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annh 6d
|small gee for god; big bee for byron|
Strikes a chord with you, does it?
This shambling poverty of thought,
Insta-rated and underwhelming;
Thank god for Byron.

|keats versus shelley|
Sparing no injury to his phthisicky frame,
Keats lies atop a make-believe of cherry trees
Searching among the clouds
For wealth, health and a Grecian urn,
While Shelley does Venice
And blows himself a hookah.

|o poesy! for thee I grasp my pen|
Panning the wayward sky for inspiration,
A hope, a word, a beginning;
A versification so ecstatic as to transfix the senses and pierce the heart,
A lightning phrase capable of uprooting all commonality,
As outrageous a miracle in the minds of men as crucified immortality.

Unlike the wilting rose which has no higher calling
Than to bloom and die upon the stem,
And having relinquished its last perfumed petal
Retreat from memory again,
I fear that I shall linger,
Tethered to this eternal moment
By shuddโ€™ring will and breath combined,
A brighter shade of myself than what of me I have left behind.
An extremely weird mix of tone and content! Started out as one thing (a dig at the samey sameness of Instagram poetry) and ended up as something else (a celebration of Keats). Not to mention the โ€œBright Starโ€ scene review somewhere in the middle. Never mind - better luck next time!!

โ€˜When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st,
โ€œBeauty is truth, truth beauty, - that is all
Ye know on earth, and all he need to know.โ€โ€™
+ John Keats, โ€œOde on a Grecian Urnโ€
annh Apr 3
Frequently, I discover words with hidden meaning, shining like coins in a handful of fluff, apple seeds and other down-the-back-of-the-sofa leavings. Some are too precious to share and I secrete them away. Others I spend cheaply on rigged slot machine verbiage. Mostly they sit waiting to be written usefully. Adding insight, lending moment to my day.


Foraging amongst the dahlias
For Cinderellaโ€™s lost slipper,
I am Barbie magic made manifest,
I am Germaine (sodding) Greerโ€™s antifem,
I am Super Mum with gumboots on.


The best nonsense is always spoken in the middle of the afternoon while heading north on a train bound for a smallish beige town, and so it was that the occupants of second-class carriage BG1754 found themselves gripped by a kind of eloquent hysteria as they rattled around the final bend in the tracks before the steep descent to the weatherboard station at Claggy Peat.
โ€˜The lampshade on my head is for my bright ideas. I won't be able to convey them until Monday, when my curtain gets out of the dry cleaners.โ€™
- Bauvard, Some Inspiration for the Overenthusiastic
annh Mar 27
...back broken...
...divinely kneeling...
...mending reflections...

...feeling the delusion...
...waging a war...
...fuelled by resentment...

...old wounds distance me...
...soft tissue...
...neatly hidden...
...from mothering...


...withdrawing criticism...
...thatโ€™s all it takes...
...without shame...
...of surrender... the door...
...feel the longing...
...take the brave step...

...with you unafraid...
...all my intricate defences...
...would be taken away...

An experiment: pick a book, open it at a random page, close your eyes and see where your finger lands. Repeat steps two through four until the novelty wears off. Shuffle and compose. Omit the unintelligible. ;)

โ€˜It starts off like climbing a tree or solving a puzzle - poetry, if nothing else, is just fun to write.โ€™
- Criss Jami, Killosophy
Mar 17 · 1.7k
annh Mar 17

+ย ย ย ย  โ˜†ย ย ย ย  +
+ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย  โญ’ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย  +
โญ’ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย  โญ’ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย  +
+ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย  โญ’ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย  โญ’ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย  โญ’ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย  +
+ย ย ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย  โญ’ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย ย ย  โญ’
+ย ย ย ย  โญ’ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย  โญ’ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย  +
โ—’          +ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย  โœธย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย  โญ’ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย  +          โ—“
+ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย  โญ’ย ย ย ย  +
+ย ย ย ย ย ย  โญ’ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย ย ย  +
โญ’ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย  โญ’ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย  โญ’
+ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย  โญ’ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย  +
+ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย  +ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย  โญ’
+ย ย ย ย  โ˜†ย ย ย ย  +


she pins stars to the ceiling of my dreams โ˜‰ and makes milkshakes of meteor dust and moonshine โ˜‰ in my day, she sleeps swaddled in a billowing blue counterpane of boundless reflection โ˜‰ in my night, she dances a path to eternity โ˜‰ leaving me breathless and in awe of her spiralling splendour
โ€˜That is where my dearest and brightest dreams have ranged โ€” to hear for the duration of a heartbeat the universe and the totality of life
in its mysterious, innate harmony.โ€™
- Hermann Hesse, Gertrude
Mar 13 · 875
Measuring Infinity
annh Mar 13
Peace abides in the gentle velvet folds of patient time;

When industry is forgotten and rigid right angles

Give way to soft currents of inspiration;

Lacking definition, judgement or expectation

My yardstick shrinks and disintegrates into nothingness...

Inadequate to the task of measuring infinity.

โ€˜Where is beauty to be found? In great things that, like everything else, are doomed to die, or in small things that aspire to nothing, yet know how to set a jewel of infinity in a single moment?โ€™
- Muriel Barbery, The Elegance of the Hedgehog
Mar 10 · 216
annh Mar 10
I am not my words,
Nor am I the letters from which they are formed;
I am a beating drum,
A cacophony, a riot keeping pace with mortal time;
Spinning order thriftily,
So as not to cheapen the divinely proclaimed language of the soul.

โ€˜Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought: So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.โ€™
- T.S. Eliot
Mar 4 · 123
annh Mar 4
La, I am an honest deceiver,
For whomsoever shall lend his lies to me,
Will be repaid threefold in pretty devilment.

