Writer's Blog

New York in November

2012-01-19T13:59:00.004Z

Dedicated to Louise Cabral Jackson

A beautiful lady enters the lobby
Of the Waldorf Astoria. And it is you.
You stop to look at the grand chandelier
And the black and white prints of a golden era.

Sparkling pearls and beaming smiles
Frame the walls, stolen moments captured in time
Such as flawless Gershwin tunes
Serenading old lady Manhattan.

You carry yourself gracefully,
Hand in hand with me, your adoring wife
As champagne on ice awaits us,
Early days in our charmed life.

Mahogany lifts and fur coats
The forty-first floor overlooks
Tall skyscrapers and neon lights
As the full moon rises above the Hudson.

We lovers smile and our reflections dance
In long corridors with mirrors
Past bellboys and tipping waiters;
Caught in our perfect dreamland.

We are enticed by New York
Guess handbags and Tiffany’s
And the company of its gentle giants,
And the shores of Ellis Island.

You pause again to take it all in
The constant hum of yellow cabs
The season’s bells and Broadway shows,
Pretzel vendors and Times Square.

It’s Macy’s Parade and Thanksgiving Dinner,
We walk past the animated crowds,
From the sinuous streets of Chinatown
To the grandeur of Park and Madison Avenues.

We stand on Terrace Bridge
Amongst the fallen leaves in Central Park.
As runners and carriages and tired horses go past
And the city breathes, air filled with promises.

The city has known many fates
Of highs and lows, much given and much taken
Of lovers and warriors, of hopes and broken dreams.
And yet she still stands proud, unshakable.

You befit the city my love
As you are kind as you are beautiful
Pale blue eyes which smile with so much love
Nurturing and wanting, forever in mine captivated.

Janete Cabral Jackson

The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

2011-07-27T13:20:00.004+01:00

As the sentence printed on the cover reads, Paulo Coelho's "The Alchemist" is a fable about following your dream. It is the story of an Andalusian shepherd who decides to follow his dreams after a chance encounter with a Gypsy and a King and the subsequent trail of omens which lead him to his Treasure. They take him from his Spanish home to the markets of Tangiers and across the desert to the Great Pyramids of Egypt.

In his travels he meets those who inspire him to move on and those who have forgotten to listen to their heart. It is a cautionary tale of the dangers of following prey to fear. However this is not a story of bitterness and sorrows but an inspiring and uplifting fable of a man daring to understand his heart. It is in the simplicity and the mystical lyricism of the story that Paulo Coelho's work translates into a modern classic. The theme is universal and knows no boundaries across language, culture or faith. As such it is no wonder that it is has captured so many people's hearts and imagination across the globe.

"So, I love you because the entire universe conspired to help me find you."

ADELE - 'Make You Feel My Love'

2011-03-31T19:13:00.001+01:00

Paris in March

2011-03-17T17:57:00.007Z

Dedicated to Louise Margaret Jackson

The bells toll in the high sun
As gentle waters of the Seine
Bathe the old cathedral of Notre Dame.
The large Rose window invites us in,
Amongst candlelight and incense;
And whispers of old, wandering souls.

The cold stonewalls are lined by statues
Of Saints, Green Men and ivy.
Promises and prayers, as pilgrims to and fro,
In traditions of new and old,
In this eternal play of light and shadow.

Then a sudden turn
And the purple light blinds us.
There is so much love in the detail,
It just takes our breath away.
And in that moment, I want to hold your hand.

We walk the spiral stairs
To the dizzy heights in the crisp air,
Overlooking the ancient city,
Guarded by giant gargoyles and lost chimeras.
There is a serene calmness, which guides us
As there is not much need for words,
Such is the comfort in knowing
It will stand against the test of times,
Always elegant and strong, above the skyline.

And so in the lazy afternoon
We find ourselves in its shade
In the dusty courtyard, amongst lovers
And passers by, dreaming of a different life
And what it would be like; and you my love,
The keeper of Notre Dame.

These are languid times
And we do not want to leave.
So we follow the bridge to a nearby café,
Sitting by the window as the white wine is poured,
And the palate meets the light taste of soft bread and fromage.

Night is falling with such ease,
There are brandy glasses and red velvet chairs,
Verdi’s Opera and Champagne coupes
And the opening night of Luisa Miller.

