Quod Erat Demonstrandum

August 17, 2007 at 6:11 am | Posted in writing | 8 Comments
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qvod erat demonstrandvm
(a pome by pauls)

“But I am a witch and I take the weather with me and the past three days we had beautiful sunshine and it rained here in B……. and now I am back today it is beautiful sunshine.”

…seared salmon strips and salad
with a lemony vinaigrette, leaned back,
looked up as full and happy and content
as the pink moon rising over the river,

when thoughts of their own volition
flew to you and slid softly into that
warm bed where all wanderings and
wonderings dissolve in an embrace.

Since every sense is encompassed
in the delight of you
I quite literally cease to be
and in my place and in my arms

the softness of your skin
and its scent of orchids,
the slow inevitable rhythm of your breathing,
the smile which changes your eyes
and time’s fascination with your lips

and was only returned to the garden bar of
the riverside restaurant by tinny speakers
crackling into life and playing

“Everywhere you go,


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  1. […] Circles Closing circles creates eternity in a moment Quod Erad Demonstrandum […]

  2. Beautiful, gooey-eyed dreamy

  3. Just wanted to drop a little note to let you know I am starting here (this is the very first post, correct?) and plan on reading every word up to the present.

    With a little gin and pineapple juice in hand, of course.


  4. Hopefully the Morrison-Huxley Effect will be working. I shall destabilize the Takeshi Kitano Nexus in preparation. Bon Voyage,

  5. If I had to choose a top ten … oh, this would be in the top three. The top three would be topsy-turvey each day to the next as I could open the cupboard door and take a different one down to choose my mood for the humdrum ahead – but this is perhaps the lightest, innermost wonderment that I have ever seen you write, You know.

  6. I must say this is wonderful. The weather here is gorgeous… and there? I must read this again and again. My favourite by far (so far)

  7. I waffled on about every poem being a fiction and in a sense that is true, they are all fictions to the reader. But this poem is as close as I can get to a true story. I know a lot of people will find it horribly sentimental, but it is written to demonstrate a thought and the creature into which he is disappearing is not just an actual human but also a stream, a planet and the language somehow. Those four things have become so entangled in my work…anyway I know some people are going to really not like this poem. But I know there is one person who likes it a lot. The weight of opinion is irrelevant and every one is equal.

  8. I think that it is true (or as close to true? how close is that? haha) is the reason it is so nice, perhaps.

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