Channelling Stoppard, who imitated Marlowe, who emulated Virgil. Originality is nought but petty thievery. ;)

โ€˜You must be proud, bold, pleasant, resolute,
And now and then stab, when occasion serves.โ€™
- Kit Marlowe
annh Feb 20
๐™ธ ๐šŠ๐š– ๐š‘๐š’๐šœ๐š๐š˜๐š›๐šข ๐š’๐š— ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š–๐šŠ๐š”๐š’๐š—๐š,
๐š๐šŽ๐š๐šŠ๐š›๐š๐š•๐šŽ๐šœ๐šœ ๐š˜๐š ๐š ๐š‘๐šŽ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ๐š› ๐™ธโ€™๐š– ๐š›๐šŽ๐š–๐šŽ๐š–๐š‹๐šŽ๐š›๐šŽ๐š ๐š˜๐š› ๐š๐š˜๐š›๐š๐š˜๐š๐š๐šŽ๐š—.
๐šƒ๐š‘๐š’๐š—๐š” ๐š˜๐š ๐š–๐šŽ ๐šŠ๐šœ ๐šŠ๐š— ๐šŽ๐šŸ๐š˜๐š•๐šž๐š๐š’๐š˜๐š—๐šŠ๐š›๐šข ๐š”๐š’๐š—๐š๐š—๐šŽ๐šœ๐šœ ๐š™๐šŽ๐š›๐š๐š˜๐š›๐š–๐šŽ๐š ๐šš๐šž๐š’๐šŽ๐š๐š•๐šข,
๐™พ๐š› ๐šŠ ๐š–๐š’๐š๐š˜๐šŒ๐š‘๐š˜๐š—๐š๐š›๐š’๐šŠ๐š• ๐š’๐š—๐š๐š’๐šœ๐šŒ๐š›๐šŽ๐š๐š’๐š˜๐š— ๐š๐š˜๐š›๐š๐š’๐šŸ๐šŽ๐š— ๐š ๐š’๐š๐š‘๐š˜๐šž๐š ๐š๐šŠ๐š—๐š๐šŠ๐š›๐šŽ.
๐š†๐š‘๐šŽ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ๐š› ๐™ธ ๐šŽ๐šก๐š’๐šœ๐š ๐š‹๐šŽ๐š‘๐š’๐š—๐š ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐šœ๐šŒ๐šŽ๐š—๐šŽ๐šœ, ๐š’๐š— ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š ๐š’๐š—๐š๐šœ,
๐™พ๐š› ๐šœ๐š๐š›๐šž๐š ๐š–๐šข ๐šœ๐š๐šž๐š๐š ๐š๐š›๐š˜๐š—๐š ๐š˜๐š ๐š‘๐š˜๐šž๐šœ๐šŽ...

๐™ธ ๐šŠ๐š– ๐š’๐š— ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š‹๐šž๐šœ๐š’๐š—๐šŽ๐šœ๐šœ ๐š˜๐š ๐š–๐šŠ๐š”๐š’๐š—๐š ๐š‘๐š’๐šœ๐š๐š˜๐š›๐šข.

Ancient dwelling places, forgotten pathways and neglected graveyards fill me to the brim with an enthusiasm for the mundane. As the fabric of life thins the voices of the celebrated AND the unknown whisper their legacy in the stoney structures which remain.

โ€˜Oh, the wizardry of history. All the people who have lived and died,
the people whose stories have survived.โ€™
- Isaac du Toit, Passionately Curious
Feb 14 · 332
Blind Manโ€™s Bluff
annh Feb 14
Offer sight to a blind man and he may refuse the notion,
Preferring to view the world through the lens of his heart;
Limited only by his own goodness and intention.

Or lack of it, as the case may be. :)

โ€˜I don't think we did go blind, I think we are blind. Blind but seeing. Blind people who can see, but do not see.โ€™
- Jose Saramago, Blindness
annh Feb 10
๐‘‡โ„Ž๐‘’ ๐‘›๐‘’๐‘ฃ๐‘’๐‘Ÿ-๐‘’๐‘›๐‘‘๐‘–๐‘›๐‘” ๐‘ž๐‘ข๐‘Ž๐‘˜๐‘’ ๐‘œ๐‘“ ๐‘‘๐‘Ž๐‘ฆ,
๐ด ๐‘“๐‘’๐‘Ž๐‘ ๐‘ก ๐‘œ๐‘“ ๐‘๐‘ข๐‘Ÿ๐‘‘๐‘’๐‘› ๐‘ข๐‘›๐‘Ÿ๐‘’๐‘๐‘œ๐‘ ๐‘’๐‘‘;
๐‘€๐‘–๐‘ โ„Ž๐‘’๐‘‘ ๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘‘ ๐‘š๐‘Ž๐‘ โ„Ž๐‘’๐‘‘, ๐‘Ž ๐‘ ๐‘ก๐‘Ž๐‘Ÿ-๐‘๐‘Ÿ๐‘œ๐‘ ๐‘ ๐‘’๐‘‘ ๐‘๐‘’๐‘Ž๐‘ ๐‘ก,
๐ด ๐‘๐‘œ๐‘’๐‘ก๐‘–๐‘ ๐‘Ÿ๐‘’๐‘ฃ๐‘’๐‘Ÿ๐‘–๐‘’ ๐‘‘๐‘’๐‘๐‘œ๐‘ ๐‘’๐‘‘.