Such is the lyrical chant of voices past
As I sit, in rapture, by your side.
Stealing a look, unseen, as I watch you
Beautiful and poised in the Paris night.

Street lamps and headlights
Colour the city in this March night.
It still feels cold, and yet I am lost in your gaze
As it meets me halfway, smiling.
The piercing eyes, I am learning to navigate.

Like everything in this city
You seem to know the way.
Leading through the maps and long corridors
Of the Metro and my adoring heart.
I am vulnerable and whole,
And yet caught in your embrace.
And though I have sailed past many ports
In yours I will stay, my anchor, my city of lights.

Janete Cabral Copyright 2003-2011

The Anatomist

2011-02-09T01:27:00.002Z

The clock had struck ten and the study room in the faculty was dimly lit, fallen silent from all the hustle and bustle of the day. A sudden tap on the shoulder had wakened Steven. He looked up in a daze, still confused, wiping the drooling from the opened textbook page.
“Hello? Anyone there?” He said gathering his notes. Something or someone must have woken him up. But no one answered. He had been left amongst the voluminous medical textbooks and the dimmed lamps. He went past the corridor and stairs to reach for the main door but it was locked. He was stuck, how could the porter have missed him?
He sighed and then thought to try the fire exit. He had seen it by the Anatomy Demonstration room so he retraced his steps down the corridor. At the end, he pushed the door opened, greeted by the clinical coldness of the dissection room and the overpowering smell of formaldehyde. There was always something fascinating and mystical about this room and it looked even creepier at night. As medical students they gathered in groups of four per body every Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. Steven always stood in awe of the retired surgeons and teachers who skillfully navigated the surface of the human body. He still remembered being told not to be afraid and to touch the dead body. A few in the class went a colour resembling pale green at the time. He had a few nerves at the start too but it is remarkable how quickly one adjusts to something as surreal as dissecting a body and accepts it as normal.
Steven was actually quite fond of the body he had been given to practice, an old lady who had died of old age and blocked arteries. Even the body, which lay next to their group, had a pleasant rose aroma and a coin was found in his right antecubital fossa just last week. They did put it back as it had obviously been there for a reason and clearly wanted to take it with him to his final resting place.
However there was something about the deceased man across the room. Steven just could not bare the putrid smell as soon as he approached when summoned by the lecturer. Perhaps it had been cancer or even the mark of a lost soul? Nonsense, he thought, he didn’t even believe in that kind of stuff. He needed to find an exit before he lost his mind too.
He went through a narrow entrance and tried a door to his right, which easily opened. He flicked the light switch on and his eyes immediately caught the two large steel freezer compartments standing side by side and a faded three quarter length white coat. He suddenly felt this urge to try it on and could not explain it. He had seen plenty of white coats; he had a medical student one himself. Perhaps because it wasn’t his? Curiosity and impulse got the better of him so he tried it on.

“It’s a perfect fit.” A firm man’s voice said.
Steven jumped on his feet; a man was stood right behind him just a few inches away.
“I suppose you have come for the body?” The stranger said, his breath bitter and stale, his grin old and broad. He was no more than five foot, his hairline receding into a patch and his eyes dark and impenetrable.
A bewildered Steven tried to speak but no sounds came out.
“Well, which parts were you looking for?”
“What?”
“Well, you are a student doctor, aren’t you? Which part have you come for?” the man asked
“Oh, of course, sorry. For a moment there…” Steven said, still trying to work out who the man was.
“Well I don’t have all night, come on” He proceeded towards one of the freezers and opened it for Steven.
“We have got upper and lower limbs over here. Now here, are the more delicate specimens such as the brachial plexus and the branches of the inferior aorta.”
“Wow, they are incredible, almost textbook like. How come we don’t see these in class? “ Steven said moving closer to examine them
“No son, not almost, they were precisely cut and measured. I am constructing the missing parts before it is ready to be shared. Want to see where we get them from?”
“Constructing, I am confused? But sure!”
“In a moment, yes…. I see you are wearing my white coat.” The man said pondering.
“Oh so sorry, just could not help it. Here, please, let me give it back to you” Steven said.
“It suits you, as I said earlier a perfect fit. Plenty of memories, you know, it seems to bring me good luck. It seems to bring me exactly what I need when I ask for it”
“Oh? It does?” Steven said in a dubious tone.
“Yes, you see. I am the Anatomist.” He presented Steven his right hand and shook it.
“Steven Trousseau. Pleased to meet you. How come I have not seen you before?”
“Ah, the department keeps me working at night, no distractions from the likes of you. But in your case I shall make an exception. You see you have the most perfectly structured hands. Dare I say, hands of a surgeon?”
“Well, thank you. Not sure what to say to that. I hope I can do them justice one day.” Steven replied.

