Moody Mondays

Spring has arrived in the South of Sweden, but Uppland is still cloaked in snow and the sky is grey today.The winter birds are flitting about and the birch look sad from my vantage point. A busy weekend kept me away from the computer so once again the day calls for three pieces to be posted. Written in 2006/7, these pieces seem to hold a kind of timelessness.

the silence of the noise

The silence of the noise
Is deafening
But strangely
It is no longer
Emotionally crippling

The silence of the noise
Quickly embraced
Enjoyed and relished
The sweetest taste
No need to fill it
With meaningful voices
Hastily made bad choices

The silence of the noise
How enlightening
My own company
No longer frightening
Room to grow
The pace certainly not
A devastating blow

The silence of the noise
An interesting idea
My life no longer built around
Moments of occasional cheer
My own heart-beat
Setting the pace
Free in the moment
Enjoying life
In my personal mind space

27/02/07

Independence

Independence
We nurture and cherish
But, do we really understand
What independence means
Are we willing to our understanding
Of the concept
Challenge and question

Independence
We seek
Arrogantly equating it
To freedom with money
Going and coming as we please
Choosing whom to love
Whom to set free

Independence
We are mostly
Under the illusion of having
When it is offered socially
Does not translate
To individual freedom
Liberating

Independence
We still seek
Even when we are able to
Spend the money we earned
As we please
Choose our friends
Dress the way we like
Leave our hair free

Independence
We still seek
Because we tie ourselves down
By other’s opinions of whom we should be
How to behave
What to do
With whom to be

Independent
We will only be
When we accept
That it is only we
Who can claim
This right
None can give it
To you and me
Then only can we be free
Independently

14/09/06

Friendships

What kind of friendships
Do we in our lifetime expect
Fleeting
In the moment
Or nurtured
Over many years
Fair-weather friends
Or friendships-in-need
Are those the best kind indeed?

Friendships we say we treasure
But how to truly
These relationships measure
Is it by the number of
Secrets we share
Shoulder crying sessions
Or the every time you put me to bed
After a few too many
Or a lost loved one cherished

Friendships are relationships
We willfully seek
Sometimes it happens upon us
When we to each other gravitate
Pulled together in the oddest circumstances
Other times we fight against our instincts
Yet, it will still grow and blossom
True friendships
We will later call it
When we still connect
After years many

Friendships, something so special
We’ll do everything to it at all costs protect
We are devastated
When we have to leave it all behind
Clouded by interference, misunderstandings unkind
It fills one with such dread
That one with time
Less from these connections expect
Living with losing friendships
Part of life’s momentums
We suffer with regret
Sometimes we yearn for new ways
To our hearts from these losses protect

By Simone Noemdoe, 14/09/06 (some minor edits, 28/01/11)

Keeping Up

Writing a blog every day is a seriuos challenge it seems. Yesterday, I could not post, but all for a good cause since I'm once again out there doing an assignment. The project is interesting and I hope to produce good results. Have you noticed how our use of language can be peppered with "codes" that become stuck in our everyday life? Being out and about yesterday, reminded me very muchh of that. Suddenly I started recording these little phrases or words and it fascinated me! The English book club was fun as usual and it was a great experience to listen to women (some of whom I only meet occasionaly) who have such a lot of life experience and interesting views! During the hours I spent in the city I could forget about who will cook dinner and what it will be? or even better... forget about hanging up washing and sweeping the kitchen! I could not run away from thinking about it, so I finished writing a poem that I started a few weeks ago.

Housekeeping
My aunty
Keeps a clean house
No matter
How hard I try
My efforts
Next to hers
Is a far cry
Even when
I desperately
Scream and cry

My aunty
Keeps a clean slate
Every idea on her mind
She tells you
Sometimes
Hard
Most often
Kind
To no faults of her own or others
She turns
A blind eye

My aunty
Keeps us all close
There is no chance
For disrespect
Attitudes verbose
Her love and warmth
Transcends
A sometimes projected
Veneer cold
Claiming us
Big Mamma bold
Offering
A clean heart
Always
Love never ending
In my world
Auntie's like this
We have to
Behold

For Aunty Ghairo, February 2011.

It is Friday, and there is a light snow in the air. Spring is still a long time away! We are still indoors with books under blankets!