I dฮนe ั‚o ั•leep,
I ั•leep ั‚o dฮนe,
I dreฮฑะผ ั‚o lฮนve,
Aษดd wฮฑฤธe ั‚o cry;

Teฮฑrั• oา“ loั•ั•,
Teฮฑrั• oา“ ั•ะฝฮฑะผe,
Reษขreั‚ reั•olveั•,
To ั‚ฮฑฤธe ั‚ะฝe ะฒlฮฑะผe.
A miscellany.

โ€˜What I was chasing in circles must have been the tail of the darkness inside me.โ€™
- Haruki Murakami, After the Quake
Jan 4 · 349
annh Jan 4
โ… โ…โ…โ… โ…โ…โ… โ…โ…โ… โ…โ…โ… โ…โ…โ… โ…


โ… โ…โ…โ… โ…โ…โ… โ…โ…โ… โ…โ…โ… โ…โ…โ… โ…
โ€˜The past is somewhere we can walk with our memories
Never with our footstepsโ€™
- Mimi Novic, The Silence Between the Sighs
annh Dec 2020
๐™ถ๐š‘๐š˜๐šœ๐š-๐š๐š›๐šŠ๐š’๐š—๐š’๐š—๐š ๐š–๐šข ๐šœ๐š ๐šŽ๐šŽ๐š ๐š ๐šŠ๐šข ๐š‘๐š˜๐š–๐šŽ,
๐™ฒ๐šŠ๐šŸ๐šŽ๐š—๐š๐š’๐šœ๐š‘ ๐š๐š˜ ๐š€๐šž๐šŽ๐šŽ๐š—๐šœ ๐™ฟ๐šŠ๐š›๐š”,
๐™ฟ๐šž๐š—๐š”-๐šŠ-๐š•๐š’๐šŒ๐š’๐š˜๐šž๐šœ ๐š™๐š’๐šœ๐š๐š˜๐š•๐šœ ๐šŠ๐š ๐š๐šŠ๐š ๐š—.

๐™พ๐š—๐šŽ ๐š‘๐šŠ๐š—๐š ๐š˜๐š— ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š–๐šŽ๐š๐šŠ๐š•, ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š˜๐š๐š‘๐šŽ๐š› ๐š˜๐š— ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š‘๐šŠ๐š’๐š›,
๐š‚๐š™๐šŠ๐š›๐š๐šŠ๐š— ๐š๐šŠ๐š›๐š๐šŠ๐š—, ๐š‹๐š˜๐š˜๐š ๐š•๐šŽ๐šŠ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ๐š› ๐šŠ๐š—๐š ๐šœ๐š‘๐š›๐šŽ๐š๐š๐šŽ๐š ๐šœ๐š•๐š˜๐š๐šŠ๐š—๐šœ:
|๐•ฌ๐–“๐–†๐–—๐–ˆ๐–๐–ž (๐•ป)๐–—๐–Š๐–˜๐–Š๐–—๐–›๐–Š๐–˜ ๐•ต๐–š๐–‰๐–Œ๐–Š๐–’๐–Š๐–“๐–™|

๐™ฐ ๐š›๐š’๐š—๐š-๐šŠ-๐š›๐š˜๐šž๐š—๐š ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š›๐š˜๐šœ๐š’๐šŽ,
๐™ฐ ๐š๐šŠ๐š’๐š๐š‘, ๐šŠ ๐šŒ๐š˜๐š—๐šŒ๐š‘ ๐šŠ๐š—๐š ๐šŠ ๐š—๐š˜๐šœ๐šŽ๐š๐šŠ๐šข.


๐™ธ ๐š๐šŽ๐šŽ๐š• ๐š–๐š˜๐šœ๐š ๐šŠ๐š ๐š‘๐š˜๐š–๐šŽ ๐šŠ๐š–๐š˜๐š—๐š ๐šœ๐š˜๐šŒ๐š’๐šŽ๐š๐šขโ€™๐šœ ๐š˜๐š๐š๐š’๐š๐š’๐šŽ๐šœ ๐š ๐š‘๐š˜ ๐š’๐š—๐šŸ๐šŠ๐š›๐š’๐šŠ๐š‹๐š•๐šข ๐š๐š˜๐š—โ€™๐š ๐šŒ๐šŽ๐š•๐šŽ๐š‹๐š›๐šŠ๐š๐šŽ ๐™ฒ๐š‘๐š›๐š’๐šœ๐šโ€™๐šœ ๐™ผ๐šŠ๐šœ๐šœ. ๐š‚๐š ๐š’๐š–๐š–๐š’๐š—๐š ๐š๐š’๐š›๐šŽ๐š•๐šŽ๐šœ๐šœ๐š•๐šข ๐šž๐š™๐šœ๐š๐š›๐šŽ๐šŠ๐š– ๐šŠ๐š๐šŠ๐š’๐š—๐šœ๐š ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š‘๐š˜๐š•๐šข ๐šŒ๐šž๐š›๐š›๐šŽ๐š—๐š ๐š˜๐š ๐šŒ๐š˜๐š—๐šœ๐šž๐š–๐šŽ๐š›๐š’๐šœ๐š–, ๐š๐š’๐š—๐šœ๐šŽ๐š• ๐šŠ๐š—๐š ๐š๐šŠ๐šŒ๐š”, ๐š๐šž๐š›๐š”๐šŽ๐šข ๐šŠ๐š—๐š ๐š๐š›๐š’๐š๐š•๐šŽ, ๐š ๐šŽ ๐š›๐š’๐š๐šŽ ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š๐š‘๐š˜๐šœ๐š ๐š๐š›๐šŠ๐š’๐š— ๐šŠ๐š—๐š ๐š–๐šŽ๐šŽ๐š ๐š˜๐šž๐š›๐šœ๐šŽ๐š•๐šŸ๐šŽ๐šœ ๐š‘๐šŠ๐š•๐š๐š ๐šŠ๐šข.
โ€˜Daithโ€™, โ€˜conchโ€™ and โ€˜nosegayโ€™ describe a variety of body piercings. Historically, a nosegay (in the small-bouquet-of-flowers sense of the word) was either hand-held or attached to clothing to fend off disease and plague.

