Imagine if the world was different...

Imagine if all you straight, 'normal' people had to stand on the steps of parliament house and rally for your right to marry the one you loved? Imagine if you were jeered at because you were different from the majority. Imagine if you felt you had to hide who you were because your own family might turn against you if they knew. What if you were told by the churches that your love was a sin? What if you had to listen to people say 'That's so straight' and 'Don't be so f***ing straight' like it was a sign of weakness? 

This is what gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, intersex and queer people face everyday. Everyday that are subjected to abuse and criticism because they're not 'normal'. Who gave you the right to hurt your fellow human beings? Who gave you the right to take their rights away? What if it was you? How would you feel? Just think about it.

Gay, Lesbian and Queer Pride

Bi Pride Flag

Trans Pride Flag

Intersex Pride Flag

Are we too literal?

Have we, as readers, become too literal in our interpretation of the written word?

I recently publish a poem in my writing community which was originally titled 'A White Clad Woman All Aflame', and was accompanied by the picture below.

A Suicide for the Strong by Sarah Ann Loreth

A white clad woman all aflame,
Deadly sparks dancing in her hair.
Burning with lies, secrets and shame,
Yet she stands still without a care.

Deadly sparks dancing in her hair,
Greedy red tongues licking her skin.
Yet she stands without a care,
On the brink of total ruin.

Greedy red tongues licking her skin,
But she gives not one single cry.
On the brink of total ruin,

And here she stands prepared to die.

But she gives not one single cry,
Burning with lies, secrets and shame.

And here she stands prepared to die,

A white clad woman all aflame.

I intended the poem to be a metaphor for the innocence we lose as we grow from children to adolescents, and then to adults. The 'white clad woman' is innocence, and she is being burned by the fire representing the challenges we face as we grow up, the 'lies, secrets and shame'. Eventually there will be nothing left of her, hence she stands 'on the brink of total ruin' and 'prepared to die' as we must all shed our innocence and step out into the wider world at some point in our lives. 'She gives not one single cry' because she understands that she has now served her purpose for this person in this world, and will go and bestow her gifts upon another.

So, this was my intention. I published the poem and then went away to read a book for a while, when I came back and checked my reviews, I was shocked when I read review after review saying how disturbing my poem had been, and how my reviewers could not imagine anyone setting themselves alight. What was obvious to me was not obvious to them. I quickly replied to all the reviews, explaining my intention, and changed the title of my work to 'Innocence is Burning' and explained my metaphors in the author's notes section. 

But, here is what gets me.

Poetry lives on the metaphor. Without the metaphor, a poet cannot write, and when a reader takes a poem literally, they destroy the metaphor, and thereby destroy the work of the poet. 

To illustrate my point further, I will use another example. 

Take the poem 'Bright Star' by John Keats. Now, I know my poetry is certainly not in the same league as that of John Keats, but my point still stands. If you read 'Bright Star' literally, then we read John Keats' commentary on a star, which is very nice, but not the point of the poem. It is well known that Keats wrote the poem about Fanny Brawn, who he was deeply in love with, and not about a star. He uses the metaphor to compare her to a star, comparing her with the celestial bodies 'hung aloft the night', but we do not take his poem literally and say that John Keats was in love with a glowing ball of gas millions of miles away!

So, do you see my point? If poetry is taken literally, without the metaphor, it dies, plain and simple, and the day poetry dies will be a sad day for the human race.

~ Australian Kiwi

The Reunion of Hektor and Andromache

Through fields brooks run bubbling,
In soft daylight sweet birds do sing.
The grasses here forever green,
No sorrow have these fields seen.
Under skies of blue, brave men talk,
While arm-in-arm their women walk.


There is no night, no darkness here,
The souls do walk all free of fear.
To this place all heroes are bound,
Their shades step softly on the ground.
They indulge in earthly pleasures,
In Elysion, full of treasures.


But one great man steps lonely here,
His wringing hands once cast a spear.
He mourns and weeps all for his wife,
Whom he did cherish most in life.
Across his heart her name engraved,
Andromache who Greeks enslaved.


Under Troy's walls he met his doom,
She was taken to ply the loom.
She lay within her master's bed,
And none could count the tears she shed.
While Hektor waited here alone,
Her ghastly fate he did bemoan.


The other souls they whisper soft,
Great Hektor, he does look so lost.
He cries for dear Andromache,
And would do anything for she.
He'd free her from the world above,
And shower her with tender love.


Most wretched Karon's boat draws near,
He comes not even once a year.
A woman garbed in deepest blue,
Does sail slowly into view.
Upon her lips a haunting song,
Of one who has known many wrongs.


