Fire and Smoke

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                                 “Open Door” by Dale Innis on Midjourney

Fire and Smoke
For Umahmad

I won’t close that door…as if I ever could.
I know it’s all up to me, but honestly is it …really?
Do you not play a part in this sad tragedy, my eternal flame?
Like being in hell and heaven now, for me is all the same.

In the world of shadows, I think they crowned you Queen.
And you come and go as you desire, igniting fires.
I am helpless to resist you when you call out my name,
I give in, let you in, but you go up in smoke… ahh who’s to blame?

I could go mad, and write just for the pleasure of your company
My beautiful unreality, is now our waiting room that’s waiting patiently.
I’m unprepared to accept the truth and so I will never close that door
That you left wide open when you breathed your last, to cross that shore.

Fire and smoke, dark bewitchment holds me against my will, paralyzed
Yet your memory almost pales and leaves, when I grasp on to reality.
But there is nothing real to hear or see; when you ride that swollen moon
And as much as I try to latch the door, it stays ajar in hopes I’ll see you soon.

Karima Hoisan
July 9, 2023
Costa Rica

 

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Vignettes From My Life-My Son The Singer-Musician

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My son Julian was born in Costa Rica.
He was just about this age (Picture above) when he declared to me
that when he grew up, he was going to be a “Rock Star”
He assured me he was going to sing and play guitar in a big band someday.
I always thought this idea had come from knowing a bit about me and my old
rock ‘n roll band days back in the 60’s (Like mother …like son etc.) but as he persisted,
“Had” to have a guitar, I gave in and bought him his first acoustic guitar.
There was however one major stumbling block to him realizing his dream…. and it was a big one:) my handsome son was “tone deaf”. He could not carry a tune to save his life. I worked with him with the piano..making it a game to “find that note’ he just could not. It was heartbreaking for him and ear shattering (for me) to listen to him try to carry a tune, sing a song.
This was very surprising for me, because his older sister and I,
seemed to have been born with good pitch.
At about this age, maybe 11, he begged me to get him an electric guitar. He “Had” to have an electric guitar to prepare himself for making his dream come true.

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I did get him an electric guitar and from that point on..the miracle seemed to take place in him.
He learned quickly how to play the electric guitar, but the most amazing thing (for me!) was he discovered his pitch! Little by little he was on pitch maybe, 80% of the time..then 90%  Yay! he finally did it… 100% of the time. Practicing with his own electric guitar he taught himself how to sing.
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So this brings us to more recent times: In his 20’s he formed his own small band
and also began to write his own music and lyrics. His band was quite successful in a local way, and he realized he loved this more than anything in the world.
Almost ten years ago, he caught the eye of another musician who was forming a Latin band, complete with horn and sax section. The band did not need another guitarist but they needed a bass player and a back up singer. He taught himself the bass.Kombo2
The band was called “The Combo Style” and in its hey-day it was super popular.. maybe the best band of its kind in Costa Rica. They were invited to play International Festivals on giant stages. Natascha and I were so impressed with them (Natascha LOVED their sound) that we made a virtual-meets- real life -video to promote them
See my post YouTube below after “Bad Pineapple”
Soon after we made the video…they really took off and Julian was making his living as a full-time musician.
In 2012 he wrote this song, “Mala Piña” “Bad Pineapple”for his first group, It was a protest of the Del Monte Pineapple Company that had moved into our area and was buying up rich farms, to convert them to depleted pineapple fields, complete with sprays and insecticides. We refer to this company as PINDECO  ( Pineapple Development Corporation of Costa Rica)but it was owned by Del Monte in the USA.
In 2019 he showed it to the new group, Combo Style, and in 2019 right before the pandemic hit, they recorded it and it was an Instant hit all over the country!  They also changed their name to be spelled “Kombo Style”There was no YouTube video made for this song and so I asked Julian, if I could throw one together…just for this blog:) This collage you will see is my rudimentary video expertise with their great and very catchy song.
So…. Here it is. Just a small footnote..the pandemic in 2020 ended the momentum of the band. They fell apart for lack of gigs:( But in 2023.. they are regrouping and Julian is playing on the weekends but his day job, is now as a real-estate agent for a company based at the beach.
But this (picture below) is what he loves to do:)❤️

Watch it in 720HD..Sound UP  it is Very Dance-able:):)

Nat’s & my film in 2019

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“Just Me”

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    “Pathway To The Outside” by LilyDay Darkstone

Please click Play to hear me recite my poem to the music of  Eva Ventura, “Amargo_Mel”


Just Me”
inspired by the painting “Pathway To The Outside”
for LilyDay Darkstone the artist

Painful birth, the happiness was inside, upside down,
masking as a growing sadness,
yet hope is what my heart did feed on.
Enlarged beyond science,
so many lessons that led to pain, disillusionment,
compassion ultimately deepening and re-thumping its shape,
until it grew beyond the possible.