โ€˜I had choosen the path of the black sheep
rather than that of the unicorns and puppies.โ€™
- Magenta Periwinkle, Cutting Class
Dec 2020 · 195
annh Dec 2020
ย ย from sequesteredย ย ย ย ย 
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย splendour,
ย carvedย ย ย ย ย ย 
out byย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย 
ย ย ย ย ย ย ancient tributaries;

streaming,ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย 
ย ย flowing
ย ย ย ­ย ย ย ย ย with
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย the current
of experience;ย ย ย ย ย ย ย 
ย ย ย 
ย ย the floodplains
of my sorrows,ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย 
ย ย ย to the
foreshore of
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย my dream time;

A riverย ย ย ย ย ย 
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย  of breath,
a watershedย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย 
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย  of meaning,
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย  in spate.

โ€œHere is born the Po,
Anon, its waters flow;
So too I will upend,
From spring to shore
And back again.โ€
- AH
Dec 2020 · 220
annh Dec 2020
There is place in my mind
Where my thoughts can wander freely,
Once they stop inspecting themselves
So very very CLOSELY;
A place where they can dance
Naked around the living room,
Unencumbered by attention
To detail, to the opposite of detail,
To the opposite of the opposite of detail.

The tricky part is that to find this place
I must get lost looking for it;
Only ever realising that I was there
Once I am no longer where
...Intention meets in-attention...

โ€˜Everywhere's been where it is ever since it was first put there. It's called geography.โ€™
- Terry Pratchett, Wyrd Sisters
Dec 2020 · 514
annh Dec 2020
Oak leaf and oath,
Rock water and spun linen,
Unction and atonement,
The circle and the flame.

โ€While there is strength in this body, I will raise the sword;
While there is breath in yours, you will do no harm.
Whether warrior or healer, a truth
Appointed by the heart is

Fragmented impressions of another time and place.
โ€˜For so sworn good or evil an oath may not be broken and it shall pursue oathkeeper and oathbreaker to the world's end.โ€™
- J.R.R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion
annh Nov 2020
Name the word, for the word has a name.

Listen to it breathe. Let it lie lightly in the mind and liquid

on the tongue. Bear its essence forth, its personality and its intention

- conceived briefly, discarded readily, pronounced forcefully.


How does it sit with you? The spread of its silhouette suspended

within a silent interval. How does it move you? An attitude framed by

the gesture of a hand. Is its pitch sharp or flat, its texture course or fine?


Allow meaning and resonance, intonation and feeling to merge unencumbered;

the syntax of the imprisoned soul, emancipated by a river of sound, toย mould

the shape of your aboutness, around and within, beyond and in spite of...

And hear consciousness dance.
โ€˜Then love knew it was called love.โ€™
- Pablo Neruda

โ€˜Any language is a supreme achievement of a uniquely human collective genius, as divine and endless a mystery as a living organism.โ€™
- Steven Pinker, The Language Instinct: How the Mind Creates Language
annh Nov 2020
โ€Stood I where you, now starry and new,
Brylcreemed and cherished, view those who have perished;

The collegiate adorned, on Founderโ€™s Day mourned,
Old souls with young dreams, bright plans and mad schemes;

Three from the left, thatโ€™s me with the clef,
A musicianโ€™s award, bestowed by the Board;

Prized above all, before the Great War,
Took hearing and sight, an aestheteโ€™s blight;

For a whisper apart, is the end from the start,
What remains of the day, nowt but shadows that play;

On this side of the glass, through which you will pass,
At the lone piperโ€™s call, when dusk it doth fall.โ€

โ€œA cabinet of clowns dressed up in their gowns.โ€
Inspired by the gallery scene from Dead Poets Society -


โ€˜O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weatherโ€™d every rack, the prize we sought is won.โ€™
- Walt Whitman
annh Nov 2020
what you have;
the sticks and the stones,
the brittle bones and the names
you call yourself out of disappointment,
frustration and contempt. ะกะะ•ะ“ะ†ะ…ะ it all; the
rituals and the struggles, the battles lost and won.
Eventually, those positions held so uncompromisingly
will be surrendered, by choice or by chance, to the
nothingness fromย whence
they came.
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you are at one or at odds with yourself, whether you like it or not, they are a part of what has made you who you are - informed your choices, shaped your present. Return them to the bedrock of the earth, the ether, or the ocean, if you will; but do so with grace, fond remembrance, and a care for that which lives on within you.

โ€˜I have had to experience so much stupidity, so many vices, so much error, so much nausea, disillusionment and sorrow, just in order to become
a child again and begin anew.โ€™
- Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha
annh Nov 2020
We burrow where they lie, our fallen brothers. Old sweats and fledgling crow bags, both. In death as in life, they have our backโ€ฆand so we plough on into the abyss by the light of a caged phosphorus flare, hot metal spraying the midnight hour like some vengeful fayโ€™s buckshot.

A human scaffoldย supports us for the distance of four miles. Thatโ€™s Piccadilly to Hampstead; Circus to Heath.ย The length of a lifetimeโ€ฆofย ย hundreds of lifetimes. In the winter when the rains come and the trenches run like a quartermasterโ€™s latrine, the soil sloughs awayย to reveal the ossuary within. It is then that I, in my now customary delirium, imagine that I can reach out to shake their hand again.