“Well my boy rest assured they will take pride of place. Follow me and I will show you how it’s done”
As Steven followed him into an adjacent room, the temperature dropped abruptly. A tray of finely set sharp blades and different sized saws set neatly on a silver trolley. The Anatomist closed the door behind and click was heard. He stared at Steven for a few seconds, which made him uncomfortable.
“So where are the bodies?” Steven asked.
“We are a bit short at the moment. You see random bodies won’t just do. Oh no, if you want perfection you have to find it first. This is my life’s work after all. But I am sure you will do just fine.”
Steven stood frozen, confused, thoughts racing through his head. Everything inside him told him to run and when he tried to reach for the door, it was locked. Again he was stuck, but in a far more dangerous position with a man holding a knife and wearing a horrific grin.
“Not so fast son, I have been waiting for you for a long time, now. The door locks on itself, didn’t you hear the click?”
“Why?” Steven barely managed to utter the words as the Anatomist had already crossed the room and blood was pouring from the right side of his chest.
“Easy now, don’t fight it. Your right lung is punctured, the air will run out soon. Shush don’t struggle. You see, you will be remembered for eternity. I will make sure you are my finest work. I promise.”

The End

Janete Cabral Copyright 2003-2011

"My Reading Life" by Pat Conroy

2011-01-21T19:30:00.002Z

A little gem has come out recently into our bookstores, Pat Conroy’s “My Reading Life”. For those who are not so familiar with the author you may have read or seen “The Prince of Tides” or “The Lords of Discipline”. The truth is that Pat Conroy’s masterful skill for storytelling has been delighting some of us for many years. So it comes has no surprise that the writer is an avid reader himself and has chosen to share his love of books and the English language with the wider public. As I opened the first few pages of “My Reading Life” it felt very much like sitting down with an old friend and indulging into some secrets of his soul.

Themes such as his Catholic childhood, his relationship with his parents and being brought up on the ever-changing military bases, pervade throughout the entire book. We have much to thank Peg Conroy for instilling her son’s love affair with books. Indeed much of his past is mirrored in Pat Conroy’s writing and there are clear reflections of this in his choices of books as well as in the friendships he forms throughout his reading and writing life.

How easy did I find to follow the steps of Conroy into the “Old New York Bookshop” and revel in what it might have been like to have lived during those literary soirees, or how I wished I could have been part of the influential Gene Norris’ s English class in 1961. It seems only too few of us are lucky enough to have had an educator which can both inspire you and challenge you.

He describes the greats such as Dickens and Tolstoy and other master novelists but his passion shines through when he writes about his emotional connections to the likes of Thomas Wolfe and James Dickey. Writers who have utterly consumed his soul with their art to the point it has changed both the teenage Conroy and the more mature one.

Another chapter, which I found particularly enlightening and honest, was “On being a military brat”. He describes his father’s history of domestic violence, the mask with which the family had to grin and bear and the ultimate pride on being raised “ a military brat” and serving the army.

Upon reading this book I could not help myself taking notes, particularly on writers I had dismissed in the past or simply not heard of. His passion for reading translates in each sentence. And what else could an author ask for, but to have others hold them in such great respect as to trust them to guide their way.

I salute you, Mr. Pat Conroy.

Janete Cabral

Cafe Marina

2011-01-05T21:08:00.008Z

I love attention to detail, especially when strangers turn to kindness when you least expect it. There have been many such occasions, but I will just mention the last one as it is still fresh on my mind. I work part time in a Health centre, doing mostly late shifts, which means half the time I miss lunch and head over to start work; hurriedly trying to grab a quick soup and toast if I can. I mention it in the context of the small fishing town where I am working. You see, for many of the local businesses this has been a very hard winter and they wear it on their faces. Tramway works have disrupted the main road and affected trade, may it be the newsagent, the multiple fish and chip shops and cafes. A few people have lost their incomes and jobs and there is little that the local council can do to help them, apart from some meagre pounds. It broke my heart yesterday, when I saw a patient who did not have enough money for a prescription for painkillers as she was not breaking even with her business...You can only do your best to suggest over the counter medications and how to help them via prepayments cards, etc...

