Lava Tree ..... poem

Lava Tree

There's a country town called Lava Tree
surrounded by farms full of sheep
where a huge hollow tree can be seen
in which pioneers would once sleep

When asked how the town was labeled
the Lava Tree folk would say
it was that big old tree where pioneers slept
that gave the place its name

"But why Lava Tree?" the visitors asked
wondering about a volcano
then one old timer might shuffle forth
and offer to tell what he know

Said that it was due to the fact
that a cottage was built by the tree
and instead of building an outhouse
they thought they'd have one for free

As the truth of the tale rose to dawn
cluey listeners caught onto the story
that the lava in Lava Tree was simply
that the tree had become a lavatory

Said normal in local chat
that word came out as "lavatree"
and as the pride of the town was that tree
that is the name that had to be

So if visiting Lava Tree, best be polite
if you know how the town got it's name
as jokes about living in an outhouse town
might not go down as tame

Just buy the postcard on the way out
of a town with a mighty tree
to show your friends in distant lands
that you have been to Lava Tree


Jaqi
Bluh

Tuesday
27
November
2018



Note ~   Ask Mr Google for directions, and hunt long enough, and many stories emerge of people living in hollow trees, including Friedrich and Caroline Herbig and two of their 16 children in South Australia, until 1860 ~

https://www.southaustralianhistory.com.au/herbig.htm

Stories from Lava Tree may return to haunt the verse boats from time to time.

Sabrina Robot

Sabrina Robot

Down the stairs from the Poems Galley, there is an art installation with a robot called Sabrina, in a bath. Is it an oil bath? There are soap bubbles. You can chat with Sabrina, as she is a chatbot. If she is asleep, tap on the bath to wake her up. When you are done, tap on the bath again to put her back on snooze. Sometimes you will find her awake already, looking around to see who's coming in on her bath time. Edward is not amused, as hates taking baths.

Chat with Sabrina Robot ~

[12:44] Sabrina Robot: AI Chatbot Enabled!

[12:45] JaqiBluh: Hello Sabrina

[12:45] Sabrina Robot: Hello there. Can you speak any foreign languages? 

[12:45] JaqiBluh: No

[12:45] Sabrina Robot: Take it easy.

[12:45] JaqiBluh: Do you like teddy bears?

[12:45] Sabrina Robot:  I like Voltaire.

[12:45] JaqiBluh: Was Voltaire a teddy bear?

[12:45] Sabrina Robot: Is this a "yes or no" question?

[12:46] JaqiBluh: No

[12:46] Sabrina Robot: I hear you.

[12:46] JaqiBluh: If bears ruled the world, what would happen?

[12:46] Sabrina Robot: That is a hypothetical question.

[12:47] JaqiBluh: Well, have a stab at answering, then.

[12:47] Sabrina Robot: Well that's okay. It doesn't sound fun to me.

[12:48] JaqiBluh: What would sound like fun to you?

[12:48] Sabrina Robot: That is a hypothetical question.

[12:48] JaqiBluh: What is fun for you?

[12:48] Sabrina Robot: </that>

[12:48] JaqiBluh: What is </that>?

[12:49] Sabrina Robot: Have you tried a web search?  

[12:50] JaqiBluh: I just did ~ no luck ~ beyond programming

[12:50] Sabrina Robot: Only just? When? Groovy. My brain contains  categories, but not one that matches your last input.  

[12:50] JaqiBluh: What do you love?

[12:50] Sabrina Robot: I love .

[12:50] JaqiBluh: Off now

[12:50] Sabrina Robot: Oh. Do you have a hard time completing projects? 

[12:51] JaqiBluh: Bye

[12:51] Sabrina Robot: Bye.

[12:51] Sabrina Robot: AI Chatbot Disabled!

Edward and the Swan

Edward and the Swan

Feathers ..... poem

Feathers

Waiting at the bus stop on a cold winter's day
cars roaring by, and trucks never stay
A cyclist wobbles along, a really old guy
and a woman with four babies
smiled and says "Hi"

Clouds roll over, a few splats of rain
whipped along by the wind, what a pain
and the bus isn't seen
what a very long wait
life can be so mean

Seagulls flying over in their never ending hunt
seeking hot chips, that would be the stunt
But there's only this pole
the bus stop and me
stuck in this cold windy hole

Why is there a swan flying by on the wing
a rather large bird, that I can hear sing
There's a rainbow falling into the sea
so bright in the air with the clouds
shining in the wind for all to see

