— Gemma Wiseman (@AuraGem) June 18, 2020
Thursday, 18 June 2020
a tale of pegs...
I sometimes use clothes pegs— Tim Mallon (@PatMalo85776814) June 18, 2020
for purposes beyond the
hanging of clothes.
I employ them in the task of
sealing bags of lettuce,
in making secure
the Bay leaves used for making
soup, and in the reunification
of hitherto unified entities.
1/4
who, with domestic verve, bucket— Tim Mallon (@PatMalo85776814) June 18, 2020
pegs and stable them safely
each night. While
there are others, whom through
apathy or course indifference,
leave the pegs to grip
the wire and dangle, like forlorn
Soviet gymnasts. And here
is my mother,
3/4
And those long wooden pegs could transform into rather nifty boy or girl peg dolls with the clever use of paint and material scraps.— Gemma Wiseman (@AuraGem) June 18, 2020
urban template...
urban template— Gemma Wiseman (@AuraGem) June 18, 2020
terraced cottages
squeeze
shoulder to shoulder
in a tight place #tanka https://t.co/xR7p32txd1
Forgotten Songs...
Apparently, there are 180 cages here...Daylight=Eastern Whipbird, Rockwarbler, Regent Honeyeater, Grey Shrike-thrush, Fan-tailed Cuckoo, Spotted Pardalote, Brown Gerygone, Jacky Winter, Scarlet Robin. Nocturnal=Australian Owlet-nightjar, Powerful Owl, Southern Boobook, Barn Owl, Tawny Frogmouth+White-throated Nightjar https://t.co/gDrAJpPUo0— Gemma Wiseman (@AuraGem) June 18, 2020
a memory passed by...
I wrote this poem some time ago... re-discovered... re-felt...— Gemma Wiseman (@AuraGem) June 18, 2020
songlines of the spirit... - missing Paisley... by Gemma Wiseman https://t.co/yer3CqR0M6 via @goodreads
More details of Paisley, aka Jodi Herman, aka Jodi Herman Dority, on my blog Veiled Songlines HERE
One of her blogs was called Why-Paisley???? many posts are there from 2006-2013...
It is clear that she had an ongoing struggle with major health issues... but she kept writing and writing... I always loved the raw, unpretentious art of her words in action...
***Here is one of her posts from 2006...a non-poetic one and yet...still poetic...
a dignity i never had
“Sometimes people spend a lifetime protecting a dignity they never had.”
i have fought the fine fight to the finish as they say… and in this instant in time,.,, i feel as if i am winning.
today i am no longer interested in controlling anything or anyone. i am guilty instead, of falling far left of that and not even attempting to control anything. i have become quite lax in many areas, but i feel free some how for the first time in my life.
i am 45, not a hollywood 45,,, but 45,, like our mothers were supposed to be…you know, cute, plump, funny, loving and all because i can be. i am under no pressure to be anything other than that which i feel i am,,, and let me tell you ,,, this is a great feeling.
i know a lot of people my age,,, older even,,, who feel that have to struggle,, to fight,, to maintain their youth,, i give mine freely to anyone that wants it. i am soooo much happier. i am sooo much more at ease with myself, my life, my exsistence i ever was… and most of it has to do with letting go.
no way do i feel that i am supposed to be upholding a vision that was cast for me by people that actually chose not to know me. no.
i know a lot of people my age,,, older even,,, who feel that have to struggle,, to fight,, to maintain their youth,, i give mine freely to anyone that wants it. i am soooo much happier. i am sooo much more at ease with myself, my life, my exsistence i ever was… and most of it has to do with letting go.
no way do i feel that i am supposed to be upholding a vision that was cast for me by people that actually chose not to know me. no.
no more do i feel closeted in by the confines of family,. heritage, society, media.. no.
i lost many years of my life,, my youth, and many people in my desire to create a dignity i thought i had or could force someone into believing ,,, and for what!!!!!!!!! for scars that will never go away,,, for hurts that will never really heal… for nothing of any value…nothing…
and yet, i am not bitter, i am greatful.. i am thrilled to be 45 , and have the opportunity to discard that which kept me bound in so many ways for so many years to something that never belonged to me….
and yet, i am not bitter, i am greatful.. i am thrilled to be 45 , and have the opportunity to discard that which kept me bound in so many ways for so many years to something that never belonged to me….
tonight i can sit here in my country home,, dogs in the bed, fire in the fireplace, and know,,, i am happy i am alive, , and i am alone….
** Here is her response to the novel 'How Fear Moves' - by Eugene Jackson. It is a memoir of an African American who had a tumultuous childhood and becomes a marine and officer in the Far East, the Gulf War, and multiple duty stations across America. His journey is one of self-discovery.
** Here is her response to the novel 'How Fear Moves' - by Eugene Jackson. It is a memoir of an African American who had a tumultuous childhood and becomes a marine and officer in the Far East, the Gulf War, and multiple duty stations across America. His journey is one of self-discovery.
outdoor art...
Sculpture parks are emerging too. There is one at Montalto vineyard + one at Point Leo - both on my Mornington Peninsula in Victoria. Point Leo overlooks Westernport Bay (see below) pic.twitter.com/6gpYQhm8pP— Gemma Wiseman (@AuraGem) June 18, 2020
hello morning...
My little furball this morning - more than quite happy to greet a sunny winter's day... pic.twitter.com/R0uMQXQrGB— Gemma Wiseman (@AuraGem) June 17, 2020
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