But as the title suggests, I am meant to be writing about Cafe Marina, this little cafe across from the Health Centre, where I am greeted every time with a smile and a hot pot of Redbush tea as soon as I walk in the door. You see lately I promised myself I would try to be a healthier me, leave home early and sit down for a proper lunch before the start of a hectic day. It is a quaint little corner cafe which has obviously aged with time but still stands with grace. There are only a few handful of tables and chairs and individual menus advertising mushroom pie. The walls are filled with signed photos of actors from the 1950s mostly, all autographed to "Derek". Comedy actors, British actors and a few Hollywood stars. There are even two little gems of number one takes from the productions of " The King and I" by Walter Lang and " Gentlemen prefer blondes". And just as you start to feel you are lost in a different era, the radio starts playing "Every time we say goodbye" by Ella Fitzgerald. I could not help a smile and when the old couple sat next to me started humming the tune to the next song "It's...Strangers in Paradise" as soon as the first few bars started. They looked content as they definitely got it right. The young teenage girl sat across from me looked a bit uncomfortable and growing restless, as if she had been dropped from an alien spaceship which made the whole encounter incongruous and that more delightful! She did not order I noticed as she appeared to be waiting for her father. But even after he did arrive and sat down to eat, still she did not order.

I, on the other hand, was day dreaming during this whole scenario, wondering who Derek was and what he might have been like chasing all those precious signed photos from all over the world. I must ask the new owner, but I am still building the courage to do it. Perhaps I just don't want to spoil the fantasy I have created in my mind... There is a lot of that going on.

Before I digress again, kindness is the word, as they always welcome me with a smile and the brewing tea and head in my direction to take the order. I know I am a paying customer and always leave a tip and this might not seem like much. However I love the familiarity of the place and the way that they just leave me be without asking too many questions and yet there is this quiet air of acceptance. The new owner has not had a day off in a few years, he is a tall, calm gentleman and very quietly spoken. I suppose you would have to be in the current financial climate to be able to cope. The lady serving has visibly gone through a lot of problems recently as I can not help listening to the local chatter; after all I am now one of the "regulars"... Her sister works in the kitchen and does a lovely scampi. I have ordered it a lot, and actually have to stop myself for fear of sounding too boring with my choices! I usually get a smile and a little laugh when I reply " I think I will go for the scampi today".

So there it is, small gestures and acts of kindness and attention to detail which lends themselves to appreciation and contentment.

UPDATE:

I asked the owner and it turns out that two men used to run the cafe and were involved in the catering of theatre and film productions before it was sold 7 years ago. Apparently there are walls full of autographed pictures upstairs which the new owner hopes to share it with the public once they have done renovations.

Happy New Year 2011

2011-01-01T14:21:00.003Z

To all my friends out there and kindred spirits. Happy 1.1.11 !

May you get all that you wish for (just beware what you do wish for as you might get it!). I have a feeling 2011 is going to be the best one yet. Or so I am told.

May you get all the love you deserve without the Ego interfering, or ghosts from times past. Learn to forgive and be kind to yourself. It is but a small step to allow happiness in. You just have to remember to make room for it. Heartache makes you who you are now. The sum of it all prepares you for greatness.

So here it is to new beginnings, friendships old and new, aspirations, dreams and hopes. Life is magical and beautiful.

Janete Cabral

Wish

2010-12-16T00:29:00.002Z

That feeds a heart,

At loss of a stronger beat.

That humbles a life,

Grander than its planted seed.

That unveils the passion,

Behind all blinding truth.

Angel

2010-12-12T13:23:00.007Z

ps: the ad from google is quite distracting, just click the upper right corner to turn it off...

Aria ( Archives)

2010-12-12T02:56:00.005Z

All that you are

Breathes inside me.

My words captive,

My bare soul enwrapped,

In this urgency of longing.

This quilt of naked fire,

Like forces full of spring,

To loosen my senses

To no beginning nor end.

All that you are,

Your fire, the brilliance

Of your smile, pulls me in

To a home I have never known.

A simple touch; your sounds

Entice me, I am bound

To the years and to the kisses

Not yet lived, my Aria

I am here, our time awaits.

