Tucked away in an old armchair... encircled by towers of tales and tomes, I'm lost in the woodlands of tawny pages, inside the intoxicating smell of books... The fire crackles in the hearth... stars playing hide-and-seek outside, the soothing sound of a gentle drizzle, rumbling thunder and a gurgling stream... Toads croak and the crickets sing, pine trees waltz in the violin moonlight, and fireflies like fluorescent fairies weave white magic into the night... Silhouetted against the arched window, your sharp contours etched by the sky; fingers trailing down the vine trellis, knife-edged eyes softly probing mine... My toes curl in the silk of the rug, the air trembling like a rustling leaf; reclining on the red velvet chaise, I see the night-scented orchid... and smile... Copyright © 2023 Violet Dolui. All Rights Reserved.
Category: Musings
Much Too Much
Was my fire burning too hot, when you only sought a warm hearth, with pieces of charcoal softly glowing beneath a flaky blanket of ashes? Did my lightning flare too bright, when you were only seeking a lantern, flickering timid in the darkness behind a door, half-open, half-closed? Was my touch too searing, a torrid Kuroshio current rushing madly, foolishly, carelessly to melt your arctic Oyashio heart? Did my thunder crack too loud, when a faint whisper or low murmuring would have soothed your fraught nerves, better than a naive, ringing confession? Was my dancing frenzy too ecstatic; my Dionysian self, abundant, overflowing, brimming over my amaranthine chalice and staining those Apollonian lips? Did you think we couldn't be intertwined; perpetually to dwell on opposite shores, you holding one end of the rainbow, And, I striving to find the leprechaun's gold? Could it perhaps be that you wanted me, my light, my fire, my frenzy, my storm... but, caged within the vaults of your mind or, as a pretty picture on the wall? Copyright © 2023 Violet Dolui. All Rights Reserved.
The Lost Child
She had those wide eyes…
That could dream up continents.
Her hair had cobalt butterflies,
Fairies remained entangled in those dark tresses.
She walked barefoot and jumped into puddles,
Her clothes were spattered with mud…
Her face smudged with dirt,
Her eyes shone with secrets only she could figure out.
The wind stroked her brows,
Sunlight kissed her cheeks,
Her toes curled in the green grass…
As she lay down with the flowers on the fields.
She gave warm hugs to dogs,
Bounced around with baby goats,
She whispered to squirrels.
Sang with the blue birds and swam with the emerald fishes.
She could hang upside down from fences,
Fight invisible foes with papaya sticks,
She could slide down muddy banks,
Get her head decorated with twigs.
When the clouds formed over her…
She leaped into the sea.
When the waves pursued her…
She rode away with the breeze.
How she laughed and laughed…
At the splendid storms!
Nothing could catch her,
Nothing could shake her gait.
She lifted her arms and whirled around when she danced,
She threw back her little head to glance at the rainbow,
Or, grasp the floating, watery bubbles.
Sunflowers made her smile always.
She gazed at the sunny skies…
Imagined worlds filled with wonder.
She hugged her books to herself,
And let the stories enfold her.
There were princes and demons,
Dragons and ghouls in those tales…
There was love in there,
And friendship, sadness, joy.
She painted the air around…
With red and purple and gold,
Silvery dew drops coated her hair,
And, green moss clung to her foot.
She clasped her small hands together, in pure delight,
Could life be more beautiful?
She made herself a crown with leaves and perfumed jasmines,
She wore a garland made of bright, yellow blooms,
The soft anklets were made of grass and marigolds,
And the bracelets twinkled with shiny things.
She rested under a giant lychee tree,
Pecking at a piece of tamarind.
She dreamed of running wild…
With antelopes and Huckleberry Finn.
She climbed the highest trees…
Swung from branches like Lady Tarzan.
She made whistles with banana leaves,
Learned songs from gurgling streams.
There was a swing too…
That could make her swoop and fly,
It could take her high up…
Make her fall flat on the ground.
She cried aloud when sad or hurt,
Let her body rack with loud, snot-filled, unapologetic sobs.
She rubbed her face with moss-stained hands,
Laughed again when she saw a wrinkly, green face…
Peeking out of the water-lily pond.
Leaves sometimes rained down on her fuzzy head.
Dragonflies followed her steps in the day,
She chased those magical fireflies, when the sun set.
She collected grey stones and red pebbles and pearly shells.
She gave them each a name.
Many-hued feathers too found their way…
To her tiny straw basket.
She made paper boats when it rained,
Became best friends with a duck and a hen,
She stepped into stone circles and wandered for days…
With foot-high leprechauns and Tolkien elves.
She jumped over hills…
Met kind grizzlies in the forest,
She was a little wary of a pair of burning tiger eyes…
But knew that she could run faster than that wily beast.
Sometimes she had friends and sometimes no one.
But whenever she walked in her wild mountain garden…
She was never quite alone.
She breathed in life deeply.
She trusted and giggled.
