Figure On Wooden Beam, Auxerre

The details and wooden carvings on the columns, beams, doors or portices of houses in the region of Bourgogne are spectacular. Here is one such carving.

Cathedral St Etienne, Auxerre, Bourgogne

I had to take this photograph from a rather strange angle. But I think the result is worth it. The stone carving is magnificent. The splendour of this handworked stone is always inspiring. Click on the photographs to see the details.

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Extract from:

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http://ranarani.blogspot.com/

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With thanks to Rana and Rani.

Blissful Existence

BLISSFUL EXISTENCE :

What a wonderful world

This Existence has provided us with

But even to know it that way,

You will need the eyes and ears for it.

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Where every day as the night ends,

The whole world comes to life

From the birds to all creatures

All become active and throbbing with life.

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Where the sun everyday rises punctually

Without even a single holiday

Light and warmth that it provides with,

Gives comfort to everyone day after day.

Where a lot of different climates

Are there for us to experience

And for such variety of seasons,

Nature takes nothing, not even once

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Where there is beautiful greenery

And flowers of all colour and shade

From the lotus to rose are different smells

And even colours like yellow and red.

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Where every day the sunset creates

The most largest and natural canvas

Whose painter is really unknown but

Every other painter, he definitely does surpass.

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Where an unknown musician creates music

Through the orchestra of a river or a bird

Which is of divine quality and the best

But to know this, it has to be heard.

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Where every day the night falls,

And everything goes into a deep sleep,

It is a moment of complete rest

And eternal peace so profound and deep.

Achyut Telang.

Copyright: Achyut Telang

Extract from Achyut's blog:

http://achyutktelang.blogspot.com/

Achyut kindly gave me the permission to produce his inspiring poem in my blog. Hope to see you again, Achyut, in these pages.

This Emptiness Within: Poem

This Emptiness Within

This emptiness within, an utter stillness that could,

Would, should remain transfixed by eternity

Not a sunyatian stillness not the perfect void

A void, no, rather devoid

Not a perfect vacumn not even the space

To fill up a space that

Silences and stillness from analysis

Springs nought; not the naught but the knot

And the stillness and the silence in empty hearts

As far from perfection as existence

As far from existence as perfection

From where perfection springs

From the depth of the naughts

This emptiness within, then as still

As far from perfection's existence

As from perfecting existence

Transcends and permeates the fickle uneasy mind

Leaving mind and thought and emotion far, far behind.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Detail of Carving

Le Chômeur et Sa Guitare: Poem

Jérome Iber

Nous avons appris le décès de Jérôme par sa mère. Nous sommes trés touchés pas cette nouvelle. C'était donc son dernier été, jouant de la guitare avec ce talent, sous le soleil. Que son âme repose en paix.

Suit un poème écrit par sa maman:

Le Chômeur et Sa Guitare

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Sous la voûte du ciel étoilé
Son bon coeur est par la nuit étouffé
Seul, solidaire plein d'amertume, sans illusions
Il cherche dans l'ombre à chanter ses chansons
Ho, sa guitare ! Son amie, sa seule joie
Accompagne en sourdine son désarroi
Sonne, sonne sa guitare ! Toi qui ignore sa poisse
Que ta mélodie résonne, pour étouffer son angoisse
Tu es la seule chose qui actuellement remplace
L'amour, l'emploi que la recherche à force l'agace
Car il a beau se précipiter et écrire aux offres d'emploi
La réponse est toujours pareille chaque fois
Avons bien noté votre adresse, nous vous écrirons
Mais la réponse espérée, jamais nous la recevons
Aujourd'hui, il n'a plus besoin de chercher du travail
Il est parti en me laissant en larmes
Si seulement il avait joué son flamenco
Au liu de partir chez les gadjos
Parler, moi de lui j'ai besoin d'entendre son prénom
Alors ne détournez pas la conversation
Je ne serai jamais guérie
Il n'y a pas de remède contre cette maladie
Maladie qui s'appelle chagrin
Et qui est devenu mon destin

LA MAMAN DE JEROME

copyright: la maman de Jérôme

We learnt about Jérome's death from his mother. We were very saddened by this news, and touched that she wrote to tell us about it. That was his last summer, then, playing his guitar with such talent, under the sun. May his soul rest in peace.

http://ranishobha.blogspot.com/2008_08_01_archive.html

The Man Without Work And His Guitar

(translation from the French by Rani Turton)

Under the vault of the starry sky
His gentle heart is by the night suffocated
Alone, all alone full of bitterness, without illusions
He looks in the shadows to sing his songs
Ho, his guitar! His friend, his only joy
Accompanies on the quiet his confusion
Sound, sound his guitar! You who ignores his misfortune
Let your melody resound, to suppress his fear
You are the only thing which at present replaces
The love, the work that searching for exhausted
Because he may hurry and write for job offers
The answer is still the same every time
Noted well your address, we shall write
But the hoped –for answer, we never received
Today, he does not need to look for work anymore
He left leaving me in tears
If only he had played his flamenco

Instead of leaving for the gadjos
Speak to me of him I need to hear his name
Then do not divert the conversation
I shall never be cured
There is no remedy against this disease
Disease which is called despair
And which has become my destiny

JÉROME’S MOTHER

Copyright: Jerome’s Mother

http://ranishobha.blogspot.com/2008_08_01_archive.html

Hail to the snail

This bright snail decided to climb a fence just to see what lay the other side. Maybe it would been easier just to crawl under? Sweet little creature!

Martin Luther King's Day

Martin Luther King's Day

Life comes full circle.
All of your battles have not been in vain.
The man with the heart of a sixty year old, worn out by passion
Struggle and rhetoric
Today you live on, in another epoch.

Of all nations and races
Take this time to remember
How to live with your neighbour
Build another legend, build another story
The history-in-the-making time has come around.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Mysteries: Poem

Mysteries

There is a mystery in living

When, how, for how long and why

No need to use complicated rhetorical arguments

The devil's advocate I can play indeed

But the end is always the same

Its almost as if our lifespans are a timed game

We can hop from land to land

For reasons only we can understand

We can lament and weep

Until at the end we finally sleep

To sleep perchance to dream

As a great poet once wrote

In lifespans, life's cycles, in moments of oblivion

I even forgot all that I wrote

The great mystery was not action or living

The great question was extinction and annihilation

To come back to the essential

I, Me and Myself

My small insignificant life

Could I even presume to be remembered

After the third generation, the fourth maybe?

And what was it's essentiality?

Wicks flame, flicker and glow

That is finally the way I will go.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Tree in the Wind: Poem

Tree in the Wind

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Buffeted by the wind, tossing and turning

Recklessly striving to hold ground

Existing, resisting, persisting:

The choice is to stand tall

Or fall.

Copyright: Rani Turton