Wednesday, October 26, 2022

this other set of written short stories' extracts put in order written in 2022

                                            Jaywick Beach

  Aurélie Asseo

                                                    Chapter I

Lily Anne Sander had a look at herself in the mirror, she was happy with the new dress she had just bought even if it was cheap white lace work it would make her happy. Here she was, brushing her long blond hair thick down to her shoulders. She had left her menorah on the table. She had put lip balm on her round and sensual lips, powdered her cheeks and her slightly arched nose and her dimples and made up her gigantic, big blue eyes, almond shaped. She had just braided her hair on the sides, it was beautiful. She had never been too tall nor too short. Above all she was happy because she had just lost weight, at thirty-four she may have looked twenty-five for some, then it did not matter, her youthful complexion made her look lovely.   She lived in London in a house, which was a duplex, in a place called stanhope mews, her house was a little aside and surrounded by plane trees and a cozy light. Lily Anne was listening to her favorite album “Summertime “by the Sundays, the song she was listening to was titled “gone”

Her best friend was Alma, a woman whose father was Argentinian. Alma was about to ring at Lily Anne’s door and as the bell rang, Lily Anne ran to her friend.

“Hello, my dear” said Lily Anne joyfully, fondling her friend’s long dark hair.

“Hello lovely “replied Alma with lively hazel-colored eyes “Let’s have a stroll in Hyde Park and find some seashore?

“Seashore, where?” asked Lily Anne.

“I don’t know yet, let’s meet Gerry O’Hara”

“You want to meet film maker Gerry O’Hara and make a film, is this what you want?” She asked her friend

“Yes exactly” replied Alma.

“Listen honey” said Lily Anne “The man passed away long ago however I have a friend doing a bachelor’s degree in cinema and he is very good, his name is Edward James Makowski, “do you want me to call him then, he loves Gerry O’Hara and David Oliver Selznick as filmmakers he wrote his thesis on them.

“Come in, take a seat, let's have some tea and then I call Edward, Ed he is called”. Alma stepped in, took of her black coat she looked at Lily Anne’s nice kitchen, she had decorated he walls with paintings of trees and green leaves

She took a zip of tea Lily Anne had just made and heard her friend talking on the phone

“Hi Ed, Lily Anne speaking, Alma is with me, and she may be interested in some of your shootings, do you think you could come over in a while?” she said   

“I have to check my schedule; do you have a script already?” he asked.

“Well, no, but we could write it on the spot, we’re looking for a seashore.

“We could go to Jaywick beach, Clacton on sea,” said Ed.

“Yes, why not, replied to Lily Anne”

Forty minute later Ed arrived. Alma found him handsome and yes, he was, above forty, blond, sagacious and cheerful and slightly quizzical at the same time. The man who was born in London was indeed of Danish, Dutch and Russian background. He told both women that sometimes Danes and Dutch did not get along, but the result (himself) was not too bad- he probably talked of his own folks.

“First, guys, Ed, let's introduce each other. Alma, you start” started Ed

“OK well my name is Alma Abarbanel, I am 34, I was born here in London my father is Jason Abarbanel he was born in Argentina and came to London he is a marine biologist. My mother is Fanny Scott, she is English, she was born in Yorkshire and married my dad in London. She is a journalist and photographer for a magazine titled English Garden. I am a website designer and I help my mum; my parents are divorced; I am not married. I am Lily Ann ‘s cousin and best friend, “she said.

“My name is Lily-Anne sander, I’m 34 I was born in London both my parents are British, my father is Isaac Sander and my mother Ruth Reznik, my father is a tailor, and my mother is a hairstylist, I am nothing but  dweller studying literature I have one brother Jared he is a sprint runner he is forty and a younger sister Alyssa who is into professional gymnastics, I’m not married And my grandmother Rachel Reznik is Fanny Scott ‘s mother, Alma and are cousins and as thick as thieves” Replied Lily Anne smiling to her friend snidely .

 

“Ok, my name is Ed James Makowski, both my parents were born in Holland and came to London. My father is Russian and Dutch, and my mother is Danish. I speak French, Russian, Flemish, English and Danish and I teach languages, I also study cinema and shout films. I am forty-eight”   

“Is there anything we can talk about for a film script? “Asked Alma

“Why not try to adapt a novel? “Said Lily Ann turning to Alma blushing

“A pair of blue eyes by Thomas hardy «mumbled Alma

“What an excellent idea” replied Lily Anne Sander joyfully

“Well Ed you’ll be Stephen Smith and shooting, I’ll be Elfride Swancourt and… Alma, who will you be? “She asked in a posh voice   

“Henry Knight “completed Alma downcast.

Ed and Lily-Anne started flirting in front of her and Alma started talking to herself twiddling her long Pocahontas ’hair “I am just a ghost as always, I am asked to hush, I a m hushed «she noticed Ed started giving a smog to Lily Anne, kissing her lips

“Lily Anne, don’t do it please, you had promised me not to do it again please «she said in a broken voice  

“Go your own way if you don’t like it “replied Lily- Anne

“Ok madame, I’m sorry to say so but ... maybe I should leave you madame Machiavell and boyfriend Machiavell” said Alma in a sulky and guileless voice.

 Lily Anne left Ed's lips in a sweep.

“Love of my life don’t take it bad; you know it’s rootless “she said to Alma in a motherly voice.

“I am rootless, what mess are you talking about? “Said Ed  

“Nope honey you’re our tree “replied Lily-Anne “ Almama dear come in and wet your lips, we need your words to start writing our script.

“I’m coming “said Alma in a youthful and reassured voice

Lily Anne grabbed her friend by her weight and helped her sit down

“I’ll do it too” she said reaching Ed mouth and kissing him widely

“Stop it Machiavel” said Lily Anne bursting into laughter while giving Alma a very long kiss on her lips then kissing Edward back.

“I won the kiss ball game, «said Lily Anne.

“No, I did “said Edward, then kissing both the girls.

“Aren’t we supposed to write a script for a movie» said Alma sulkily grumbling.

“I think we do” replied Ed.

