Thursday, August 31, 2006

Word of the day


ux‧o‧ri‧ous [uhk-sawr-ee-uhs, -sohr-, uhg-zawr-, -zohr-]

doting upon, foolishly fond of, or affectionately submissive toward one's wife.

I am going to write a short story based on the word of the day- UXORIOUS- and this painting. I invite you to join me. If you do, post it on your blog and then let me know. Great word isn't it.

My friend, bartzturkeymom, has inspired this entry.

Monday, August 28, 2006

Lonely Moon Short Fiction Contest

If you haven't entered this contest, drop by and enter or read some fantastic flash fiction. My entry is #42 Moon Time. Leave a comment or enter a reader's choice vote.

Many thanks to Jason Evans and Anne Frasier (author of Pale Immortal) for organising and judging this contest. Kudos and good luck to all the writers who have submitted some very fine work.


Moon time becomes us
It's written, we're blood,
Little Puddle and Gammy
And of course our dear Flood.

Celtic Horoscope

I'm An Apple Tree

You are quiet and shy at times, but you have lots of charm and appeal.You are quite attractive: your pleasant attitude, flirtatious smile, and adventurous spirit draw people in.Sensitive and loyal in love, you want to love and be loved.You are a faithful and tender partner - who is generous in sharing your many talents.You love children, and you need an affectionate partner.
My Celtic horoscope. What's" Your Celtic Horoscope?

Saturday, August 26, 2006

Song Title Challenge

This challenge came to me from my friend Googs. I was to create a story from the song titles on my computer. Here's my story.

Mona Lisa and the Tambourine Man were Makin' Whoopie at Moon River. I was Missing You in My Way. I looked at your photos because My Eyes Adored You. Why did you take A Magical Mystery Tour? I sent A Message in a Bottle and played Moonlight Sonata until The End.

I'd love to read yours.

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Sarah Brightman - Moon River

Sunday, August 20, 2006

I'll Be

I love the sentiment of this song. To lovers who need to shout it out it out. I'm with you.

Friday, August 18, 2006

Poem: Let's Pretend

By Marcail

Let’s have a war of language and some violence-
Then we can use the warning:
Rated PG18 may be offensive to some.
We can cast the lead actors
And who may be right for supporting roles.
Don’t forget the camera angles…
And special effects.
The trailers are ready for screening;
Stay tuned-coming to a theatre near you.

Monday, August 14, 2006

New York

I just spent 4 days in NYC reconnecting with my husband. Life doesn't always play out to our expectations. But we are resilent much like NYC.

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

Fandango (duet)- Boccherini

Someday, I'll get it together. For now enjoy.

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

An A to Z poem


By Marcail

A bold choreographed dance--

erotic fandango gyration--

had inflammed jealousies,

kindled loins mania.

Neon orbs pulsated

quickening raucous strains

tempting undulating vamps

with xylophone's yelping zenith.

Well, that was fun. If you have an A-Z poem, I'd enjoy reading it. I'm still learning the audioblog ropes. I tried to add a nice fandango tune, but failed miserably. So hum something yourself while I keep at it.

Norah Jones - Don't Know Why (Live)

Thought you all might enjoy this beautiful song.

Sunday, August 06, 2006

Bryan Adams, Rod Stewart & Sting - All For Love

All for Love. # of my favorite performers

Saturday, August 05, 2006

My Favorite Poems

Irish poet William Butler Yeats is definitely on my list of poet geniuses. I have a CD of his reading of the poem that reinforced my belief that poetry should be performed. I wish I had the tech skill to include it as an audioblog, but I don't so here is the written poem. Appropos in these dark days.


By W.B. Yeats

Turning and turning in the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity.


Surely some revelation is at hand;

Surely the Second Coming is at hand.

The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out

When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi

Troubles my sight: somewhere in the sands of the desert

A shape with a lion body and the head of a man,

A gaze blank and pitiless in the sun,

Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it

Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again; but now I know

That twenty centuries of stony sleep

Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,

Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

Friday, August 04, 2006


By Marcail with thanks to Will
My disappointment was an enormous fink wad splat upon the ground,
Its colour, sheer size and shape attracting attention,
The cause becoming the duty of my relentlessly keen bloodhound
That ran, and sniffed, and dug, and howled in furied desperation
Until the meaning was lost to drastic dramatization
And everyone enjoyed the thrill as the play chaptered my life,
Even I, starry-eyed, wallowed in status and perfect characterization
And watched enthralled, as disappointment evolved to all-out strife.
Now as I don the robes of clever Kate, the untameable fishwife,
I understand that such roles take on a life of their own
Until stupidly, we ready to impale our flesh upon the knife.
So daughters, I implore, control your passions lest they become overblown,
Love's disappointments, tho' sad they be, are not high tradegy.
Love freely and fairly as you garner your lessons and live graciously.

Blame It on Aging


Wrinkles and furrows are a huge problem
Rheumy red-rimmed eyes are too much
Misplaced hairs are especially disturbing
But what can I do.
Blame it on aging

Gray rain beats on me
Like a Hemingway's old man
Like William Shatner's ass
Sagging under the gravity of it all.
Blame it on aging

I think flaccidity is going to drive me crazy
And told-again tales grate my nerves
Like Hemingway and Shatner smiles
Cruel, cold, distant and whiskey mad
Blame it on aging.

Thursday, August 03, 2006

Lying Lips


By Marcail

I feel miserable

Lying lips made me ill

I feel miserable

Twisted tongues tore at my foundations

I feel miserable

Angry eyes dragged me down to the depths

Where death lurks.

Is this jealous possession or

An obsession of with unwillingness

Or am I adrift in Joyceland

I don't know so, but feel so.

He broke my will to live

He corrupted my brain

He plundered my soul

I was getting better then

He broke my will to live.

I feel miserable

Callous cheaters rot my brain flesh

I feel miserable

Hollow hearts defeat my purpose

I feel miserable

Pathetic players impale my spirit

Releasing my will to live.

He broke my will to live

He corrupted my brain

He plundered my soul

I was getting better when

He broke my will to love.

Tuesday, August 01, 2006


by Marcail
I lay scrunched up on my squeeze-snake sheets
in a mad menacing mood
Turbid thoughts crowd out sleep
Rabid rousings upset REM.
I regard red-rimmed reflectors in the mirror
in a mental-minded mood
Bleary blinking black holes return stare
Are you still here?
I amaze to aurora's arising
Shuddering sobs allow sullen spirit's escape
Resignation respires in a readily-rapt mood
Calm careful considerations come.
I awake aroused on my squeeze-snake sheets
in a joyful jubliant mood
Translucent thoughts clear as slumber lifts
Radiant radiant rhymes race to my desk.