tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73894364526518373112024-03-09T00:51:42.171+11:00Keeper of SecretsMoana_Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11412310971601817438noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389436452651837311.post-78889505763416951012011-02-28T19:55:00.001+11:002011-02-28T20:02:16.645+11:00Is it Human to Worship a Cardboard Box?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-bp09pMqOM_0/TWth53ocstI/AAAAAAAAAM4/vPzGDgyYCHw/s1600/Mmmdonuts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" l6="true" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-bp09pMqOM_0/TWth53ocstI/AAAAAAAAAM4/vPzGDgyYCHw/s320/Mmmdonuts.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>How is it, I can walk from York Street, Sydney, to Elizabeth, (approx 10 minutes) catch a bus to the Eastern Suburbs, all the while carrying a Crispy Crème box of - okay, granted - assorted heavenly hoops - and get a thousand smiles, a seat on the bus, nods and desirous glances; and yet when I get on bus carrying eight Showbags, a giant plush Scooby Doo won while shooting hoops, that nobody gives me a seat? </em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>Well, know this, Crispy Crème lovers of the world, <strong>you ain’t getting a donut</strong>!!</em></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-bE8fmqW2ZEA/TWth8amHCzI/AAAAAAAAAM8/a-pLawnEVYE/s1600/scooby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" l6="true" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-bE8fmqW2ZEA/TWth8amHCzI/AAAAAAAAAM8/a-pLawnEVYE/s200/scooby.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What? Wrong kind of hoops?</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Kind commuters of the world - WHERE ARE YOU?</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"></div></div>Moana_Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11412310971601817438noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389436452651837311.post-22040039127200173242011-02-11T20:56:00.001+11:002011-02-11T21:04:35.773+11:00The Stardust Within<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The mind of a child is flawless and pure; the reflection of an untainted soul. Their innermost senses allow for the flow of waves, and while some waves come in larger than others, they learn how to deal and respond to them. A child's mind is fresh and new, with no concept of mistrust or negativity. Very rarely do they hold onto feelings of resentment. Grudges don’t exist in their world. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As parents, we can try to preserve this innocence – but only to a certain extent. We can’t cottonwool or protect our angels forever, and we cannot prevent them from experiencing the world.</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When they’re of age, we send them to school – the ‘rat race’ as so many put it – and that’s where the contests begin. Outside influences soon determine their behaviours and the changes are evident every day. The world is harsh in this day and age, and as they grow into adults, they become competitive; some can become ruthless and greedy in a reach for stars that are sometimes unattainable.</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Ambition is healthy. It's what gets people up in the morning. But failing to achieve can destroy self-confidence – and that’s where things can go wrong. Life is full of ups and downs, highs and lows, peaks and potholes – and our children need to be aware. While it is wonderful to dream and aim for the sky, there will be some dreams that won’t come to fruition.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We need to nurture and prepare young minds to accept that some goals aren't realistic. </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>Why reach for the scarcest of stars, </strong></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>when we should appreciate the star dust around us? </strong></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>Some fallen stars may have landed in our pockets. </strong></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>We just need to stop and look inside. </strong></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In searching for more, some neglect to notice what wonderful talents they already have – talents they are blessed with that should be encouraged. I believe when we are born, we are each given a star – it’s our job to polish it up, and help make it shine.</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">To know our talents, to realise and use them, can bring such contentment and joy. We should follow our instincts, no matter what age. Find what’s inside. Because some dreams were meant to be fulfilled.</span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pOxZpcyjf0k/TVUHDeW7MDI/AAAAAAAAALU/z-vGYE3ksV4/s1600/GothStar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pOxZpcyjf0k/TVUHDeW7MDI/AAAAAAAAALU/z-vGYE3ksV4/s640/GothStar.