Eos’ Poppy

Rising early on the last sane peaceful morning before the Cannes Film Festival (official site). Out walking Baka, before the morning run, in the lee of the hill of Super Cannes that is covered by lush green trees and plants, interspersed by many fine homes. Heady seductive scents waif down from above before the dawn light crests the colline.

Later, while running, having just passed the Colline de Saint Michel on the boundary between Cannes and Vallauris, I noticed a solitaire poppy on the rough cut hill, while opposite it one could see the Mediterranean Sea. I was struck by an image of loneliness and beauty.

Erato On The Pull

I was out last Thursday walking to a night club for a little amusement. Maybe pull some bird. It was a lovely full moon, with a faint misty haze before it, diffusing its soft light; scent of jasmine strong in the cool night air.

Erato, as Wikipedia explains, is one of the Greek Muses that inspires lyric poetry, typically romantic and erotic verse. And Selene is the goddess of the moon I’ve often written of.

But a funny thing happened on the way to the forum (club), no sooner than I composed the haiku as a note on my cell phone, some women crying and smelling of spilt beer stops me in the street, tells me about the recent death of her mother, and asks if I can help her back to her hotel. She clearly was having trouble with the vertical axis, so I help her out, find the hotel, and see her up to her room. Next thing she’s wanting me to come into her room and spend the night.

While this sounds like some teenage fantasy come true, I really didn’t fancy her, and it would not have been proper to take advantage of her in such an emotional and drunken state. I had to tear myself away from her as she tried to pull me into the room.

I think I should be careful about invoking Erato’s and Selene’s names in my haiku in future, cause I clearly I got more than I bargained for.


Milkweed pod from the cover of Words And Music and back of liner notes for The Book Of Secrets.This morning while walking Baka and listening to Lorenna McKennitt’s album The Book Of Secrets, I started to think about the suggestive photo of the milkweed pod on the back of the liner notes.

I imagined a woman lying nude and asleep in my bed, me awake, simply watching her, and how much would I ever come to understand her. I then wrote these two versions and I couldn’t decide which of the two expressed that thought more clearly.

So far, nothing has happened yet after having invoked Erato’s name twice in one morning, but the day is far from over yet.

Parting Clouds

I rose early today, not from restlessness as I had a week before, but to the sound of the infernal alarm clock reminding me that I actually desired to be woken so that I might go for a 10Km run. It wouldn’t have been so bad I suppose if I hadn’t been having an interesting dream. So 15 minutes later I rise, dress in my kit, and take Baka out for his morning walk.

It was an interesting morning. It showed such promise of being an overcast day, with a light fragrant breeze of jasmine. It was silent except for the chorus of birds and the faint rustling of leaves. No one around to disturb the dawn, but for the solitary toll of a nearby chapel bell.

Today’s run was slow, even laborious since I neglected to stretch properly before starting out. My knee reminding me of that fact (and that it might be time for new running shoes). Still I pressed on listening to Delain’s album Lucidity on my phone (no I do not want an iPod).

Along the way I could see the clouds out over the Mediterranean sea, between Cap d’Antibes and Cannes, and how the sun was trying to break through. Observing the struggle of the light, I composed a haiku on the fly as it were.

Alas the sun appears to have driven off the clouds for now. Looking forward at Meteo France for the Alpes-Maritimes though shows promise of being partially cloudy, maybe even rain (muhahaha), this V-E Day long weekend.

The Beat Goes On