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Tag Archives: wet nurse

100 Poems Explained by a Wet Nurse 9

18 Tuesday Jul 2017

Posted by Candia in art, Arts, Nostalgia, Philosophy, Poetry, Psychology, Relationships, Romance, Social Comment, Writing

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

cuckoo, Hokusai, Saigyo, samurai, wet nurse, wisdom

 

81 onwards….

 

(Visipix.com)

 

Who is the cuckoo –

my lover, the moon… that bird?

The morning after!

 

(Visipix.com)

 

The wheel of fortune…

yes, no one can stay it.

Who knows what it brings.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

Even in the hills

there is nowhere to find peace.

Life’s never- ending.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

Even samurais’

significance can be lost

in past, or present.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

The moon has fooled me

by shining through cracks in doors.

Sublunary love!

 

(Visipix.com)

 

Is Saigyo’s sadness

to do with the world, himself,

or, indeed, with both?

 

(Visipix.com)

 

After the showers,

the fir trees’ needles still drip,

as my tears trickle.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

How much happiness

can one heart bear and how

much weight can reefs take?

 

(Visipix.com)

 

I waited for love

and my maids waited as well.

Then we fell asleep.

(Visipix.com)

 

He already leaves,

even though I tried so hard.

I’m not crying now.

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100 Poems Explained by a Wet Nurse 7

17 Monday Jul 2017

Posted by Candia in art, Arts, Community, Nature, Nostalgia, Poetry, Relationships, Romance, Social Comment, Writing

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

emperor, Hokusai, Maskao, wet nurse

More in the Hokusai series!

 

(Visipix.com)

 

The Emperor praised

the eight-fold branch of blossom.

Next time we’ll bring trees!

 

(Visipix.com)

 

When the rooster crowed,

you said that you had to leave.

I’ve heard that before.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

Maskao – why you?

You turned celibate and then

told the guard, not me.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

Eventually

you are bound to catch a fish,

if you are patient.

 

No Number 66

 

(Visipix.com)

 

My heart on my sleeve;

tears are on display, but see –

no one really cares.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

We shared a pillow,

but nothing happened- really!

People are gossips.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

At night, all is gloom;

everything seems much worse,

bathed in soft moonlight.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

Maple leaves in streams

may look beautiful, but we

have our work to do.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

Ordinary life

goes on in every season-

even in Autumn.

 

 

 

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100 Poems Explained by a Wet Nurse 10

15 Saturday Jul 2017

Posted by Candia in art, Arts, Community, Environment, Nature, Nostalgia, Personal, Philosophy, Poetry, Psychology, Relationships, Romance, Social Comment, Writing

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

cricket, Hokusai, kelp, Mount Hiei, wet nurse

91-99- (no 100)

 

(Visipix.com)

 

The cricket’s chirrup

makes a difference- details

matter in love too.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

My sleeves wet with tears

and waves tell no secrets.

My child is quiet too.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

Collaboration

in Nature and in men too

achieves good results.

 

 

(Visipix.com)

 

No number 94…..

 

 

Priests on Mount Hiei

wear such impressive robes,

but what do they reveal?

 

(Visipix.com)

 

Old men wouldn’t mind

if ladies would sweep them up

along with the leaves.

 

 

(Visipix.com)

 

Burning kelp extracts

the salt from the seaweed but

not from all my tears.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

Riding on the back

of our forebears, we can see

a lot more that way.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

Until they’re re-born,

misery caused by soldiers

will be repeated.

 

 

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Poems Explained by a Wet Nurse 8

15 Saturday Jul 2017

Posted by Candia in art, Arts, Nature, Nostalgia, Personal, Philosophy, Poetry, Psychology, Relationships, Religion, Romance, Social Comment, Writing

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

blossom time, distillation, Hokusai, sake, wet nurse

71- (Visipix.com)

 

When Autumn winds blow,

the man who washes his feet

is truly grounded.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

A servant grasps me.

What kind of master has he?

He must be like him.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

In the blossom time,

even the drunks have a right

to gaze on beauty.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

Maybe it’s as well

the goddess didn’t answer

my humble prayer.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

Unfulfilled promise:

the reliable seasons

shame your fickleness.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

In the eye of storms,

we pit ourselves ‘gainst Nature

and  just try our best.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

A stream divided

by a rock may still unite,

like love, downriver.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

The distillation

of sake may smooth our lives,

or may roughen them.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

Sometimes it is hard

to see if the moon or clouds

are moving.  A torch!