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div></div>Moana_Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11412310971601817438noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389436452651837311.post-92227166960646308092011-01-14T14:39:00.000+11:002011-01-14T14:39:56.761+11:00Moonrise Eclipse at Solstice<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span class="messageBody"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="messagebody">On 21 December 2010, my family and I spent moonrise at Maroubra Beach. </span><span class="messagebody">Luna Eclipse at Solstice doesn't happen very often. The last time these events occurred in sequence </span><span class="messagebody">was in another life, back in 1638. The next one won't take place until 2094. Down under, people gathered on the beach, from the southern end of Maroubra to the cliff tops of Lurline Bay, </span><span class="messagebody">all to witness this once in a lifetime spectacle; every last one of us awed by its beauty. </span><span class="messagebody">If only my camera could have done it justice ... it started with a smile, just a thin orange crescent </span><span class="messagebody">that with darkness became the most brilliant full moon any of us had ever seen.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_c0XDiZ9z4xg/TS_E9lLQ8NI/AAAAAAAAAH4/4RyZV70Hp2I/s1600/LunaSolstice.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="147" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_c0XDiZ9z4xg/TS_E9lLQ8NI/AAAAAAAAAH4/4RyZV70Hp2I/s200/LunaSolstice.bmp" width="200" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span class="messageBody"></span> <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_c0XDiZ9z4xg/TS-_NPKeQGI/AAAAAAAAAHs/TwOK8ImDfrs/s1600/Mahon+Pool.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" n4="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_c0XDiZ9z4xg/TS-_NPKeQGI/AAAAAAAAAHs/TwOK8ImDfrs/s200/Mahon+Pool.jpg" width="200" /></a></div></span>Moana_Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11412310971601817438noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389436452651837311.post-12708038464822526812011-01-13T12:38:00.000+11:002011-01-13T12:38:25.998+11:00Moana's Masquerade<span class="quote"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Verdana;"></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif";">"Dance through the masquerade of life without wearing a mask,</span></em></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif";">for being yourself is the most beautiful thing."</span></em></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_c0XDiZ9z4xg/TS5WrEcOu3I/AAAAAAAAAHY/7uc3dt3M5Ak/s1600/Maskball.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="199" n4="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_c0XDiZ9z4xg/TS5WrEcOu3I/AAAAAAAAAHY/7uc3dt3M5Ak/s320/Maskball.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div align="center" class="separator" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="color: #daeef3; font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif"; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themetint: 51;">Yes - but every day we continue the dance through life, where each situation calls for a different face. We are all accustomed to wearing a disguise, and in turn the loss is our own. The day soon comes when we lose our identity, we forget, in essence, who we really are. </span></em></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="color: #daeef3; font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif"; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themetint: 51;">I believe that everyone else my age is mature and very adult, but I choose to go through life incognito, where my age is purely a disguise. </span></em></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="color: #daeef3; font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif"; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themetint: 51;">Which mask shall I wear today?</span></em><i><span style="color: blue; font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif";"></span></i></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_c0XDiZ9z4xg/TS5Wxy_X_jI/AAAAAAAAAHc/WQlf_Re_QKg/s1600/Mask.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_c0XDiZ9z4xg/TS5Wxy_X_jI/AAAAAAAAAHc/WQlf_Re_QKg/s1600/Mask.jpg" /></a></div><div align="center" class="separator" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Moana_Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11412310971601817438noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389436452651837311.post-79016415524561123952011-01-12T21:40:00.002+11:002011-01-13T11:31:59.811+11:00Somewhere in Time<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_c0XDiZ9z4xg/TS2AEy1DAAI/AAAAAAAAAGc/MxZNVnCitRE/s1600/Somewhereintime5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_c0XDiZ9z4xg/TS2AEy1DAAI/AAAAAAAAAGc/MxZNVnCitRE/s1600/Somewhereintime5.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><em>Love at first sight ...</em></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><em><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3;">Bid Time Return</span><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"> by Richard Matheson, is a favourite romance novel of mine; a story that literally transcends time and takes you into another realm. It’s the recount of a dying young man, who visits a turn-of-the-century hotel. He happens upon a painting of a woman in the Hotel’s Hall of History, and becomes completely captivated by her beauty (a former star of the stage). The problem is that she is from a time long before his. But with his love so potent and incomparably strong, he wills himself back in time to become part of her world. The two lovers are totally believable, causing the reader, in turn, to fall in love. The ending is somewhat bittersweet (Kleenex!) but so worth the experience.