Circle of fun
Thirteen women
In a circle
Offering
Opinions freely
Laughing
At each other’s by-lines
Sometimes
Louder than discreetly
Sharing
The odd private moment
Somewhat
Tactfully

Thirteen women
On a Thursday night
Taking private time
It could have been
Nine… ten or fifteen…
All pulled by a passion
Books selected for us
Enthusiastic booklovers kind
Discovering
An author’s unique perception
Words
Maybe some of the few
Remaining
True-life treasures

Thirteen women
Around a big table
This time
No men
Venturing their perspective
It was not missed
Our babble
Spiriting
Kind
To liking the book
We don’t seem to heed
Much mind
On book club night
We leave
Our idiosyncrasies
Behind
Looking forward to the new offering
The next cicle of fun
Time

By Simone Naik Noemdoe, Uppsala English Book Store Book Club, 25 February 2011.

Posting Blogs

The sunshine on the distant pine trees lights up the snow that sits on its branches as if it served up like ice cream by strong arm waitresses. You might need a spoons with very long handles to eat it!... What? The ramblings of a crazy woman? Something to write about and taking inspiration from what is around me seems to get the words flowing. Last night it was hovering around -21 and it certainly felt much colder outside... but I'm lucky to have the warmth of the love of family and friends...

Value true
The true value
Of a genuine friend
Is not counted by
How long you know them
But rather to me
How they protect you
Sometimes
Even from yourself
Caring
Openly

The true value
Of a genuine friend
Can be expressed by
A thousand “I’m sorry’s”
A million “thank you’s”
Feeling ridiculous
Hiding
In the red-wine blues

The true value
Of a genuine friend
I constantly rediscover
When I hopefully
Put the same offer
To be a genuine friend
On the table
Only time will tell
If this view
Is a fact
Or fleeting fable

By Simone, 6 June 2008

Smile

Sometimes we forget how to smile and be overjoyed in the moment. At least, I do, speaking for myself. Yet there is always a lot to be grateful for. The sun in my window, food on the table, watching happy children play without a care in the world! (Are they licking the smowballs?) Life is great!

Sometimes
Sometimes
I can write
What is in my heart
In the moment
Bringing you close
Stranger
Lover
Friend
Mentor
In the future
Aunty, mother who nurtured me
In the most recent
Past

Sometimes
It gets blocked
My creative spirit
Goes into hiding
No special feelings
I can
Through my fingers
From my mind be
Confiding
Even when it is a special wish
A yearning
Silently crying

Sometimes
I find that connection
Enabled by modern technology
I push the fears of writing aside
Opening up ideas
In my mind wide
No worries of a reader
Making comments snide
Much easier it becomes
When it’s a creative mentor
In whom to confide
I can be free
No longer in a dark corner
I hide
Freedom to write
I
In our connection find

By Simone, ‎den ‎26 ‎september ‎2008.

New Ideas

Do you struggle to find new ideas in life? Right now I am reading 3 books and trying to figure out how to make quilt blocks with funky hippie-like hearts! Too much some people will say! Well, an overactive mind still searching for action!!! I should go back and ask my first teachers ever (the brief time I was there...) how they managed to keep me occupied at age 5. I know my grandmother gave me my own bowl to mix my own cake and in case you wondered.. yes! Mine also went into the oven!

All the thinking and then suddenly I'm yanked back to the reality of an email talking about the Equity laws in South Africa... I do not even want to begin to think about all the battles for jobs, resources and opportunities... why always what our skin colour looks like?

Sister, Sister why do we always cry?

Tired of talking
I am
Tired of waiting
I am
Tired of bickering
I am
Tired of events
I am
Tired
Tired
Tired

Platforms
Women can create
Every day
We have to
Wade through
Gender inequities
Racial inequities
Class inequities
Our own
Insecurities
Why not act
Become
The power monger's
Nemesis

Platforms
We have to use
From the bottom up
From the top down
Can you share my skills and I share yours
Can I open your door and you open mine
Will you mentor me, I will mentor you
Can we break through
The petty power games
Leaving us bickering
Alone
Blue

Platforms
We create
Growing daughters
Growing sons
We share my skills
Sister
We open doors
Sister
We care
Sister
Don't worry
About the blank stare
Sister
Our skills together
Opens a world
Sister
You alone at the top
Will soon lose life's gifts
Lackluster

By Simone Noemdoe in response to Ditshego Magoro -- I hear and feel you my sister. We have a long way to go, but is starts with me and you. Let them be out there and let them try to mobilise the elite, the intellectual, the talkers. Let us act here and now. At home and where we play... one day women will be free and you and I can sleep easy!
27 February 2009

Another Lazy Sunday - 3 Pieces

The sun is shining outside, but even inside I can feel the cold crisp air and the way the birds twitch to keep warm makes me feel very lucky not to have to be outside! Three days after my last posting. A busy Friday cooking potjiekos for 15 and lots of fun with guests over. Saturday was just too lazy to even think about the computer...