Who was throwing these love gifts?
Were they thrown in everyone’s direction, or only to me? I asked.
So many soul-mates washed up on my shores,
so many solitary docks waving them off into the night,
my heart tipped  like an overloaded ferry,
listing to the loving side yelling,
“Climb on.. I have room for more”

Aching when it broke,
filling back in when the hope shown through
no longer fitting on my sleeve,
I waddled with it on my chest
building hope nests that stretched the walls.
It made me sigh sometimes…made me cry sometimes.
Days it  beat so  loudly, I thought I might have died,
and blue birds sprung out of the light,
taking pieces of me with them in their flight.

My heart just kept getting bigger,
regenerating  in  rhythmic pulsations by saying….
“Yes” to everyone and everything.

“Yes I think I know you… but let me see a little  more..”
“Oh I dreamed I had been here with you before”
“Just keep it coming I have room or…
I could build a new chamber for you to lay by me.”

Crackling ribs being pushed aside growing on the outside,
shooting roots back into my softness,
starving metastasis, they begin to take  over.
Swollen, open, glowing,
my heart is now a large parlor that seats infinity.

Is there any reason all who look for love,
can’t find a place in me?

Karima Hoisan
Jan. 5 2011
Virtual Art Gallery Linc Island SL

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Slow Dance Zone

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Slow Dance Zone-Background by Dale Innis on Midjourney-Collage by Karima
Please play my recording of Slow Dance Zone
to the wonderful sax of Seba Sideways-Recorded in Second Life

Slow Dance Zone

You said to me……
“I know now how to stop time on the sunrise tracks,
and then send you home in the evenings refreshed and relaxed.
I know how to speed it up and how to make the stress
go away
I’m here to help ease you in and out of your crazy days.

I will slow dance you into the mornings
bend you backwards in the aisles of a commuter train.
I will make us almost transparent, just a fading light
that weaves into itself, phantom and opaque.
Love is what glows and flows out and around us
people nearby begin to smile and stop texting on their phones.
Something in the air starts to move them, as they surround us
with eyes that vaguely realize…
we’re a couple in our own slow dance zone.”

The conductor moves right through us, but we don’t lose the beat,
and the hustle bustle clank and creaking trestles, just sound so sweet.
We stay swaying in the rolling aisles locked in our own time
When I pull you into me, there right then, because you’re mine.

You said to me…..
“I will slow dance you into the mornings
bend you backwards in the aisles of a commuter train.
I will make us almost transparent, just a fading light
that weaves into itself, phantom and opaque.
Love is what glows and flows out and around us
people nearby begin to smile and stop texting on their phones.
Something in the air starts to move them, as they surround us
with eyes that vaguely realize…
we’re a couple in our own slow dance zone.”

Karima Hoisan
June 30, 2023
Costa Rica

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Bird of Paradise

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  “Bird of Paradise” Images 1 & 2 by Dale Innis on Midjourney

Please click play to hear me recite my poem to the gorgeous music of
Emma Shapplin,
whose song, “Spente le Stelle” inspired my words.

Bird of Paradise
for Emma Shapplin

Don’t question the clouds that hide the stars,
 or that the moon shrouds her face when she hears your voice.
Do you think the Heaven’s immune or indifferent to beauty?
The kind that fills your throat until you cry out like a dying rare bird,
that the angels love more than all the others.

You sang to them until tears dropped from their luminous eyes,
a rare beauty in this starless night,
poised on the edge of Paradise,
wings outstretched, ready to take flight.

What awaits your leap of faith?
Swan Lake or rocks that rake and impale your soul
in the uncertain world of dark humanity down below?
You stand on the thinnest part, waiting for it to break,
testing your fate, while the night urges you
To yell out, one last time
into the spiraling chasm your vocal design…
for Everything.

You want to descend,
even if the entire court rises up to block it;
you know they will not bear this to end,
even with you proclaiming in notes that echo,
against darkest of penumbras and shadows ,
calling you back with no shame.

You whose voice the angels fight over…
trading and bartering souls
to see which might hear you first..
at the break of each new day..

The notes that leave your throat
can unlock any immortal secret,
any human tragedy, any divine riddle..
they are dangerous to poets
with weak walled hearts
for you scrape them clean
by only practicing your scales.