“I’ll start, “said Alma

“I’ll play a woman named Isabella, she is Henry knight ‘s wife and so she is bored with her husband who’s some sort of an authoritarian monarch and meet Stephen Smith and Elfride Swancourt and cheats on her husband,“said Alma

“Cheat on with who? “Asked Lily- Anne

“With both “said she, “she cheats on knights with both.

 

  Chapter II

Alma, Ed and Lily Anne were thus on the train to Jaywick beach. Comfortably sitting on a couch, Alma could not feel happier- She has had a soft spot for Lily Anne ever since and now she felt she was also falling in love with Edward James Makowski- She looked at him on this very English train. A soft sun had pierced the windows across. and dark green curtains were half pulled. The man was doing a sort of crossword – he pulled his head up, we could see his mop of blond hair and two discerning blue eyes looking up straight into Alma blushing again then. She found the man was bewitchingly attractive and started wondering if she was the only woman or even the only friend (he had quite a lot of male friends, were all his gay friends in love with him too?)  who feel this way about him, and it was her fancies or if he was naturally bewitchingly handsome, she was not crazy was she?  

“What are you doing Edward “she asked

“A special crossword” He replied

“Why so special?” she asked  

“It is special because it's in the inuit language, only the inuits have several words to describe the same thing the word I found here is” kaneq” which means snow”

 “Very interesting “she replied “I know my grandfather Jacob Abrabanel spoke a language of the Natives beside Hebrew, but I have no idea what it was, maybe Navarro”

“Maybe you should inquire,” said Ed

“Maybe I will do it one day, Ed, '' she added “I think I am in lo…

Lily Anne interrupted them

“Guys, train breaks by a tearoom for ten minutes, do you want to go?”

 “Yes” her friends replied.

The tearoom was small, a sort of drive in, they just had time to pick up some food and drinks and sat back in the train- Alma sat next to Edward before Lily noticed and as Alma arrived, Edward said:

 “Hum, I hope you have sorted it out or…”

 

Lily Anne feigned to notice and did not reply to Edward, Alma had a crooked smile she tried to hide. Alma put her head on Edward’s shoulder; she felt happy he did not push her back as Lily Anne feigned not to notice. As the train pulled away again Alma was listening to the chugging sound of the train on rails.   Alma did not know what to do, or to lose grip and or falling asleep, she chose to fall asleep. She had a strange dream where she saw Lily Anne grabbing her purse and ripping her ID and replacing it with another card. As she woke up her card was the same. “weird dream “she said to herself she gave Edward a long reciprocated kiss, Lily Anne kissed Alma too and rumpled her dress- “I think we all three will be thick and thieves and raise our kids together won’t we”She said

“Might “replied Lily Anne.

 

 I think we have arrived “she said as they saw Jaywick beach and the small holliday household, they stepped down the train, it had started raining and a small thunder could be seen on the horizon.

Edward, do you have your camera and material “?

“ Yes I do“ the man replied.

“OK so you start with Alma, I’ll film and then we reverse” she said

“Fine “he said

“I wonder what our dear Isabella will do which such a difficult husband as Henry knight, I think she will be very unhappy if she does not leave him “

Alma replied

“Hello Mr. Smith, hello Ms. Swan court  - I have planned to leave  Henry knight’s mansion I have already written him a letter conveying my deepest thoughts

 

And as they had written their short play they had adapted from Thomas Hardy’s pair of blue eyes they shot and played meticulously for two hours. Their adaptation was romantic and brilliant, they just were happy. They decided to rent a hut to stay for the night. Alma felt she had to tell Edward she was in love with him.

She took him apart in one of the bedrooms and she told him what she felt.He fell under her charm and decided to let it go as they started kissing and making love, Lily Anne entered and took part in the carnal rapture with both Alma and Ed, both women became pregnant that day. Rain was dripping on the leaves of trees. And two children will have to be born from this exquisite moment. Then only nine months later, strangely enough the same day.A lot of things happened in between. Edward wanted to sell their play under his name Edward James Makowski. He told his loving wives he knew this was going to be more successful commercially. Alma disagreed strongly and so did Lily Anne, they found it selfish and discrediting. They finally decided to publish the play under the name Maximilian Molk which was a fictional pen name they had chosen. So the play’s copies went on like this : A pair of blue eyes at the theater freely adapted from a pair of blue eyes by Thomas Hardy author : Max Molk.


 

                                  The summer garden

Sarah Bergeman was born here in this summer garden in St-Petersbourg,Russia.the woman looked beautiful in her forties. The woman had now wished to recall a story which happened to her when she was twenty-five, a younger woman of twenty-one had fallen in love with her. Sarah had been trying to understand what her friend had been through with these feelings of love she felt for her. Sarah Orlova Bergeman was lucky enough to have been born in this wonderful and generous summer garden in the vicinity of St-Petersburg’s Garden, which was wide and very green with at least two sets of different colours in the grass.

There were many lights in the garden and many sensual dreams.The trees were majestuous and there were a number of them: apple trees and birch trees and nut trees.The Bergemans’ mansion was vast and surrounded with climbing roses . In the middle of the garden were small ponds and a lot of other flowers.Near the fountain and the Greek statues poetry was often read .

Sarah stood there in a long silky dress. Her hair was long, frizzy and her eyes were blue. Her skin was as fair as white dunes of sand.

 

She had a boyfriend named Gregory Wilde, an Englishman who lived just near her.

The younger woman who was in love with her was Swiss. Her name was Delilah Snyder Snake. She had two big brown eyes and long wavy hair. She was like the petals of a rose.

Delilah had come to Russia because she was passionately interested in Russian summer gardens here in Saint Petersburg- she had wanted to become a gardener just for that indeed she was very much qualified for the job she was doing.  

 

Dana Lee
a fictional story (out of my mind)all likeness with an actual occurence is a coincidence


Dana Lee was born on April 16, 1986, in the town of Salisbury in England in the county of Wiltshire.

Her family and herself lived in a magnificent house with flowered window sills in this beautiful English village in which the sky shone with a thousand lights as if sifted by the glares of a discreet sun, the horizon always mixed with the coastal mists and the gigs of thunderstorms.

