LOOK! “Mr. Sagittarius is Here!”

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“Is she here yet Lily?”

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“Yes! I can see her now!”

“Thank you Lily – wonderful!”

Look everybody! I would like to welcome a special guest to our blog today, the lovely Marje from Kyrosmagica. It’s great to have you here, the first stop on your new book blog tour!

 

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Thank you very much for stopping by to tell us about your new book – help yourself to tea and cake!

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We’ve known Marje a couple of years now, and I know Lily in particular has been looking forward to seeing you again.

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Lily and Marje were first introduced by our friend Gary, from “Fiction Is Food” blog, when Marje needed a black cat model during the creation of her first Y/A novel, “The Curse Of Time.”

Lily’s picture and one of a tourmaline crystal, taken by Alex is featured, among other things, in Marje’s new book, “Mr.Sagittarius.” Please will you tell us a little more…

“We’re listening!”

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[Marje reads:]

Who Is Mr. Sagittarius?

And what is his connection to twin brothers, Harold and William?

When Harold dies, he leaves a simple memorial request

Will his sister Annette honour it?

Or, will the magic of the garden ensure that she does.

 

A magical story expressed via poetry and prose with photographic images.

It sounds fabulous!

Being a cat mother I sometimes come into contact a little closer than I ever really wanted with the Natural World, but I know that you have a wonderful eye for detail and a way of capturing the beauty in even the smallest creation of Mother Nature. Likewise, living with a family of four sister cats I am interested in reading about the sibling relationships – please don’t slap  Ting, Tooty, not while we have guests… so I am very much looking forward to reading “Mr.Sagittarius” for myself!

Ooh – could I ask anyone who is on “Goodreads” to add “Mr.Sagittarius” to their “To Read” list and I must also mention that Marje is very kindly donating the first month’s ebook royalties to the Australian Bush Fire Appeal, please follow the links at the end of my post to buy your very own copy.

Marje – I hope you don’t mind, but the Girls wanted to ask you a question, and as the oldest –

“And most intelligent!”

– Charlie felt she should be Spokesfeline…

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Charlie asks :
“I notice there is a poem called ‘Life Lessons From Cats’ with my sister Lily’s picture. What would you say is the most important lesson you’ve learned in Feline Philosophy?”
Marje :
“Hi Charlie.
Your sister Lily’s photo with Buddha is really cute. That’s such an interesting question regarding feline philosophy. Cats teach us much about the world in which we live. I’d say the most important lesson they impart to us daft humans is to nurture a curious spirit. Without a curious spirit, life would be very dull.
Unfortunately, having a curious spirit can be dangerous sometimes, so I’d say don’t forget to combine a curious spirit with a state of awareness, so no harm comes to you when you’re crossing them pesky roads. That’s especially true as I lost my dear ginger tom cat Chester to a road accident.
Chester
Chester was as curious as any cat can be. I miss him so much. He was such an adventurer and very popular with everyone, probably because he had lots of fascinating feline tales to tell!”
That’s a lovely answer, Marje, thank you very much!
It’s been wonderful to see you – no, Lily, you can’t ask if Marje would prefer a sparrow or a mouse to take away, something sensible – please take our good wishes with you for the next step in your tour and every success with your new publication!

Follow Marje’s tour:
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Goodbye xx

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Fly fast, little bird

It won’t take long –

Not now as your wings are strong

Full of joy

And eyes so bright –

Hurry home by angel’s light

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Walter and Lulu are waiting for you

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                               xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx LUCKY xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

                                       24th August 2008 ~ 26th March 2018

The Letter

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Don’t ask for my secrets
And I won’t tell you lies.

Don’t look in my eyes
There is no surprise.

You birthed me, you held me
And what do you see?

A rival? A victim?
You took everything.
What’s more – I let you.

I didn’t know – how could I see?
Dead from your past
You poisoned me.

The one who should love me
Above all other –
Don’t look at me and expect
“Mother.”

Addict

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Picture this:

The pain, the hurt, the betrayal. She loved her little boy. Admittedly, he had not been brought into the world for the best of reasons; but once she had him, and held him, she resolved at once to be the best mother she could possibly be. This person – this perfect little person – this alchemy of maleness conjured from her female body was a source of pride and love and tender protection. Into their world of two came more, friends, acquaintances, family. And the rot began.

Picture this:

Pain. Pain as if your liver, your lungs, your very heart were on the outside of your body, no longer protected by flesh and bone, but exposed and painful, as painful as someone pressing on a fresh bruise or digging a screwdriver into the tender flesh of your gums over and over. And the rot took hold.

Picture this:

The little boy grew, and absorbed, like a sponge, all these outside influences, and in spite of his mother – despite her – became an addict. Her own mother betrayed, colluded, enabled. And her body ached, her heart hurt and her soul wept.

Imagine that.

Cinnamon Tiger

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“Sugar and spice
And all things nice –
That’s what little girls are made of.”
Mummy says this to me
All the time –
She doesn’t know what
I know.

These paws of silk and
Softest down
Contain within sharp scythes of steel.
I call down the spirits of my
Wild cousins –
But never kill a thing.

My eyes are glowing golden
Suns that guide me through
The night –
When morning comes I’m in with Mum
Curled up warm and tight.

I tell you this
And for free
Cats are contradictions –
See?

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End/Beginning

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What Am I?
The emotions, the blood, the feelings.
Leave them.

Who Am I?
The memories, the experiences, the people.
Forget them.

Why Am I?
The purpose, the intentions, the desires.
Release them.

Reach out.
The being and not-being
Strip away the state of being
Construct and artifice.

The dark. The un-becoming.
Strip away the self
Still the conscious.

The being and un-being
The peace that passes
All understanding

Shantih.

The not-being, the
Wholeness and
The dark.

Shantih.
The peace. The quiet.
The silence. The love.
Shantih.

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Poetry Pimple…

EPSON MFP image

 

My thanks must go to Gillian of Paper Puff for the idea for the name of what is becoming a regular ‘spot’ on my blog… if you pardon the pun!

 

Dark/Light

The black night of my soul is drawing in,
As thick as blood and bitter as sin.

Bones are aching, teeth are grinding,
Passion dead, hatred binding.

Lost am I: lost in the pit
How can I be when I do not fit?

Torn to pieces, shredded and bare
How can I live when I do not care?

Reaching out, I touch your fur,
Feel your paw, hear your purr.

How could I forget that you were there?
My little cat, full of love and care.

BEAUTY