She counted her freckles and waited.
She believed and hoped.
And when she slept…
The happiest smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
Light stole upon her still face,
A hush descended on her angelic form.
Copyright © 2023 Violet Dolui. All Rights Reserved.
The Twisted Tree
A sapling, green and tender, dreaming of blue skies,
Of heights indomitable, of strength undaunted,
Of spreading its wishful young limbs far and wide…
It grows on the edge of a lonely mountain, looking down into a chasm,
And staring valiantly at the horizon immeasurable….
Like a painted masterpiece across a canvas of blue.
The winds come, bearing secrets from the seas,
Whispers of selkies, tales of magical kingdoms,
Clouds made of gossamer reveries and make-believe…
Onslaught of blizzards, hailstorms, sea salt and prolonged agony…
When did the tree lose its statuesque shape? That promising elegance?
When did it become so bent, so gnarled, so woefully deformed?
The nameless, grey tree cleaves to the stones,
The branches crooked and bare,
The misshapen roots stabbing the earth.
It may cease to be. It may be yanked out by the relentless wind,
And discarded into the beautiful void…
It may embrace the emptiness without… or, the wrinkled heart within.
Who knows?
The sea still entices and excites, the ever-changing sky still beckons,
But the mountain recedes unceasingly, one inch at a time,
Until there is nothing left to do but hang on for dear life.
Some may say that there is a grace in ugliness,
That survival is better than oblivion.
Some may say that there is hope even in that hunched, drooping state.
The tree tries hard to remember what it was meant to be…
A stout live oak? A symmetrical willow? A laurus nobilis?
Memories come and go, like snatches from another life,
The mountain remains, the abyss beneath,
And that wistful, stubborn ol’ tree…
Copyright © 2020 Violet Dolui. All Rights Reserved.
A Ship Tethered
I'm a ship gently tethered to the moorings of cruel expectations, tied to these familiar shores by bonds that resemble faith and decree; pledges made of grappling iron. Wracked by the tumultuous waters beneath the surface of my placid frame... longing for that azure sea, that stretches like hope endlessly, before my traitorous soul Behold that dazzling sky how it embraces the swelling ocean, with light bursting at its seams... I could also put my arms around you and make you melt within me I could chase the moon across the waves with you by my side, I could cry your name a thousand times, like seagulls driven to the edge of madness by the sweep of sheer freedom I could move like those ripples, surging and breaking, bubbling and dissipating, because I'd have you to dance with me... your fluttering lips on my skin rushing like wind beneath my sails I could break every glittering chain to voyage forth and touch your face because you'd be looking at me, with stars in your eyes and hair and a searing smile to rival the sun Yet, I remain beneath this wooden canopy fearful of the fog rising afar, demons haunting my dreams, the albatross around my neck, shackles of love and destiny... I wonder if the thunder would roar down and lightning would claw apart my bones before I could ever witness the sky descending upon the ocean, at eventide, like lovers meeting on that distant horizon... I wonder if I would drown, felled by a despondent tide, under a mere six feet of stagnant water, before I could ever dive, headlong into your depths, submerse in that fathomless trench, where I belong. Copyright © 2023 [Violet Dolui]. All Rights Reserved.
Maidenhead Memories
I see the bony branches of the ash and maple trees hoary leaves of junipers and mistletoes slate-coloured, ice-swaddled winding streets people huddled under warm scarves and heavy coats tall church steeples and silent graveyard yews wet pine needles under my ankle shoes wind-swept evenings, red letter boxes soft lights peeking through quaint shop windows I see the weeping willows along the Thames apples, elms, and chestnuts, bug hotels and beeches pink-feathered magnolias, swans made of white petals hawthorns and cherry plums, daffodils and guelder roses the library door wide open, in sunshine or rain a small amphitheatre, lone fountain in the yard narrow cobbled lanes with canopies of juneberries a red-bricked haunted mansion in the grey fog I see the doe-eyed boy, on his way to school holding tight his mother's hand counting acorns, snowdrops and dandelions while dreaming of fish and chips, sea and sand walks by the river, crowns of daisies, lazy boat rides stranger with a blue gaze, a smile like starlight free concerts and films, picnics in the park fireworks and bonfire on Guy Fawkes Night I see my pretty corner house with the sloping russet roof loft bedrooms that overlook the tree-lined pathways beige carpets on wooden floors of burnt sienna coffee-brown sofa, biscuit walls, faux coal fireplace baskets of fresh fruits in the weekly farmer's market mossy gardens, wisteria doors, bird baths and box hedges used books, old china, vintage clothes, secluded art stores Christmas ornaments, carols at the town square, lantern parades I see friends feasting on barbecue and conversation preparing for a road trip across the Irish sea watching Amélie find Nino Quincampoix in a musical lounging at home, reminiscing about Mevagissey pottery classes, saunas, zumba, swimming pools poached eggs, smoked salmon, buttery muffins at The Bear steaming cups of coffee, hot chocolate, roast dinners brioche, Cornish pasties, English breakfast on New Year I see the fine threads of fate, like fingers intertwined ties formed unexpectedly, tangled knots in the heart cheerful, effervescent hellos that lift up my days sweet, bracing, affectionate, almighty hugs light rain, like roses, drizzling down on me lavender fields, stone circles, faery touch of mist meadows of wild pansies, buttercups and bluebells, the crinkling of your smiling eyes in the midst of all this.... *** Copyright © 2021 [Violet Dolui]. All Rights Reserved.
