Saturday, June 10, 2017

Sunday, April 23, 2017

El Arcoíris


 
Rojo - los labios de esos niños que ayer robaron las cerezas. 
Naranja, el amanecer de mis mañanas soñolientas.
Amarillo - la hoja que encontré corriendo con la lluvia
Verde son las briznas de hierba y los ojos de mi hija
Azul es el retrato tuyo que nunca tomé, pero lo recuerdo cada día
Índigo las noches desiertas, 
Violeta es el color
del dolor.





Saturday, April 22, 2017

I'm Gonna Rain Tonight



That time when music speaks to you and you just keep on writing.

Sunday, March 19, 2017

About the Eyes

About this poem:
We live in times of great turmoil; worldwide, we are divided by power, greed, discord and famine. I think it is most important than ever to acknowledge that we live under the same sun, that we are all equal. Unfortunately, I don't speak as many languages as I would like to.
I imagined 4 different characters, with different languages, different eyes colour and different life experience. They are made by the different memories each of them carries.

The black eyes remember storms, wars and their mother, trying to find her children's next piece of bread. Even when they found peace, living in a different country, a country of blue-eyed people, the memories come back.
The green eyes remember different kind of storms and Spring nights. The brown eyes remember the enchanted forest of their childhood. The blue eyes have never known famine and they reassure the black eyes that they will never have to worry about the bread.

I have always considered myself a visual artist primarily. That is not to say that I am not serious about my writing. I always knew I want to write - there was never a doubt. I just always envisaged the two getting along just fine. I couldn't imagine myself doing one without the other.
Recently, I have been commissioned to write. A lot. And I am thrilled to say, "Stories from my Grasslands" will soon have a home, airing from a local radio station. (I promise, all will be revealed soon).
Meanwhile, I want to talk about writing and about what I have learned about writing . Last year, I was fortunate to take part in a series of "Mother Tongue" workshops under the guidance of the ever amazing Jacqui Malins and Lauren Klinger. I admired their courage of standing up and admitting they only spoke English; yet their workshops were truly mind blowing. They taught techniques and emphasis, they made writing exercises fun, they made me see languages and their fusion in a totally new perspective. Each workshop was enhanced by the contribution of a special writer as well as the contribution of the other participants - so many ladies brought their knowlege: Anita Patel, Niloofar Fanaiyan, Vesna Cvjeticanin and Dunja Cvjetićanin, Christiane Vivanco de Savaris, Melissa Gomez, Karina Palomita. Thank you. I have learned so much in so little time. And I made some friends too, in the process.
So I decided to try fusion for myself. Here is my first poem in all the languages I love.
I get this question so many times, why do you write in other languages than yours? And I don't really know what the answer would be. Perhaps because my biggest regret is that I cannot make music, even if my life depended on it. So I play with the words, instead. I find music in their rhythm. I am (by far) not an academic, and I am sure that my grammar is poor at times. Perhaps the sense of what I want to convey is lost in translation at times, just like me. But what a fun adventure, to dance one's way through all these words.

Saturday, December 31, 2016

About the roundness of a circle

Thursday, November 10, 2016

About Love, after the Storm

















The trees stood tall in the grasslands last night while the little people cuddled a bit closer and asked me to hold them tight.
- "We've been through storms before and we will see some more", I said to them. "Don't let fear guide you - hope should always be the last to leave".
We could see the trees from our window - the grasslands were bathed in light and the thunders were roaring, seconds apart. All throughout these crazy winds, the trees stood tall. And then the rhythmic raindrops falling on the window sent the little people to sleep.
 

In the morning, the trees were still there, with no visible sign of the battering they've just been through.
One thing that never ceased to amaze me at my grandparents' farm was how the grass would always come afresh after a good rain. Even the most trampled, crushed blades of grass would raise anew, greener and taller.

If you know me personally, you know how reticent I am, when it comes to candy pink tones. Yet seeing the state of the world today, I think I will throw some pink shades at you, my friends.
Just like the grass of my yesteryears, the beautiful pink freesias from our front gardens were revived and full of life this morning. Last night, they were one with the ground.

Everything has been said already, during the last 24 hours. I have nothing more to add, but to many of my friends going through this unbelievable turn of events, I just want to say this:


Remember, we've been through storms before. I see your pain. Please don't ever forget the beauty of the human spirit and how in its darkest hours, humankind finds its strength in togetherness, unity and love.
Love always trumps hate. Good always wins - even if it will take some time.








Monday, October 24, 2016

Permission to Despair

What a peculiar, short word is "Now"; yet with the most elusive power.
Say it - and you've already stepped into next minute.
Effaced by faceless automatons who march into the hour
Towards the cubicles located in a central pivot.

Don't front the winter with your collar raised up like a shield,
You're not alone and you are loved; so loose that state of mind.
Somehow we'll make it through this baffling battlefield
Back to the grounds we lost during the daily grind...

This is part of a larger body of work tackling estrangement as a result of feeling overwhelmed.
How does one avoid shutting down? How does one express becoming emotionless in a world seemingly more devoid of feelings, where we become faceless silhouettes, rushing towards oblivion, while being invaded by all these picture perfect selfies?
Is it in the silence beyond that smile that never took off?
Is it in the quiet desperation of the fingers clutching a little too tight to the collar we're raising up as a shield?
How do we find the way back to communicating and being part of the community we live in?
 





Monday, October 03, 2016

Perspective

It is superfluous, perhaps to talk about perspective. But perhaps it's not. This morning, Mother Nature decided to remind me one of life's most important lessons, by putting things in perspective.
We get carried away and it's easy to forget this one,simple thing: always remember to see the whole picture.
We get to a point where we're stuck and we think we're going around in circles at a snail's pace,without achieving much. Look closely and it seems that way. But if you take a step back, perhaps your perspective will change. The snail is the most tenacious creature I know.
So, if you're ever feeling down, here is a timely reminder to please remember to look back. Always remember where you have started from and then you'll never overlook again how far you got on the way to your goal. You might be really surprised.