tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686Fri, 01 Nov 2024 09:50:45 +0000There has to be a place where I can stash things that I like, that I would like to keep or share. Without logic or reason, a flowing ream of collectibles, be it self-scribbles or works blatantly borrowed. Thoughts, verse, sights, sounds, each to be whimsically vibrant, eclectic, joyously effervescent, introspective, scathingly incisive, or deeply nostalgic, but always moving. This is to be it.http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/noreply@blogger.com (Unknown)Blogger153125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-2593243385219655511Sat, 13 Jul 2019 03:23:00 +00002019-07-13T08:56:06.516+05:30 There is no grace for the ill-equipped. The constancy of coming to speed, rolling off the hill by just that little, the mad scramble of the spirit that refuses to die. There is no stillness in this motion. Wouldn't be bearable - the fumble, the sensation, all spikes and bounce - if it weren't so funny, in it's unnecessariness. The beauty of balance hides in nooks and crannies, waiting to be http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2019/07/place-of-knowing.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Unknown)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-5647699363819739567Wed, 03 Jul 2019 16:08:00 +00002019-07-03T21:38:30.046+05:30   I came across an odd, sprawling smile that stayed with me. The memory of it keeps playing back in my mind like a flash clip when least expected. I would like to imagine that if I curled up under a grand tree, I would wake with answers that eluded me. It would have to be a gnarled tree, lichen covered, centipedes crawling to a symphony of crickets. The portal comes home. A http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2019/07/scatter_3.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Unknown)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-3401483515688110222Sun, 09 Jun 2019 07:14:00 +00002019-06-09T12:48:45.807+05:30 This page lay dead. Words swirled, little by little, inside my head, each year.  This - foil to everything I actually wanted to write, lay locked. The words had nowhere to go.  Mornings I woke in clouds of verse, Comebacks, framed 3 days too late Inner monologue all dressed in colour Flew down a river that didn't exist.  You must write. Travelogues. Film Reviews.&http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2019/06/four-years.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Unknown)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-3276840843921458235Mon, 23 Mar 2015 18:57:00 +00002015-03-24T00:27:52.828+05:30   I prefer movies. I prefer cats. I prefer the oaks along the Warta. I prefer Dickens to Dostoyevsky. I prefer myself liking people to myself loving mankind. I prefer keeping a needle and thread on hand, just in case. I prefer the color green. I prefer not to maintain that reason is to blame for everything. I prefer exceptions. I prefer to leave early. I prefer talking to http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2015/03/possibilities.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Unknown)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-6278189690795588702Sun, 22 Feb 2015 01:00:00 +00002015-02-22T06:33:27.877+05:30 Run. Begin. One foot after another. No mind to it. Chew gravel. Feel the crunch. Everything moving. Houses. Trees. Cars. People. No mind to it. Pace up. It's the wind, saying welcome.  I am here. Feel it. Its the blood on the stove. Never simmered enough. Its cooler now. Its the air rushing through. One foot after another. Killing the mind. Eat the http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2015/02/with-hunted.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Unknown)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-803616412552255691Wed, 18 Feb 2015 17:39:00 +00002015-02-22T06:31:59.323+05:30   "I want to get more comfortable being uncomfortable. I want to get more confident being uncertain. I don't want to shrink back just because something isn't easy. I want to push back, and make more room in the area between I can't and I can. Maybe that spot is called I will."   ~ Kristin Armstrong ~     Image source is here    http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2015/02/reminder.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Unknown)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-6499499042587039211Sat, 24 Jan 2015 17:14:00 +00002015-01-24T22:44:12.223+05:30 Sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment. Yesterday I was clever, so I wanted to change the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself. Be like the sun for grace and mercy. Be like the night to cover others' faults. Be like running water for generosity. Be like death for rage and anger. Be like the Earth for modesty. Be as you appear. Within tears, find hidden laughterhttp://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2015/01/spring-is-here.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Unknown)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-3709876328806663593Sun, 27 Apr 2014 08:54:00 +00002014-04-27T14:34:47.709+05:30 The Bermuda Triangle Leave home Disconnect, leave aside for a moment your history and your usual way of looking at things. When we aren't clinging to our own ideas and habits, we can learn about and gain greater enjoyment from everything again.   