DAZED VIOLET EYES
Memories flung into a harvest time bonfire, an immaculate enforcement of shameless remorse
Reconciliation is but transparent breathing space, twixt hostilities estranged lovers endorse
The waning moon, her closest confidant, the ubiquitous sun her silent nemesis
On a ‘seen better day’s’ hopeless mattress, she favours his sex, not his kiss
The albino girl wearing just one earing, a mere name tag bearing her onetime address
Astride him she rides out the storm of entanglement, dazed violet eyes indisposed to obsess
Picking out a dirge on his wilting heart strings, a heretofore courtly love blasé troubadour
A stock refrain, a pretty poor anthem, for a battle won, though she cares not for the war
She holds the key that locks in his tainted passion, the whitest smile that undoes his cold heart
Recycles confetti for next year’s rainy day wedding, leaving big man, big ego torn apart
Scrolling through long forgotten stabs at what I label ‘almost poetry’ I stumbled upon this one. Penned nearly five years old, within its wording the first ever mention of my unnamed albino gal, later to feature as the all-important character in my 2017 risqué spy thriller, ‘Notoriously Naked Flames’. I cannot deny that I have a soft spot for her, hence it was a fine thing to rediscover her reason for being, and coincidentally topical for she has been brought back to life in my soon to be released book, ‘The Snow White Tigress’.
That said, herewith a video of all things re my latest endeavour, an immodest tome entitled ‘The Blue-Eyed Cat’.
Should it take your fancy ‘The Blue-Eyed Cat’, can be found at;
Amazon UK link: THE BLUE-EYED CAT – PAPERBACK
Kindle UK link: KINDLE EDITION
Amazon US link: THE BLUE-EYED CAT – PAPERBACK
Kindle US link: KINDLE EDITION
I am not entirely sure of other Amazon global links and thus I apologize for not revealing them here.
31 thoughts on “DAZED VIOLET EYES”
Mike your almost poetry tag is just not on. Take it from me. you had that albino girl tucked away there to for later fame. This is poetry pure and simple, my friend and it should not be tucked away. BTW…I have always loved that song.
My thanks, Ms S. That song is by far and away the best romantic song ever to come out of a war. Until just the other day I hadn’t heard of the Françoise Hardy and Iggy pop version. Shirl and I have been playing French artists in what she has constructed and calls ‘Shirl’s Tabac & Café’ in the back garden and on a thing called a ‘Shuffle Play’…whatever that means…on Spotify…Spotify being forced on me by G and I’m pleased he did. At least we get the feel of being in France. June had been our month to go across La Manche to escape for English mind-numbing torturers. Sadly not to be. I fell in love with Ms Hardy a hundred years ago.
I’m rather taken with you take on poetry. The wonderful thing is that I stumbled upon the source of my unnamed albino without whom I’d never have written a novel, and not only that, be they long forgotten words/poetry on Word, or bits and pieces from the blog I have, for much later in the year, possibly early next year, got a book of poems and prose ‘good to go’. The last poetry book was back in 2016. Perhaps it’s about time to go back to my roots, yet not before the lovely Ms Albino has her new tome activated.
How are things with you and yours Ms S? ‘Twas good to hear Scotland hit a ‘zero’ deaths yesterday. A remarkable feat. Also, Nicola, diplomatically saying, “sometimes it’s hard not to conclude Donald Trump is racist”. If only Johnson had the balls to say the same.
I do think poetry is something that touches the soul. It can be a single line. And I am so glad to hear you are going to bring out more because there is crime in keeping it in a drawer. I know you would be in France. And yep torturers is the word for that lot in Whitehall. My fingers are crossed that you will get there in the not too distant. The thing is not to get there with the ‘new abnormal’ frankly in force. We had a discussion about that just last week, when we saw our fav hotel in Glencoe was taking books from July. We, of course, have a moved from May one, with friends at the end of August. But we did not go racing to bung another one down–my first inclination–because it’s not just the hills and the beauty and the peace, it is also the hotel itself, it’s the quiet drink after coming off a hill, it’s the banter with other hillies, the seat by the log burner on a late snowy afternoon, the pool games, it’s the live music and sardine jam on a Sat nite, all the things they cannot guarantee right now. So while it is one thing to go with old friends we only see maybe 3 times a year and only get food out of the Boots bar, hole up either in one of our rooms, or at an outside table with pour own booze and cards, for the evening, it’s another to go and do it ourselves when the rooms are so basic and cost a lot. A lot of people here are watching spaces on the hospitality industry, what with all this talk of screens and sitting outside in our crappy summers, and saying, nah. The industry don’t want that either. Our two fav locals here in the Ferry are wee pubs. If they get told to reduce their table numbers for food, they won’t be viable, no matter what little gold mines they are. Hell we are talking old fishermen’s cottages here. AND also where there is no beer garden, tables outside on the front that you can only sit at and be served at, up to a certain time ANYWAY. So you enjoy your garden a la France. It is a wonderful idea. Get your music on and your vino open. Sure this will all pass. (Still glad though to be up here during this. Of course Bodger ain’t gonna condemn Trump for being what he is.)
To be deprived of a place we crave for is a cruel thing. You describe Glencoe and thereabouts with the same passion I have for Northern France. What a shame this summer died at birth. I think I’ve mentioned before that all I know of Scotland is of business trips to Glasgow back in the day. Shirl has, years ago, done the Highlands and islands and adores them. When this irksome killer virus bites the dust new horizons must be considered.
