I once stood for hours
Looking at the ravaged symmetry
Of the broken marble pillars
Of the Parthenon. White, tall ruins
Weathered yet proud.
Someone said:
What do you see in old stones?
.
Eternity.

Thanks, B.
Posted in Poetry is crimson, Travels with my trainers., tagged architecture, Art, old temples, poetry on May 26, 2008| 9 Comments »
I once stood for hours
Looking at the ravaged symmetry
Of the broken marble pillars
Of the Parthenon. White, tall ruins
Weathered yet proud.
Someone said:
What do you see in old stones?
.
Eternity.

Thanks, B.
Posted in I cannot think of any., tagged airplanes, flights, no go on May 22, 2008| 5 Comments »
Today I arrived at the airport at six o’clock to find that the 6.15 flight suffered from one of those “technical reasons” which sets one aircraft into the much hated cathegory of “no go”. That the plane was a “no go” flight was known since two A.M.
But nothing had been done by the night staff on duty, so the check in pool arriving at five just checked in passengers as if the flight was a “go” flight.
I was already tired to death after a bad night. Then the voice over the tarmac announced the flight was “delayed”. One hundred and eighty three passengers materialized in front of me showing their boarding passes and crying outrage.
I hadn’t got the slightest clue about what was going on. I hadn’t even taken off my coat, and my computer was still off. No one had briefed me.
I couldn’t think what to do. Decisions are easy to take if you have had time to plan, to check alternatives. But not easy when one hundred and eighty three people are shouting at you “I have a business meeting” “I have a medical appointment” “I have a connecting flight” “I have TWO connecting flights” “I have paid and I have my rights” at the same time, you don’t know what is happening and you are alone.
I was in shock: I could not digest that the people who had been in charge of the flight had actually done nothing, had not even informed the check in pool or the passengers.
One of my workmates came to my aid. My personal saviour grabbed my arm, shouted “one moment please” in the general direction of the shouting mob, took me to the inside office and thrusted a hot cup of coffee into my hands. “React, Alexa. I’m by your side. We’ll deal with this together. Come on, drink, breathe deep and let’s fight”.
It took hours until the mob cleared up. In the midst of deafening insults and threats she stood by me. It was not her duty to be there suffering abuse and stress.
A friend who is by your side when times are dark. Those are the ones that count.
Beautiful, clever, witty, faithful, lovely Maria del Carmen N.
Here’s to you, my friend.
Posted in Poetry is crimson, tagged Granada, poems, poetry, romance on May 14, 2008| 3 Comments »

Allí fabló un moro viejo, — de esta manera fablara:
—¿Para qué nos llamas, rey, — para qué es esta llamada?
—¡Ay de mi Alhama!—
—Habéis de saber, amigos, — una nueva desdichada:
que cristianos de braveza — ya nos han ganado Alhama.
—¡Ay de mi Alhama!—
Allí fabló un alfaquí — de barba crecida y cana:
—Bien se te emplea, buen rey, — buen rey, bien se te empleara.
—¡Ay de mi Alhama!—
Mataste los Bencerrajes, — que eran la flor de Granada,
cogiste los tornadizos — de Córdoba la nombrada.
—¡Ay de mi Alhama!—
Por eso mereces, rey, — una pena muy doblada:
que te pierdas tú y el reino, — y aquí se pierda Granada.
—¡Ay de mi Alhama!—
Romance de la pérdida de Alhama, anonymous XVth century
Posted in Poetry is crimson, tagged Art, poems, poetry on May 11, 2008| 1 Comment »
Our ideas feature
words paint pictures
life as art
Still life
There is nothing
more or less inspiring
than peach like hips
and a pair of breasts
Still life in a niche, Frans Snijders
Sleeping bather, Pierre Auguste Renoir
Posted in Poetry is crimson, tagged poems, poetry, verses on May 9, 2008| 8 Comments »
From this scattered jumble
Every portion is a gamblePlease consider logic’s lesson
.then step light upon existence
Posted in Comfortably insane. on May 3, 2008| 14 Comments »
I cannot find the clothes I like.
Old Levi’s 501 are out of the question.
Impossible to find jeans that fit
at the waist and do not hang from the hips
with the crotch reaching mid-tights.
Because they do hang, unless I buy a pair
one size smaller than I need.
So, what was the saying?
If you cannot win, join in?