Favourite Friday: Words and Colours

Sometimes I have no clue what to write about. So I got the idea to do something weekly like many other bloggers do. It will be about things I cherish and enjoy. Favourite things. Simple things. And I invite all of you to comment a lot and tell me what about your favourites in the weekly category/categories!

Let’s start with words and colours!

Favourite (English) words: serendipity, lush, and cerulean (favourite words in other languages are another issue … for Swahili I’m considering shaghala-baghala “chaos”, mjinga “uneducated idiot” (yep, I use this a lot …), kabisa “completely”, and matatizo “troubles”; in French maybe papillon “butterfly”, and in German it would be some funny, randomly made up composite word … )

Favourite colours: current favourite is cerulean blue (which inspired me to start this stuff), and indigo, but what really is my favourite colour keeps changing depending on season and mood. Mostly natural, not too bright ones. And I like colours with pretty names, obviously :)

All-new photo blog!

I just wanted to inform you about my new photo blog. Until now I’ve been posting most of my pictures on deviantART, but seeing some nice photo blogs around here (and having a new camera!) inspired me to create something more personal. At the moment I’m mostly re-posting old photos thematically ordered, but in the future you’ll also see my new photos (at least the best of them). Hopefully I’ll also find some volounteers for portrait practise who’ll allow me to showcase one or two pictures of them!

Everybody could write poetry

Everybody could write poetry

but few do so

most people don’t trust themselves to pour this bittersweet gold of honey from their lips

afraid the world would hear nothing but the stickiness they feel between their teeth when trying

afraid it could clog their nine to five pens

afraid of being called dreamers.

When did dreaming become undesirable?

When did we forget the ancient art of piecing thoughts together into a flaming mosaic, the art of pouring this honey into patterns on the hard-won bread to make the tired and weary hungry again for life and laughter? When did we become scared of emotion deeper than the cavity of our dry mouths?

We don’t win our bread by touching the soil anymore, we don’t remember the stings accompanying the harvest of the last honey of the year, we don’t know how to wait for the right seasons anymore. We are lost, strangers to our world, merely taking whatever is provided by endless acres of supermarkets, grocery stores, vending machines. Consuming in haste, eating on the way to work to earn another year’s worth of bread, and yet not taking the time to taste the piece we hold in our hand.

Everybody could write poetry

but few take the time to taste life

afraid to waste time

afraid of finding out what we’ve given up.

Everybody could write poetry

and I won’t leave it to the so-called professionals, self-proclaimed experts

to find out what life tastes like

to define what is art and beauty.

I will write poetry again.

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This (or better the first few lines) came into my head while I was in bed with a spell of migraine-ish headache this evening. I can’t find anything good to write about for weeks, and then it comes to me while my head is throbbing and I don’t want to move or stare at a glowing computer screen … life is weird. Seriously.

You can also find this on my deviantART account:

http://kayanya.deviantart.com/art/Everybody-could-write-poetry-376503587?ga_submit_new=10%253A1370636563