You are too much for human ears to take.
You will bring a continent to its knees,
the angels in their domain now flutter and grieve…
Stop!..
You are the chosen bird of the celestial court..
don’t fly away. Stay!.. and sing..Sing!…

If you plunge now you will see them fall..
give them your all…
leave them sobbing and heaving..
angels on the floor.. begging you for more.
.
The night…. the night…all stars are dimmed by you,
until they fade away..
the music from your soul bathes them
until they go out.. and fall like tiny coals at your feet..
If you have been given this voice
all you can do is sing… Sing Bird of Paradise;
your voice leaves us breathless..starless…
May your song be forever long,
your notes go on and on
even after all music has faded…

Karima Hoisan
June 24, 2023
Costa Rica

*Footnote: The giant clap of thunder at the end was not planned. I was recording and it came as a surprise. I left it in..because..well isn’t it a perfect ending? The heavens have spoken:)

 

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Vignettes From Real Life: My Shipboard Romance

That’s me in the heels, blonde flip hair -do and 1961 very dark sunglasses next to my Grandmother, her traveling partner(in pearls) and her granddaughter (Candy…also in cool sunglasses)
The SS Independence June, 1961- Bon Voyage!!

Television series have been built around this romantic scenario (“The Love Boat”) Falling in love on board ship I think might be wandering around in the back of most minds as they set sail for a week cruise across the ocean. In my case I was the lucky recipient, from my grandmother of a three-month long trip by land and sea for my 8th grade graduation.  In this picture we are leaving New York, heading for Algeciras Spain, to meet our driver and car and begin a trek through, Spain, France, Switzerland, Italy, England and Scotland and then home on the Queen Mary that left from South Hampton in England.
The first night out to sea they made a “Get-to-know-you dance”  for all the young people on board..I think from 13-18 years old. Both Candy (the other granddaughter) and I were 14 and we nervously went to the dance to be social. I admit now, I did not want to go…..but if I hadn’t gone, I would not have met my “shipboard romance

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This is the exact moment we met!! The woman behind Michael F.’s shoulder was the social director and had just brought us together and introduced us….and the rest is HISTORY!!
Michael F. looked so handsome in his white tuxedo and bow tie and  I had a modest but pretty party dress on with my Grandmother’s pearls..because PEARLS Were IN:)
We talked for a bit and he invited me to sit at a table with him. In our brief chat I learned he was from a big Italian family in Riverdale New York and was there with 4 older brothers all in white tux and his mother and father.. It was love at first site..I was swept off my feet. ❤️

We watched a show, drank coke after coke and then we danced and danced and danced. By the time my grandmother had reeled me in to go back to our cabin and sleep, we had exchanged cabin numbers he called me and under the covers. whispering about everything under the sun, we talked until 2am when his older brothers got back.

By the second day, we spent all our free time together and I would say, had both officially fallen in love:) My travel companion, Candy did not have the same luck and so it was awkward at times to share the cabin with her. I felt bad and he tried to set her up with another 14 year old he met.,..but alas… it wasn’t meant to be.

By the time we had to say goodbye, we were committed to see each other somehow, someway again. We both cried when his family got off at Sicily and promised to write letters to each other the whole time(which we did) We exchanged itineraries and there was always a letter waiting for me when we arrived at our next destination. The days of snai-lmail were sooo romantic. No phones, no texting just driving and then pouncing on the concierge in the next hotel and asking, “Is there any mail for me?”:

But this story doesn’t end here.
I always visited my Aunt and Uncle and two cousins once a year in New York. My mother talked to his family and they invited me to spend Thanksgiving weekend with them all at their home in Riverdale.
Here we are, on dry land, both 15, Thanksgiving 1962 in New York. This romance did not die on board ship and actually it lasted 3 more years until….I ran away from home in 1965 and we lost touch.

I think at one time we might have contemplated marrying when he finished school but we didn’t get that far. Still I treasure the memories, the amazing trip my Grandma Verona had given to me, and the opportunity to dream and “fall in love” all so innocently for so many years.

Look at us..all grown up 17 years old, Thanksgiving 1964. This was the last time we ever saw each other and it was a wonderful trip, but by then I think we both knew it would in some way come to its end.