Changes

2010-12-10T17:48:00.007Z

I have just realised that for the first time in my life for a long time I am going to be living by myself. I had a house of my own for a short while and I did live in hospital accommodation in the past during my rotations, but that doesn't really count as there was always someone around or an opened late night canteen. Friends in university used to quite happily knock on my room at 2 am as they knew I would still be up. As an eternal insomniac my reputation preceded me. And certainly a few unusual bonds and firm friendships were born out of it.

I have always been independent and a free spirit but I also loved company, sharing information from the mundane to the more subtle nuances of daily life. I am lucky to still have friends from that era. All before we grew up too quickly and each went in a different direction.

I supposed that was the magic of the twenties. This spark, this feeling that somehow things would work out ok. This belief that propels us forward without too much thought for consequences. By the age of thirty your perspective changes, you may have a career, perhaps a family, responsibilities and you feel accountable. Though I must confess that I believe the same idealism and enthusiasm is just hiding a layer deeper under the skin waiting for the right circumstances to emerge itself.

So at the age of thirty-four, I am packing and moving to the first space I can call my own in a long time. It has taken me a long time to reach the decision. I am sure it has just been simmering under the surface until it screamed back at me; time to move on! I had spent too long living as a spectator, though many will find this a contradiction when you look at the amount of travelling I have done. Sometimes though it feels like I have been trying to challenge myself just to see my reactions and how far I could go. You learn though pretty quickly it does not matter where you are in the world, you are still you.

I don't think it is a delayed 30th crisis as I usually pay little attention to age, but who knows? Once the seed of possibility grows, the thoughts become more pronounced and soon after you have nothing left but to take action. August and september came and went all of a sudden I had this wake up call, "what am I doing with my life? Is this really what I want?". The Universe certainly gave me a good kick in the butt. I ended a long term relationship which had not been making either of us happy for a long time, started seeking out old and new friends, regained some of my old joie de vivre and even dared to dream of a future love.

I am waiting to hear news about the house I have applied for to rent. A gorgeous little semi detached three bedroom house with a drive, garage, small front and back garden and a little patio. It is fully furnished and made me feel at home as soon I walked in. It just felt right.

So as much as I may fear loneliness in a big house on my own, a good part of me can't wait for my life to start. There is a vacuous unknown and immense opportunity. As someone told me recently I need to spread my wings. So I suppose it will be akin to going on a journey of self discovery.

I know though I will be calling on friends and keeping busy still. I like my space but I was not born to live in solitude. One day I will have a full house.

Rising veil (Written in 1998, from the Archives)

2010-12-09T23:39:00.003Z

Times we search with the eyes of blindness,

To break these thickened walls called sadness.

For what is silence which brings no peace,

But a faded cry of an inside emptiness.

And yet the true season lies within,

And real the moves behind what is seen.

Janete Cabral October 1998

NanoWrimo

2010-11-20T15:29:00.001Z

Every year, I tell myself this will be the year I will do it... I will write 50, 000 words manuscript in a month and get it out of my system. That is the event of NanoWrimo ( National Novel Writing Month), which begins every year on the 1st November. The focus seems to be quantity rather than quality to force the more inertia driven writers to take risks and lower their expectations and perhaps finish that novel they have been meaning to do.

This is my problem. You see, I love the actual art of writing. I take pleasure in choosing the words and playing with them and testing them out on the page. And unlike life, you get plenty of second chances and you can just press erase and start again. Some writers see it as a form of therapy, expel their demons or write because they can't do without. And I have known some people plagued by writers block and obsessed with it. This is where I differ. My first passion is reading and the writing followed on from that. Probably because I am an insomniac by nature and found an outlet in writing which was better than midnight television...well it makes sense to me anyway.

I think that up to the age of 15 I was a very shy kid, writing, teaching myself the guitar to blend in a bit better and then joining drama club. I had wonderful teachers who kindly encouraged me and challenged me to think outside the box. I was shy but that does not mean I liked to conform...If anything it taught me to question everything. Ever since, the early exercises in writing helped me shape my opinions and thoughts on paper. The only drawback is that you can become so introspective you lose all eloquence to actually say what you mean.

