Poems · February 22nd, 2017 09:58 · 5 comments
there was a morning in a cafe , I was in San Francisco ( living a dream ) where i wrote down some words on one of those paper thin serviettes, you know .. the ones that barely remove any trace of fresh cream from your hands.
" let each day surprise me.
To wander without 'set' purpose.
the day sets its own course.
takes my hand,
and leads my heart "
Tags: day · diamonds · found · lost · pearls
Poems · February 18th, 2017 13:35 · 6 comments
It's time to write,
~ to seek words ~
to create a story of love, where peace entwines on every page with wonder, and wonder becomes the every day.
21st Nov. 2015
Tags: love story wonder time
Personal · February 11th, 2017 01:57 · 6 comments
there is a bridge here in Rome that now boasts the tittle "Bridge of Love" , the Ponte Milvio has become a modern day pilgrimage for Romeo's and Juliette's, young and old.
It all started with a novel, written by an Italian in 1992. A tale of undefined love, their love for each other was sealed by placing a lock onto the third lamp post along this bridge. and the key was than thrown into the Tiber river below it. Sealed forever.
Today that lamp post is heavily burdened with more of these "love locks". Some of which still represent the love of hearts joined, steadfast and true. While other locks are a reminder of a now broken heart. One such "broken heart" forced with a pair of pliers, to break his own love lock ~ wanting to set himself free ? perhaps ....
Roman life ~ Summer of '08
Personal · February 11th, 2017 01:04 · 2 comments
Living in Rome one almost expects to be flirted with sooner or later, for the Roman men are renowned for this.
So I was not suprised when one morning while I waited for the bus that I caught the gaze of An Italian, a local man. He was watching me and as he moved toward my side to say hello I told him "non parlo italiano, molto bene" ( I don't speak much Italian ) there was not much to say, still he continued with small conversation.
But a true gentleman he was as he helped me up into the already over crowded bus. Not wanting to let go of my hand he let me know he was soon to depart and we said our goodbyes. He implied for a kiss, than was gone.
So it is still here, "the romancing Rome"
I wonder if his day was a little brighter for his flirtations with me that morning ... perhaps it is the secret of his eternal youth, his body looked to be 80 but his heart a mere 20.
Roman Life, the winter of '07
Personal · February 9th, 2017 04:11 · 4 comments
The story of Anna, chapter 4
The road to Hula.
Nothing was ever easy, yet it was always memorable. As it happened my family had been invited to the village of Hula. One of the students my dad taught was from here and we would be taking him home for the weekend.
My dad asked him "is the road all weather" , Yes Mr Wharton he replied.
Half way into our trip it was evident that the road was not "all weather", and as the car steered toward higher patches of ground it soon came to a halt and we were not going anywhere. Bogged in, in the middle of no where, surrounded by coconut trees the car sat motionless with us all inside. I wont ever know how we all got thru the night but by sun rise we were hungry and tired.
It was decided that our school boy would go to fetch us something to eat. after a longtime he returned, arms laden with coconuts. Seeing all the trees nearby my Dad asked as to why it had taken so long, "magic" he replied, the trees here are magic and he could not touch them.
as the day went on another vehicle came by and we were all carried across the mud into this 4 wheel drive, leaving the car behind. We now had a stronger car but this also became stuck , bogged deep into more mud, another anxious wait until a tractor arrived to rescue us all, and here was our "saved" moment.
Hula was a metropolis of an ancient kind, with it's Coral blue seas and it's water ways for canoes passing by. The people were calm with a friendly Polynesian appearance.
We were to never know how and why the trees held the magic , but they were something more, they were holders of secret stories too, our story.
Personal · February 8th, 2017 10:52 · 8 comments
The story of Anna ~ chapter 3
angels are around.
It wasn't just the "fuzzy wuzzy" angels, or the tree angels that saved an entire family one night but there were other signs that they were around us.
What made Papua so unique were the deep traditions that this group of people held with such high regard, such is the loyalty that they would kill and without mercy.
One day the drumming started, a signal to warring tribes that they were to get ready. The sounds could be heard from beyond the cover of clouds, this sound would go on for days, who knew really where it came from and when it would stop. Then one night it stopped, and our house was right in the middle of their way. They were there to kill and without mercy. Each man carried a stick of fire and they would have torched the houses as they moved through. Our house was at the top of the track.
as morning light came we could see the evidence of hundreds of men, their burnt out torches lay circling our house, as if they had suddenly fled, it was evident that there had been a greater force that very night. If we didn't already believe in Angels than this would be the beginning of such a belief.
Personal · February 4th, 2017 15:02 · 6 comments
~ THE STORY OF ANNA ~ chapter 2
A new mountain.
It seems i was destined to live high above an ordinary life. There is a treacherous road that in the the rainy season it is a life and death chance every time a car drives up or down it. We lived at the top of that road ~ Sogeri plateau, nestled in the tree tops and the clouds was the boarding school and teachers homes. Behind our home was the top of the Kokoda track. If you were to research this you will see that it has become a mecca for thankful aussies and New Zealanders who's fore fathers were saved by the 'fuzzy wuzzy angels'. Nearby were a few scattered rubber plantations, random houses and a small supplies store but that's all, so anything else required that journey down to the main town, Port Moresby capital of PNG.
there weren't many trips made down that road, you see the road was narrow and only of dirt. One side a high slope and the other a sheer drop. During the rains the road became mud. One family from the rubber plantation had a very near death experience when the car they were traveling slipped off the sheer drop and only saved by two "angel" branches that held the car long enough so that the family could climb to safety.
For me was an 'accident' of another kind, but would stay with me to this day. 3 weeks after my entry in the World I needed to be registered, names had been chosen and now my father made the intrepid drive down to the countries capital, Port Moresby. I was to be registered at the Australian embassy. The "accident" though not a terrible one was my name, and he registered me as Deborah Lucy instead of Lucy Deborah.
I was born in one Country , registered into another , and than the order of my names now switched around ~ perhaps from this my restless and free spirit was born.
Tags: danger · kokoda track · mountains · name
Personal · February 4th, 2017 13:50 · 5 comments
~ THE STORY OF ANNA ~ chapter 1
Anna came to live with my family when I was 6 years old, but before that is a story of a young family who embarked on a journey across the World, before mobiles, before internet, before any such instant communication was invented.
they left on a cold Autumn English day and arrived into a tropical jungle where every day is summer.
I "traveled" that journey also, safely tucked away in the womb of my mother, she was just 21 when my father ( 26 ) took on a teachers post at the countries elite boarding school, and at the time Papua New Guinea was a territory of Australia .
So here it is where I come onto the scene, December 23rd my Father distracted by carol singers was singing to his hearts content "silent night, holy night" just as i was being born. place of birth was Goroka, a township only really accessible by plane, and still very rich in their own traditions, not too long before my birth the practice of cannibalism was still taking place, and the local chief wasn't shy in teasing my dad , feeling his arm and speaking in his own tongue ( later it was translated to him , the Chimbu chief was saying how he wouldn't be much use to eat, too pale and too skinny ) ...
I was tiny and needed some more specialized care so it was decided i be sent to the capital city for further treatment, I was 6 days old and took my first flight ... blu_bird gets her wings ...
Tags: my life · tropics · true story