Wednesday, June 30, 2010

In The Mood For Love...

I'M IN LOVE...with a movie.  I've been hiding this, wanting it all for myself for about a year now, but it's time to let the cat out of the bag.  I'm like a stalker who's been in willing to let you know! 

More beautiful than anything needs to be,  "In The Mood For Love", (2000), directed by the great Hong Kong director, Wong Kar-wai, is a story of yearning and desire.  From the elegant, atmospheric soundtrack of Yumeji's Theme, to the melodic flow of Nat King Cole's singing, surprise follows surprise.  Claustrophobic settings, elegant presentation!

The director has complete control over the action..and it's been said that there was no script when the movie began.  I can believe that the gorgeous stars, Maggie Cheung and Tony Leung, were aficionados of film noir, and found it easy to stroll through 1962, almost without instruction.  For that's what seems to happen a lot..walking past each other in glorious color, zaps of electricity almost visible.  And oh! that yearning..will there be rapture?    

The protagonists move into the same crowded apartment building.  They are married to spouses who are never present, whom they come to realize are romantically involved.  Their anguish draws them together, yet glances and measured words remain. 

The lighting, the rain, cigarette smoke, silk and shadows become part of our journey through their desire.  The undercurrent is rapturous.  Her beautiful wardrobe is more seductive than nudity would be.  One could say, everything is covered, except for the yearning.."For us to do the same thing, would mean that we are no better than they are".

I feel like a voyeur when I watch this movie.  In love with this one, in love with that...not real life.  A gorgeous movie.

Netflix is waiting.

Sunday, June 27, 2010

MAGPIE/ Prompt #20

                                photo/ willow/ magpie tales


Here it is, the canvas of my life.
Time for maintenance.

It's better to sweep
a wide swathe of detritus away,
than to paper over
all the mistakes of the past.

I grab a useful brush,
not unlike the toothy kind,
and scrape against the accumulated plaque.
Then spray a scent to cover my exhalation,
as if fragrance itself equals
a cleansing.

Now the image of my years
is spread before me.
I try to float the dust
out of well worn crevices,
like Sisyphus pushing a ton of rubbish uphill.

Did he reach the top?
A rolling stone seeks its level
and gravity triumphs against a wanting soul,
no matter how serious the intent to win.

Whatever winning is.

Here's the likeness, brush it clean.
What seems a sketchy existence
stubbornly clings like skin.

Down on my hands and knees I go,
like some indentured servant.

@copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2010

One more time, I'd like to thank Willow at magpie tales for being a weekly inspiration to all of us in Blogland.  I certainly look forward to one more enigmatic photo, from which springs....

Thursday, June 24, 2010


                                         Fernand Botero/ 1994


You don't choose where you fall,
or when.
You don't choose what picks you up,
or whom.
There are those who lie there,
beside themselves,
as if wishful thinking

can lift them
like a giant hook,
hoist them up,
born, in all its meanings,
to be placed on top
once more.

But I don't believe in fairy dust,
I am the one to stand me up,
to re-read the story only I know,
and get the rhythm right.

If moving on is rescue,
then I am saved.

@copyright/all rights reserved/ 2010

Wednesday, June 23, 2010


SOME MAY NOT consider this to be a chocolate dessert.  But I think that the addition of a bit of chocolate elevates the taste of this Raspberry Mousse.  It's the contrast that does it.  Of course if you want to rush things, you can dip a raspberry into melted chocolate, and try the recipe some other time.



1 envelope unflavored gelatin
2 cups frozen or fresh raspberries
1/2 cup sugar
1  1/2 cups heavy cream
1 tsp. vanilla

6 oz. semisweet chocolate, chopped

1.  In a bowl, mix gelatin into 3 tbls. cold water.  Let dissolve.
2.  Combine raspberries and sugar in saucepan.  Cook over medium/ low heat, stirring until sugar dissolves.  Stir in gelatin until blended and pour into a bowl.  Set aside to cool.
3.  Combine cream and vanilla in large bowl.  Whip to soft peaks.  Gently fold in raspberry mix.  Spoon into dessert dishes.  Cover with plastic wrap, refrigerate at least 2 hrs. until set.
4.  Sauce:  Combine chocolate and 3 tbls. water.  Microwave on high, about 1 min., till melted.  Whisk till smooth.  Cool slightly, then spoon over mousse.  Seves 6.  Decorate with some raspberries/ and or whipped cream.

A nice, light bodied red dessert wine would go very well with this.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

MAGPIE/ Prompt #19

photo/willow/magpie tales


A sweet faced gentleman
stopped in front of the display case,
smiled shyly at me,
and said "Imagine that". 


To be auctioned tonight, 
a pair of antique knives,
Opinel, Made in France,

displayed in a porcelain dish,
innocuous enough, except
for the list of previous owners.
Topping it was a Mr. Sweeney Todd
who had given the knives
as a gift of partnership
to Mrs. Lovett,
for chopping and slicing
certain ingredients
of her cannibalic pastry. 

Next on the list,
the knives
were traced
to Jack the Ripper,  
the ones he used
in the Whitechapel "Canonical Five".  

A link of cuts inscribed the throats, 
stood out to the knowing eye,
as the Modus Operandi.  

I shuddered at last in such a presence,
moved along
and found a seat
next to the gentleman,
who played by bidding for the knives, 
ran it high and won the set.

He smiled again in my direction
as off he went
to pay for the prize,
and quietly said in a whispered tone,
"I'll show them to you later if you'd like..