โ€˜Sunrise and sunset are blasphemousโ€ฆonly the black rain out of the bruised and swollen cloudsโ€ฆis fit atmosphere in such a land. The rain drives on, the stinking mud becomes more evilly yellow, the shell-holes fill up with green-white water, the roads and tracks are covered in inches of slime, the black dying trees ooze and sweat and the shells never ceaseโ€ฆthey plunge into the grave which is this land.โ€™
- Modris Eksteins, Rites of Spring: The Great War and the Birth of the Modern Age
annh Nov 2020
๐™ธ๐š—๐š” ๐š‹๐š•๐šŽ๐šŽ๐š๐šœ ๐šŠ๐šœ ๐š๐šž๐š›๐šข ๐šŒ๐š˜๐šž๐š›๐šœ๐šŽ๐šœ,
๐™ท๐šŠ๐š•๐š-๐šœ๐šž๐š๐š๐š˜๐šŒ๐šŠ๐š๐šŽ๐š ๐š ๐š˜๐š›๐š๐šœ ๐š‘๐šž๐š›๐š•๐šŽ๐š
๐™ฟ๐š˜๐š˜๐š›๐š•๐šข ๐šŠ๐š ๐š‘๐š˜๐š—๐šŽ๐šœ๐š ๐š™๐šŠ๐š๐šŽ๐šœ;
๐™ฐ๐š— ๐šŽ๐šก๐šœ๐šŠ๐š—๐š๐šž๐š’๐š—๐šŠ๐š๐š’๐š˜๐š— ๐š˜๐š ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐šœ๐š™๐š’๐š›๐š’๐š.


๐š‚๐šŒ๐š˜๐š›๐š— ๐š›๐š’๐š๐šŽ๐šœ ๐š๐š˜ ๐š‘๐šŽ๐šŠ๐š›๐š๐šŠ๐šŒ๐š‘๐šŽโ€™๐šœ ๐š›๐šŽ๐šœ๐šŒ๐šž๐šŽ, ๐š๐šŽ๐š—๐š’๐šŠ๐š• ๐š’๐š— ๐šš๐šž๐š’๐šŒ๐š” ๐š™๐šž๐š›๐šœ๐šž๐š’๐š.
โ€˜She was fury, she was wrath, she was vengeance.โ€™
- Sarah J. Maas, Queen of Shadows
Nov 2020 · 410
annh Nov 2020
Let Octoberโ€™s fool fall
With the autumn dusk;
A cornfield tatterdemalion
With terrible teeth
And broomstick hands.
High on the hill,
Encircled by dancing children
And harvest lovers,
Jackโ€™s pumpkin blazes
As yellow as prairie gold
Under the ghostly lantern moon.

A belated Halloween experiment - partially reconstituted poetry. More dilute and less tasty than its CS inspiration. ;)

โ€˜I spot the hills
With yellow ***** in autumn.
I light the prairie cornfields
Orange and tawny gold clusters
And I am called pumpkins.
On the last of October
When dusk is fallen
Children join hands
And circle round me
Singing ghost songs
And love to the harvest moon;
I am a jack-o'-lantern
With terrible teeth
And the children know
I am fooling.โ€™
- Carl Sandburg, Theme in Yellow
annh Oct 2020
แ—ฉ แ—ทแ‘ŒTTEแ–‡แ–ดIแ‘ŽGEแ–‡Eแ—ช แ–ดEแ’ชแ’ชOแ—ฏแ”•แ•ผIแ‘ญ Oแ–ด Tแ—ฏEแ’ชแฏE
แ‘ญแ’ชแ—ฉYIแ‘ŽG แ‘•แ—ฉTแ‘•แ•ผ แ—ฏITแ•ผ แ—ฐY แ‘•Oแ‘Žแ”•แ‘•IOแ‘Œแ”•แ‘ŽEแ”•แ”•.
'When all the archetypes burst out shamelessly, we plumb Homeric profundity. Two clichรฉs make us laugh but a hundred clichรฉs move us because we sense dimly that the clichรฉs are talking among themselves, celebrating a reunion.'
- Umberto Eco, Travels in Hyperreality
Oct 2020 · 780
A Man, A Pan, A Panama
annh Oct 2020
They speak to the madman,
Suppression, subversion, detraction,
A vocabulary of โ€˜less thanโ€™.

They speak to the madman,
To the loveless and the wounded,
The self-doubting ego.

They speak to the madman,
A consort of shadows,
Recurrent with paradox.

Until, uncertain as to the integrity of my own thoughts,
Understudied by self-censure and distrust,
I pause to listen in the silence which listens back.

โ€˜My friend, I am not what I seem. Seeming is but a garment I wear โ€” a care-woven garment that protects me from thy questionings and thee from my negligence. The "I" in me, my friend, dwells in the house of silence, and therein it shall remain for ever more, unperceived, unapproachable.โ€™
- Khalil Gibran, The Madman
Oct 2020 · 653
annh Oct 2020
Did she mean...did I see...did her veil part its gossamer filaments just for me?