Enjoy the journey Do not be obsessed with the final destination. Try to be open to the unpredictable, the unexpected and the http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2014/04/the-explorers-manifesto.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Unknown)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-6236830840599267597Fri, 08 Nov 2013 20:59:00 +00002013-11-09T02:30:59.823+05:30 Jardin de Luxembourg, Paris. October 2010. Did they die verse unwritten or did they refuse to have themselves strait-jacketed into form, into structure, how much of a leaf do you truly admire outside the canopy of the tree, or do you find verse in its free fall, its cascade into the heap that gets swept away, billowing into playful clouds and then melt into dust, until the next season of http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2013/11/crunch.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Unknown)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-1943638480793694791Wed, 15 May 2013 14:51:00 +00002013-06-03T22:54:42.888+05:30 Bobs in own's keg of brine. Here a regret, there a lost love, a piece of pride chewed on, unraveling string of childhood self, a life of kites and bicycles, like mirror shards, a broken top, favourite gum, page torn off a book, yellowing letters, all pickled bits, cast away one memory at a time. A packed room, chink of ice to crystal, only the finest trend in the luxe will do, all http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2013/05/small-talk.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Unknown)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-3182252060250710659Fri, 19 Apr 2013 07:29:00 +00002013-04-19T12:59:54.191+05:30 Lovely gift of gleaming green, outside the rain, without water, soft and thriving, jumping hoops, snares and kind words, a little resting, little cajoled, every which way discoursed, very welcome - winsome suggestion, not every arrow, bee, lost horse, heads where pointed. Load the lode, your map a dot. Flight foregone, is loss of journey.  (Penned Fri, Apr 19, 2013)http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2013/04/that-travels-not.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Unknown)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-8871675004893226276Fri, 21 Sep 2012 16:41:00 +00002012-09-21T22:14:14.902+05:30 The circuit Blogged on, Friday, August 27, 2010 at 9:54am · Version: Medium-Rare _ There are some things among some of us that we have common. You'd either know what I'm talking about or it may just go wasted. Either which ways, let's begin. It takes us time, effort and inclination to explain to people what we do and why we do what do and how it impacts who and when, http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2012/09/circuit-breaker.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Unknown)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-849801468846438106Thu, 06 Sep 2012 17:30:00 +00002012-09-06T23:00:10.852+05:30 http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2012/09/tylerknott.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Unknown)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-1385863799332326289Fri, 17 Aug 2012 04:43:00 +00002012-08-17T10:13:12.359+05:30 with an Apple Macintoshyou can't run Radio Shack programsin its disc drive.nor can a Commodore 64drive read a fileyou have created on anIBM Personal Computer.both Kaypro and Osborne computers usethe CP/M operating systembut can't read each other'shandwritingfor they format (writeon) discs in differentways.the Tandy 2000 runs MS-DOS butcan't use most programs produced forthe IBM Personal http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2012/08/16-bit-intel-8088-chip-charles-bukowski.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Unknown)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-4711672202454093565Wed, 01 Aug 2012 16:24:00 +00002012-08-01T21:56:50.344+05:30 "Gore Vidal has died: "As societies grow decadent, the language grows decadent, too. Words are used to disguise, not to illuminate, action: you liberate a city by destroying it. Words are to confuse, so that at election time people will solemnly vote against their own interests." At The New York Review of Books, Charles Simic reflects on Aurora. The Atlantic reports on one poethttp://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2012/08/meanwhile-elsewhere.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Unknown)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-4419784047738904744Thu, 26 Jul 2012 08:19:00 +00002012-07-27T08:34:51.651+05:30 On August 8th of 1933, author F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote the following letter of advice to his 11-year-old daughter, "Scottie," who was away at camp. La Paix, Rodgers' Forge Towson, Maryland August 8, 1933 Dear Pie: I feel very strongly about you doing duty. Would you give me a little more documentation about your reading in French? I am glad you are happy — but I never believe much inhttp://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2012/07/things-to-worry-about.