Today I am set upon ‘corrections’ for this new book. My dear wife has counted and highlighted 327 irrelevant commas…impressive…and insists I correct them while giving the tale one last read. She ticks the pages printed off where there are no errors. I’ve only come across two pages in a row thus far. Perhaps the saddest thing for it was from those two pages I made a blog post a few months back to test the Reader’s reactions, which means she’d proofed them previous, thus I cannot even claim those pages as perfection on my part. Notwithstanding that, it does get rather exciting at this stage in the life of a book as you know far better than I do. There are days when I truly wish the fiction we all live in when penning of novel was reality…just think of what we could do with the likes of Johnson and his ilk.
Enjoy your day, Ms S.
Och, dinnae worry, lots of folks have errors. Errors can be sorted, bad writing can’t. May you get back to your paradise soon. if not? get up here.
My thanks young Leslie. I was pleased as punch finding this old poem featuring Ms Albino. Had I never written it I’d have remained the bloke who knocked-out just the odd poem now and then. I owe her the new book…on its last edit even as I write. How close are you to publishing your book, it must be nearly ready for the universe to read? Do let me know when it’s out there as, as you know, I want to hold at least one world record in my life and have decided that record will be the first person to buy Leslie’s book.
Ms. Albino is quite the character. Pure genius on your part.
As to my book, I’ve gotten through my first proofreading, now I just need to make the changes. Then I can send a copy to “Shirley Blamey that was” and another to my friend here in the states so they can read it and tell me if it’s worth publishing. Then I’ll take the next step. Hoping I can have a copy in the mail to Shirl before the week is out.
I feel sure your book will be a gem, young Leslie. ‘Shirley Blamey that was’ has had me…still in the process if the truth be told…killing commas, all 327 of them. A pain, all I wanted was to read the new one, now this chore!
I killed a lot of commas in my book. I’m sure a good many more need to be sacrificed for the greater good.
My thanks, Sir
Wow Mike, I love this . I just finished reading Anna Kavan’s Ice and as soon as I saw your Albino girl I thought that book. The book is not as sensual or as good.
My thanks, young Holly. I’ve not heard of that book. Is it worth a read? You are more than welcome to a copy of my new book ‘The Show White Tigress’ that will be ready for the off in just a few more weeks. For what it may be worth I’ll sign it. I do understand that private addresses are things we are all reluctant to share on social media and with that in mind send any address you’re comfortable with and a copy will be yours…’tis a tad risqué I stress! My email is email@example.com
I’ve not been writing new ‘stuff’ of late. My sense of humour and satirical abilities…such as they are…seem to have died with the medication that aids the body yet, as a side line, wrecks the brain. Such is life.
Whatever, should it be of interest the book is yours for the asking. I trust all is well in the irksome times. Regards, The Old Fool
You’re amazingly generous young man, I’ll be in touch. Your books are fabulous!
Isn’t it wonderful to stumble upon writing we’ve forgotten about and say, Hey, this is good, I wrote this? Case in point, “Dazed Violet Eyes.”
A truth if ever there was one, Liz. The previous tome together with the soon to be a newly released book represents about 200,000 words on the life and times of this albino gal, the heroine from this poem. Prior to her I’d always inadvertently written ‘almost poetry’ or humorous…hopefully…skits in a manner that ensured the gals always won the day. Once this gal came along I made it an essential facet of anything and everything I subsequently wrote. My thanks that you pointed this out. Regards, The Old Fool
I just love peering into other people’s writing process–in a voyeuristic kind of way.
What a fascinating concept, Liz. Perhaps I should take it up. When writing I try to avoid reading the works of others as I tend to end up penning words that are far removed from my own usual, predictable in many ways, choice and style and invariably end up having to re-write the lot. Process outshines hard copy…I rather like that. Regards, The Old Fool
I just enjoy peering through the window at others’ writing process. I don’t try to join in. When I read a writer whose style or approach I admire and would like to try, it invariably sounds a) lame or b) pretentious.
I often wonder if writing has a similar purpose for each and every writer. Some I come across seem to honestly believe they are the next Hemingway, others so modest it hurts…although the latter tend to be the best wordsmiths.
I well recall my first stab at writing, a thing in hindsight I refer to as my accidental pretentiousness. I had spent a large chunk of my career as a PI, specializing in fraud, working mainly with lawyers. Years of writing in a wordy traditional English formal style detailing the results of my investigations, inadvertently evolved a similar ‘style’ when writing fiction. Disaster. My book…two years in the making…was, in colloquial terms…‘total rubbish’. It never saw the light of day. The best thing to come out of that was my acceptance of my…many…faults and limitations and that ego is a writer’s curse. These days I treat each book, whatever the genre, as a brick in my metaphoric headstone; something that, say, my great, great grandchild might one day look at and think, ‘what a nutter…or indeed an abject bore…he was’. My writings…good, bad, or indifferent…I’ve advised the family will form my gravestone. No funeral or anything akin to one, my ashes in a little spot in Northern France I adore. May I ask your reasons for writing? Regards, The Old…and this morn for whatever reason feeling very old…Fool
I like the poem, TOF! Also the Video promo was quite neat.
The Snow White Tigress sounds awesome!
Are there any scenes with gowns in it? Just kidding….. sort of!
My gals are impeccably dressed for the main part…very smart at The Ritz…yet occasionally by choice or circumstance they lapse. A copy of the book…should you wish it so, and I hope you do yet no worries if not…will be sent upon its release in a couple of weeks or so. ‘Be well’ both you and Norman, Regards, TOF
YES!!! I’ll have a book! Yay!!
Thank you, TOF!
You and that interesting/gorgeous creature, Shirl, be well, too!
Then a book you shall have. Regards, TOF
Reblogged this on From 1 Blogger 2 Another.
Isn’t it a wonder that characters who run through the dark wood of our minds long ago return from that wood years later, lounge by our campfire, and gesture to us, “Well? Are you going to share MY story, or shall I return to the wood?”
So very true, young Ms Lee. More so when the character is one the writer cares for and gags to know more of her or his secret life. Regards, The Old Fool