 

(Visipix.com)

 

This morning my hair

is as tousled as my thoughts.

Will he care at all?

 

 

 

 

 

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100 Poems Explained by a Wet Nurse 5

15 Saturday Jul 2017

Posted by Candia in art, Arts, Personal, Poetry, Relationships, Romance, Writing

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Carpe Diem, harikiri, Hokusai, wet nurse

(Visipix.com)

No number 41- the above is 42.  There is no 46, or 49)

 

No matter the oaths

we have pledged to each other,

they are in the past.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

I will punish him:

his effigy is nailed here

until he responds.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

I am a white fox.

I gave him a son; but he

wishes I had not.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

I have been a fool.

Harakiri is my fate.

People should not cheat.

 

(Visipix.com)

No 46.  This is 47:

 

Though all is prepared,

yet in my soul is darkness

no one can detect.

 

 

(Visipix.com)

 

I sit out my love.

In daytime all is idle.

Fires will blaze at night.

 

No 49.  This is 50:

 

(Visipix.com)

 

Carpe diem – yes!

Since you’re going to die young, make

smoke and burn brightly.

 

 

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100 Poems Explained by a Wet Nurse 6

14 Friday Jul 2017

Posted by Candia in art, Arts, Environment, Nature, Nostalgia, Poetry, Relationships, Romance, Social Comment, Writing

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Ama-no-Hashidate, Hokusai, moxa, sedans, wet nurse

(Visipix.com)

 

Moxa burns and heals,

but the therapy I need

is hard-to-get girls.

 

 

 

(Visipix.com)

 

We leave in sedans.

The neighbours pretend that they

did not notice us.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

He was suspicious

when my door didn’t open;

now he sleeps outside.

 

No number 54

 

(Visipix.com)

 

When you hear the name

of a waterfall,

it’s like seeing it.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

Now on my deathbed,

I regret sending that note

you may not have read.

 

 

(Visipix.com)

 

Ah, on the wrong side….

You have just missed your father.

Our worlds seldom meet.

 

No 58….

 

(Visipix.com)

 

Sleep is more precious

than keeping awake all night,

mooning over love.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

If I never see

Ama-no-Hashidate,

who cares?  Maybe ants.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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100 Poems Explained by a Wet Nurse 4

14 Friday Jul 2017

Posted by Candia in art, Community, Environment, History, Nature, Nostalgia, Personal, Poetry, Relationships, Religion, Romance, Social Comment, Writing

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Hokusai, wet nurse

(Visipix.com)

 

Even in winter,

we can survive the harsh cold,

if we work this hard.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

Individual leaves

are swept past by the torrents;

en masse, block bridges.

 

(visipix.com)

 

By the time work stops,

the blossom has turned quite brown,

so look while you can.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

The old pine needs help,

but is supported by sticks.

Look, just as I am!

 

 

(Visipix.com)

 

You planted plum trees

long ago, my friend, and now

their perfume persists.

 

 

(Visipix.com)

 

When the fish clean plates,

I hope they get some sake,

before dawn returns.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

We are blown off course –

fortuitously in here,

to taste Nature’s gems.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

He broke cords of love:

but I found there are plenty

more fish in the sea.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

Since my love left me,

I don’t notice the glory

in all around me.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

My face is as a book

and I find it hard to hide

the contents from you.

 

 

 

 

 

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100 Poems Explained by a Wet Nurse 3

14 Friday Jul 2017

Posted by Candia in art, Arts, Community, Nature, Nostalgia, Poetry, Relationships, Romance, Social Comment, Writing

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

aubade, Hokusai, maple leaves, wet nurse

(Visipix.com)

 

She told me she’d come.

I waited all night for her;

saw only the moon.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

You can’t fight the wind.

It respects no one; nothing:

you can’t resist it.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

Geese for the table?

Death stares us all in the face.

Autumn approaches.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

Even Emperors

forget offerings.  The leaves

surpass humankind.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

There’s a secret place

where my love and I could hide.

O vine! Point me there.

 

 

(Visipix.com)

 

Maple leaves enhance

your fleeting beauty.  This year,

Spring will bring new shoots.

 

(Visipix.com)

 

Firelight comforts

in the dark nights of winter,

but creates shadows.

 

No 29 exists —————————————————————-

 

(Visipix.com)

 

This is no aubade:

when I leave my love,

there’s no privacy.