Allow me to introduce myself, 
my name is Hannibal Lecter,
let's chat... 
I'm here all alone".

@copyright/all rights reserved/2010

Again, a big thank you to Willow for presenting another intriguing Magpie Tale.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Fruit Salsa...

                                                    photo/ karry hosford/ myrecipes

We're used to veggie salsa..well here's a tantalizing recipe for Fruit Salsa.  So easy to can make it in your sleep.  Please let me know if you do!  And feel free to add or subtract any fruit that pleases you...can't go wrong!  Enjoy.


1 cup chopped cantaloupe
1  1/2 cups chopped pineapple
3/4 cup chopped orange sections
1 cup sliced strawberries
1/2 cup chopped, peeled mango
1/2 cup diced red onion
1/2 cup chopped cucumber
2 tbls. chopped cilantro or fresh basil
1  1/2 tsps. ground cumin
1/4 tsp. salt
1/8 tsp. black pepper or to taste
2 tbls. lime juice
1 tbls. honey
1 small jalapeno pepper, seeded and chopped

Combine all, tossing gently.  You can serve immediately, or refrigerate for several hours.  Serves about 6.  Serve with grilled chicken, turkey burgers, fish, anything!  Plain, eat it over the sink, or with chips...

Or with, no sorry about that.  Hard to break the chocolate with everything habit.

I think a fruity white Riesling would go with any of the recommended dishes.  Again, enjoy....

Monday, June 14, 2010

MAGPIE/ Prompt #18

                                        photo /willow/ magpietales


Pointless yellow stubs
lie scattered
on my table.

I sweep them into the waste,
the dull sound of woody scraps
reprimand me.
I beg them not to try
to scale the sides
and yet they tap a message to me.


I will as soon as I find
some really first-rate pencils,
line them up like good soldiers,
red, yellow, blue.

Pick and choose each one in turn,
chisel a point
and hope the graphite
carries a vein of life's blood within,
to inscribe some dazzling words.

I will carve an edge sharp enough
to cut through any excuses,
from rising dawn
through eager night.

I promise to start a poem
with a momentous word.
Write and write and write.

And drown out the voice
that asks,
what's the point?

@copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2010

Don't forget to check on all those who have participated in Willow's magpietales prompt!

Saturday, June 12, 2010

Child's Play

HERE'S A POEM THAT I FIRST published in my book of poems, TWO GHOSTS.  Self published.  It works, is nice to see your book published.  But bear in mind that it can be a money pit.  Because every few months "they" (publishers) present an idea to help you sell your book.  Outlay of money on your part.  Promoting the book, on their part.  I generally say, no thank you!  Maybe that's why my book isn't a best seller.  But that's OK.  We're talking poetry here.  It's just nice to hold a book of my poetry in my hands.  I'm not the most driven person in the world.  Although I'd sell the screen rights in a minute.  Anyone?

I may have posted this poem before..well, here it is again.


Eleven years old
and the light in his eyes
dims to black points.
The roundness of his chin
takes on a shimmer
that looks like whiskers.
Little ancient boy will never smile,
he's slipped out
the backdoor of childhood.

A Buddhist teacher at his side whispers,
"You have 84,000 different emotions,
and the three poisons.
Just thoughts.
Don't be distracted".

The boy shrugs,
no stranger to the study of virtue.
Break free.
Be empty.
Go away.
Come back.

But first he wants to run outside
and play in the snow.
Simply a thought.

@copyright/ al rights reserved/ 2008

Two Ghosts/ poems/ Lyn Rochelle/

Monday, June 7, 2010

MAGPIE/ Prompt #17

photo/ willow/ magpietales


I hope the window I stand before in dreams,
finally opens and lets the sparrow out. 
Tomorrow I will lose my certain touch,
eyes that could kiss,
my taste for wine, 
and the velvet skin brushed lightly 
by he who gives my name to myth forever.

Black light, a dim glow that seems to be rain,
runs down the walls. 
I hope that God grants me my wish
to hold my eyes open. 
I will become a rivulet of red. 
But I'll keep my eyes open. 
I beg the executioner 
to say I never closed them. 

I pray that courage eats my fear, 
so I may watch my ebbing soul. 
The sparrow flies out the window. 

Who stands there? 
Who is that who stretches arms out to me
and whispers so low that I have to walk closer?

Come here, child, she says, walk with me. 
I have a prize to show.  
She leans over a headstone,
brushes leaves and tiny spiders,
spinning across the open eyes of memory.
Forever the sandstone head of a girl amazed. 
Eyes open and waiting,
and a gasp that never makes a sound.   

If I should die before I wake? 
Am I awake before I die? 

Born  1501-1507?  Died  May 19, 1536/ Tower of London

@copyright/all rights reserved/ 2010

Attention!! Don't forget to look in on the other bloggers for this prompt!!  magpietales

Wednesday, June 2, 2010



A fold of paper
holds my prayer.
I find my niche
in the crumbling stone.
My message is tucked
into a fracture.

Walls shield temples
and bells in the wind
offer the reassurance
of God listening.

Just as fountains receive
the coins of return,
slivers chip off
the archeology of walls
to become the sands of time.

A compelling question
once was clutched
in the hand of a maiden.
She slipped her prayer
under a rock.

Did she get the life she pleaded for,
or did she get a life of plagues?

But that was a thousand years ago,
how can it matter now?

I pray for blessings,
I pray for the maiden,
as I slip my fate
between the stones.

@copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2010


Related Posts Widget for Blogs by LinkWithin