</span></span> </em></span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_c0XDiZ9z4xg/TS2AcXPsE8I/AAAAAAAAAGg/dxFDRwxX2bo/s1600/Somewhere1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_c0XDiZ9z4xg/TS2AcXPsE8I/AAAAAAAAAGg/dxFDRwxX2bo/s1600/Somewhere1.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><em>Is it you?</em></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"><span style="color: #cfe2f3;">The movie, Somewhere in time, </span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"><span style="color: #cfe2f3;">starring Jane Seymour and Christopher Reeve was based on this novel. To read the book and then see the movie is to experience art in its two finest forms. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although the storylines differ in some parts, the link between literature and screen remains. Dialogue is maintained, almost verbatim, and keeps the plot innocent and true. The connection between Jane and Christopher (Elise McKenna and Richard Collier) is so plain - like lovers destined to love eternally - and it's this that makes the move exceptional.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></em></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_c0XDiZ9z4xg/TS2ArWXtaDI/AAAAAAAAAGk/Knd9Drcz5Vo/s1600/somewhere_in_time3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="255" n4="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_c0XDiZ9z4xg/TS2ArWXtaDI/AAAAAAAAAGk/Knd9Drcz5Vo/s320/somewhere_in_time3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><em>There's a different level of lovely that 1912 brings to book and screen. Both, without doubt, remain essentially exquisite and both, in this lifetime, should not be missed. </em></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_c0XDiZ9z4xg/TS2A6buYkGI/AAAAAAAAAGo/7t_qMLxRvkc/s1600/Somewhereintime4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_c0XDiZ9z4xg/TS2A6buYkGI/AAAAAAAAAGo/7t_qMLxRvkc/s1600/Somewhereintime4.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><em>Elize and Richard, somewhere, in time.</em></span></div>Moana_Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11412310971601817438noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389436452651837311.post-85544514936164359972011-01-08T10:41:00.002+11:002011-10-18T21:33:50.617+11:00My name is Moana, and I am a ...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><em>Bloggerholic!</em></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There must be a name for this ... a condition as such ... an infection that describes the action of getting up in the wee hours to take a sneak peak, to play with Design and Setting options, improve the appearance of the oh so precious Blog ... to Next Blog and Next Blog with sheer desperation and hunger to devour any new Blogs I encounter; part of my heart now, part of my soul, an entity unto itself that has attached intself to me, an interference worse that static that hinders conversation or cooking meals for hungry lambs. Life - indoors, outdoors and above - everything in this universe is blogworthy - because life should be shared via this silent, creative outlet. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: Verdana;">Busy, busy, mustn't stop ...</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><em> <span style="font-size: x-large;">Can't you see I'm working here?!?!?</span></em></span></div></div>Moana_Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11412310971601817438noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389436452651837311.post-70511287344118181022010-12-27T19:14:00.003+11:002011-01-07T15:19:09.760+11:00Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>'Tis the Season to be jolly - and in the lead up I've had little time to post.<br />
With schools end, Christmas shopping, reading and writing in-between, <br />
I've neglected this much-loved little house.<br />
So, today I've allowed myself some time to come back and post a few poems <br />
(that still need tweaking!). No matter. <br />
I've had much fun with the Wicca & Vamp themes.<br />
Blessings to you all for a wonderful season, <br />
and from an old fashioned gal to anyone that meanders by, <br />
take some time out for Judy <3</strong></span> </span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_c0XDiZ9z4xg/TRhKHEiY1UI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/-qLWp7pNVJc/s1600/JudyG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_c0XDiZ9z4xg/TRhKHEiY1UI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/-qLWp7pNVJc/s1600/JudyG.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5g4lY8Y3eoo">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5g4lY8Y3eoo</a></div>Moana_Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11412310971601817438noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389436452651837311.post-83637846182198988322010-12-27T18:57:00.003+11:002011-10-18T21:34:19.307+11:00Painkiller Passion<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: book antiqua, palatino;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-size: small;"><strong>On moonlit nights when woodlands are black<br />
The game we play teasing, while running the track<br />
