Cha Cha Cha

Slide1

Cha Cha Cha

Good music,
good birds
good trees;
today…it’s enough for me.
The light changing
on the leaves,
the sun and shadows
painting evolving scenes.
I’m falling in love,
one more time
with Life.

Only Life,
can make me revisit

the possibility
of going back on
my forward track…
to grab it by the hand…
cha cha cha
and love it again.

The breeze,
is dancing
with the trees;

magic is in the air.
The birds
begin to slip into
a line-dance,
beaks full of fruit.
How they move
to the beat,
played loudly
,
from my window…

cha cha cha
their light steps
are perfection.

And when
they disperse;
exactly timed,
in a swoosh
they retreat,

synchronized
in the air.
They have
built- in scatter,
as in unison,
they fall back
to the edge
of the trees,
obeying,
a silent whistle,
to run away,
fly far, get out,
disband,
disappear…
just in case.

Then one by one,
they’re re- joining
the dance again.

Line up… grab a bite…
cha cha cha
while the music
plays on and on.

Karima Hoisan
21, November 2020
Costa Rica

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Your Movie

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Your Movie
For U

It seems I’m still not over you
not the way I wanted to,
immune to white sheer curtains blowing,
on warm night winds of memory

I no longer sail to where it hurts,
but seeing your face negates efforts,
you’re tucked away in my camera,
that one time captured us.

So I charge up the battery,
curious as to what I’ll see,
hoping and yet fearing this to be
the tape I thought I’d surely lost.

Then there you are so tall and smart,
Feigned shyness as you fix your scarf,
“Don’t rob me of my modesty,” you say,
“To show someone this tape would be a wrong.”

I look to your betraying eyes
The ones that brought me tears and lies
The ones that said “I love you”
Then left forever, without saying goodbye.

No indiscretions can be seen
Upon our cozy bedroom scene,
We look to be the best of friends
Two loving souls dissolving into one

The camera saw not everything
Some scenes cut from self-censoring,
But sadly now what I do see,
Was my utter joy to just be in your movie.

Karima Hoisan
Oct. 23, 2004
Karak, Jordan

*An older one from a long time ago…..

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Hope is a Butterfly

Painting Hope- Rachel Steely

Painting Hope by Rachel Steely

Hope is a butterfly
that flies inside.
Somewhere,
between our panic
and our euphoria,

it circles our heart,
soars high in the middle,
and stays part of us,
while it wings and glides.

We know if it gets lost,
in too much past thinking
or future soothsaying;
It will be so hard to rescue,
so hard to find and pull it back,
if we really lose it altogether.

What are we without hope?
What is hope without us?
If we set it adrift to float aimlessly,
it gets dashed upon the rocky shores
and that’s it; it’s shattered, tattered, lost.
It can be just a thought away,
but even that seems too far,
and we grow tired and unbelieving.

My butterfly,
I want to clothe you
and keep you safe,
decorate you in my finest
air- thin velvet
and weightless pearls of wisdom.
Remember that hope,
can be stronger than oak beams
and I can make my plans come true…
with you.
Or I can shatter in disappointment,
because I forgot you can be as fragile
as blown glass; and in the end,
keeping you safe,
is partly up to me.

How many times, in my lifetime
did I think I had lost you forever?
You were just some tail-lights receding,
the surf behind a boat forever leaving;
I could barely remember how it felt
to have you inside of me,
circling my heart, flying between,
the panic and the euphoria
always reminding me….
that the next day could be better.

Karima Hoisan
Nov. 15, 2020
Costa Rica

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The Red Bird

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The Red Bird

You’re the bright red bird,
living your life between the drab, the invisible grays,
the olive browns, the flaxen blacks… the beige.

When you land on a branch
all eyes sweep to you. You are first noticed, first seen,
causing shouts of joy, hearts beating wildly, as you preen.

More camera shutters click,
in your direction, more lenses focus on your face,
as you yawn, not caring about the fuss you make.

You wear your color well,
delighting all who see you, for every year you travel far
and every year I sit, watching you, just admiring who you are.

Karima Hoisan
Nov. 9, 2020
Costa Rica

*Footnote: the Summer Tanagers arrive in Costa Rica in October. They have traveled thousands of miles from Canada or the USA to get here. They travel by night, a mile high above the trees. They return to my yard every year and go back to the same place from where they left. .We are privileged to enjoy them all winter, until March when they leave and go back.  Some baby birds are only 3 months old when they make this trip. Isn’t that amazing??? Mashallah!