โ–’โ–‘โ–’โ–‘โ–’โ–‘โ–’โ–‘โ–’โ–‘โ–’โ–‘โ–’โ–‘โ–’โ–‘โ–’โ–‘โ–’โ–‘ m e โ–‘โ–’โ–‘โ–’โ–‘โ–’โ–‘โ–’โ–‘โ–’โ–‘โ–’โ–‘โ–’โ–‘โ–’โ–‘โ–’โ–‘โ–’
โ€˜I always find it more difficult to say the things I mean than the things I don't.โ€™
- W. Somerset Maugham, The Painted Veil
Oct 2020 · 319
Obscure Sorrows
annh Oct 2020
Vellichor (n.): the strange wistfulness of used bookstores.
A delightful neologistic oddity! :)

'โ€œThe Dictionary of Obscure Sorrowsโ€, by John Koenig, is an ongoing collection of invented words, each representing an attempt to find a word to fit a concept for which our vocabulary is currently lacking. Vellichor is one such word, and Koenigโ€™s site has hundreds of others, such as zenosyne (the sense that time keeps going faster), liberosis (the desire to care less about things), and sonder (the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own).'
- Petrichor, Cromulent, and Other Words the Internet Loves. Retrieved from
Oct 2020 · 154
annh Oct 2020

I write to right the write-less, the unvoiced compendium ofย my experience. A

panoply of shadows between each line and behind the fumbled words miswritten

out of loyalty to the fiction I maintain. The letters which move beneath the page,

scintillating with suggestion, leaving their impression - a glimmer here, an echo

there; they are more honest than the fraught narrative that I deem fit to 'save'. I

write to right the write-less, to balance the unwieldy, to illuminate the intangible.

โ€˜Every act of reading is an act of forgetting: the experience of reading is a palimpsest, in which each text partially covers those that came before.โ€™
- James A. Secord, Victorian Sensation: The Extraordinary Publication, Reception, and Secret Authorship of Vestiges of the Natural History of Creation
Oct 2020 · 214
Speech Deprived
annh Oct 2020
My tongue is tethered to the words which have failed me.
โ€˜There's really no such thing as the 'voiceless'. There are only the deliberately silenced, or the preferably unheard.โ€™
- Arundhati Roy
Oct 2020 · 199
annh Oct 2020
โ€™Ego sum hic.โ€™

Calling to the dawn,
Baying at the moon,
Petitioning the horizon,
Summoning the faithful;

The yearning indefinite,
In pursuit of an enduring affirmative;
An echo searching for its source
In the boundless beyond.

โ€™Ibi tu es, tu es, tu es, tu es...โ€˜
โ€˜When at eve, at the bounding of the landscape, the heavens appear to recline so slowly on the earth, imagination pictures beyond the horizon an asylum of hope, a native land of love; and nature seems silently to repeat that man is immortal.โ€™
- Madame de Stael
Sep 2020 · 284
Legacy: Part I
annh Sep 2020
Pale-faced beneath twilightโ€™s awning, shadowed time skips
A beat measured in dust motes and attic silence;

Frameless ether holds its breath and portrait likenesses
Swivel eyes right, suspended between the minute and the hour;

In sequence, Whittingtonโ€™s chiming sepia tones wring out
A tulip of port and one last cigar from drapery long hung;

As floral meanders unwind from a walnut casing
Inlayed with the gamine whimsies of our cherried youth.

โ€˜At the beginning of time the clock struck one
Then dropped the dew and the clock struck two
From the dew grew a tree and the clock struck three
The tree made a door and the clock struck four
Man came alive and the clock struck five
Count not, waste not the years on the clock
Behold I stand at the door and knock.โ€˜
- Eric Lomax
Sep 2020 · 2.0k
Legacy: Part II
annh Sep 2020
โ€ขย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย  โ€ข

โ€ข ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย  ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย  ย โ€ข
9ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย  ยซโ€”โ€”โ€”ย ย >ยง<ย ย โ€”โ€”โ€”ยปย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย  3

โ€ข ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย  ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย  ย โ€ข

โ€ขย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย  โ€ข

โ€œStruck is the hour from its ivory tower,
At sixes and sevens, the stars in their heavens,

As minute hands dance at twilight's advance,
To the cadence of time, the archangelโ€™s chime;

Listen closely for me at a quarter to thee,
โ€˜Twixt the tick and the tock of grandpapaโ€™s clock,

Unquicken thine pace, for run is the race,
Hear the pendulum lock, ziccoty, diccoty, dock.
โ€˜There was a sudden stillness like the gap between ticks on a clock, but the next tick never coming.โ€™
- Sadie Jones, The Outcast
Sep 2020 · 310
annh Sep 2020
Beauty is not favoured by comparison.
Does that make sense? Iโ€™m not sure. Do I mean that we tend not to see the โ€˜beautyโ€™ in ourselves? Definitely. Do I mean that what is considered โ€˜beautifulโ€™ by the majority nullifies the minorityโ€™s perspective? Probably. Do I mean that โ€˜beautyโ€™ does not always demonstrate generosity or humility? Maybe. And why have I used inverted commas? No idea. It appears that B-E-A-U-T-Y is easier to appreciate than it is to define.

โ€˜When she transformed into a butterfly,
the caterpillars spoke not of her beauty,
but of her weirdness. They wanted her
to change back into what she always
had been. But she had wings.โ€™
- Dean Jackson
Sep 2020 · 330
Theatrum Mundi
annh Sep 2020
For as the curtain rises,
So too the curtain falls,
No accolades, no entourage,
No 'Brava!', no applause.

An unrehearsed performance,
By a monodramatist,
A solo show, a pantomime,
An improvised burlesque.

Critics stand in groups debating,
The value of my work,
They gossip in the aisles,
The playhouse now a kirk.

My eulogy their invention,
My obituary the prize,
The best review I've ever had,
A mix of humour and soft lies.

I have played the loving daughter,
The honest aunt *****,
The independent sister,
The true and loyal friend.