I must give credit to Drama club as well in high school. I loved every minute on stage. It made me come out of my shell more, make new friends and explore new avenues of expression. I wasn't very good at it, I remember wanting to do a drama part and being offered comedy instead. But it do not matter as I thoroughly enjoyed the experience, from the camaraderie, to the breathing exercises and ultimately forgetting to wipe off the fake moustache on the bus ride home after rehearsal...I got some very strange looks at the time as you can imagine!

Anyway I digress which is so easy to do when you first put your thoughts on paper ( or a computer screen) and let it take you on a journey.

I do have short stories and novel ideas and a couple of chapters written and I could probably do with a kick to complete it. However I don't think I will be imposing looming deadlines on myself and turn the art of writing into a pressure cooker. I have a complete manuscript of 50 odd poems I might send off to some agents and publishers. But that's a whole other story for another day.

SOS children

2010-11-14T20:23:00.000Z

I thought that since I have been away to spend time with family, albeit short, I would write a little entry about SOS children Villages.

I have been sponsoring little Graca who is now 18 months in Mozambique and contributing to the Haiti Emergency Relief Service. Especially in times like this of economic recession charitable organisations probably suffer the most.

SOS children's Villages is actually the largest orphan and abandon children charity in the world. The difference from other children charities is that all the money donated actually goes to the child in full rather than pay campaign advertisement costs like others do. You probably won't find them on TV ads or newspapers and yet the Dalai Lama himself has said they were a charity where deeds speak louder than words.

This is the link if anyone is interested: SOS children

Little Graca ( Mozambique )

Autumn

2010-11-05T16:33:00.002Z

Autumn

The chair rocks back and forth,
Wooden floors creak keeping pace
As the fresh breeze picks up,
And the first leaves sweep the porch.
The colours of summer are fading
Into brilliant red and yellow tones,
As dark skies of rain threaten in the distance.

The fields have been harvested
And plot-by-plot the farmer plows the land.
Fresh soil unearthed carrying the wishes
Of new hope and abundance.
This is the year, the farmer whispers
As a tear rolls down the hardened cheek,
I will be able to provide for us all.

The house stands alone,
The windows rattle in the wind,
And an old woman waves back.
The smell of fresh coffee fills the air
As she sets the table and reaches for her journal
These are the words you will read one day,
Before time erases them.

She has lived through it all.
The love, the losses, the uncertainty of our times
Still I would do it all over again,
Her frail hand spells, no regrets.
She smiles as she puts the ink to rest.
Autumn is here, time to lit up the coal fire
And step into this secret world of dreams.

Janete Cabral Copyright 2010

Self

2010-10-29T02:16:00.000+01:00

I have lived
Enough days to fill a book.
The blood, the sweat
The love and the tears,
It is all there.

Moving pieces,
Remind me I have to wait
For someone, for something more
But I do not know what I wait for.

I miss the days
I have yet to live
And this unstoppable force. Although
I do not know all the things I miss.

I am the lives
And the changes I reflect.
I have learnt to forgive
And I am all that is left.

I have shed the layers
Of doubt and worry;
As I welcome the future, relieved,
I do not need to know.

I breathe new truths
That calm the mind.
The voice that shouts: you have one go,
And this is your lifetime.

Janete Cabral Copyright 2010

Wish

2010-10-18T14:15:00.003+01:00

The wide eyed school boy
Hides the drawing, as black
Ink drips, in his tainted hands.
He looks up, but no one
Has noticed; quiet in his corner,
He remains king.

As the window draws in
The light, he rocks his chair
Back and forth, to the tempo
Of the grandfather’s clock
Standing guard by the desk.

He follows
The shapes and figures
In the sky, building
His world of make belief.
Such is the longing escape
Yearning to break out.

And so the boy will grow
Too fast or too eager
To put his mark, to lend
His name, to the papers,
The kisses and the grand city lights.

But he will fall,
In sin and in love,
And like the rest of us
He will know sadness
And the best of times
As he rises a man.

Janete Cabral Copyright

The Sea

2010-10-17T17:02:00.004+01:00

After a request from a friend I have posted both written and spoken words.

The sea hails,
As the wind favors the set of sails,
Stretching across the azure waters.
Inch by inch, the fisherman
Pulls the anchor, as he prays
For the bountiful catch.

He wipes the sweat,
The tense lines across his forehead.
As he stares at the skies, just one more
Season, one more good omen.
And then life without the ocean.