Hype and Flavour
What is
The hype and flavour of the week
Valentine’s planned
Celebrated
By the love sick
Hopefuls, rich and poor
Many enthusiastic
Others
Playing along
Meekly

The latest
Hype and flavour
Driven commercially
Thrust upon us
To savour
Valentines in February
Mothers day in May
Fathers get their's in June
And before you know it
We are bound to listen to
The Christmas ‘silly season’ tunes

For most
The hype and flavour
Not so easy to forget
The romantic in me
Always wanted to play along
Seeking some fun
Surely not part of my
Daily set
How wonderful to have
Happy memories
All flavour
No hyper regrets

By Simone Noemdoe, 13/02/07 (edited, 20/02/11)

On Thursday I could not resist to write back to a friend. I'm told that the local government election campaign is in full swing for the hearts and minds in South Africa...

Crumbs
Only the crumbs
Fallen
From high tables
Democracy
For the rich
Like dreams
For the poor
Struggling
Not to lick
From the floor
Hypocrisy
Younger and younger
At death’s door

Only the crumbs
Collected
In grass baskets
Could maybe
Feed more than five thousand
The hungry
Don’t make steps bold
Trapped behind the dark clouds
(food) Lined
Imaginary silver
Coffers stripped
No more treasures
Of buried gold

Only the crumbs
Shared by the poor
No apologies
By the rich of the world
Just enough
Never an option
The greedy going after
More and more
An idealists dream
Egalitarian
Unsure

17 February 2010 In reply to David Kapp…. What was it again? Maslow?

In the spirit of creating something fresh... My dream is still to see sustainable development programmes that empowers people to make positive choices and find their own way in life. A dependence on handouts and a life condemned to labour without dignity are some of the things we still have to battle against on earth.

Struggle
Do you know my struggle
Mrs politician
Part of the quota
On the party list
Slowly
I feel the rise
Of my fist
The majority
Still in your eyes
Only
On paper a priority

Do you know my struggle
Mr Politician
On the campaign trail
Fast
In-between stops
Make sure there are
No back-stabbing plots
Only happy smiling tots
Buying votes
With rightfully entitled
Social grant lots

Do you know my struggle
To keep things ticking
In-between voting years
Every pilot project
Worked
After the campaign
Just white elephants
Remain
Voters all complain
Their dream
Finding their own carriage
On life's gravy train
Most victories
Carry
The burden of pain

Do you know their struggle
Little girls
Wishing to get out
Their daddy's
No longer about
Going to university
Today their battle
No doubt
Can you speak their language
On the campaign trail
Policy speak
Still merely that
Even if you screech
Maybe amongst them
A true leader
Roaming about
One day...
I will her name
In a liberator's voice
Shout

By Simone Beatrice Naik Noemdoe, happy and sad to be inside and outside development. 20 February 2010

The daily grind

The task of daily living is all occupying. When we work for a boss the time is easily marked by office hours and the commute to and from work. If you are lucky to work from home, the easier task is to avoid the commute, but the challenge to 'set the hours' become more difficult. This I learn the hard way as I continue to struggle with a deadline that slipped a long time ago. Being hyperactive with a short attention span makes it even more difficult... What had this got to do with writing a blog? You might want to ask... Well, to the overactive mind... everything... it is afternoon and I have to post something. What to publish today? The local government elections in South Africa is fueling a lot of news from home. the very calm cold weather in Skuttunge makes we want to curl up and grab the next good book. So instead, I can report that I made at least 3 dozen potato samoosas (ha ha.. I'm getting better at folding) and the challenge of sending some poems and a short bio to an online journal. The mind is still going on that one.

A year and one day to date...