But, who is she that steps ashow?
Bold Hektor, shed your tears no more!
The woman garbed in deepest blue,
In Andromache come to you.
Walk forward, take her in your arms,
Protect her now from every harm.


Andromache, my lovely wife,
Without you all I've known is strife.
Long age were we torn apart,
And bleeding freely was my heart.
But now to have you safe once more,
I will know joy forevermore.


Oh Hektor, husband, bold and strong,
When you were lost the days were long.
I wept bitterly for my fate,
Forced to serve those I did hate.
But we are reunited now,
To feel grief, I know not how.


Come walk with me, Andromache,
For there is much here you must see.
The grasses here are always green,
Cold moonlight never casts her beam.
Warm sunlight here does always shine,
Now with you, Elysion's fine.

So his dear wife stretched out her hand,
And Hektor led her through the land.
He himself saw all with new eyes,
Saw that Elysion told no lies.
That in this place was bliss and joy,
As he had known in windy Troy.


Dear husband, stop, one moment please,
Andromache fell to her knees.
Brave Hektor knelt before her now,
And very gently kissed her brow.
I fear I may awake from this,
Forced again to serve a mistress.


Up on his feet bold Hektor got,
No, slavery is not your lot.
Andromache, come stand with me,
This is no dream, I'll prove to thee.
He lifted her up on her feet,
And kissed her gently, long and deep.


Now when at last they broke apart,
Joy did fill Andromache's heart.
You could not dream that kiss, my love,
Were you still trapped in the above.
This is the truth, I tell you so,
You left that world long, long ago.


My Hektor dear, I love you true,
I am so glad I came to you.
I have left heartbreak and toil,
And dwell now on blessed soil.
Now promise me we'll never part,
And heal now my broken heart.


Andromache, this I do swear,
My leaving you need never fear.
Together here we will now dwell,
To grief and sorrow, bid farewell.
Come close my dear, and kiss me now,
Seal with your lips my spoken vow.


She kissed him gently on the lips,
He placed his hands onto her hips.
He pulled her close and held her tight,
As he once did in Troy at night.
They lay together once again,
And both loved now as they had then.


For since his wife came to his side,
Not one tear has bold Hektor cried.
They spend their days in bliss and peace,
Their laughter never seems to cease.
Forever now they'll not know pain,
Or tears like bitter, winter rain.


Through fields brooks run bubbling,
In soft daylight sweet birds do sing.
The grasses here forever green,
No sorrow have these fields seen.
For now Andromache abides,
Forever young at Hektor's side.

This is a poem I wrote this afternoon. It's the longest poem I've ever written, seven hundred and twenty nine words! It deals with my two favorite characters in the Trojan War cycle, Hektor, and his wife Andromache. I will honestly say that it bothers me that the Trojans, who did everything right, were the ones who lost the war. They were noble, upstanding, gracious, and fought honestly. 

How many of us imagine Hektor and Andromache. Eric Banna 

as Hektor and Saffron Burrows as Andromache in the 2004 film

'Troy'

It annoyed me the first time I read the Iliad that it was Hektor who was slain when he fought Achilles, Achilles who had sulked in his tent and packed a sad because Agamemnon had stolen his slave girl. Achilles blamed Hektor for the death of Patroklos, but if Achilles hadn't been so besotted with his own importance, then Patroklos would never have gone out impersonating him, never would have faced Hektor, and never would have died. So, the real fault for Patroklos's death lies with Achilles. 

So, after defeating Hektor, Achilles has a chance to prove he is as noble as the Trojans, rather than a sulking child, but, instead, he pushes this aside and desecrates Hektor's corpse. When I talk to people who call Achilles a hero, I ask them whether heroes desecrate corpses. Most people stop talking to me at that stage and say I take the Iliad too seriously but, hey, I'll be the first to admit they're right. I do take the Iliad seriously. Furthermore, Achilles has left his 'dear comrade' Patroklos unburied for days! Without proper rites, Patroklos's shade cannot pass into the Underworld and achieve peace. It is only when Patroklos's ghost appears to Achilles and demands to be buried that Achilles grants his friend rest. Achilles does eventually return Hektor's corpse to the Trojans so they can hold a proper funeral for him, but the damage has been done.