It's blood lust, not pheromones that lead him to me<br />
The rampant endorphins that simply won't be</strong></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: book antiqua, palatino;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
<span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><strong>He stalks me, I’m wild prey! He's poised for attack!<br />
'Walk with me, kiss me', He feigns, I retract<br />
His voice on these evenings entices me, fact<br />
And when he bites down, damp earth bloods my back<br />
<br />
I feel his weight on me, he drains me to snow<br />
This painkiller passion, forever, in glow<br />
My desire, so wicked, I need, he provides<br />
But love’s never simple, when lovers don't die</strong></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: book antiqua, palatino;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-size: small;"><strong>Thirsty for blood, the forever of time</strong></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: book antiqua, palatino;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-size: small;"><strong>He’ll always be with me<br />
Perpetually mine ...</strong></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></div>Moana_Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11412310971601817438noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389436452651837311.post-32537655843375646492010-12-27T18:26:00.003+11:002011-02-17T19:50:40.973+11:00Life After Twilight - Pardon the Pun<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><em>‘Twas Hotel Transylvania,<br />
Where the blood games began,<br />
Where The Count first proclaimed, <br />
“I’m not a Vamp, man!”<br />
Mr Barlow got busy, Bled Salem’s Lot dry,<br />
And “Look at me teacher! Look!” he did cry.<br />
True Blood HBO -<br />
Thou shalt not crave thy neighbour -<br />
Only True Blood is served <br />
At Merlott’s and Fangtasia!<br />
“Sookie’s Mine!” Bill Compton so proudly stakes claim,<br />
But it’s Vampire Diaries, <br />
Where Damon takes reign.<br />
So Twilight, New Moon, and each Breaking Dawn<br />
Wish for an Eclipse, and bring end to the mourn.</em></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_c0XDiZ9z4xg/TRg_CUbPMQI/AAAAAAAAAEI/bR5zIguoxI0/s1600/Ed%2526Bells.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_c0XDiZ9z4xg/TRg_CUbPMQI/AAAAAAAAAEI/bR5zIguoxI0/s1600/Ed%2526Bells.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></div>Moana_Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11412310971601817438noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389436452651837311.post-24557332874031300242010-12-27T18:20:00.002+11:002011-10-18T21:33:13.562+11:00A Family Thing<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="leftPaneContentMainEdit leftPaneContentMainEditMinDisplay region htmlForDiv"><div align="center"><span style="font-family: tahoma, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It freshens the senses, the springtime breeze,<br />
And fills pure hearts with newness and ease,<br />
But it's during these nights that it brings me no rest,<br />
When September winds put my creed to the test.</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: tahoma, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">How does one get past the moment that's lost?<br />
A relationship torn, burnt crisp - at such cost,<br />
No longer this realm and no longer seen,<br />
Except for these nights -<em> things aren't what they seem</em>!</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: tahoma, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Her voice, in whispers, she calls out my name,<br />
I question its truth and whether I'm sane,<br />
And hearing her now, so many years later,<br />
It makes me recoil, compels me to hate her.</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: tahoma, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But the powers of Wicca are more than mere song,<br />
My curse, it endures, through family bond,<br />
And so I'm reminded, and so I will know,<br />
How potent the blending of oak and mistletoe.</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: tahoma, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At each celebration, Ostara or 'nox,<br />
I'm gifted a spell, been sealed in a box,<br />
And Oh, I must try it! And Oh, so I see!<br />
The powers bestowed me, the powers that be ...</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: tahoma, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And now when I see silver cat in a tree<br />
~ I know she is with me ~<br />
I know she's in me!</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_c0XDiZ9z4xg/TRg61ERHk6I/AAAAAAAAAEE/dg8ys-WypOs/s1600/BadKitty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_c0XDiZ9z4xg/TRg61ERHk6I/AAAAAAAAAEE/dg8ys-WypOs/s200/BadKitty.jpg" width="143" /></a></div><div align="center"><br />
