Outside the Minnesota state line PART 1

Outside the Minnesota state line there lived a man called Tinterelli. He used to collect fortune cookie affirmations, and even tape them onto his laptop. Some called him strange, but they would be kind anyway. Our man Tinterelli didn't actually hail from outside the Minnesota state line, but that was where he found himself. In fact, his people could be found most commonly in the Tinterama region of south western Italy. But we won't quibble here.

"Hang on." she said, "I believe a glass of wine is in order."

Of course, the wine shall be from the Tinter varietal grape vines tended lovingly by the Tinterelli clan, one and all. Excepting of course, the Gipini's, a wandering tribe, who also invariably worked to bring in the grapes, in season. And we mustn't forget the hard-working travelling labourers from Bulgaria, nor the inventive light-spirited pixie from Albania.

Chip, the unfair story writer smiled, and waited patiently for her return, with the prized bottle in hand.

[PAUSED]

Butterfly Touch

There is a stillness
that surrounds and is within him
I recognize the peace
like the sigh of coming home

I find I must look away
for my gaze must surely be too intent
for such pleasant greetings
and my swift fall will be discovered

Ah but there is a gentleness on him
it gathers upon his features
its silence melts my heart
with every gesture expressed

In concentration
concern passes across his brow
interest at the ideas that flow
across the space of this small table
between us

I feign participation
I can even nod with candor or smile in tune,
yet the words rush past my burning ears
and I strain to comprehend

I grasp at innane rememberances
my attempt at normalcy
to add to the flow of words
the memory of a sunny day
with song and laughter shared

I am struck by features I cannot escape
instead I catalogue their colour,
soft sweetened sage
wet with the last of the dew.
They are the windows I want to enter

It must be transparent
in my dazzled features
this now palpable feeling, once forgotten
like the touch of a butterfly.

Coming Soon: Butterflies versus Moths; No Contest?

caveat...

limitation clause
term of use
explanation...

I will not re-write, edit, revise, correct, or critique what I post on this blog...
so pleassssseee do not hold my impulsive words, my stray thoughts, my sappy phraseology, my timid ramblings or my spelling errors against me for future use!

I will simply not allow it. They will be ignored, rebuffed, sniffed upon with disgust, if you will...

For the purpose of this forum, if there is one.. is naught but to express myself...

surely you will agree that expression is sometimes silly, crass, immature and embarrassing...when looked at too minutely, with too much intent or judgement.

I wish to be kind to myself, is all.

play along!

...will you?

the wind

entreats me
a spell is cast
I am torn and lifted
into its hands, its arms
invisible

always so swiftly I am taken by its greeting!
in silence or with a roar
I am delighted anew
the freshness splashes onto my cheek
and lifts me out of my stupor
alive it moves beside, inside, and through me

I run to meet it
I spiral my arms and dance
with abandon, with joy
oh yes I laugh, I giggle, I roll with delight

so sweetly it rushes through the green grass
upon which I stumble and prance
my hair flashes in flight
around my face now moist with dew and tears
and spit from the heavens

what lustiness this wind possesses!

misty spring day

don't you just love misty spring days? a little bit of melancholy, a little bit of reflection, a little bit of a chill, a little bit of rain...

I always like to go for walks on afternoons like this... it is a great time to talk and walk and dream... a quiet time that puts everything in perspective.

Often on sunny days I feel like I have to get going, doing, being, activity central, if you know what I mean... I must be outside moving about and feeling exuberant and alive...

Yet on misty spring days I give myself the pleasure of my own company.... to slow down a bit, ponder, plan, laze about... whatever.

Pressure seems to be lowered somehow. There is a soberness to the air, the quality of the light, and the expressions on people's faces as they saunter by... some with umbrellas, prepared for the rain, others with newspaper ready to hide the head from a bit of water, and others just sauntering around the place ~ a bit like me... with a bemused expression on their faces.. or alternatively, with deep thought or concern showing upon their features...

funny how misty spring days bring about these phenomena...

I mean, what better day to create a blog, really? hmmmm.....