The sympathetic neighbour,
I have played the errant niece,
The mentor, guide, and confidant,
The ***** and the tease.

In truth, I am a diva,
Living mostly in her head,
But this remains unmentioned,
In a tribute to the dead.

Once rose bouquets beribboned,
From the greatest and the good,
Now a solitary arrangement,
On a coffin made of wood.

For as the curtain rises,
So too the curtain falls,
No accolades, no entourage,
No garlands, no applause.

But wait, I see my error,
As indeed these things exist,
But not for me to comment on,
Nor as I would have wished.

For my aspect is fair frozen,
I cannot turn the page,
My performance has now ended,
And I have left the stage.

โ€˜Now that he was quite alone, condemned, deserted, as those who are about to die are alone, there was a luxury in it, an isolation full of sublimity; a freedom which the attached can never know.โ€™
- Virginia Woolf, Mrs Dalloway
Sep 2020 · 189
annh Sep 2020
Twirling, taunting,
Fluttering, flaunting,
Silver with optimism,
Wishing on a star.

Sitting in the park this evening watching the sun go down behind the norโ€™west arch.

โ€˜Dwell on the beauty of life. Watch the stars, and see yourself running with them.โ€™
- Marcus Aurelius, Meditations
Sep 2020 · 316
I Am Sand
annh Sep 2020
I am sand -ย drifting formlessly, settling briefly;
dusting edges traced clean by housekeepingโ€™s judicious forefinger.

I am sand - black with iron and ****** wrath;
shattering glassily against a wine-stained ceiling.

I am sand - my trespasses turned to pearl;
rippled and flurrying, wedged between sandal-clad toes.

I am sand - porous with desire yet disarmed by possibility;
a fortress on the brink of invasion by the sea.

I am sand - recalled to the desert, claggy with melancholy;
a loping caravan ofย travail, westward bound.

I am sand - measureless and infinitely uncontainable;
sifting from hour to hour...and life to life.

โ€˜While he mused on the effect of the flowing sands, he was seized from time to time by hallucinations in which he himself began to move with the flow.โ€™
- Kลbล Abe
Sep 2020 · 332
Once Upon A Story
annh Sep 2020
You ask of which I am most afeart, the rumbling tumblings of the troll beneath the bridge or the tinkering favours of an eccentric fairy godmother. Alas, it is the marzipan crumbs of inspiration leading me down the brambled garden path which most unsettle me; the ink that does not write; the unpainted page with not a gingerbread sight.
โ€˜If you ever find yourself in the wrong story, leave.โ€™
- Mo Willems, Goldilocks and the Three Dinosaurs.
Sep 2020 · 261
Only While Stocks Last
annh Sep 2020
Your bliss;
Channel your
Inner godliness;
25% off inspiration;
Sale ends this Sunday.

A certain on-trend stationery storeโ€™s recent โ€˜25% OFF INSPIRATIONโ€™ promo banner made me laugh and cringe in equal measure.

โ€˜McMindfulness is a stock on the rise. A brand that promises to deliver.  It satisfies spiritual yearnings without being a religion.  Itโ€™s backed by brain scientists at Harvard and MIT. Itโ€™s magic without being magic.  It even transforms corporate culture and increases market share! Now thatโ€™s worth paying for.โ€™
- Jeremy Safran, McMindfulness: The Marketing of Well-Being
Aug 2020 · 486
Macbeth In Haste
annh Aug 2020
Three Scottish hags brew up a political storm in a...cauldron.
Inspired by Suri Ben N who got me overthinking about brevity, Shakespeare, alternative storylines, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, and the existential milieu in general.

โ€˜We do on stage things that are supposed to happen off. Which is a kind of integrity, if you look on every exit as being an entrance
somewhere else.โ€™
- Tom Stoppard, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead
Aug 2020 · 419
annh Aug 2020
Brims curving gently
Beneath the glimmering sun
Bonnets in full bloom.

Period drama bingefest seems to be rubbing off. :)

โ€˜Nothing could have appealed more strongly to Miss Wantage's youthful taste, so as soon as she had changed the chip-straw hat for an Angouleme bonnet of white thread-net trimmed with lace, she sallied forth once more with Mr. Ringwood, tripping beside him with all the assurance of one who knew herself to be dressed in the pink of fashion.โ€™
- Georgette Heyer, Fridayโ€™s Child
Aug 2020 · 295
annh Aug 2020
I closed my eyes against the mortal limitations of this world and settled back to watch reruns of my youth. Discouragement and dissatisfaction gave way to golden hours and glory days, depicted in vivid technicolour and accompanied by a flugelhorn fandango.
โ€˜No story is the same to us after a lapse of time; or rather we who read it are no longer the same interpreters.โ€™
- George Eliot
Aug 2020 · 365
annh Aug 2020
I rest my head on her shoulder,
The shoulder of the earth;
Cradled in her warmth,
Caught by shifting currents,
Cleansed by ****-frostโ€™s pervasive bite;
Tutored by seasonsโ€™ changes.

Musing to myself that she has faith in me,
That I have something to offer her;
Negotiating with my intellect,
Letting my imagination run wild,
Enough to entertain the idea that
I am capable of something more than this.

โ€˜In the end, the bedrock of existence is not made up of the family, or work, or what others say or think of you, but of moments like this when you are exalted by a transcendent power that is more serene than love. Life dispenses them parsimoniously; our feeble hearts could not stand more.โ€™
- Nicolas Bouvier, The Way of the World
Aug 2020 · 204
annh Aug 2020
She offered to walk in my shoes, but hadnโ€™t factored in the soul-destroying task of having to bend over and tie the laces every morning.
โ€˜We're all kind of weird and twisted and drowning.โ€™
- Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood
Aug 2020 · 380
annh Aug 2020
Lost in the empty crowd,
Searching for your eyes,
Questing for sweet recognition,
A face to call home.