The young woman enjoyed taking pleasant strolls along cobalt-coloured cliffs by the sea every afternoon in Spring.As she was in gap year, Dana had chosen to take some free time during her bachelor’s degree studies in art history which she was doing at a school in London. From then on, she had decided to take a walk by the waterside in Salisbury and explore the fairy world.

The fairy world or the “Sidh” of the Celtic world was her chosen subject for her studies thesis. Moreover, she was convinced that she had frequented it regularly for some time, except that it was quite difficult to prove to ordinary people because these moments were unfolded in untimely times that she herself did not understand, she was taken by surprise and the ground gave way under her feet just like in “Time bandits” or “Denver, the last dinosaur”.

And as she had talked about it to her parents Maureen and Jon Lee and to her brother Thomas, they all had told her they thought she might have been dreaming or that she was a little sensitive-because -they usually replied- as we all know it: the world of fairies exists in the Western imagination and particularly in Celtic traditions but as its name suggests it this is a fairy world and therefore, for them it was more spiritual than concrete, or down to earth, however for Dana it was both concrete and ethereal.

Well, it would have been perfect if Dana used these beliefs that she had for her studies of art history exclusively.

However, as she was doing so well in drawing these beautiful paintings and these illustrations of fairies and flowers in the manner of Cicely Mary Barker. There were so many things of extraordinary importance to Dana Lee.

Not only did she know that training her basic notions of Gaelic languages and Old English was a good thing, but she also knew enough Scandinavian to translate texts for children. Her Irish was bright enough for her to adapt tales From Alfred Perceval Graves. And her knowledge of Hebrew was sufficient for her to translate the first page of the Genesis.

All those things which might have seemed only to be a poetic training for some or a spiritual quest for others were magical to Dana Lee: She regularly frequented the fairy world. Today as she was thirty-five years old and therefore had ended up getting used to those fantastic and unusual encounters that were her regular conversations with Lady Morrigan La fée(she was a woman with big auburn curls ten years her senior, quite pretty but a little bit nutty who would run after Monsieur Dulac and scream with a huge Welsh accent and practice archery, she had black stockings, icy brown eyes and a very showy and pretty plum lipstick) and many champions - She was somehow passionate about this secret world.

La Fée for example had now got into the habit of sending her regularly on a mission to watch over the fairy people (young bard Ossian and Golden headed Niamh) but above all to act as a detective for Dulac. Dana had to go and see if Sir Dulac was cheating on Lady Morrigan by filtering his letters. Dana might have told her every year for about fifteen years ``this man is really not worth it" her friend had never believed her and fell back into meanders

Dana was a beautiful woman with a lot of charm
She was elegantly slendered while average tall. She had taken the habit of dressing herself with fine and costly boutique clothes especially with refined linen and fair laced clothes as well as with soft and beige, pastel and rose clothing. She had large hips and a very thin waist and round breasts. She sometimes wore coiled embroideries of gold tones and burgundy tops with long sleeves and white shoes and heels. She wore light pink lipstick and pearly gold eyes shadow- she would put light -salmon coloured powder on her cheeks and smelt of sea salt spray or sometimes sweet green tea scent. She had amazing green and brown cat eyes- two expressive thin almonds, as well as a gigantic stream of curly hair way very long way down her back, hazel and blond. She had a thin face, a high and small chin, and a thin forehead.

Her brows were fair and arched. Her nose was small although very slightly arched and dotted the woman's face’s character which went along with her thoughtful look, Intelligent smile and laid, patient speech as well as everything she was suited for her clever personality and caring attitude.

She was sensitive and sometimes went back to herself as and hermit would refugee himself from the outside world, back to books, mysticism and cleverness, hidden sensuality-I Indeed this is how she was half of the time, six months a year maybe?

She was also entrepreneurial, added to the fact she was loved, she had taken leadership in the fairy world she had inherited and had been given the tasks of a queen.

Dana Lee was born to Maureen Lothian, a Scottish national who originated from Orkney near the Faroe Islands and to Jon Lee,(Lee-Rosenberg) a Faroe Island 's native of Anglo – Danish, Irish and Slavic(including Jewish -Ashkenazi descent, her father's mother's name was Rosenberg-Pedersen)



Dana travelled regularly to Orkney and the Faroe islands, to see her grand-parents and she enjoyed seeing the green wild cliffs the ice and the frost in October gleaming lights, David and Gina Lee, her grand-parents lived near Skansin , on the Faroe islands, close to a lighthouse with a red roof. The landscape was particularly breathtaking; wild and agreeable, she felt home. Dana felt worried about one thing however- if the island was a place she cherished – the Sidh , the world of fairies where she met Morrigan La Fée , Sir Dulac Young bard Ossian (who had been a boyfriend for some times) and Golden headed Niamh – She loved Ossian but she was in love with Niahm and sometimes Ossian abused her, he strangely enough appeared to be a jealous man and would lock her away from Niahm who cried too and did not know what to do either when tears were so violently bursting.

Dana was tired of Ossian Lee's impishness (who was indeed a distant cousin)as he tried to pull Niahm away all the time and told her not to see Dana- Niahm was frightened by this controlling behaviour - too- Girls would escape and meet during weekends
one weekend out of two. Dana feared Ossian had influenced her over her perception of her, she hated when her friend looked her impetuously and would mumble things in French (she was half French, half Irish) and tell her to leave the room, becoming cold and distant with her two enormous sea -eyes and blond locks , like being in frost.

Dana had become bold and felt outraged by the situation, especially towards Ossian, she had mixed feelings of hurt and sadness and fear and revolt.  