What would become of him,
For all he has known
Are the rods, the nets
And these salt burns;
And the fresh smell of bait
He carries with him home.

He knows the language
Of waves, the tides and the full moon.
And even his bleeding hands never
Cease to work, to admire
At the sea’s harvest. For it humbles
Him, and it fills his soul.

Time is short.
As the bittersweet tune
Plays, to the sound of his leaving.
But not so easy does the story go,
As the mistress owns
The mermaid chant; whispering,
I am in your blood,
And I will never leave you.

Janete Cabral Copyright

Perfect Summer Home

2010-10-16T17:26:00.001+01:00

These are not my photos but excerpts from different places in the world. I would love to buy a beach house, where I could sit in the porch looking out into the Ocean as I lose myself in a good book or sipping a late morning coffee with a special someone.

It is nice to dream!

The Object of my Affection (In Venus Retrograde)

2010-10-15T15:18:00.002+01:00

The object of my affection

(In Venus Retrograde)

The old woman, dressed in black and grey tones, enwrapped her in long scarf, with which she hid her face, sat in the bench. She was throwing corn to feed the pigeons. Others in the square avoided her gaze and her presence altogether. A couple went past her and stopped.

“Look, it’s that woman again. She is here, day in and day out, feeding the pigeons.” The girl pointed out.

“Really, I never noticed it. Except for the pigeons, they are nuisance.” The boy said.

“It’s hard to miss her. She is quite the character. I always wondered about her, everything that she must have been through. To lead her here, I mean.”

“One word, a loser.”

“How can you even say that? I am sure she is lonely, but if you look at her now she actually seems happy. You can see her smile every time they come back to her for more. Besides she could have this whole other life.“

“Oh this is just so typical of you Jen. Romanticizing any given hopeless situation.”

“What do you mean, Ryan? “

“Open your eyes Jen, You are naïve at times.”

Jen stared back at Ryan, trying to find the words. Damn, why is it that every time she was put on the spot she could not think of any. She would find plenty the day later. So she walked away from Ryan, the pigeon lady and the Square.

“Jen, wait. I didn’t mean to be.” Ryan said following her.

“To be so condescending and completely insensitive.”

“I like you Jen, sorry”

“Really, you like me Ryan? Is that your answer? Fine then answer me this. Why are you even with me?”

“Well, I think you are great. You make me feel good about myself.”

“You could have fooled me Ryan. You belittle me, you never take me serious.”

“That’s not true. But you have to be honest that this incident in the square.”

“It’s what, ridiculous? You know what Ryan. I am going to apologize here. I was wrong about you, I was wrong about me.”

Jen touched his face and patted him on the back.

“This is me, with all my quirks and imperfections. I need someone that gets me, Ryan. You and I are on completely different wavelengths. “

“Now, Jen don’t do anything irrational”

“See, this is exactly what I mean. I call it a wake up call. It’s not your fault Ryan. We all take the next step because society, parents and even damned films tell us to. You thought I was just this perfectly well adjusted and conformed human being. That’s what everyone expects.”

“Is that so much to ask?”

“That’s not me Ryan. I want more out of this life. I want magic and I want to share it with someone who gets me. Someone who may not always understand but never hesitates to give me another try. And I am prepared to wait.”

“You are going to regret this Jen. You probably won’t find anyone as patient and tolerant and one that loves you.” Ryan said holding out to her.

“That’s just it Ryan, I am at the end of the day the object of your affection. But love should not be effort.” Jen kissed him on the cheek and then pulled away.

“ Isn’t it about time we be honest with ourselves?”

The End

My new guitar

2010-10-13T20:22:00.003+01:00

I took this picture in the RV- wow seems like a long time ago! This is my new Epiphone Guitar, plays like a beauty and I just fell in love with it...New Orleans gift to me.

Chile Miners Rescuer

2010-10-13T03:33:00.001+01:00

Working late shifts and my pattern of sleep is completely deranged, however just tuned in to BBC and watching the medic go down the narrow shaft to reach the trapped Chilean miners. I can't imagine the claustrophobic feeling inside that capsule under extreme heat, but he is certainly one brave medic. He will be very experienced of course but still it must require guts!

On the ships we had training to reach trapped or injured crew members in the water tanks which was nerve wrecking enough and required a lot of organisation and team effort. So I can only have a sense of what what is going on. To be all those meters under the surface...