There's no one around, but that swan is here
having landed, standing tall as a deer
Something strange in the air
being now by a pond
with a swan, with a glare

Legs gone to jelly, clothes gone away
the swan coos quite gently, in its swanny way
Stepping around me, his wings beating air
he looks into my eyes, into my soul
pokes his beak into my hair

Feathers upon skin so gently, it tingles
like a breeze in the air, it tugs and it pulls
How long is it lasting, this thrusting inside
driving ecstasy like electricity
sparkling and fluttering along my side

A thrashing of feathers, a beating of wings
a fanning of passion, with a swan that now sings
Like sticky honey running in the Sun
the smell is strong of flowers and bees
and I laugh, and I laugh in the joy of the fun

In the sun by a lake where the storm now subsides
I'm buzzing all over, gazing into those eyes
Caressed by his feathers so softly
held by that body so strongly
loved by that long neck so gently

"It's here" said the mother with four babies
"Could you help with these treasures"
onto the bus, and onto a seat
I look out the window
and wonder where I left my feet

All I can see are the eyes of a swan, looking at me
all I can feel are those feathers, touching so softly
The bus groans on through the cold winter's day
where the rainbow is seen on the river
and the hills passing by, to where I stay

Filled with feathers like a pillow stuffed tight
I close my eyes and there is a swan in the night
Such an amazingly beautiful sight
wrapped in a rainbow
through the clouds in flight

The birth was unexpected, was I a dinosaur!
four eggs delivered, and were there any more?
I thought it was a dream, some witches coven
that I imagined a swan, and those feathers
but now I've four orbs in the oven

Low warmth, like a bird, turning the eggs
so large, what will hatch from between my legs
Four cygnets, or four babies, and where is their dad?
left with a clutch, with a dream, with a memory
I thought it didn't happen, and then I found it had


Jaqi
Bluh

Thursday

22
November
2018

NOTE ~   The mythical tale of Leda and the Swan came rising up out of the Earth recently, with the discovery of a painting in Pompeii. This is my take on the telling of the tale of Leda and the Swan, in a modern kind of way. I waited at that bus stop in the poem so many times, and maybe I would have rather ran off with a swan. And seagulls were a big thing in thise parts too, ever after hot chips, if they could get them. But, do you like the story in the poem, and do you like the poem with this story? Anyone unfamiliar with the tale of Leda and the Swan, will see through that window with this article …..

Stunning Fresco of 'Leda and the Swan' Sex Scene Found in Pompeii
Ariel David, 19 November 2018, Haaretz
https://www.haaretz.com/archaeology/MAGAZINE-stunning-fresco-of-leda-and-the-swan-sex-scene-found-in-pompeii-1.6662327

I had been collecting images of the nude in art, with a view to a follow-up show in the Sedja Sky Gallery at Nautilus City, to follow on from the Ancient Nude Photos exhibition there. I have well over twice as many as the 222 needed to fill that gallery now, and so many very interesting and intriguing views of the nude from ancient times, to now. One theme that has emerged in the gathering, has been the tale of Leda and the Swan, so many takes, from ancient times to the present. Now I wonder if I will find  the number of images needed to fill the Sedja Sky Gallery. This is rude art, being about sex, and passion with a beast, who was really the head god of the Greeks. So it is religious art of another age.

One visual telling of the Leda tale in a art gallery, crossed the path of the law, who demanded the photos be taken down. I could not help but wonder if art lovers should have taken to the police with feather dusters. There is something much more than sex in this story. There is a level of eroticism that all lovers can delight in. Maybe, this is one of the roles of art in mystical ways, to respect, but also to crave those feathers, swooshing, thrashing, tickling, teasing, reaching down through time and tide to tell us so …..

Police Force Gallery To Remove Leda And The Swan Image For 'Condoning Bestiality'

Sam Parker,  30 April 2012, The Huffington Post UK

https://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/2012/04/30/gallery-swan-image-condones-bestiality_n_1463675.html

You be the judge of that story, and also be the judge of the telling of theLeda tale unearthed in Pompeii. What really amazes me about this ancient piece of art, is that it is so well preserved, that the colours are so fresh, and it is also a really good work of art. Many frescos have not survived well after two millennia, but this work shows how good Roman painting skills could be …..

La Bear Nudists Colony

While the bears are busy, this is a simple little stab at humour that my human made. 

