Here is my Sombre Chapbook already live on Amazon.com: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B007AZSRUS
It is available for lending, buying and looking inside. I hope you enjoy it at least as much as I enjoyed making it.
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Haiku Heights #105, 4th Feb 2012 is Music
*** not the least of wisp nibbles at my hearing. the sound of music
© 2012 Mariya Koleva The staff at We Write Poems came up with a glorious prompt: Civil Rights. I remembered what I saw at the Airport in Helsinki just over a fortnight ago. Well, of course, I remember the same thing happening to me just over fifteen years ago, at the Airport in Amsterdam. Utter humiliation is the expression coming to my mind. Enjoy the poem: Who will wear those big shoes? We are all lined up In front of the check-in So early one morning All freezing and dumb - Hand luggage is packed, So neatly and All bags are arranged in decorum, Waiting - Almost there Just a family before me Just a step from the free zone With heating, coffee and soft seats. - I see a mother transfer diapers from suitcase on the verge of breaking open to a bunch they surely call “hand luggage”; baby’s milk dripping from a bottle on the floor, little boy clinging to dad Dad running fingers through thinning coal-black hair speaking curtly in a language I do not recognize No doubt urging mommy to hurry - Next at check-in desk, They are ready - All piles piled in order So to speak, acceptable Until the officer spots their passports. - Half an hour later everybody is still there except for the check-in officer who comes and goes away, “To make some checks,” she says, “Because there might be problems With your visas.” She’s eyeing them from top to toe. And asking them if they’d come back And when, and how And why. - Oh, most important, why? - The father speaks but little English The mother is so dumb and numb The boy spills from his bottle Then sits over it And she pretends she Doesn’t notice That lump in her throat is the one of despair and humiliation she’s not wanted there, she’s a wrong nation. - And no one needs English to guess that a passport defines you as human or else.
© 2012 Mariya Koleva three-word-wednesday, Feb 1st, 2012, Wed. Detach-Jolt-Surge *** We detach soul Next, we make the pony Soul surges, Picture is detached from sound © 2012 Mariya Koleva This was supposed to be my offering for the Haiku Heights prompt of Crimson. Yet, it passed beyond haiku… *** Crimson is a colour of imperial statute. residing out of my understanding, Existing but in my mechanical view prompted by the attribute “imperial” Crimson is full, full-blooded, full-bodied and visual.
© 2012 Mariya Koleva am writing of the peace in my heart that has not come yet; am writing believing that I only haven’t seen it come for it is there - a permanent resident
© 2012 Mariya Koleva By God, the month is almost over and still no #amwriting done in any serious way. That is how you may know that I had a lot of work to do and that I executed numerous responsible and serious business things on my agenda. For instance, I flew to Finland and back, went to a job interview and a written test, sat for three exams from my regular exam session, and handed in three of the five assignments due for this semester. Around all that, there was a lot of travelling done, where I did not lose touch with home thanks to the wonderful B-day present I got from my baby and his family. Apart from travelling, I visited a couple of universities, ex-employers and such, I renewed old friendships and heard from ex-fellow-students and colleauges. I rummaged in a black plastic bag, containing all I had received from my parents’ place after it was sold. That brought me a nice afternoon of sweet and bitter memories. Unfortunately, I did not find there what I needed. Moreover, I found that it contained only about one third of what was mine in that place. That place is the one which appears in my dreams, when I dream, of “home”. The small stone for the River of Stones of today is: “Snow and frost, still sunny. The way I wanted it. Now I reconsider, but there is no taking back the weather.” © 2012 Mariya Koleva Snow falling and melting right away. That is the curse of temperate climate. Home is dry and warm, so nice a place to stay. Sunday is my fav ritual. © 2012 Mariya Koleva A Review of Psycho 1959 by Robert Bloch This is a very famous story, which, along with its main themes and characters, have crossed genres, audiences, ages and preferences. Psycho is a must-read. The twist in the plot, as well as the psychological theme are very cleverly-worked. Yet, teenagers should find something different if they search for horror. When I first read it, I thought the book was OK. I certainly had greater expectations, though. I read it at the fragile and highly-impressionable age of 17 (I think, or could be 16, or 18) and was hungry for sensation, blood and body parts. Which it has none. It is scary, for sure, and the suspence builds as you read. Later, I saw the film and it did not impress me more. © 2012 Mariya Koleva One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest 1962, by Ken Kesey This is one of the rare cases when a book did not impress me as the film did. And that does not happen often. After I saw the film, which shattered me and left me speechless for days, I rushed to the library (“rushed” is a too strong way to put it, however) and took the book. It is because the fact that Chief Bromden could hear and speak was clear from the very beginning, whileas the film used that as a smasher; or is it because the splendid face acting of Jack Nickolson and Brad Dourif (in the part of Billy) was not there, I do not know, but the pages were somehow colourless and the story did not catch me as the film had done. So, the novel was OK. After all it had the same great characters and told the same overwhelming story. It just did not leave me in the same breathless horror the film did. Or, maybe, my extraordinary state had simply expired, leaving space to some milder sensation. That could very probably be it. © 2012 Mariya Koleva |
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Copyright © 2012 Mariya Koleva - All Rights Reserved |
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