</div></div></div>Moana_Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11412310971601817438noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389436452651837311.post-16954254432605354502010-11-17T15:14:00.002+11:002011-01-13T11:11:41.008+11:00On Motherhood<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Giving birth awakens something in women - a change of sorts in the values we keep, in what we respect and consider important. What struck me most on motherhood, without mentioning the demands and sacrifices involved (sorry - had to mention those!) is the willingness that comes when one is ‘in demand’. The energy that comes the moment labour begins, the crowning and burning, convinced your body simply won’t give passage. And then you see the miracle, slimy, puffy, blue-hued fingers, eyes that barely open - yet a mouth that opens wide. The baby needs you, relies upon you for nourishment and a sense of belonging. The amazing way in which one so small can impact on the way you feel about yourself, the way instinct takes hold – truly is incredible. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">You have suddenly become so important, so beautiful in their eyes and so vital to their existence. The bullshit that once seemed to bother so much, now seems so unimportant – the small stuff, insignificant in comparison to this precious work of art. </span><span style="color: #9fc5e8;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">It’s called family. Spirits bound by love - the building blocks to life. In sixteen years I have been blessed three times with the breathtaking task of giving birth. There is nothing quite like it, nothing more spectacular than seeing a child born of you and your partner – a tiny person of flesh, bones and spirit – from ourselves to become ones-self.<br />
With breastfeeding, the bond for lifelong attachment begins. It's an extension of the birthing experience - and one that, if possible, should never be missed. Ever noticed how a newborn knows where to find a nipple, knows the scent of mother's milk? It's called instinct.<br />
<br />
Creating life is a beautiful thing. A gift. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And there is nothing more delicious than nibbling on tiny toes, losing yourself in those trusting eyes, wiping the muck from a delicate nose, or massaging scented lotions into the soft creases of chubby thighs. </span></span><span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Nothing more <em>spectacular</em>.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_c0XDiZ9z4xg/TONWRwibEFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/5BjEfL0IpyA/s1600/MotherEarth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" px="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_c0XDiZ9z4xg/TONWRwibEFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/5BjEfL0IpyA/s320/MotherEarth.jpg" width="313" /></a></div>Moana_Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11412310971601817438noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389436452651837311.post-47986212388577846572010-11-16T00:20:00.000+11:002010-11-16T15:09:06.255+11:00The Raven - The Ultimate Keeper of Secrets<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #8e7cc3;">Ravens are intelligent, clever mimics that have been known to learn human words. </span><span style="color: #8e7cc3;">Early Europeans feared the Raven and regarded them as bad omens. </span><span style="color: #8e7cc3;">Truth of the matter is, the Raven, like all wildlife and nature, should be respected, not feared. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><img height="320" src="http://www.suspiria.eclipse.co.uk/chamber/images/portfolio/RF_RAVEN1.jpg" width="320" /></span><span style="color: #8e7cc3;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Ravens bear magic and mysticism. Some native tribes refer to them as the ‘keeper of secrets’. They are linked to the void, where universal secrets are kept. Their colour is symbolic of darkness, the place where unconscious fear resides. Ravens are master magicians and represent transformational energy, revealing to us how to rid ourselves of our inner fears. Raven will show you how to go within in yourself, into the dark areas and illuminate them, bringing out your true self. They help transmute karma, returning you to the light. They will lead you into the discovery of your multidimensional self and reunite you with the secrets of the multidimensional universe. Inner conflicts should then be resolved, however long buried they are - and this is the deepest healing. </em></span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"></div><em><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: Georgia;">Me - I am human - a</span></em><em><span style="color: #d9d2e9; font-family: Georgia;"> person who keeps another’s secrets so that no one will know about them. Secret-Keepers don't divulge. But don't be fooled or mistaken. Like a Raven I will whistle-blow from the loftiest heights - to alert when people are in need - to help them myself, if I'm able.</span></em></div></div>Moana_Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11412310971601817438noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389436452651837311.post-11539760550612546332010-11-15T23:42:00.000+11:002010-11-17T20:23:05.191+11:00A Dedication to Chrissy<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Just one of my teenage loves. Chrissy Amphlett and the Divinyls rock my world. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> She was and still is charismatic, gutsy - such raw woman.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #9fc5e8;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?op=1&view=global&subj=181779742211&pid=117813&id=100001485411155&oid=181779742211" id="myphotolink"><span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><img height="208" id="myphoto" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash2/hs568.ash2/149074_457264384521_818859521_5187287_3408649_n.