’ve been on a writing retreat in Pine Lakes Florida in the mist of Hurricane Irma. Just got electricity after five days… town won’t take anything but cash all atm(s) are down Sporadic wi-fi— using the generosity of a friends limited hotspot. Trains have canceled my reservation back to the NH mountains 3 times. Send me lawyers, guns, and money. 🙂

ZQ

 
13 Comments

Posted by on September 17, 2017 in Haibun Poetry, Haiku, Love, Nature, Prose Poetry, thoughts

 

Weathered Swing [Shadorma]

~Yesterday~

Course old rope

Worn smooth in child’s hands

Seat of dreams

Grip loosens

Jump gleefully into sand

Falling only twice

 

~Today~

Holding hands

Watching the sun rise

Creaking swing

Swaying smooth

Humming together in time

Our first meeting song

 

~Tomorrow~

Without frown

With our last jump long

Pushing feet

Toes to Toes

Sunset’s breeze tuning our song

Rocking weathered swing

          I want to thank Rall [rallentanda.blogspot.com] for introducing this poetic form to me….The Shadorma is a Spanish poetic form made up of a stanza of six lines. (sestet) with no set rhyme scheme. It is a syllabic poem with a meter of 3/5/3/3/7/5. It can have many stanzas, as long as each follows the meter.

 
37 Comments

Posted by on September 3, 2017 in Love, Poetry, Zen

 

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A Curriers Blind Date In Manchester NH

*****

 I was invited to an Art show that was painted

long before I was born—

Seven decades ago.

 

Its beauty was impressive.

Yet—  I kept walking along

Smiling at each ornate frame, checking my watch,

flirting with my chaperone—  waiting to go home.

 

History with all its beauty and faults

cannot survive without sharing its thoughts

—as they did on my evening’s drive home.

 

Drowsy with perception’s wine,

its indigestible sandwiches 

sprinkled with beauty and awe

unable to personally imagine or to be explained.

 

 I will see her again.

*****

 
20 Comments

Posted by on August 26, 2017 in Companionship, Love, Prose Poetry, Zen

 

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Notes Found On The Refrigerator August 24, 2017

As an intelligent, compassionate person I cover all the bases of the perceived truths— Before I discover my reality without bias of mind or heart but within my soul— Then, I can begin an argument —open for discussion for covering all our bases— with the illusions of what we have seen.

i have sifted through sand

tripped on stones

slipped on pine needles

have lost my balance on occasion

a few times—  falling

—but never has my path

been more appealing

than the steps before

 

i am who I’ve been

I certainly am not

who I was— as dust in the wind

as scent in the pines

as tomorrow is in each day

as yesterday—

 is unable to hold time.

*****

 
17 Comments

Posted by on August 24, 2017 in Existential, Experimental, Love, Nature, Poetry, Prose Poetry, Zen

 

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