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Unknown)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-3738153983893166356Thu, 12 Jul 2012 15:08:00 +00002012-07-12T20:59:28.988+05:30 There are windows, by which we pass, by chance in passing, a brief moment, lost in the landscape, or in the weather, and the thief of time becomes the knave of hearts, a gentle cloud of forgetfulness, drifting by, whispers sweet nothings, stay with us, everything melts, the lotus eater's clock of Dali, he sees everything, you in that dark, misty corner, at the lost end of the world, in a http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2012/07/ware.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Unknown)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-61142690858942204Thu, 28 Jun 2012 04:40:00 +00002012-06-28T10:12:37.117+05:30 Siete i benvenuti a mia casa C'e' dove, La tua candela si scalda sempre il cuore del focolare (Penned June 27, 2012)   Image source is here http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2012/06/la-mia-prima-poesia-italiana.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Unknown)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-1823335255454916165Wed, 20 Jun 2012 11:02:00 +00002012-06-20T16:38:14.625+05:30 Conjectures blind, mulling over, Same? Different? Conversational-less grey-clouded skies, how do we know, a hard crack of jagged light striking, how do we know, mugs of tea lazily fogging glasses, de-skimming them endlessly, mechanically, phosphenes drifting like snowflakes, a whirring whip of rolling dice, so there can be solutions, rain-dripped pages drying, we’re not problems people, http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2012/06/dolce-far-niente.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Unknown)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-3468201525343807414Thu, 14 Jun 2012 05:02:00 +00002012-06-14T10:33:46.014+05:30 I have no name, I am as the fresh breeze of the mountains. I have no shelter; I am as the wandering waters. I have no sanctuary, like the dark gods; Nor am I in the shadow of deep temples. I have no sacred books; Nor am I well-seasoned in tradition. I am not in the incense Mounting on the high altars, Nor in the pomp of ceremonies. I am neither in the graven image, Nor in the rich chant http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2012/06/song-of-life-jiddu-krishnamurti.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Unknown)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-5413847318294713890Tue, 05 Jun 2012 05:38:00 +00002012-06-05T11:11:11.765+05:30 I am trying to decipher the language of insects they are the tongues of the future their vocabularies describe buildings as food they can instruct of dark water and the veins of trees they can convey what they do not know and what is known at a distance and what nobody knows they have terms for making music with the legs they can recount changing in a sleep like death they can sing with http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2012/06/after-alphabets-w-s-merwin.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Unknown)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-2477796303026658178Thu, 26 Apr 2012 20:30:00 +00002012-04-27T02:02:02.776+05:30 The brain, like the earth, lies in layers.Floaters dart and punch. I see the field.My face stays numb. Keep your eye on the target.Click the button when a light appears.Last night I read “So little evidence is leftof what had vanished.” I can’t always follow directions.The tumor pressed a lobe, chargingthe amygdala, emotional core of the self.In school they taught us that soil covers coreandhttp://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2012/04/vision-test-patricia-kirkpatrick.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Unknown)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-4065754027932113795Tue, 03 Apr 2012 05:44:00 +00002012-06-05T11:19:11.426+05:30 I come from haunts of coot and hern, I make a sudden sally And sparkle out among the fern, To bicker down a valley. By thirty hills I hurry down, Or slip between the ridges, By twenty thorpes, a little town, And half a hundred bridges. Till last by Philip's farm I flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go, But I go on for ever. I chatter over stony http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2012/04/brook-alfred-lord-tennyson.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Unknown)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-4793018030710500622Fri, 16 Mar 2012 06:30:00 +00002012-06-05T11:10:46.773+05:30 Someone is always falling in love with you: men and women, infants and children, octogenarians and adolescents. A tenant of heaven-haven on the pearly doorstep hopes you will wave your hand in passing. Where you stood just now a white bird has flown into a ponderosa pine and a black bee hovers in a bush of yellow flowers. People would like to discuss you, but hold back. Mystery is http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2012/03/following-virginia-adair.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Unknown)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956837139085979686.post-2349200269889374225Wed, 29 Feb 2012 04:26:00 +00002012-06-05T11:19:19.458+05:30 Des jours où tous les cieux, l’un dedans, l’un au-dessus, Pensent au même, Nous y te voyons, souriant, aux cieux du Nord-Est, Souriant, faisant la pluie. (Penned Wedn, Feb 29, 2012) Image source is here http://colourconfetti.blogspot.com/2012/02/pas-de-dix-mots.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Unknown)0