   Chapter 2

This day she had entered a bakery, an excellent one, with sheeny cakes, strawberries and creams, what a magnificent, resolute, lively showcase, oh yeah,me remaining alive , will I eat them all! She thought twice looking at her thin belly and the tea room’s vintage ticking clock “tik tok tik tok tik tok”
his day she had entered a bakery, an excellent one, with sheeny cakes, cherries and creams, what a magnificent, resolute, lively showcase, oh yeah,me remaining alive , will I eat them all! She thought twice looking at her thin belly and the tea room’s vintage ticking clock “tik tok tik tok tik tok” no, I want to , I want to, stay thin, even thinner -Dana told herself. She finally opted for a basket of cherries, a small one ,and black coffee.She was leaving as she had just seen "Borman pastries" written in bold she shivered in frights and run away- She remembered having flashbacks but she could not have the exact recollection: Wasn't Borman a nazi ? I cannot remember ! She had just eaten the cherries filled with ham she did not even know what ham it was! Why did she forget she should not have gone there- she may have been told once by grandma Gina Lee born Rosenberg-Pederson who married her distant cousin David Lee, Dana's own and beloved grandfather and she was spending time with them these very days since ) or her teacher but at the time she was not older than thirteen years-old and with time flying she had forgotten, because her mind was preocupied with Niahm and Ossian and with university generally (beyond everyday's small turmoils she had been globally feeling innerly secure like most people, she felt secured and at peace, then she had forgotten of these hints , completely forgotten of them) and it was too late she had eaten the cherries before remembering she had forgotten who was Borman.
She turned to the counter and saw a Jewish man (he had kept hastily a kipa ) with a missing leg:
"hello" he told Dana, Im Jacob Lee Rosenberg-Pederson, im your uncle but you had never met me before, I was born to David and Gina in 1970- five years before Jon lee your father but I had to live to San Fransisco and we never met before today- I'm American."
“Thank you uncle Jacob, tell me what happened to, to your leg?.”

She asked.

“Borman Junior is a psychopath he cut my leg with an axe because I had an affair with his wife, he used to employ me but now he did me in, can I leave with you to the Farroe Islands ?and you’ll never come back to Berlin again (Indeed Dana after a rien with Niahm and Ossian had left the place for two days ten days after she had arrived to Sanskin)

“Yes come with us , with Grandpa, grandma , Ossian and Niahm, but you’ll to know Im engaged by Morrigane La Fee with a mission in the Fairy world “ she replied

Chapter 3
The Fairy world could have been anywhere -in Israel, on the British Isles,on the Farroe Islands,what was universal to it was the fact that is was a Fairy world and thus it was different from ordinary life. And what made it different? Well Here Dana felt time had slowed down , her boyfriend Ossian had became friendly again and she could enjoy time with Niahm again and even continue their love affair.Uncle Jacob had his leg replaced and could work again,now,on fishing boats indeed. One late evening Dana had fallen asleep on a bed of flowers she had made in their house. Night came and she heard a knock on the door."Who's in?" She asked . As nobody replied she stepped out .All in a sudden she saw something so extrordinary it had left her flabbergasted. 
A night garden had grewn under feet , not even a night garden but a night forest! A magnificent smallish forest of small birchwoods , small icy streams and fountains duveted with rose petals had appear under her feet.Small deers were running along free-and nightingales had nested. 
"Wow that's beautiful, amazing who, did that for me ! She exclaimed!
"It's us" A dual voice replied.
And as she quickly turned around she saw Ossian and Niahm.
"Hey guys thank you that's amazing, what a wonderful  job you did ,it's not even my birthday ! This is so kind and wonderfully skilled of you, I'm joyfully  impressed "She said. 
"We missed your thirty -fifth birthday last year and we wanted to apology.There is one thing however, Morrigane Lafee lent us some money for us to grow everything , we had to buy the trees, deers, fountains and now we have to give the money back, well instead she sent the three of us on a mission- She wants to know if Lancelot Dulac cheats on her she is a jealous of a woman named Guinevere and she wants us to go to Britanny in France to read their correspondance- letters had been sent near Saint-Malo"Said Niahm. 
"Well it we'll be like a holliday and uncle Jacob will take care of the deers in the meantimes,we could get to France by plane and train and I heard Britanny is a wonderful place- we'll have great fun checking these somewhat infamous letters. "Replied Dana
"Well Lafee is infamous, not them "added Ossian "If you knew of the spiteful reputation she has you would understand, she thinks Lancelot loves him he does not and she insits , stalks him almost"

                                  Chapter 4
                                      St Malo
The happy three friends had arrived in St Malo the next afternoon and were now cosily laying on this sandy Bretonne beach of the French coast. Dana wore a white dress and she had this red lipstick , hair curled in the swaying wind kissing randily a feminine whirl around her an harpist' strings would have utter in a moil and the sea too was a dewy ricochet of cerulean waves . Niahm was holding her waist gently kissing her neck.White clouds and the dawning dusk at six o clock had rocked to sleep the three buddies. They had found a white wooden shed on the beach where they slept and lived together merily while taking enough time to fish before the naive sea storms burst as they were quickly doing in June. Dana was hearing her heart beating looking at Niahm 's bright blond hair as she felt their embrace was a promise of love made to each other. A caribbean fisherman not far from them- and with his black ebony hands was polishing stone and cooking a meal on an portable stove- He was here with his son and his wife who had the gracefulness of a Black Pharoness and as they were acquainting Niahm Dana and Carla were starting an endless evening talk. Ossian had joined them at midnight and they started building castles in the sand with Carla’s son Ernest – a happy teen boy of fourteen. 
 As Carla’s family left around two o’clock . Niahm Dana and Ossian went back to bed . Ladies had become intimate. In the evening Dana Lee Rosenberg Pedersen left the room- fetching her star of David’s necklace she had received from her grand-mother putting it around her neck. She went back to the beach alone for a while because she wanted to draw a huge tapestry of Niahm on the sand as a surprise for her. As she started she heard a sudden rustling noise from small woods near by the beach A tall shadowy man had seemed to surge from the bushes, approached Dana and put his arm on her shoulder. She thus screamed horrified and fastly mumbled "Who are you"? "I am David Petrovitch" the man replied , son of Ruth and Isaac Petrovich .I know who you are and so I am Morrigane Lafee's body guard I came here especially to remind you that your mission starts in two hours and that you will have to interrupt leisure on mission-you won't have time to waste.Still you'll have a holiday and you could finish your- he looked on the ground- "masterpiece" 







Mes poèmes et journal d'ado 2002 à 2007 en (écrits en Français) comme promis (avec annotations)

 secrets et poésies ou la vie poétique

Aurélie Asseo

La préface apparait de telle manière


Le 4 octobre 2002 Aurélie A.