'Achilles Triumphant' by Howard David Johnson

The Iliad ends with Hektor's funeral, where his mother, his wife, and Helen of Troy lament over him. But, later on in the Trojan War cycle, Paris kills Achilles with his bow. Achilles corpse is rescued by his countrymen, and they bury him with full honours. But, to make matters even worse, Achilles achieves Elysion! The isle of the blessed, where the virtuous and glorious go after they die, to live in peace and bliss forever. There is no mention in any of the epic cycles that Hektor, a much greater hero than Achilles, achieves Elysion. After his funeral, Hektor is very much brushed aside by the epic poets. Andromache merits a few mentions in later epics, when she is taken as a slave-concubine by Achilles's son, Neoptolemos. For Hektor and Andromache, the one couple in the Iliad who love rather than lust (Paris and Helen, and Achilles and Briseis personify lust), there is no happy ending. This has always bothered me.

T'he popular image of Achilles. Brad Pitt as Achilles in

the 2004 movie 'Troy

Even to the ancients, Achilles's treatment of Hektor's corpse was unspeakably vile. The Greeks prided themselves on being civilized, and to desecrate a corpse was an act of absolute barbarianism. While in early literature, Achilles achieves Elysion, in later poems he is depicted as just another soul wandering the Asphodel Meadows, where the ordinary folk go after death. This is clearly a much more acceptable place for a man who desecrates corpses and leaves his friends unburied. In truth, for these crimes, Achilles should have been sent to Tartaros, the hell of the ancient Greek world, but a hero like Achilles could not be thrown into Tartaros. The Asphodel Meadows are the happy medium between honoring a man who behaves like a barbarian, and punishing a hero.

So, what does all this have to do with my poem? Well, as I mentioned above, the fact that Hektor and Andromache never got a happy ending always upset me. They were a wonderful couple, and devoted parents to their son, Astyanax. But, because they were Trojans and, therefore, 'the enemy' they did not deserve the happy ending afforded to the Greek heroes. So, that is why I wrote the poem, to give them a happy ending. Andromache has been living a life of drudgery since she was taken from Troy, serving the man who killed her son, and the son of the man who killed her husband. By reuniting her with Hektor, who I have placed in Elysion, there is an end to her life of slavery, and a happy ending. She and the husband she loves can now spend eternity together in peace. 

'Elysium' by Unknown Artist. Elysium is the Latinization of

the Greek Elysion.

So, that was the point of my poem, to give the story of Hektor and Andromache a happy ending. I have written short stories where Andromache escapes Neoptolemos, but have never concluded them with her death and reunion with Hektor. I feel that, if anyone deserves a happy ending, it is Hektor and Andromache.

~ Australian Kiwi   

P.S. I've used two images from the 2004 film Troy, but I don't actually like that movie. It was a combination of bad directing, bad scripting, bad acting, and faithlessness to the source. I've seen the first hour or so, but it was so terrible that I had to turn it off. I have no intention of watching the rest of the movie, I have better things to do with my time than watch  bad movies.  

"At Night I Dream Of Camelot" By Australian Kiwi

At night I dream of Camelot,

And mortal heroes nymphs begot,

Each time a mythic fantasy.

Sir Lancelot kissed Guinevere,

Under the darkened chandelier,

Both knight and queen in ecstasy.

Achilles throws a mighty spear,

The once bold Hektor runs for fear,

Death for one a reality.

Yes, I know, another poem from FanStory, but I promised you all a nove otto, and here it is. This was the second nove otto I wrote, combing the mythologies of my two favorite mythical cities, Camelot and Troy. A nove otto is poem of Italian origin with nine lines. Each line has eight syllables, and it follows a rhyme scheme of aabccbddb. The artwork accompanying the writing is 'Beautiful Night' by Charlie Nitro from FanArtReview, all rights to them, I am merely borrowing.

If you want to read more of my writing, you can do so by visiting my FanStory profile here. If you want to read more of the wonderful work by inspiring writers on Fanstory, click on the FanStory link above.

All the best,

~ Australian Kiwi

Sometimes it can only be kismet...

Sounds a little strange, doesn't it: kismet. The word has its origins in the Persian word qismat, which means 'division, portion, lot, or fate' depending on its context. In English, the word kismet means 'fate, or destiny'. Now, before you head over to a new browser window because you think I'm about to go off on some New Agey rant, I implore you to read a little further down this page. Please?

On the night of the 12th June, I prayed to the Lord for guidance as I embarked on a new stage in my life. Then, last night, my dad and I sat down and had the most wonderful talk about my future possibilities, goals, aspirations, and ideas. Something that came up in the discussion was the possibility of going back to New Zealand (back home, as it is, because I am originally a Kiwi and always a Kiwi at heart), and doing some work over there. Then my old dream of being a chaplain in the defense forces came up, and then it was like a lightening strike. I can't become a chaplain in the Australian Defense Force, because I'm not an Australian citizen and it's very hard for me to become one, but I am a New Zealand citizen, and I could become a chaplain in the New Zealand Defense Force. It was the most amazing realization to come to, that just because I couldn't do something in Australia, didn't mean I couldn't do it at all.