A writer be

I call myself
A writer
Composing lines
In-between
Thinking
Laundry
Seeking recipes
For old favorite foods
Learning how to garden
In climates
New

I call myself
A writer
Yet, scared
To share the lines
Other than
The occasional few
Calling praise
Seeking me to publish
Others must see
A world filling me
Occasionally
With a visionary’s craze

I call myself
A writer
Mostly
Unsolicited opinions
Life’s little quirks
The intermittent outlet
An artist’s perk
Views with words
My souls’ dearth
Am I worthy
This title
On this
Forsaken
Earth

By Simone Naik Noemdoe, 16 February 2010

Identity

The air is still moving with snowflakes, but at least I see the sun in the sky. Yesterday I made 44 samoosas. At least most of them looked like the neat triangle we know it should be. Of course I had to revisit how to fold it and after about the 10th one the memory came back to me. It was lots of fun to do and I wonder how many children are learning these skills from their mothers and grandmothers. The age of the commercial food market, ready made, more economical, easy, time-saving. We are spoiled for choice since for many this is also a means for an income - labour intensive job creation. Fun and serious at the same time. I suppose this is the life of an adult.

An so... from thinking about my samoosa folding great-grandmother to my daughter whom I still hope will learn these skills I share something different...

You Defined Me

You defined me
So easily
You ticked my box
“Coloured”
Preferring to use
That label
Conferred by a system
That was unable
To deal with my people
Who lived on this continent
For eons stable

You defined me
Without my permission
Calling me
“Coloured”
Refusing
To accept
My status
A black person
Of mixed descent
Why do I always have to
Being different
Defend?

You defined me
Because it is easier
For you to cope
With whom I am
When it is a bit more
Than about how I look
My life philosophy
What is my social typography?
What I wear
What to eat
When in actual fact
It is on the level
Of being human
Where we meet
You defined me
I forgave you
For ticking that box
“Coloured”
Which I am not
A South Indian tongue
Loves the flavour bitter-sweet
The best treat
Walking half naked
Like my Khoi Ancestors
Before we were told
To cover up – barbaric heathen
My ability to cope
With the harsh cold
From my Irish great-grandfather?
Whose name is lost to me forever
A mish-mash of people
I can claim to descend from
It leaves me proud
Being humane
I will run from
Never!

By Simone Noemdoe, 30 January 2008

All Sorts and other stuff

It is the day after the world went crazy for love (at least in the commercial sense!). Skuttunge is still cold with drifting snow in the air. The birch trees have a protective layer of ice like the food in the freezer when the door is (occasionally) left open.
This blog is posted daily, although I'm not writing a piece every day, but rather drawing from an archive developed since I restarted writing in 2005. My work offers a reflection of what I was doing over this period and a hint of the personal.Today's contribution tells its own story at the end.

Allsorts and Jelly Tots

Allsorts and Jelly Tots
Backed up by Endearments
A necessary sweet relief sugar shot
Certainly makes
Your conference experience hot

All sorts and Jelly Tots
Makes the content presented
Interesting not?
At Spier we congregated
To learn about
The chronic poor and not-so-poor
Spatially trapped
Socially unsure

Allsorts and Jelly Tots
Mixed in colour and in taste
How much money
Did talking about the poor waste
Or did the proceedings
Create the space
To learn and share
Bringing future change
If you dare

Allsorts and Jelly Tots
In tinier than bite-size pieces
Is it indicative of our collective approach
To always
The issues of the poor demote
Where people are trapped
Unable to move
Taking sustainability
From stops and starts
To development smooth

Allsorts and Jelly Tots
Sugar coated
By civil society, non-governmental players goaded
A term of endearment
Neatly plastic wrapped
All the romantic myths
Of Starvation
At risk to violence
By reality
Out of our
Dreamy existence snapped

By Simone Noemdoe, 29 March 2007 at a “Understanding and Addressing Spatial Poverty Workshop hosted by the Overseas Development Institute and Chronic Poverty Research Centre at Spier Wine Estate, Stellenbosch

Love and Laughter

The end of the first week and I'm still blogging! Today I kept the Monday blues at bay by compiling an upbeat collection of music. Mixing love, romance and weaving in memories with friends and family. A valentines week when our family will be celebrating two birthdays and Spring (Colorado), Winter (Sweden) and the long African Summer (Durban and Wellington)! As the sun is kissing the horizon on its way down I send out today's contribution.

Followers and comments welcome!

L-O-V-E...

Moods
When it rains outside
I laugh inside
Your love for me
Chases the darkness away
No matter
Which hour of the day

When my tears flow
For a sad story on the radio
I can reach outside myself
And touch the sky
For your love
Always lifts me high

When the occasional bang of doubt
Hits me
I can look into my soul
See a person loving and whole
Your love
Restored my spirits bold
I am no longer callous and cold

When I laugh with joy
I remember the happiness
You share with me
Every moment of the day
We can find
A memory to claim
Our love shared
Chases all the foul moods away

By Simone Naik, 23 January 2007

Lazy Sundays

Birds in the neighbours pine tree send sprays of snow tumbling, from where I sit it looks like movement in slow motion. Once again a day where the sun is playing hide and seek with the clouds leaving only a hint of its bounty... not like when you are in Wellington and the sun is shining and not shining and you have to worry about getting burnt! Yes, it is a lazy Sunday morning (almost afternoon) and the day promises a chance to catch up on overdue work...


