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My Life in Oslo

The Belgian's view of life in Norway

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Places I Have Visited

Wednesday, 24. September 2008, 11:00:39

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VISITORS MAP

Tuesday, 3. April 2007, 13:00:48



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Marooned

Wednesday, 17. June 2009, 12:39:12

:sing: Song of the day: Mr. Time - Alan Parsons "Try Anything Once" album :yes:

Marooned

Confused, alone – At the centre of a sandstone island –
Surrounded by streams of iron - A futuristic wreck -
slowly rusts, fades away in the midday sun.
No shade to hide from this scorching pain,
Only one way out – Await the next train.

Castejón de Ebro '01/Oslo '09

To be enjoyed with a excellent bottle of Navarra red wine (preferably a Gran Reserva) wine

1 comment

Zazen

Monday, 30. March 2009, 14:56:39

Zazen

In this country 1st of May is also fêted, by workers that stay at home.
So in the morning, reception redirects us with a voucher to a bakery,
across the road. There with warm croisant in hand, and hot black coffee,
on the window counter, we watch the travellers prepare their rucksacks,
or their bikes, for yet another day on their pilgrim road. The shells,
on walking staff a sure sign of their path and its final destination.

Ours leads a different way, as we drive out of town, Schubert guiding us,
through climbing, swerving lanes, young green leaves on birches, filtering
sunlight into a golden haze, until we reach the tree limit, and the asphalt
becomes gravel. Rough-edged mountains, villages deep inside the valleys,
are the vistas from the sanctuary at the top. But my mind and soul, disturbed
by recent things, drift beyond the furthest range, as if to fuse with another one.

March 2009

1 comment

Turtle Syndrome

Saturday, 14. February 2009, 13:41:35

The Turtle Syndrome

The old turtle on its tracks, long stopped moving,
when you were baptized, by footprints on the moon.
Pisces was eclipsed, but for the good ship Aquarius,
you developed a life-long passion, until that day,
that sunny morning, when an early bird carried
your soul towards the turtle in the silver moon.

At high noon, in the golden square, we talked,
of rabbits, lizards basking in the Spanish sun,
or running, hiding from the gliding storks.
Later in the day, when the sun was low,
I caught you gazing from the couch across
to the turtle, terracotta, sitting on its shelf.
I thought its pale-blue halo, might carry
in your head, a plate of outer worlds and orbs,
as promised by another man, but no, turning
you smiled and gently asked if I ever missed
- the turtle in the moon -

February 2009

3 comments

Choose Opera

Friday, 10. October 2008, 14:02:17

Join Choose Opera!

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Parallax View

Wednesday, 1. October 2008, 14:10:52

,

Parallax View

Like a penny for a thought, the clever beggar,
at the railway station asks a Euro for himself,
To print the ticket for the airport express train.

Upon arrival there, and through the duty free,
When I see you in that other cash register line,
But you fail to spot my very longing gaze.

Both of us are headed for a different nation,
So again, I lose you to another waiting gate,
In that queue towards that other destination.

But in the fate of life, a little chaos intervenes,
And for a moment crosses the parallel tracks,

For one last time to catch those jewel eyes,

For one last time to see your pearly laugh.

SV - Rome-Fumicino/Kopenhagen-Kastrup/Oslo-Gardermoen, September/October 2008

6 comments

Optical Illusions

Wednesday, 24. September 2008, 11:24:20

,

Optical Illusions

With the sky high above cerulean blue,
the ghost of the old Cardinal, led him
over carpets glowing emerald and jade,
to surroundings of gold and yellow ochre.

Here his eyes were touched, by sharp
slivers of polished lapis lazuli,
cutting with neurosurgical precision,
paths of carmine passion in his brain.

But when he piped this painted story,
in gentle groups of ones and zeros,
down into transluscent optical fibres,
the mermaid failed to answer his request.

1 comment

Three Visits

Tuesday, 2. September 2008, 14:56:41

The Three Visits

Your first visit surprised me much,
for your hands, both elegant and cruel,
since they touched the walls, yet not my skin,
left behind these magic puffs of purple fluff.

The deep hue, resonated in my past,
and retrieved for me images of her,
that haunted me for years,
and still make me remember,
that favourite woollen sweater.

But I must congratulate my brain,
on making such creative bonds,
for even both their musical taste,
as well as names alliterate.

Your second visit was more relaxed,
in my parental home and kitchen,
me sitting on the little stair,
my all-time favourite spot,
to observe the culinary going-on.

A shadow of my mom, hospitably,
puts out on the kitchen table,
relishes for the collegual crowd,
gathered in the comfy room.

But when asked if you would stay,
you mentioned most intriguingly,
you have to leave, and meet,
a Finnish carpenter at your place,
who promised to quote you on a job.

I escorted you down the stairs,
and let you out the door,
surprised to find, our house,
turned towards the nearby park.

But here my brain, I cannot get,
the wooden bonds you try to glue,
and your geographical taste,
Nordic as it seems it was,
in this case, does not alliterate with me.

Surely, my brain, the easier option,
would have been to talk of Irish poets,
and their unrequited loves, for then,
then initials would match up again.

For the third visit, I met you,
outside the T-bahn station,
but we walked the other way,
as if to mirror, that golden day,
we spent side by side in vain.

Your hand, this time gently on my arm,
suddenly, pushes me in a dark,
gloomy leather chair, surgical spots
a torture to my eyes.

And here, I thank you, brain
for under this cold duress,
you woke me up again,
albeit with a scream,
and sitting up in bed!

SV - Oslo, September 2008

11 comments

The Alchemist and the Disciple

Tuesday, 19. August 2008, 08:03:25

The Alchemist and the Disciple

Even a heavy metal,

can float lighter than air.

But some day hydrogen will flame,

bursting the ridgid frame.

Yet lead will not turn into gold,

if the disciple misplaced the Stone.

Oslo - August 2008

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