 

 

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A Young Cockerel’s Stone

26 Saturday Mar 2016

Posted by Candia in Arts, Bible, Education, Humour, Language, Literature, Poetry, Relationships, Romance, Social Comment, Suttonford, Theatre, Writing

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

a cockerel's stone, Baz Luhrmann, David Cameron, Krapp's Last Tape, Lammas Tide, Lanzarote, Pele Tower, pigeon egg ruby, SamCam, selfie, The Nurse Romeo and Juliet, wet nurse, wormwood

Augustus Snodbury was very glad that he had made it to the end of term.

Virginia had been very happy with the pigeon’s egg ruby engagement

ring.  Personally, like Dru, he had thought it a tad vulgar- its stone of

proportions more like the bump on Susan’s head.

Susan?  I hear you query, Dear Reader.

Candia: Yes, the one who was/is with God.

Reader: I’m still no wiser.

Candia: Folk don’t seem to read ‘Romeo and Juliet’ now.  Even the kids

just watch the Baz Luhrmann film.  The Nurse’s child who died. 

You know, that was why the old gal could be a wet nurse.  Geddit?

Susan died when she fell and sustained a bump as big as a young

cockerel’s stone.

Reader: Stone?

Candia: Testicle to you.

Reader: Ah!  But what’s this to do with Virginia’s ring?   Oh, yes!

Anyway, Virginia had clearly thought it was no more than she

deserved, as she quoted The Book of Proverbs– the bit about a virtuous

woman’s price being above rubies.

Reader:  She is getting rather full of herself.

Candia: I agree.  I could make her fall off her stilettos, if you like. I needn’t

wait till Lammas Tide.

Male Reader: No, don’t do that.  We like to read about her ankles.  Do you

think she will fall backwards in the near future?

Candia:  Not so long as I can tease this sorry saga out!  But, at least, Gus

is not ‘a man of wax.’

Reader (of either gender-or even both): No, we think that phrase refers

to Nigel.

Candia:  Oh, don’t be too hard on Nigel.  He’s got enough on his plate. 

His mother is trying to create difficulties about the wedding.

Reader:  She has wormwood on her dug?

Candia:  Her dug is all right.  She’s prepared to check him into kennels

for the occasion. 

Reader:  Something is lost in translation here.

Candia:  It is just that she feels she is losing a son rather than gaining

a daughter-in-law.  She also thinks that she will have to hire a decorator

in future, as Nigel is bound to be more occupied as a married man.

Reader:  So where are they all, in their Easter holidays?

Candia: Snod and Virginia are with Diana and Murgatroyd in the

Borders, sorting out the guest lists and logistics, but Dru and Nigel

have taken themselves off to Lanzarote.  They bumped into David

Cameron the other day.  Dru took a selfie with SamCam and invited

her-and Dave- to the wedding(s).

Reader (impressed):  Did they accept?

Candia:  No, they politely responded with the equivalent of:  It is an

honour that we dream not of.

Reader:  He might be free by then. By the way, is Snod happier about

things now?

Candia:  I believe that he took Virginia’s hands and said:  ‘Perhaps

my best years are gone.  When there was a chance of happiness.  But

I  wouldn’t want them back.  Not with the fire in me now.’

Reader:  That’s from Krapp’s Last Tape and Embers.

Candia:  Typical. One of his obsessions. He always talks…you know…

stuff like:  ‘I can’t go on like this.’

Reader:  And then he does?

Candia:  Precisely.  But Virginia can handle him.  At least, I think she

can.

Virginia:  Yes, I can.

Samuel Beckett, Pic, 1.jpg

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My name is Candia. Its initial consonant alliterates with “cow” and there are connotations with the adjective “candid.” I started writing this blog in the summer of 2012 and focused on satire at the start.

Interspersed was ironic news comment, reviews and poetry.

Over the years I have won some international poetry competitions and have published in reputable small presses, as well as reviewing and reading alongside well- established poets. I wrote under my own name then, but Candia has taken me over as an online persona. Having brought out a serious anthology last year called 'Its Own Place' which features poetry of an epiphanal nature, I was able to take part in an Arts and Spirituality series of lectures in Winchester in 2016.

Lately I have been experimenting with boussekusekeika, sestinas, rhyme royale, villanelles and other forms. I am exploring Japanese themes at the moment, my interest having been re-ignited by the recent re-evaluations of Hokusai.

Thank you to all my committed followers whose loyalty has encouraged me to keep writing. It has been exciting to meet some of you in the flesh- in venues as far flung as Melbourne and Sydney!

Copyright Notice

© Candia Dixon Stuart and Candiacomesclean.wordpress.com, 2012-2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Candia Dixon Stuart and candiacomesclean.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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