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All-You-Can-Eat Buffet!

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All -You -Can- Eat Buffet

…and the rain keeps coming down…

I only keep birds in flocks, free in the trees
I feed them dutifully at my window sill
and say hello to each one, stuffing his beak
as I spoil them day in and day out
without mercy..
and they all feel like mine, and I feel like theirs,
because they come every day and they trust me.

I am the one who is behind bars.
while they enjoy their liberty.
I am safe as they say, out of harm’s way
and they have their other life out beyond my window sill
that I can only imagine..

They peck and quarrel and the big birds rule
while the small ones grow wily and smarter
as they get out from under foot.
Their colors mix from dull grey to crimson plumes
and then one lands, dressed in to -die-for- blue.

…and the rain keeps coming down…

Lunch goes on for hours, as they are quite content
to dine under roof at my papaya- banana buffet
even when they are full, they hang around to chat
and quarrel and bicker, because they love to do that.

They are birds, free to be themselves,
and I am privileged to just be their slave
to attend their every need;
I am their magic genie, providing comfort and love
and all the food they can possibly eat.

Karima Hoisan
Nov. 4, 2020
(48 hours of rain)
Costa Rica

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Wisps of Sentient Threads

Wisps of Sentient Threads
for Sundaram

Thread me through the narrowest needle of the sky..
I am but a stream of haze now as I weightlessly fly by
leaving the heaviness behind, I rise before your eyes
carried on the breeze of shamisens, kotos,  flutes and waking dreams.

I am the fog descending to meet the earth on a mountain side.
I am wisps of sentient threads, that dip and surge, on the airborne tide,
becoming and dissolving, sometimes the shape of nothing as I slide;
the sounds and music play me like a puppeteer, until I dance for you.

With no body anymore; there’s nothing left to see, just feel, as I pass.
The music, guides me towards the other side of this fragile looking glass,
until I am but a river, a stream of consciousness, meandering through the grass,
running through the land, I’d left behind; then the music ends… and I open up my eyes.

Karima Hoisan
Nov. 1, 2020
Costa Rica

*Footnote: Thank you Sundaram for sharing this ethereal music with me..It made
me write a poem:)

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Erik Satie Gnossienne 1


Erik Satie Gnossienne 1

The first time someone played you,
my soul shivered in delight,
such an unexpected reaction,
to this new song, never heard before;
but each ornamented note,
played almost carelessly
brushing the key limply,
each note over and over repeatedly,
entered me and broke my heart.

Wistful like the mist, like staring out to sea
I let the tears fall down my cheeks.
I know I am so sensitive; music does that to me,
Ah but not everything that plays,
is the righteous melody,
that makes me fling open my doors
in an unbridled welcoming.
Not every piece, will be
a love or an obsession
for me to play it too,
letting it reverberate deep inside,
through my own piano keys.

Satie, you paint the tears,
the beauty of the night,
of days
of old, and garden parties,
and jilted romance.
You play for a vampire ballet,

and paint the pain,
of death and lovers’ loss.

You are the night bird that sings
in the tree at my window,
not letting me sleep.
You are my crying beauty,
my tender haunting fantasy.

Karima Hoisan
October 28, 2020
Costa Rica

(En Español)

ERIK SATIE Gnossienne 1

La primera vez que alguien te tocó,
mi alma se estremeció,
una reacción tan inesperada,
a una nueva canción nunca escuchada,
pero cada nota ornamentada,
tocada casi descuidadamente
cepillando la tecla sin fuerzas,
cada nota una y otra vez repetitivamente,
entró en mí y rompió mi corazón.

Nostálgico como la niebla, como mirar al mar
Dejé que las lágrimas cayeran por mis mejillas.
Sé que soy tan sensible; la música me hace eso,
Ah pero no todo lo que toca
es la melodía justa,
que me hace abrir de par en par mis puertas
en una acogida desenfrenada.
No todas las piezas serán
un amor o una obsesión
para que yo también lo tocara,
dejándolo reverberar adentro,
a través de las teclas de mi piano.

Satie, tu pintas las lágrimas
la belleza de la noche, de los días
de fiestas antiguas y en el jardín,
y romance abandonado.
Tocas para un ballet de vampiros

y pintas el dolor de la muerte,
y la pérdida de los amantes.