Il est vrai que la beauté de la vie est représentée par beaucoup de poésie .La vie est poétique car du plus profond de nos esprits nous transformons nos émotions en écrits sur papier, il suffit de savoir manier les mots et leur magie de velours pour faire ressentir la magnificence de l'existence au lecteur.

L'amour, la passion, la sexualité si nous y percevons , une beauté, une âme, une élégance, dans un monde dérivant à l'artificiel, à l'objet. Nous sommes tous poètes.  


poésies                                                                                             Pour D ( En ce qui concerne le premier poème nommé "passion", il s'agissait d'une dédicace à mon grand-père Douglas)  et Wendy (son premier amour nommé Anna, très belle jeune fille également anglaise , svelte, au longs cheveux noirs qui jouait Bach au violoncelle et esquissait des petits oiseaux   qu'il surnommait Wendy je ne la connaissait pas mais il m'a souvent raconté leur rencontre très romantique dans la cathédrale de Bath et les mois qui ont suivi, ils avaient seize ans dans les années cinquante, il l'a écris dans un mémoire que je possède nommé "some of which I wish to tell" qu'il a essayé de publier)

                                                                   Passion

Nos lèvres se frôlent , comme les premières gouttes de rosée matinale,

se transformant en brume montant au ciel.  

Nos cœurs battent en chœur comme une nuit de tonnerre dans un ciel noir et étoilé.

Nos esprits s'unifient comme un rayon de soleil doré.

Nos corps se mélangent avec le soyeux d'une blanche plume de cygne dans l'intensité des vents sauvages. Ainsi nait la passion entre deux être vivants.

La jeune rose rouge , si belle dans le jardin est maintenant resplendissante.  

vie

J'attend la passion chaque soir, mon lit vide me fait ressentir la faim de tout ,absolument tout l'amour et la tendresse que je donnerai désespérément à celui ou celle que j'attend. j'ai bientôt et seulement quinze ans et l'attente me semble douloureuse et interminable. Je voudrais la sécurité de son corps et la chaleur de son âme chaque nuit au près de moi, je ne veux pas perdre ma virginité dans le but de la perdre, Je voudrais juste aimer juste au point de m'offrir.

poésies hommage aux défunts de la grande famine et pour tout le peuple irlandais 

L'homme à la flûte d'étain

Il marche dans les rues l'homme à la flûte d'étain.

Il joue dans les rues l'homme à la flûte d'étain il demande quelques sous pour apaiser sa faim.

Il demande quelques sous pour que tout aie mieux demain.

Il marche dans les rues l'homme à la flûte d'étain .

Il joue dans les rues l'homme à la flûte d'étain.

Il joue dans les rues l'homme à la flûte d'étain , il voit ses mains vieillir 

Il voit l'hiver le trahir.

Il demande l'aide du ciel;

l'homme à la flûte d'étain 

Il prie le divin, l'homme à la flûte d'étain

pour apaiser cette faim

pour tout aie mieux demain 

Il est mort ce matin l'homme à la flûte d'étain

Il est mort ce matin dans les rues de Dublin.

vie 

J'adore vraiment l'Irlande , je trouve ce pays magnifique et je rêve d'y partir ses paysages et sa musique sont d'une beauté extraordinaire ces villes ont l'air accueillantes ainsi que les gens.

(Je n'était encore jamais allé en Irlande et seulement une seule fois , un court séjour d'une semaine ou deux  à Londres dans un cadre familiale(chez les des cousins britaniques, une partie la famille de mon grand père  avec mes grand-parents en avril 2001, pour la première fois je ne parlais pas encore anglais.)    

En 2003 J'ai ajouté dans ce journal intime(que je n'avais jamais publié sur internet avant aujourd'hui)  un extrait d'une courte histoire fictionnelle  que j'avais écris en 2001 (j'avais treize ans et demi  , presque quatorze ans) 

J' ai fait des recherches sur les noms anglosaxons sur internet avec mon grand-père qui m'a aidé à choisir "Winehouse" et "Sullivan " et sur Londres et l'Irlande grâce à des ouvrages illustrés par des photographies que j'ai acheté dans le commerce. Je n'utilisais probablement pas encore google pictures. C'était dans le cadre d'un  devoir demandé en  cours de français en 2001-02.

 L 'enseignante a ensuite demandé que les histoires soient lues en classe ou corrigées par la professeure.(peut -être y avait-il eu un remplaçant d'origine russe pendant un certain temps ,j' ai  oublié son nom. Je suis certaine que mon enseignante de l'époque à lu le texte. J'en ai ensuite fait  un petit audiobook de dix page sur cassette ou mp3 avec l'aide de mon grand-père Soit je l'ai laissé au cycle d'orientation , ou dans le cabion de mon grand père, ou égaré. Le texte ne contient ni mort suspecte ni violence , ni mention d'ethnie ou de religion, à part " Anglais-e "et" Irlandais-e"  ni sexualité explicite juste un voyage de découverte de deux adolescentes en Irlande.  Le conte démarre à Bromley en Angleterre, à Londres et se poursuit en Irlande .    Comme j'avais eu la note maximale je l'ai montré à des membre de ma famille proches, seulement ainsi qu'à membre de ma famille d'alliance en Angleterre, s plus tard en 2003-4 ( Peut être Anita , la belle -soeur d'Emma , Anita ,d'origine irlandaise qui était agée de trente- six ans dont je m'étais éprise en secret, mais je n'en suis plus sûre de lui avoir montré le conte mais je pense que oui, car ç 'aurait été certainement un souhait que j'avais de lui montrer car elle avait été pour moi l'inspiration et la motivation à l'écriture de ce conte, mais je ne lui avait pas encore dit  ) et peut -être à une chauffeuse de transports spécialisés que je prenais (mais là nom plus je n'en suis pas certaine. ) à l'heure actuelle j'ai égaré ce petit conte de dix pages pour adolescents écrite par une adolescente lors d'un devoir de Français dans le cadre de l'école obligatoire. 