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #9fc5e8;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">So beautiful ... still is <3</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #9fc5e8;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?op=1&view=global&subj=181779742211&pid=111842&id=100001485411155&oid=181779742211" id="myphotolink"><span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><img height="200" id="myphoto" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/hs245.snc4/39587_453015904521_818859521_5114515_6020826_n.jpg" width="149" /></span></a></div></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">With that bee stung pout, and wild hair ...</span></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #9fc5e8;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?op=1&view=global&subj=181779742211&pid=111838&id=100001485411155&oid=181779742211" id="myphotolink"><span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span></a></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">A legend of Australian Rock, she's led an amazing life. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Just how revered she is was driven home in 2006 when she launched her memoir,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> "Pleasure & Pain: My Life" which raced to No. 1 in the non-fiction best seller lists. <br />
Chrissy's life makes compelling reading. </span><br />
<span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Together with guitarist Mark McEntee, the Divinyls were formed, a fierce, uncompromising outfit that lays claim to being the best band Australia has ever produced. Her performances were the most aggressive and outrageous audiences had ever seen. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"Our music was real, honest, raw and straight from the heart", she says. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">For 17 years, the hits kept coming: </span><span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> "Boys In Town", "Science Fiction", "The Good Die Young", "Pleasure & Pain", "I Touch Myself" ... & so many more.<br />
<br />
In 1997, Chrissy was in crisis - no band, and more than a million dollars in debt. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Bravely, she is confronting her demons and the struggle to overcome bankruptcy. <br />
In 2007 she revealed she is suffering with Multiple Sclerosis and just last month, Chrissy was diagnosed with breast cancer. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #9fc5e8;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Blessings to you Chrissy Amphlett. </span></span><span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">You Go Girl! <3</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/hs889.snc4/72277_119419634784216_100001485411155_111839_3141955_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: right; height: 250px; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; width: 152px;"><img border="0" height="200" id="myphoto" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/hs889.snc4/72277_119419634784216_100001485411155_111839_3141955_n.jpg" width="130" /></a></div>Moana_Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11412310971601817438noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389436452651837311.post-38284668429464408452010-11-14T00:08:00.001+11:002011-02-17T16:35:09.188+11:00Let's get this party started with ... An Ode to the Web<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s often quite dark before I reach this destination, <br />
Late night, or early hours before dawn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
Only night birds or currawongs divide the isolation, <br />
Distant song lulls the frenzy that’s borne.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
I’m lost in the labyrinth named World Wide Web, <br />
When my mind should be quiet, I’m reading instead!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
And it goes on and on into the wee hours, <br />
When the world is asleep, and the web spins it’s powers. <br />
And I come across jewels that sparkle and gleam, <br />
Knowledge that brightens the darkest of seams. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
And sometimes I click on these tiny bright keys, <br />
To find the most wondrous things – <br />
BlogSpots, short stories, poems and twitters, <br />
Writers who enlighten - or give me the jitters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
But it’s rare that I’m hurt by these wondrous jewels, <br />
Instead I drink ravenous, absorbing their fuels.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
And so I will write, or cast the odd poem, <br />
And hope someone finds me before dark is stolen.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_c0XDiZ9z4xg/TN6M3r8RlPI/AAAAAAAAAA4/0b-SIcwSCtE/s1600/Dark+Angel.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" px="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_c0XDiZ9z4xg/TN6M3r8RlPI/AAAAAAAAAA4/0b-SIcwSCtE/s320/Dark+Angel.png" width="300" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><br />
</div></div>Moana_Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11412310971601817438noreply@blogger.com2