โ€˜In spite of its romantic frisson, the position of muse is very vague and largely thankless for the muse herself.โ€™
- Katie Roiphe, In Praise of Messy Lives
Aug 2020 · 737
Old Telegraph Road
annh Aug 2020
old telegraph road
births, deaths and marriages
did you hear the news?

it is my duty to inform you...
the pleasure of your company is requested...
at 2:03pm (AEST) Monday, weighing 6lbs 7oz...

old telegraph road
eighty miles of cable
biographies dotted and dashed
- .... . -. / -.-. .- -- . / - .... . / -.-. .... ..- .-. -.-. .... . ... --..-- / - .... . -. / -.-. .- -- . / - .... . / ... -.-. .... --- --- .-.. ... / - .... . -. / -.-. .- -- . / - .... . / .-.. .- .-- -.-- . .-. ... --..-- / - .... . -. / -.-. .- -- . / - .... . / .-. ..- .-.. . ... / - .... . -. / -.-. .- -- . / - .... . / - .-. .- .. -. ... / .- -. -.. / - .... . / - .-. ..- -.-. -.- ... / .-- .. - .... / - .... . .. .-. / .-.. --- .- -.. / .- -. -.. / - .... . / -.. .. .-. - -.-- / --- .-.. -.. / - .-. .- -.-. -.- / .-- .- ... / - .... . / - . .-.. . --. .-. .- .--. .... / .-. --- .- -.. .-.-.- / -- .- .-. -.- / -.- -. --- .--. ..-. .-.. . .-. .-.-.-
Jun 2020 · 413
Frames Per Second
annh Jun 2020
Stick girl embering,
Lollipop meandering,
Molten toffee trail.

'We discovered that one of the strongest links among us was questions about the morality
of what we do: when do
you press the shutter release
and when do you cease
being a photographer?'
- Greg Marinovich, The Bang-Bang Club: Snapshots from a Hidden War
Jun 2020 · 579
Carte Blanche
annh Jun 2020
play the
joker, *****
the knave, covet
the queen, and tuck
the ace of spades under my
pillow on a ringed moon night,
but I am forever shuffling the same
deck of cards.ย Marked cards, imprinted
with loss and patterned with misfortune. Co
urt cards dressed in ill-fitting suits, each face as
familiar as my own. Four seasons, four pips; twelve
months, twelve crowns. One card for each week of the
year. Sequentially predย ย ictable, and as underwhelming
as a rigged roulette wheel.ย Uย ntil, unable to distinguish
between the red and theย ย ย ย bย ย ย ย lack, the picture and the
plain, I fold. Void ofย ย ย  ย ย coย ย ย ย  ntracts, and bleeding
widoweย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย dย blanks.
deal­ me in,
but deal me unpainted
and unmastered. Deal me clean.

โ€˜If I can just have one last cut.
Do you have a plan for the new?โ€˜
- Alice Notley, In the Pines
May 2020 · 1.1k
Going Viral
annh May 2020


In this brave new world of no handshakes and multiple rounds of hand sanitiser there exists a blessed irony: social distancing is bringing my neighbourhood closer together. The solidarity of a shared smile - albeit bestowed from an apologetic distance of two metres - lifts the spirits, straightens the shoulders, and tickles the heartstrings more than any viral meme (no pun intended) could ever do.
May 2020 · 378
annh May 2020
Buttered parcels filled,
With rose hips and cinnamon;
Heartacheโ€™s antidote.

โ€˜Only the pan knows
how the boiling soup feels.โ€™
- Laura Esquivel, Like Water for Chocolate
May 2020 · 326
annh May 2020
t r a i l s
of light-glazed ephemera
wย ย ย ย ย  aย ย ย ย ย  fย ย ย ย ย ย t
from plain to hills;

*G i l d e d*
grams of silken
warm with pine
and noon.

p i t t e r - p a t t e r s ,
D a N c Eย ย S t E p P i N g
the length
of a polo field.

โ€˜Is not this a true autumn day? Just the still melancholy that
I love - that makes life and nature harmonise.โ€™
- George Eliot
May 2020 · 216
The Hilltop Makery
annh May 2020
'Actually, my friend in Taranaki makes the stars. I combine them with my own elements and string them into garlands,' wrote Makery. There was an element of apology about her words. As if sheโ€™d been rumbled. As if someone had confirmed the voice of self-doubt that whispered in her ear, 'Who do you think you are, calling yourself an artisan?'

Stringing things together is applied artistry - whether it be words, Scandi-style stars, or fairytale mushrooms threaded on candy coloured twine. We are all hunter-gatherers who construct our creations from discovered elements. Some transmute received knowledge into constructed knowledge. Others beachcomb lexica for found syncretic treasures. All aspire to contribute to the infinite compendium of human self-expression, to create something which says, 'This is who I am.' With the silent addendum, 'I hope you like it.'

'Creating is living doubly. The groping, anxious quest of a Proust, his meticulous collecting of flowers, of wallpapers, and of anxieties, signifies nothing else.'
- Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus and Other Essays
May 2020 · 411
Flux and Fixity
annh May 2020
the present
forever shifts

yet remains

claiming and
re-claiming us

a sequence
of stillnesses

flux and

finite and
โ€˜It is almost banal to say so yet it needs to be stressed continually: all is creation, all is change, all is flux, all is metamorphosis.โ€™
- Henry Miller
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