Malady
They said that I was ill,
A dark shadow inside me,
A lump in my chest,
Could be an affliction of the lungs,
Could be something worse.
…
I coughed till my throat was red,
I coughed till I hurt all over,
I coughed till my muscles tore,
I even heard the snap of a bone. Maybe.
I coughed till I could no longer breathe.
…
Gasping for some air,
An oblivion threatening to swallow my world,
A heaviness like a sinking stone.
A hopelessness, a darkening.
Would this end, this feverish dream?
…
Then, came my surgeon,
Like an angel in the night,
Unravelling the knot in my sick body,
Cutting away the part that was decaying,
Probing, dissecting, fixing, healing…
…
I emerged from that grey place,
With wounds and scars,
Conscious of each precarious breath
Of disorders and diseases
The dire insidiousness…
…
What mattered was that I returned,
No malaise wrecking my body
Or disintegrating my soul,
What mattered was that I smiled
When I was home.
…
But wait, what’s this?
Why do I feel a heaviness still?
Something like a lump again,
This struggle to breathe?
Why do my eyes despair and sting?
…
Was it not a fugitive canker then?
Was it, at heart, only incurable grief?
…
…
Copyright © 2021 [Violet Dolui]. All Rights Reserved.
Wish
When I see the rainbow wonder in your eyes,
The breathtaking flash of your unhesitating smile…
I know that my deepest desire in this world
Is to uphold the dream that glimmers softly within you.
…
When I hear the song in your voice,
That songbird euphony of pure joy…
When you dance like an artless bear in the snow,
I know that the music must play on. For you.
…
I can urge the billowy clouds to part
So that the sun may shine down. On you…
When you long to feel the rain on your face,
I can urge the mist to gently wrap itself around you.
…
I can tell you a thousand stories and more,
Let the spirit from those pages seep into you,
Buttress your stalwart heart,
Prepare you for places and battles unknown…
…
But hold on for a little while, yes?
Stay where you are, for a moment…
That I may gaze at you and fill my soul
With the innocence that is you.
…
Let me see how you form words,
Delight in brand new sounds,
Come up with your own meanings
Before language becomes a wall between us.
…
Let me see how your busy legs
Play and climb and run. Take you far
As you step out to conquer everyone…
Before you half-recollect, half-forget your way home to me.
…
Let me see you shaping my reality
With your little hands…
Let me look at myself, once more, with your wide eyes
And find the beauty that I can no longer fathom easily…
…
Stay still for a few precious seconds, my love,
Before the world knocks on the door…
Loud and insistent and uncaring
And I start growing old…
…
Copyright © 2021 [Violet Dolui]. All Rights Reserved.
When Your Eyes Met Mine
Your eyes flashed a sapphire blue
That moment when you smiled at me.
I halted mid-step, wondering…
How one could laugh so splendidly!
The allure of your bright, cobalt gaze,
That mysterious offer on your lips
Nudged awake my jaded self,
Like red dawn after a long eclipse.
I stood before you spellbound,
Anchored in frozen time…
Drowned in a pair of ocean eyes.
Seared by a bewitching smile.
…
…
Copyright © 2020 [Violet Dolui]. All Rights Reserved.
Are There People Like Me?
Are there people like me
Who laugh at the drop of a hat,
And sing aloud whenever
They hear a song play?
Can they feel their feet
Do a little tap dance
Even without any great news
Coming their way?
…
Are there people like me
Who live inside fanciful realms,
And compose tales in their heads
About strangers falling in love?
Can they heave passionate sighs
For imaginary heroes
Or, shed copious tears
For bards who are no more?
…
Are there people resembling me
Who stare foolishly
At the moon and the stars,
As everyone passes them by?
Are they haunted like me
By kind smiles and gentle eyes,
Though the compassion they know
May not be much more than a lie?
…
Are there kindred souls around
Who cleave to the earth
To discover a touch,
And heed unheard whisperings?
Can their hearts soar in bliss
Despite the ocean of sadness within?
Can they embrace exile and defeat,
For a glimpse of the enchanted things?
…
I imagine there are those like me
Who float and sleepwalk and endlessly fall…
But, cannot let go,
‘Cause they’re held in a perpetual thrall….
Those who wade into the sea and wait
For Beauty to consume them, and end it all.
……..
…….
Copyright © 2020 [Violet Dolui]. All Rights Reserved.
Ianthia 