This morning, I looked back through my Spiritual Journal  and got a shock when I found out that my guardian goddess for Gemini (the current star sign) is Penthesileia, the Amazon warrior queen from Greek Mythology. And, on a magical night earlier this month, when I read goddess cards, I drew Penthesileia again! Penthesileia was a female warrior who followed her inner wisdom and instincts, both in combat and when the Amazons were at peace. She knew what she desired and fought for it, never giving up until she had within her grasp the thing she had worked so hard for. She urges me to do the same, to be true to my inner feminine wisdom, and to fight for what I desire, to work for it. I do not believe it is a coincidence that she is watching over my this star-sign and my old army dreams have risen to the surface again.

My Penthesileia Goddess Card

I feel like I am, for the first time, really allowing the spiritual forces to guide me, and show me the right path to walk. No longer to a pray for guidance and then balk when it comes my way, I feel like I have taken the first steps along the path God and I have designed together, and this is only the beginning.

Sometimes, it can only be kismet...

~ Australian Kiwi

"Soft Moonbeams Shimmer" by Australian Kiwi

Soft moonbeams shimmer in the night,

When silver stars are all aglow.

Now sun is gone, all tucked up tight,

Soft moonbeams shimmer in the night.

Bright meteors, oh, what a sight!

And the wise planets surely know,

Soft moonbeams shimmer in the night,

When silver stars are all aglow.

This is a poem I wrote for my writing site FanStory. It is a triolet, a poem of French origin, which has eight lines and a rhyme structure of abaaabab. The fourth and seventh lines repeat the first line, and the eighth line repeats the second line. The artwork accompanying my work is by avmurray on FanArtReview, all rights to them, I am merely borrowing.

If you want to read more of my writing, you can do so by visiting my FanStory profile here. If you want to check out the other awesome, inspiring writers on FanStory, you can do that here.

This is by no means my first poem, but it was the first triolet I ever wrote, I have written a few more since, in fact, I'm quite fond of them. The triolet and the nove otto are my favourtie styles of poetry. Next time, I'll post a nove otto for you to read.

~ Australian Kiwi

My First Massage

Today, after finally pulling my finger out, I went and had a half-hour relaxation massage at my local Endota Spa. 

I had the time of my life. The front reception area is well lit with natural light and some overhead lights, with all their products displayed on shelves. I went up to the counter and said who I was and that I had a ten o’clock appointment. Then I was taken through a door that looked like a wall (no joke, I almost had a heart attack when it opened), and into the waiting lounge. The lounge had two couches, was dimly lit, and relaxation music was playing. It was a lovely environment, and I found myself relaxing as I filled out the new client form. When I finished filling out the form, I was taken into one of the treatment rooms, the therapist asked me what kind of pressure I would like, and then she left while I undressed down to my knickers, and climbed up onto the massage table. The therapist came back then and commenced the face, head, neck, and back massage I had booked for.

Endota’s tagline is ‘down to earth heaven’, and the massage I got today was most certainly heaven. The pressure was absolutely perfect, and all the tension in those ares melted away at the touch of the therapist. She started with my back, and I will admit to being a little nervous as I get a lot of lower-back pain, but I felt nothing but comfort as she worked on me. The best part of the back massage was when she used an Endota product called ‘Clove & Mint Muscle Magic’, which went on hot, penetrating my skin and relaxing my muscles, before turning cold and closing the pores. After that, I rolled over onto my back, and she massaged my neck, shoulders, and face, which was great, as I carry a lot of tension in these areas, in my face particularly, so having it all rubbed away was wonderful. She again used the ‘muscle magic’ on my shoulders, which was lovely, before the massage ended. 

I got up, got dressed, and chatted to the therapist for a few minutes, and she gave me a little card, with all the products that she had used today ticked. She told me to drink plenty of water today to flush out toxins that will have been moved around from the massage, and then we went back out the front so I could pay. Normally, the half-an-hour relaxation massage would be $55, but it’s tourism week in Mildura at the moment, (basically a be a tourist in your own town promotion) and Endota were offering half-priced treatments, so it only cost me $27. 

I will certainly be going back to Endota to try out their other treatments, and I think I will save up and buy some of their products too, especially that ‘muscle magic’.

~ Australian Kiwi