Every Woman

To every woman
My plea
May we from open heartache
Without shame flea

To every woman
My wish
That we can handle happiness
With clear and pleasant bliss

To every woman
My gift
A silent wish
That you find happiness without chasing only glamour and glitz

To every woman
A prayer
That you have
For yourself the greatest love and care

To every woman
My desire
That we learn
To love each other putting hatred and fear on a funeral pyre

To every woman
My laughter
Sharing it
Will multiply the laughter lines, telling the world we are “sisters fine”

By Simone Naik, 10 March 2008
Celebrate Life!!!

Saturday Musings

The early afternoon and the sun is going low on the horizon of a brilliant white landscape! What an experience! Our kitchen is filled with the aroma of chocolate crunchies. A pick-me-up gift and the sense of keeping busy and being relaxed at the same time. Today we spent the morning at a christening ceremony. The child received a box with gifts from the church. A dove, an arrow, heart, eraser, two puzzle pieces and a candle... Each item was an offering to signify that this growing young man is part of a spiritual community whilst being firmly rooted in his family. Much earlier in the day, I attended a funeral, in spirit at least. In Cape Town, my friend and his family in said goodbye to his father. A sad moment for us all when we have to pay our last respects. There are so many beginnings and endings. As we grow older we gradually learn to appreciate life more and more!

I have to move on though and share today's offering. It is something I wrote one year and one day ago (11 February 2010) and I realise that it is still something we have to think about. It is now 21 Years ago that Nelson Rolihlala Mandela took is final steps in our long walk to freedom.

Halla La Madiba Halla La!! Aluta Continua!
Forward with the struggle of all oppressed people!

20 Years of Freedom: is there Accountability

Will
I be called
Unpatriotic
Because
I celebrate
My free speech rights
By talking about
Your
Corruption
Stealing from the poor
Without regret
Common decency’s lost forever
Freedom’s respect

Will
I be considered
A traitor
Because
I left
My free nation’s shores
For no real reasons
At least to do with you
Only seeking
Less worry
A love
Renewed

Will
I be an outcast
Because
I was on the periphery
From the start
My small sacrifice
No significant part
Setting me
From the plundering stalwarts
A step apart

Will
I be able to accept
That we are continuing
To live with regret
Twenty years’ not enough
To blot out
A lifetime of plunder and neglect
Generations in parallel
Divided by rifts deep
As the tribes of the Middle East

By Simone Noemdoe, 11 February 2010, the memories of 20 years since the release of Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela is bittersweet.

Memories and Lemons

Finally the wind has died down a bit and a weak sun is finding its way through moving clouds. I woke up with the memory of a story that still has my brother and daughter rolling with laughter.Let me recount it with today's offering.

In 1985 South Africa was cloaked in a national state of emergency. All kinds of evils happened on the political front. These activities finally came to Wellington and our school also became ungovernable (one of many closed for more than three months). As usual we were sent home and tried to fill our days with meaningful activities and lots and lots of chores (my mother's way of keeping us out of trouble). Housecleaning was (and maybe still is) not one of my strongest points, but a good scrub and polish always calls for "fresh air" and in the absence of fresh flowers, I had the idea of getting some lemons to make the place look pretty. We had a rather tall lemon tree and as per usual the best fruit was hiding in the top of the tree. I used the 300 liter oil drum standing at the foot of the tree (Why?) to raise myself to the nearest climbable limb (Did I say that I'm scared of heights?) and from there it was just to stretch out and collect my loot. Have you ever tried to hang on, reach out and grab fruit from a tree that also has some thorns in the least expected places? To this day I can't remember what came first. The shouts, the images of me falling or the stinging pain in my back! Victorious! I had the fruit clutched in my arms, an alarmed brother and sister staring down at me and me in such situations, I respond with laughter instead of tears even though I hit the drum on the way down... Ja Ja, I know... tall 17-year olds are not supposed to be climbing trees, but what a gift those lemons were... smelling great and of course we all knew that lemon wedges with salt is the best!

