Love

National Poetry Month – April 30th

/ still a dreamer / 2 Comments

It’s the end of April and the end of National Poetry Month. I felt we were overdue for a love poem.

PERMANENTLY

One day the Nouns were clustered in the street.
An Adjective walked by, with her dark beauty.
The Nouns were struck, moved, changed.
The next day a Verb drove up, and created the Sentence.

Each Sentence says one thing – for example, “Although it was a dark, rainy day when the Adjective walked by, I shall remember the pure and sweet expression on her face until the day I perish from the green, effective earth.”

Or, “Will you please close the window, Andrew?”

Or, for example, “Thank you, the pink pot of flowers on the window sill has changed color recently to a light yellow, due to the heat from the boiler factory which exists nearby.”

In the springtime, the Sentences and the Nouns lay silently on the grass.
A lonely conjunction here and there would call, “And! But!”
But the Adjective did not emerge.

As the adjective is lost in the sentence,
So I am lost in your eyes, ears, nose, and throat –
You have enchanted me with a single kiss
Which can never be undone
Until the destruction of language.

– Kenneth Koch

Away …

/ still a dreamer / 8 Comments

Searching through photos for one thing inevitably surprises us with something else. Especially when you have the amount of photos that I do.

This is a photo I took when visiting my cousin in Portugal when I was 23 years old. He and his family lived here, in a small fishing village, Vila Nova de Cerveira, at the mouth of the Minho River, just minutes from Spain. It was an indescribable experience, and looking back now, even more so, especially as the area has evolved so since.

Truly, it was a village. There was a tinker (today’s handyman/carpenter), a small bakery/grocery store, a church, a police station, and a few other shops. There was also a castle, and a variety of homes. The streets were cobblestone, and it seemed that everyone knew everyone. Many people grew or raised their own food.

In the morning, we heard the clanging of the bell at the long driveway gate. A neighbor had brought a clean bucket of milk, fresh from her cow. Wherever my cousin and I walked, there were young children skipping after us, fascinated by the visitor with her light-colored eyes.

Coming across this photo brought back so many memories, which could probably fill a short memoir of its own. My cousin, his wife, children, and dogs were my warm and wonderful hosts. With all I experienced in that too-short week, I existed in a slice of time never to be known again.

I also remember the train ride home, first to Porto, then a switch to a second train to Lisbon. In my compartment were five Portuguese men and women, none of whom spoke English. During the 5-hour ride, they brought out their lunch, and so generously offered everything to me – bread, cheese, some kind of meat, wine. With hand signs and broken language, we talked and laughed all the way to Lisbon.

I remember wondering even then if Americans would be so utterly kind to strangers who spoke no English in a traveling compartment. The importance of that entire experience has deepened ever since. Would we all be as kind and generous as they? Can we still share? Can we still love?

National Poetry Month – April 4th

/ still a dreamer / 4 Comments

April is National Poetry Month. They Want Us to Be Afraid is one of many beautiful – the word here is so inadequate – poems by Kamand Kojouri. This poem was written in May 2017, just 8 years ago.

THEY WANT US TO BE AFRAID

They want us to be afraid.
They want us to be afraid of leaving our homes,
to barricade our doors and hide our children.
They aim to make us fear life!

They want us to hate.
They want us to hate the other,
to practice aggression and promote oppression.
They aim to divide us all!

They want us to be inhuman.
They want us to throw out our kindness,
to conceal our love and bury our hope.
They aim to take our light!

They think their brick walls
will separate us.
They think their damned bombs
will defeat us.

They are so ignorant they don’t understand
that my soul and your soul are old friends.
They are so ignorant they don’t understand
that when they cut you, I bleed.

They are so ignorant they don’t understand
that we will never be afraid,
we will never hate,
and we will never be silent.
For life is only ours!

~ Kamand Kojouri

Where Do Butterflies Go at Night? – 2nd Edition

/ still a dreamer / 5 Comments

It’s here! ”Where Do Butterflies Go at Night?” – 2nd Edition is now available. While newly designed and formatted, the book still has the same heartwarming story with the lush and magical illustrations of Stella Maris Mongodi.

Why a 2nd Edition? Due to “Butterflies” first publisher unfortunately closing their doors, my beautiful picture book would disappear or … I could save it. I wanted kids to be able to still read of a child’s rich imagination as to where butterflies went at night, and also how they could help them. I decided to purchase the illustrations and acquired permission to use them to self-publish my book.

The challenge? The dimensions of the original book are not offered by POD publishers. This meant a new size and gave me the opportunity to do a re-design. As a graphic designer and an artist, myself, I was able to re-create “Butterflies” in this gorgeous, new book.

Please consider welcoming “Where Do Butterflies Go at Night?” – 2nd Edition into your home and share the magic with a child, available on Amazon.

Looking to 2025

/ still a dreamer / 7 Comments

2024 has been a challenging year for many.
Be proud of all you’ve accomplished.
All your hard work will support your efforts in 2025.
Choose you;
choose the people who truly see you
and love you as you are.
Happy New Year.