"Beauté émeraude" (premier extrait)

"Amy (Winehouse, )je ne connaissais pas du tout la chanteuse, il s'agit donc d'une coïncidence homonymique   ) et Kerry (Sullivan) savaient qu'elles partaient dans un pays magnifique, mythique aux grandes vallées vertes et sauvages en parfaite harmonie avec le bleu des lacs intérieurs du ciel couleur de craie et de la brume légère"

(Second extrait) 

" Son grand-père lui racontait des histoires. Des histoires de gnomes de lutins et d'elfes . des histoires de héros légendaires , des histoires de géants et de sorcières . Pendant qu'il racontait ces histoires; il y avait une femme âgée à ses côtés qui l'écoutait calmement avec de longs cheveux roux et toujours le sourire aux lèvres. Cet ainsi que la toute petite Kerry s'endormait près de la cheminée ,bercée par les mots." 



(Troisième extrait)

L'émeraude était là accrochée à une  chaîne fine dorée, dans toute sa splendeur verte, bleue , aux multiples reflets qui créaient des nuances infinies et depuis tout temps sa beauté était restée inchangée .

 mé mian tei feach in Eirinn

mémian fei can tai breamh

mé mian grain Erinn 

(Il S'agit de gaélique irlandais mais je serais incapable de déchiffrer ce que j'avais écris à l'époque  à l'heure actuelle)

 poésie 


Pour Emma ma plus grande amie et la jeune fille d'Automne ayant treize ans ce mois d'octobre (il s'agit d 'Emma B. , une véritable rose anglaise et la fille d'un cousin à mon grand-père Douglas Bruckin .Ce cousin s'appelle  Robert, Bob . )

                                                   La jeune fille d'Automne 


Une lumière argentée émane de son radieux sourire.

Elle marche si heureuse dans les rues.

De ses yeux bleus océan, l'onde est calme.

Elle marche si heureuse dans les rues.

Les arbres lui ont déposé;

sur la terre humide d'octobre,

Leur plus précieux trésor.

Mille et une feuille d'un rouge pétillant , d'un jaune aussi doré et éclatant  que ses soyeux cheveux de lin Une brise légère lui caresse  agréablement le visage , juste pour lui rappeler qu'un magnifique papillon voit le jour et qu'elle maintenant la jeune fille d'Automne.

vie

Maintenant je prend des cours de chants, apprendre à chanter est magnifique ou plutôt placer chaque élément qui nous aide à construire petit à petit un merveilleux instrument de musique. En fait nous réapprenons à utiliser notre souffle de cette juste façon que chaque être humain possède en venons au monde d'où la facilité du nourrisson à pleurer si longtemps sans une once d'épuisement vocal.

Poésies      à monsieur White merci pour votre enseignement (il s'agit de Xan White, mon enseignant de chant)                                           

Cristal

Pas une once d'ignorance 

Lorsque l'océan et ses vagues tumultueuses,

Guidés par le souffle angélique des vents, frappent les rochers avec ivresse profonde émanant sa pureté 

Ce soir pas une once d'ignorance.

Lorsque l'enfant, né d'amour et de passion ,laissera glisser de ses yeux azures une larme de cristal.  

poésies  à Emma

Météore

Poussières lumineuses dans l'espace noir; 

Vaisseaux déchirés et flottants.

Flammes de gaz brûlant

Un météore en voici la constitution

 L'attraction est forte,

Elle t'angoisse, t'attriste au plus profond.

Ne t'inquiète pas je serai toujours là

Si tu as besoin de te confier, parle moi

Ces doutes, ces questions ensembles les surmonterons.

Vie

J'ai eu quinze ans et quoiqu'il en soit me laisse toujours transporter par le chant, ceci devient une profonde passion qui me permet de m'accrocher à la vie plus que jamais. Dès cette seconde je peux promettre que le chant fera à jamais parti de moi.

Poésies Mélodie

Cette douce intensité vient encore me chercher,

Cette écume blanchissante m'offre une nouvelle clarté,

Mes mains tremblent dans la pénombre,

Mais le feu est si chaud,

Que sa lumière est presque bleue,

La mélodie m'emporte jusqu'au la plus haute des étoiles,

Elle devient un lagon qui nourrit mes émotions

Les perles de celui-ci coulerons à jamais dans mes veines maintenant .

Vie 

J'ai découvert ou plutôt je découvre peu à peu la beauté de l'opéra et du chant lyrique. Mon professeur de chant  a donner une représentation de "Samson et Dalila" avec sa troupe .Cette représentation était magnifique. "Mon cœur s'ouvre à ta voix" est pour moi le plus beau chant de cet opéra. L'orchestre symphonique de ce spectacle était si émouvant que je ne l'oublierai jamais. 

poésie  à Emma, "certaines choses de la vie peuvent être bien difficile à affronter mais sache que je serai toujours à tes cotés "(Shirley la maman d'Emma venait d'apprendre qu'elle était atteinte d'un cancer du sein et Emma à treize ans devenait adolescente, c'est de cela que je parle dans mon poème, l'acquisition de l'indépendance, si ce n'est qu'une prise de conscience, le besoin de liberté à l'adolescence tout en essayant de la réconforter avec la conviction que Shirley allait guérir   )

Les ailes d'un oiseau 

Peu à peu ta conscience se tourne vers cette liberté aérienne,

Lorsque la beauté de tes ailes commence à resplendir .

Lorsque tu apprécies les gorgées d'un soleil plus proche,

Peut à peu ta conscience se tourne vers cette liberté aérienne

Lorsque tu peu sans crainte  de te laisser guider par le souffle du vent.

Tu es un oiseau en plein vol, crois moi tu es un oiseau en plein vol,

Et si parfois la vie d'ici -bas te fait crier,

Et si parfois la vie de fait pleurer,

Laisse les rayons du soleil sécher tes larmes.

Laisse les étoiles te montrer le chemin durant la nuit,

Mais ne cesse de voler,

Tes ailes te porteront loin

J'en suis sûre,¨

Tes ailes te porteront loin.  


En scène  A M. White (Monsieur Xan W. mon enseignant de chant )

Dans ce poème je décris la scène du théâtre à Genève  ou était joué Samson et Dalila  que j'ai vue, je décris le tout de manière métaphorique .

Un flot électrique, couleur lumière;

Vient se confondre aux raies grisâtres et orageuses.

Le tonnerre vrombissant dans des décors astraux,

diffuse les à coups d'une clarté blanche et fine.