I lost touch with him and although I think we talked once when I was living in Hollywood, we went our separate paths/ I would love to be in touch again, just to thank him for this fairy-tale
Shipboard Romance.  So See?? it does happen..It could happen to you..at any age:)

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Avatar Poetry by Karima Hoisan + Podcast

This is a guest post I was invited to write for da_AL on her wonderful blog, Happiness Between Tails. Her blog is amazing covering many topics and especially all things animal. I wrote and recorded this poem, especially for her blog. Comments here and there and everywhere, very appreciated. If it is hard for you to access the link to hear my spoken word, I will include it here, but do go and check out her whole post and her blog in general!

da-AL's avatarHappiness Between Tales (and Tails) by da-AL

Photorealistic artwork of two black kittens. AI image: “Kitties & Spheres” by Dale Innis on Midjourney.
AI image: “Kitties & Spheres” by Dale Innis on Midjourney

Subscribe, listen to, and share Happiness Between Tails Podcast on most any platform; from Spotify and Apple Podcasts and Google Podcasts and Breaker, to Pocket Casts and RadioPublic and Castbox and Stitcher, plus many more and an RSS feed. The full list of 50+ places is H-E-R-E.

One of the many wonders of blogging that I still want to pinch myself over as I work on my novels (about them here), is how, while I sit at my desk, I interact with people from everywhere!

Today’s guest Karima Hoisan, writes and records her poetry from Costa Rica, where she lives among four dogs and three cats. Costa Rica is especially close to my heart. For one thing, it did away with their military and uses the funds on education and healthcare.

For another, their economy is…

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The Green Room

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                       “The Green Room” by Dale Innis on Midjourney

The Green Room

I have heard it said that Life is just a play

And I have considered that it might actually be this way.

So when I die, just lead me to the Green Room

Where all the actors wait to be called on stage.

I will ask someone who works there, an angel maybe,

If they can point me to the actor who played my father with me.

And when I see his face, I know he might be in a very different role…

It’s OK, I accept that fact, but I will know, as he contains the very same soul.

I will smile and put my arms around him, look into his eyes, my hand on his heart

And say, “Thank you for playing my father, I will never forget you in that part.”

“Happy Father’s Day in Heaven Daddy”

Karima Hoisan
June 13, 2023
Costa Rica

*footnote: In show business, the green room is the space in a theater or similar venue that functions as a waiting room and lounge for performers before, during, and after a performance or show when they are not engaged on stage. Green rooms typically have seating for the performers, such as upholstered chairs and sofas.

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Ekphrastic

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                       “Listening To The Painting” by Dale Innis on Midjourney

Ekphrastic

I am the simultaneous translator for Art.

While it screams or weeps or snarls in place,

I carefully find the words it’s trying to say.

I give voice to its bold colors, its depressive greys,

even when it laughs loudly in my face,

I just laugh back and find the raucous adjective,

the verbs that hold their stomachs in,

giggling because they can’t stop.

I sit in front of its framed story,

like a courtroom stenographer

and I listen.

The strokes, the blending of the oils, the hideous and morose…

The running of the water colors burble in my mind..

And then when I feel permeated by the imagery,

I close my eyes and write the poem that it speaks to me

giving voice to its mute canvas, alive but until I sat down…

only visually.

Karima Hoisan
June 11, 2023
Costa Rica

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Dorothy McKowen 1913-1999- My Mother

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Dorothy Tennant Mckowen 1917 Milwaukee, Wisconsin

Today, June 9th, would be my mother’s birthday. A few years ago, I began a project
to commemorate our family history (especially for my grandchildren in Costa Rica)
to get to know in a timeline of pictures and recreations in Second Life, the founders who began our family history, on my side going back as far as my grandmother. their great-grandmother.
I am realizing I might have inherited my poetic genes, from my grandfather, who when he named my mother, wrote this beautiful poem.

Dorothy

One bright warm day in early fall
Before old winter had made his call
And before the flowers had gone to sleep
And the robins and bluebirds had ceased to peep-
A little flower opened her eyes
And gazed her first on the shining skies

She wasn’t a lily,- a rose- or a fink
Just a little born baby that made you think
That from the top of her head to her little pink toes
She’s the sweetest flower that in the world grows

The very day she came to town
She turned our hearts quite upside down
For her very coos were so sweet and caressing
And every day since, she has been such a blessing
That we realize fully at each smile & nod,
She is rightly named “Dorothy”

“Gift of God”

George E. McKowen
June 9, 1913
Milwaukee Wisconsin


I compiled some amazing old pictures, my grandfather, George had made into a few albums, that are still in fine condition and built some scenes in Second Life, reconstructing both my mother’s family home and my own. My avatar serves as the written caption storyteller…Enjoy it!
This is a very personal family history, but I share it with you my beloved  fellow poets and friends, to commemorate an amazing woman, my mother on her, would be, 110 year old birthday.
Please click to play in large screen

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