Wednesday 3 June 2020

power of a prism...

The prism represents anyone who wants to be part of creating harmony...

small freeway...


Utagawa Hiroshige  There is a sensitive connection in these landscape scenes....between people and the world they inhabit...There is a slow pace...suggesting people are tuned and content in this lifestyle...

Northern Lights...

random beauty...

I felt like gathering some magic...









processing...

I too wonder...Will young people carry their feelings now for years to come? Are their young lives compromised? Will they be tainted with sadness that never leaves? And as adults, will they change? Their characters? Their outlook on the world? 

Impossible to know answers for now... we older ones will never know...

winter and rain...


For every patch of winter sunlight, lately, there seems to be a whole quilt load of rain variations, waiting to share their bounty...

Obama and change...

against the current...

storykeepers...


Boori Monty Pryor is an amazing individual.
He is an indigenous Australian born in Townsville, North Queensland in 1950. His father is from the Birri-gubba Nation of the Bowen region and his mother's tribal group from Yarrabah, near Cairns, is the Kunggandji. Boori travels extensively as a performer and public speaker for school students and adult groups throughout Australia and overseas Boori has worked in numerous industries including education, film, television, modelling, sport and music. He has played in two World Masters Games in Basketball competition, winning a Silver Medal for Australia in 1994. In 1990 he was awarded the National Aboriginal and Islander Observance Day Committee Award for "outstanding contribution to the promotion of indigenous culture".    SOURCE: Booktopia

Boori Monty Pryor has also written novels. My review of his novel My Girragundji - about a boy seeking identity - is on my Songlines on the Winds blog.

Words are soft
Words are sound
Words are hard
Words are round

They sing to you
Write to you
Cry to you
Sigh to you

They jumble, fumble
Mumble and crumble
Until they stumble into you

Touch is a word
Smile is a word
Feelings are wonderful words

Sometimes sad words
Need to see
That without each other
There could never be
You and me

Stories could never be told
Or heard
Without you and me

The longest sentence
In this world of words
Is the one that spells
You or me

You and me spells us

And these two letters
Together
Make us all
Storykeepers


SOURCE image + poem:  Australian Children's Poetry

am I...

'Born in 1958 on Wakka Wakka land in South Western Queensland, Fogarty’s poetry deploys language in innovative and disruptive ways and has 
pioneered a new space of Aboriginal writing: “I see words beyond any acceptable meaning,” he explains, “this is how I express my dreaming.” His poem “Am I,” for example, concludes with the cry of a kangaroo that presages the collapse of boundaries between self and other.'      Source: Poetry Foundation

the screen...

Adore the young teenagers in my classes... But in spite of the cheery hellos as soon as they appear on the computer screen..it's just not the same...Often, I feel tears welling at the end of a Google Meet...often...

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