Sans faute d'harmonie vient s'y ajouter,

La mélodie de la pluie des vrombissements plus lointains . 

Le vent variant sa force ondule dans un murmure chantant ,

Regardant d'ici -bas 

ses feux dansants,

Nous percevons dans un   lac de marbre,

Dans un miroir cristallin,

Le reflet de nos vie.


J'ai écrit ma première chanson pour "le jeune homme au faucons" (Il s'agissait de Maxime un apprenti palefrenier de quinze ans employé par ma grand-mère Clotilde , jeune homme pour qui j'avais un petit béguin ( je lui en jamais parlé et mes sentiments ont duré quelques mois et puis j'ai appris qu'il avait une copine et me suis désintéressée..  il pratiquait la fauconnerie aux "Aigles du Léman "et je l'ai rejoint quelque temps , m'emballant pour la fauconnerie à l'époque .J'avais  écrit cet chanson en anglais( langue que je commençais à posséder au niveau  B1 à l'époque à presque quinze ans , maintenant encore une année et je suis en C2 à  trente quatre ans et j'enseigne ) uniquement pour moi et je ne lui ai jamais montré, il était Français  et probablement uniquement francophone.

Fly away  

Every time a falcon flies above my head I think of you.

Every time my hand is in a velvet glove; my thoughts are you.


If only I could be there when you weep your woe and weep again.

If only I could be closer when the world is set against you

You follow the way to never erase the flame of passion.

I 'd follow the way to your heart soon to find steps for my true path

Can I say deep from my soul that I love you. In the best for you I trust.

Can I say with ardour , with ardour free their wings at dawn .

I wish to fly away with you .  


 Le 31 octobre 2003

J'entame sur la deuxième année d'écriture dans ce recueil et dans quelques mois je vais avoir seize ans . Je continue de chanter et me tourne de plus en plus vers le jazz, musique magnifique .

Au fur à mesure que je grandis la passion de l'écriture évolue avec moi et je continue de chanter et me tourne de plus en plus vers le jazz musique magnifique.

Au fur à mesure que je grandis la passion de l'écriture évolue ave moi et ne cesse de me brûler les doigts; je ne voudrais jamais arrêter d'écrire 

Encore un poème pour ne pas oublier qu'il faut profiter de la vie et se construire au fur à mesure que l'on grandit laissant les mauvaises choses derrière


Fresques de soie  

Tes nuits étaient trop profondes,

Tu t'éveilles à l'aube nouvelle,

Retrouve l'étincelle de tes rires colorés

Car la vie se dessine en toi,

Telles apparaissent sur les ailes d'un papillon

Des fresques de soie.

Retrouve l'étincelle de tes rires colorés

Tel une plume de cygne

Fond toi dans la brume matinale

car elle s'élève haut dans le ciel. 


Seconde partie 2004-2005

A grand maman Clo

à Mémé et maman

A Joanna O''Rourke

Emma Bragginton

Shirley et Anita Bragginton

et Sinead O'Connor


                            The Godess

       Ode to the Godess

You are feminity

You are beauty

You are strength

You are charm

You are womanhood

You are mysteries

You are love

You are sensibility

You are fertility

You are respect

You are admiration

you are desire

O Godess be on my side!

Verum dispeream nisi amo 

Est vemens dea laudere

hanc caveto

invento et rapida

Scribere oportet aqua


Le cercle  (juin 2005 après un premier voyage à Dublin et Wicklow)

Ici l'horizon peut-être brume

Ici , l'horizon peut-être lumière

Enveloppant le vert des falaises

Tel un châle de soie 

Tel un châle de lin

Aux cent milles parfums

Et lorsque la mer est calme 

Elle n'est que rassurée par des doigts fins

Et lorsque le vent s'agite

Il...

vie

Me voici presque à mes dix-huit ans et mes futures projets se construisent , j'espère pouvoir aller d'ici deux trois ans au Trinity collège de Dublin et faire mes études en littérature ainsi que des recherches sur la culture et la mythologie celte. J'ai lu pas mal de livre d'un auteur érudit sur la question celte: Jean Markale .J'ai appris énormément sur la culture et les mythes notamment la tradition païenne.Je voudrais également chanter dans la tradition Celte, j'ai déja travaillé pas mal de morceaux avec mon professeur ces trois dernières années.Ce recueil me suivra jusqu' à Dublin. Ce que je veux montrer dans la seconde partie de celui-ci est une mise en valeur de la féminité , une révolte contres les institutions trop patriarcales et les attitudes machistes. D'ailleurs avant nos religions patriarcales, tous avions une source commune. Le concept de la déesse mère   (earth Godess, mother Godess) Celle-ci était maîtresse de la fertilité et souvent la guerre mais elle était surtout notre mère à tous et dispensatrice de vie et de protection et d'amour.

Janvier 2007

J'ai lu une biographie de Virginia Woolf, une des première écrivains féministes.

Elle faisait partie du Blumsbery groupe un groupe d'intellectuels un tant soit peu libertin pour l'époque!

Tout cela pour dire que suivant actuellement une psychothérapie je me sens de plus en plus forte et fera sûrement quelque chose pour les droits des femmes plus tard. 



Saturday, June 4, 2022

The magic carriage

 a litte Jewish boy named Alexander and his mum Malia,travel through a magic/imaginary city in their native Danemark .


Chapter I: The coachman

 

Malia had fallen asleep on the small pebble beach in a city I will call Diamond. Her long dark blond hair was curling down her back. Her flecked grey ensemble, a long skirt and short blouse made her look like a fisherman’s wife. Her face, white with rose dimples in the corner of her mouth, made her appear so youthful with these lightly pink cheeks she also had. Her skinny body had given her a gracious look; she was thirty-four and had a son named Alexander, a little boy of ten who was playing on the beach. He had a mop of blond hair and two piercing green eyes which made him look a lot like his mother.

“Mum, mum” chirped Alexander, “I want to see the cauldrons and the wizards in the tavern and sugar castles”

“Sure, honey we’ll go” replied Malia as she was getting up, smoothing out her dress. “We’ll need to call the horses and the coachman because we’ll go with our magic carriage “As the little boy sat on his mum’s knee, they both saw something coming from the horizon, as they were fiercely looking at it as if there were   chances of rain. There were scattered drops, the salty smell of the sea and a sudden sound, a gallop in wet water, in the waves against the rock.

