author – Page 3 – three good words

May 21, 2015

small miracles

sometimes you find
the miracle already happened
before you even saw it
for what it was

sometimes the spark
lights up a fire so high
so bright
you know the warmth first
before you decipher
the flame, the light

sometimes life is made of
small miracles
piled up
one on top of the other
helping you, quietly
to make that sudden leap

and then it’s just that:
your life.

May 7, 2015

now

in steps
word for moment
sight opens wide to the n’th light
of what’s meant
to be
to be seen
together now
far beyond and yet so close

one step at a time
like a toddler curving up
out to the hand helping, holding
one more, just one more
until the muse
that silent call
descends like morning fog

dewdrop stars
icily fresh on the soul
feet of the mind
running

…

beyond now
lies forever for a heartbeat
one
and one
fingers slip on keys
pause
a thought

yes, now
and then now and now
yesterday, today
and one more
tomorrow
.

April 24, 2015

always, only

like rivulets of silk
darkly smooth in
mellow sweetness

the soul of a melody
is lodged deep down
your heart and spine
right in the marrow bone

and you wonder for three seconds:
why fear?
for in the depth
there is a height so vast
so far

you’re the prophet
with the chariots of fire
the dark lady worshiped
with lute and lyre
the throned god ruling
the liquid gyre

all those pasts layed to rest
calling quietly
to be remembered, known
aspired

so yes,
this is the moment
this is the time, there is no other
there is always, only
now
now
now
.

April 24, 2015

if

the questions we all ask ourselves
quietly, silently
terrified
or shy, defiant:

if I write
will they read
if I tell
will they listen
if I am
will I be

good enough
brave enough
that one true thing:
au.then.tic?

always, always
like a river rushing, raging
spreading into deltas of doubt

if I do
will I deliver
if I see
will they believe
if I try
will I succeed?

maybe in all this
the point is to not give in
to keep on going
to try and try again
until you can finally plant that mustard-seed.

March 12, 2015March 16, 2015

I wrote this some time ago, during one of those bad moments when the realisation that I just was really truly absolutely ohmygoodness definitely not there yet was very real. Ah, but the great thing about great writers is that, never mind how they make you feel like last week’s left overs, writing-wise, they also help you know that it is possible to do better, be better, try your best. Reading their writing is, next to the great story, also this lovely gift: somewhere, somehow, someone was able to touch that thing that is divine and turn it into perfect word-gold. Terry Pratchett was one of them. Dear Sir (he was knighted), you’ll be sorely, sorely missed. You made so many people laugh and think and feel and laugh again so many times, the world has really lost a true genius today. Rest in Peace. Or as the Librarian would say:
Ook!

…

Gosh, if I could only come up with something like Überwald, Bess Pelargic, The Agatean Empire, 71-hour Achmed or the Octarine Grass Country. Or simply the Anthropomorphic Personification of the Ultimate Certainty, the Grim Reaper a.k.a. Mr. Door. Terry Pratchett is a genius, a real and true genius, though I still think Rincewind is complete and utter twerp. The Night Watch with Commander Vimes and Carrot Ironfoundersson + rag-tag band of misfits and miscreants, the Witches of Lancre + kingdoms and villages, Ms Aching and the Nac Mac Feegles, the University faculty + Librarian, and all the city Guilds + C.M.O.T. Dibbler, Mr Lipwig, Ms Dearheart and whatever new Scheme Moist von is up to, and then, of course, the Patrician with ever resourceful and loyal Drumknott, they’re all breathtakingly, mind-bendingly, side-splittingly fabulous – but Rincewind just puts me off. He really really really annoys me. The only great thing about Rincewind is The Luggage (Sapient Pearwood! Imagine! The madness! The magnificence!). Barely managed The Colour of Magic, and only because I sat through that ghastly mash-up of a movie. Afterwards I had to read it. Rincewind is that character who just makes you want to reach into the book and slap people, meaning him. Though some of the scenes with him in it are utter hilarity.

…

Oh and one more thing: Really, the Luggage. The Luggage. I dare you to come up with something as hilariously insane as the Luggage. Go on. Try it. I shall sink my reading teeth into it, promise.
j.d.