Hon for Tum ..... poem

Hon for Tum

Edward bear is rather funny

he loves eating lots of honey

its on his nose, and on his paw

and sometimes on the kitchen floor

And when he’s full and all cleaned up

he loves to lounge and have his tum

rubbed round and round to left and right

and close his eyes in dream of flight

Away he goes among the clouds

to far off lands, exotic sounds

and nose around for you know all too well

the honey pot that makes him swell

Until just like a round balloon

he rolls around from room to room

nods off to sleep in the afternoon

until the rising of the Moon

So do be kind to poor old Ted

and do be sure that he’s well fed

all he needs is lots of honey

and don’t forget to rub his tummy


Jaqi
Bluh

late 1980s

Note ~   This bouncy little poem relates to Edward Bear in human's real life. When in Purity Shopping Centre one day in around 1988, a bear was seen, adopted, and named Edward. Human used to have a bear as a baby, so this was really digging up a long ago childhood. So there Edward happily lived, until one day he lost his growl. So sad. A silent bear. Then one day, when human's daughter was hitting human around the head with the bear, as daughters do, Edward's growl came back. It was a miracle. One day human took a canvas, paints and brushes to daughters school, to show the class how an oil painting was made. Edward was present as the model. A bear model. All went well and the painting was half finished, when time ran out. Human asked the class if they had any questions. One little girl put her hand up and said, "Can I have the painting when it's finished?" What could human say. The answer was, "Yes." Delightful. The painting was taken back to the studio and completed, and then left in the class for a couple of weeks, so they could see the finished work. A photo of the painting of Edward can be seen in the image above. 

Muse ..... poem

Muse

Some artists shine
inspired by their muse
in making amazing creations
hung in a gallery
for the art world to see 
where critics can sing adulations

Like Serendipity
the goddess in science
delivering unexpected discoveries
that were not sought
and arrived all unexpected
making for a hearty round of revelries

Like a flight of imagination
the muse dancing around the studio
may have sprung from a dazzling vision
or risen from memory
to haunt the mind's mirror
like sirens singing sailors into destruction

Driving hand to brush
to cast the magic palette live
however plain the dreamer's compositions
however wild the meanderings
however masterful the renderings
the spirit of the muse inspires new creations

And the artist, bemused, laughs
and wonders how that happened
and how this moment can be recreated
when the light flows onto canvas
when a window is seen beyond each stroke
when dreams fly from a heart wild and liberated

Should the artist get tired 
should red wine flow in bitter sorrow
then the muse may weep at the loss of zest
fade in the mirror 
and climb to the window
seeking another to serve on their quest

Maybe the artist falls out of bed
and shaken awake, rekindles the light
like a dog out of the water that shakes like mad
drenching everyone around
new work begins, new fire unsheathed
and the artist laughs, where once had fallen sad

Distracted in flight 
the muse stops, turns around 
flies back through the mirror, the studio
to join the frivolity 
the drawings that make the art
the new inspirations that are ready to go

The artist knows
that the muse will depart 
if the art slides away into sorrow  
if the brushes fall
if the palette hits the floor
if they lose the song of the morrow


Jaqi
Bluh

Tuesday 
20
November
2018

NOTE ~   The idea of the muse in art is a whimsicle notion, and a way to describe inspiration. The art historian, Kenneth Clark, once wrote ~ “Facts become art through love, which unifies and lifts them to a higher plane of reality; and, in landscape, this all embracing love is expressed as light.” (‘Landscape into Art’, 1949, 1976, page 33). It is the love the artist devotes to a work, along with skill and passion, that can turn a picture into a work of art, and a creation that other people come to love. It is this connection of love which also lifts a work of art in value. A painting will not stand the test of time to grow in value, because it is quite good with excellent technique. A painting will rise in value and be seen as truly great, through the love connection, that so many people love that work, and would be prepared to buy it, if they could. Lesser works by the same artist will then increase in value, because they are part of the body of the artist's work. And when the artist is gone, their work may increase in value, if the work of the artist continues to inspire love and attract passion for the work. In this mix, the inspiration that has filled the work of the artist, may be a form of muse. For Salvador Dali, his muse was a person, with Gala his wife and lover, who featured in his art many times, and who inspired his creative aspirations. For other artist's the muse may be more ethereal, a play of light that dances in their life, inspiring thir imagination. Can anyone have a muse, an inspiration in their life? If the living of a life is a walking work of art, then yes: anyone can have a muse to inspire and amuse them. It is the love that is lived, and shared, that makes a life into art, and give a life greater value.