“Muuum” screamed Alexander with joy “I see the magic carriage coming.”

A carriage just rose out of the water, against the pale blue sky, it was beautiful, black, rusty and ancient. Gargoyles were carved along all its frames and two gigantic unicorns were driving it.   ;-)

The horses neighed as the carriage stopped in a whizzing sound and a man just opened the doors and stepped out, he was ten feet tall, he was hefty   not to say enormous. He was muscular but with something of a soft face and two big pearly blue eyes and sparse blond hair on the top of his head. The man turned to Alexander and said to him in both a soft and manly voice”Hello,little boy my name  is  Tadeusz, the Polish giant- and I am here to drive  you to the tavern. Is it where you want to go?” Asked Tadeusz.

“Yes, yes I want to go to the tavern because I want to see the wizards and cauldrons and sugar castles «Replied the boy.

 “And do you have your ticket to go to the tavern?” asked Tadeusz”

“Yes, I do have one” said the child “and it’s in gold sheaf as in Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory in Roald Dahl’s books my favourite writer” said the boy.”Here it is”

“So, you have your ticket, and your mother is with you, good”

“Yes sir, “replied Alexander

 “And we’re ready to go sir” said Malia with a smile, a bit shy and hesitant she thus stepped inside with her son who had just sat down, looking out the window and ready to go. He had felt fascinated by the incised animals, especially the snakes and bearded men on comfortable seats as he was watching these gigantic horses ready to trot faster and faster in a gentle jog.

“So, are we going across the sea now mum?” Yes, I think it’s where we will have arrived in half an hour. The tavern is way ahead of us “Malia will have replied as the watery sound ricocheted and as Tadeusz took off with the horses a fast hand on reins.

 

Rain was dropping on the carriage’s roof and Alexander was watching through the window and as they were traveling the little boy could see everything. There was a light fog and still they saw small green bushes he would notice and the whirling waves crashing to and fro against the small brown rocks. The birds were tweeting and sometimes the sky displayed light rays of thunder or strange cloudy shapes picturing serpents, jugglers or even fruit. Everything a little boy could imagine.

Alexander noticed his mother having a look at her watch and she would say” Son, soon we will have arrived. “

From time-to-time Tadeusz, the Polish giant carried to his mouth a huge cup of mead, something which would have had our passengers slightly shifting in their seats, still he would not put them at risk while driving he was holding the wheel firmly. 

 Chapter II the tavern

 

And so little Alexander was daydreaming as any little boy would do. He was happy and felt different thanks to the fact he was living in this city called Diamond in which magic tricks happened. He did not know anywhere else where there were taverns with true wizards and sugar castles and the cauldrons were all he wanted to see. He also told his mother he could go into different worlds

and see different things. And Malia had replied he was a bit strange or daydreaming too much. He would insist that was not and all he thought was true he was expecting something extraordinary, something he had never seen before.  The Polish giant was telling   them to step off and as soon they had done so they could see a shore of pure white sand dunes. Sand started flying into the horizon and a smoky coloured tavern had formed

Alexander dear, now we can go in!” said Malia happily.

The tavern was huge. And fat bearded men were graciously talking and eating roasted meat while drinking hydromel and beers.

Where are the wizards, mum?” asked the boy.

 “Here son” Malia had replied as she pointed out three old, bearded men with hats.

We are the wizards “said one of them “My name is Fred, and here are my brothers, Georges and Simon.

Simon said to the boy:

I know what you are looking for Alexander, you are looking for the sugar castle and you know what, I know it and it is like a gigantic ice castle although the ice is made of sugar which is as cold as true ice and there is the queen of the castle, she is over thirty like your mother she is extremely beautiful as a woman, her name is Leona.

  


  

                                      Chapter III: The sugar castle

 Alexander and Malia left the tavern and  strolled closer to the shore. They have been walking on the shore for twenty minutes before the castle appeared in front of their eyes. It was tall, frozen in ice, very shiny and pearly. As they push the entrance gate, they see a large chamber with bow windows built into the lower sides of an attic. Windows reflecting a limitless navy-blue sky and stars very white. Beds were disposed under these alcoves lit by bedside lamps displaying a very good cozy light. Libraries were erected behind. The room was big.

Mum, I think I need a telescope” said Alexander as he just saw one disposed of on one of the library’s tiers. Wooden, clean and perfect said the boy to himself.

And as he took the telescope, he jumped onto one of the beds directing the telescope through the window under the attic.

All of a sudden he saw the shape of a beautiful woman appearing through his looking glass, she was here, blond with tanned skin, Moorish-like two beautiful brown eyes, yes, she was Leona! 

Alexander “she said “I know what you want, the magic silver compass,  l to go wherever you want “ she said


Chapter IV Tadeusz Szymanski

Malia Melchior faced the waving sea, reading a casual novel as Alexander was playing near her with his magic compass. The sea was beautiful near Leona’s castle.

“Mum “asked the boy, «Who is dad?”

“Your dad?” she replied. “Your dad is Tadeusz Szymański, our coachman.”

“The Polish giant is my dad?”

“Yes”

“So, will he stay with us mum”

“Much more now”

“Is this a promise mum?”

“Yes son”

Now Alexander was building his own castle in the sand, happy to have heard of Tadeusz Szymanski and so he was up to use his magic compass to go everywhere and so he made a wish.

“I want to go into my very own castle “

All in a sudden he felt the ground had moved under his feet and his small sandcastle grew enormously. Alexander Szymanski saw his castle, giant in front of his eyes. “Fantastic” he said as he saw a row of soldiers in red uniforms fighting in front of his eyes.

Malia had untangled her hair putting eye liner, it seemed she was waiting for Leona to come.

“Leona is going to come with her daughter Sarah- Sarah is the daughter of a Black saxophonist named Maximilian Johnson, well known here, she is your age” she said to Alexander.

Alexander replied in an underwater sound while playing within his castle’s walls

“Tell Sarah to join me in the castle."