Tu eres el ave nocturna que canta
en el árbol de mi ventana,
que no me dejas dormir.
Eres mi belleza llorando
mi tierna fantasía inquietante.

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A Tidal Wave

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A Tidal Wave

Your words shook up reality;
the rug pulled out from under me;
The sky cracked open suddenly,
leaving rivulets of salted rain,
running down my cheeks,
heralding, the cataclysmic start.

Then… a shredding and a ripping,
a tumbling and a triggering
a tearing, and a crackling,
a digging and a breaking
an awful cosmic shaking…
as it all began to fall apart

All was blown to pieces
over head and deep inside,
the thunder shook the beams
while an earthquake shook the seams.
betrayal was a word I heard
in denial and disbelief; it can not be
that this is your work of art!

Your love poem, now on the floor
the one I had so waited for,
the one I watched you write
then learned ’twas not for me
not for me, but written for another
not about anything we lived or loved…
and then, at the very end…
A tidal wave!

Karima Hoisan
October 27, 2020
Costa Rica

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Two Poems For Corcovado National Park, Costa Rica

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Corcovado
for Iris
===============
There is a place where the macaws still fly free
Where they perch to feed on shoreline almond trees
Where my love swells like a high tide on afternoon seas
Beautiful Corcovado!

No roads or cars, just sandy foot tracks,
Carry us to rebirth before sending us back,
Stop us in mid-life and show us all that we lack
Magical Corcovado!

My soul sings rhythms like never before,
We said “Yes” one more time, opened destiny’s door,
Just you and the ocean are what I came to adore
Mystical Corcovado!

Grey stormy horizon seems so far away now,
As we settle into night, waves crash on day’s bow.
My tears say thank you for this, because I don’t know how
Sitting in Corcovado.

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Coming Up From the Dead

Coming up from the dead, I exhale back into life
Palm trees sway in the mounting breeze
They appear as a tight picket fence to contain the sea
Even stripped of their nuts, they are still supple proud trees.

I have witnessed re-birth on these tropical shores
While macaws crack almonds, perched high on tree-tops
If the wheel stopped here, I’d be the first to disembark
For I’ve been buried too long, in my zombie-life plot.

Paired, colorful rainbow-flyers soar overhead
Tears come so easily when I perceive freedom’s call
Like watching painted inserts in a sepia toned film
I fill my lungs with their oxygen, crawl out past death’s wall

I heard someone say,”Tomorrow we go back to reality.”
But I say, they will only return to their graves
Is there anything more real than living each precious moment
While tossing all troubled thoughts to the waves?

One more glorious gift I hold tight in my hand
A return from the dead, my shroud, a colorful gown
All vibranty green, with aqua-water sleek bows
Red, yellow,blue streamers high on top like a crown.

Karima Hoisan
July 2006
Corcovado, Costa Rica

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A Kiss in the Fog

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A kind word is like a kiss in the fog,
it warms the heart; it brightens the day,
and the cold mist is lifted,
and then… someone smiles again.

To be kind,
is a special part of generosity.
It’s a conscious act towards another
to make them feel loved.
Ahh, to just feel loved…
even in these times of hard
and shrill replies.
In this time of uncaring and indifference,
of fear and suspicion,
a kind word can break through
like a gentle hand upon your cheek,
like a reassurance, to let you know,
you are seen and everything will work out fine.

A kind word gives hope.
Is hope not the greatest gift we can give?
Especially, in these bleak days of despair,
is when it’s most needed.
One act of kindness, through word or deed,
is so simple to do; costs nothing..and is totally free.

Kindness reframes the truth, yet it never is a lie
Kindness is the diplomacy of the soul,
rewriting the painful parts until they are not
so hard for us to see.
It says, “I love how you are doing this…keep trying
and you will do it even better.’
It says, “How wonderful you look today, you seem so happy.”
It says, anything we usually forget to say,
so wrapped up in our own thoughts,
we forget we have the power to heal or lighten, or inspire.

A kind word or a kind deed,
fills the giver as well as the one who receives.
We can start any moment;
it’s a choice we can make consciously.
Each time we practice it, on others and ourselves
we reap the rewards of generosity:
That good feeling of giving up a part of ourselves
to touch someone else…just because we can…..

Karima Hoisan
October 18, 2020
Costa Rica

 

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