Many years later my fascination with this fruit continues. No more trees to climb, but any cold can be nursed with lemon slices, ginger and honey steeped in hot water!

Lemons

Sour lemons
Sweet lemonade
Your calling card
Buds sweet swelling
Your value
By the company of bees
Pollen-hunting
Telling

Sour lemons
In yellow and green
Have you any other colour
Of this fruit
Ever seen?
Or taste its juice organic
Sending tingles
Down your spine
Like a little bit
Of a tongue sensation
Panic

Lemons in the same family
As oranges and limes
Seasoning meat and fish
Leaving your mouth watering
For the tangy
Desserts lime
Flavoured divine
Or an intoxicating mix
Added to the right drink
Slowly the end of the day’s fatigue
Fix

Lemons squeezed
With lemonade empowered
In all your
Medicinal and social properties
Well attired
From your humble place
In our homes
You can never be
Retired

11/04/07, In Berg River Catchment meeting on a farm in the Franschoek Valley, a meeting room on a wine farm next to a lemon orchard.

Picture Poetry

It is a grey day and it looks cold outside. A good time to take out the photo album and share some memories and bring a little bit of sunshine into the house. 'n Bietjie vannie Kaap (A little bit of the Cape) and at the same time acknowledging that we find stone walls everywhere in the world. We even sometimes build them up around ourselves. My wall is quite low so you are welcome to climb over sometime and share some tea and crunchies. The picture's story is at the end of mine. Thanks for the inspiration!


Stonewalled
A piece of history
Sent to me
It tells
A subtle springtime story
Fygies in my favourate colours
Just like you find
On the borders
Of most
Coastal graveyard walls
Desolute
Against the wind
A silent centry
Protecting souls
No longer
Desparate
Stonewalled

Carefully picked
Every crevice befitting
A labour of love
Not a beat seems to be missing
Every stone warily tendered
The smallest piece
Usefull rendered
Shades rustic
Lives
Short or tall
Wide or narrow
Straigth or square
Firmly to the earth
Surrendered

A stone hedge
It might be called
Centurie’s gifts
Sand and water
Piques a curiosity
Was the mason a miner
The miner a mason?
A modern day slave
Nurturing love’s labour
In perfect symetry
Trapped
A heart and mind
Collected, mapped
Stonewalled
In mystery enraptured

Words: Simone Noemdoe, inspired by the picture taken by Shawn W. Johnston who sent it to me with these words “I love and have this crazy obsession with old stonewalls. They all have a signature of their own. I'm always curious about the farm workers who constructed them. I spent a few hours examining some of the Karoo stonewalls in the Moordenaars and Agter Karoo”. So I take pics of them. Here is a pic of graveyard wall outside Strandfontein next to the Sishen-Saldanha railway line. This was taken on the day I counted 220 railway trucks and 10 locomotives bring the iron ore from Sishen.
Written: Sometime in 2009

Sunshine in my face

Another day in Wintry Skuttungne, A real baboons's wedding with snow flakes coming down and the sun burning my face. A big thanks for all your encouragement. Feel free to pass my address along. Keep the comments coming!

A Purge Desired

I have the urge
To brush my teeth
With a razor blade
Scraping away
Harsh words
Violently uttered
Inconsequent tales
Quietly muttered
An instinctive sad voice
Gradually
Into submission
Battered

I have the urge
To scour my back
With razor wire
Slowly shedding
Every unrealistic expectation
That settled like invisible barnacles
Its weight
Making peaceful sleep
Impossible
My overactive mind
The worst
Crucible

I have the urge
To slowly walk through
A raging fire
Urging its cleansing heat
To purge
Constant pain
Finding instead
My souls´ happy imprint
Venturing outside
Space and time
Discovering
Self acceptance
Kind

By Simone Beatrice Naik Noemdoe, 14 September 2010

Challenging Technology

Today I spent most of the time trying to figure out how to post this blog, hence the title, Challenging Technology! After a long time and at least some very good dusting around the house, I'm on my way! At least procrastination on starting a blog this week has been dealt a big blow! Great!!

This is the first post to my web blog. After some long thinking and lots of nagging from friends and family here it goes!

Comments are welcome!

Little Gifts

We give a smile
And receive a smile
Connecting
The best thing
Every once in a while

We give a hug
And take one in return
Prompted by happiness
Spontaneous
A natural response
Instantaneous

We share a thought intimate
A new idea innocent
Challenging concepts
Dreams sweet
Human contact
Unique

By Simone Noemdoe, 29/10/08