I don’t want
these 5 minute
or one night
petty ecstasies.

I want a somnabulant
sort of drunkenness –

first, chastely sweet,
gently rolling around
in naive yearning
that was lost in time,
but recovered in memory –

like the infant’s
instinctual roving
for a mother’s nipple;

the involuntary choke
on the first sip
of cheap lager.

Do you remember?

No, no.
Not yet, cheri

let us slowly revel
in this painful divinity,
that will last as long
as these mad, sad summers
that you complain of.

© Zelda Reville


Quote – Romesh Gunesekera, “Reef”

Photo by Roman Kraft

“I could lose myself in his voice; this happened not only on that first day, but frequently over many years. Sometimes I would miss the instructions he was trying to give me, but he didn’t always notice. I think he himself was sometimes entranced by his voice and lost the sense of what he had started out to convey. Perhaps that was why he sometimes preferred to be silent. I could understand that. My head also sometimes seemed more full of words than could ever pass my lips.”

– Romesh Gunesekera, Reef

NaPoWriMo #26 – The Cyclist

Keep your eyes trained to the front
and don’t look towards the floor. Breathe.
Don’t get caught up with how
your bicycle is wobbling too much,
whether you’ll hit anyone in your path
or if you’ll actually get to your destination.

Keep your eyes trained to the front,
and don’t look towards the floor. Focus.
Barbecued wings are awesome,
but that’s not what you’re here for.
You had your lunch before you started cycling,
so stop staring at that family’s picnic feast.

Keep your eyes trained to the front
and don’t look towards the floor. Great!
You started off from Area C half an hour ago,
and now, you’ve finally reached Area F.
Sure, give yourselves a little clap on the back –
but remember the way back when you do!

Keep your eyes trained to the front
and don’t look towards the floor. Remember:
You’re working this machine with your own hands,
but they are doing what you’re doing too.
They fell down, but picked themselves up to continue.
If they can handle this beastly contraption, why not you?

Keep your eyes trained to the front
and don’t look towards the floor. Try something new.
Turn your head towards the sound of a frustrated squirrel,
do a free wheel down a gentle slope facing the sea.
Ring the bicycle bell so people notice your clumsy presence,
or take a sweaty hand off a handlebar…(well maybe NOT)

Keep your eyes trained to the front
and don’t look towards the floor. Here we are!
Reward yourself with an ice-cold drink,
stop and enjoy the cool sea breeze. Well done.
We’ve now come to the end of our weekend trip,
but you see – these life-affirming lessons are never truly done

© Zelda Reville

Day 26 for NaPoWriMo. A little sojourn to the beach for clumsy cycling with my friends. Just 4 days away from the finish line!




Quote – Evelyn Waugh, “Brideshead Revisited”

Photo by Pascal Müller

“These memories, which are my life – for we possess nothing certainly except the past – were always with me. Like the pigeons of St Mark’s, they were everywhere, under my feet, singly, in pairs, in little honey-voiced congregations, nodding, strutting, winking, rolling their tender feathers of their necks, perching sometimes, if I stood still, on my shoulder; until, suddenly, the noon gun boomed and in a moment, with a flutter and swoop of wings, the pavement was bare and the whole sky above dark with a tumult of fowl. “

– Evelyn Waugh, Brideshead Revisited 

Quote – An excerpt from Robinson Jeffers’s “Original Sin”

Photo by Joshua Earle

But we are what we are, and we might remember
Not to hate any person, for all are vicious;
And not to be astonished at any evil, all are deserved;
And not fear death; it is the only way to be cleansed.

– Robinson Jeffers

I chose the last few lines due to their powerful resonance; of course, it seems awkward to leave it like that…so here’s the entire piece if you would like to read it!


A desire
for a star

no longer


on the horizons…

like how the
flowers close
bitten petals,
one by one

in the moonlight’s glow.

in the cold morning –

the salt sting
waking tongues,

once dormant colours
to life.

Hands clasped

the mist shrouds
the mountains

as a newborn’s
bare head
is struck
by the sun.

© Zelda Reville

This was originally part of a scrap about the word ‘deciderate‘ buried in my notes for some time – I distinctly recall an article about constellations and this word was huddling amidst kooky constellation names. It sounded really pretty so…being true to form, I saved it for a rainy day 😄