It is quite emotive watching the local miners and family members and even the Chilean President cheering them along and singing their national anthem. I believe there is a twenty minute wait.

To everyone in Camp Hope, my prayers and best wishes, hope all goes well.

The Literature of the South

2010-10-04T15:59:00.007+01:00

There is something about the literature of the South which has long fascinated me. I read Margaret Mitchell's masterpiece when I was fourteen and fell in love with it, but have since discovered writers such as Pat Conroy, author of Prince of Tides, The Great Santini, The Water is Wide, Beach Music amongst others. I am currently reading South Of Broad, his latest work as a matter of fact. His descriptions of the Carolinas and his beloved Charleston as tickled my imagination for a long time.

I have since decided to spend my next big holiday in North and South Carolina. I have always wanted to visit the Outer Banks and Cape Hatteras. This time I will not be spending a lot of time in the cities but hopefully visiting a few more National Parks, the coastline and the Smokey Mountains. I am also wanting to sample some of the famous Southern Cuisine. I admit it, I have seen the Food Network channel on Sky ! I can make a mean blueberry pie, that's about it.

Here are a few links worth a visit :

http://www.outerbanks.org

http://patconroy.com

http://www.cruiseamerica.com

There are many authors out there whose work I greatly admire. And some not at all from the South and some not even American. Hopefully it won't be too long till I dedicate a post to one my favourite writers of postmodernism, the genius Paul Auster. But since this is a post about the Literature of the South I will not digress now as I often do. Sorry about that !

The lyricism of the prose poetry of Pat Conroy 's writings and his acute intimate portrayal of human relationships have made me a loyal fan of his work. I do not want to finish South of Broad, as I do not want it to end. Always the sign of a great book and a gifted writer. So here is a toast to you Mr. Pat Conroy and many happy years of writing and thrilling your fans.

Note: Do you know any good Southern writers you would recommend? Let me know.

The South, USA Roadtrip 2010

2010-10-03T20:57:00.001+01:00

I recently travelled to the South. The American South that is. I had saved money for a few months, took two weeks off and rented a 30 feet RV on arrival in Atlanta. I did it last year about the same time and thoroughly enjoyed it, especially crossing Nevada, Utah and Arizona. The grandeur of the North Rim of the Grand Canyon left me wanting more. The vast open spaces, the stunning natural beauty and the freedom to plan my next move all was too tempting.

This year I decided to follow an alternative route. I have always loved music and recently picked up the guitar once again. So it made sense to follow the musical roots of blues and rock and roll. I have already posted some photos in the last few days but just thought I would give you some background.

We did not get into Nashville until midnight the first night so the following day we chose to gently stroll in Nashville downtown and stopped at a local restaurant ordering lunch at 11am not realising we had gained an hour. I think after a long haul flight, and the extreme of temperatures all we wanted to do was rest.

We headed west to Memphis the next day. The KOA campground however although saying Memphis, Tennessee was actually in Arkansas. It was miles from downtown Memphis and they weren't particularly friendly so we decided to stay in that first night in the RV, make our own barbie and move out in the morning. The free wifi though helped me find this random campground called "Mississippi RV Park" which although had poor ratings for amenities on the internet was only a 5 minute drive from downtown. We risked it and although it did seem a like an abandoned RV lot next to the railway and the interstate it had its picturesque charm. Perhaps it was the large Neon sign and the old RV model hanging a few hundred feet in the air as advertisement... The owner a French lady in her 70s was not present at the time as she was visiting her daughter having chemotherapy a couple of hundred miles away. A local and also RVer at the site, had just woken up at 3pm when we got there and was walking Papillon, the landlady's dog. She was kind to let us know to park anywhere we liked and gave us the local taxi cab number. It was all very surreal but still it felt safe and the proximity to town was a bonus.

We headed to Beale Street to enjoy some of the atmosphere, visit some bars and blues gigs. We randomly walked into the souvenir shops and even tried some of their world famous ribs. (I don't usually eat them). And as there is always an Irish bar in every city, we ended up listening to live music and sipping some cocktails. I wanted to buy a guitar but the Gibson Factory was already closed for the night so we just admired it from the other side of the window. It was a good evening and I was glad to move RV sites.

We did meet the owner in the end. She was quite a character and invited us in to her house to see some of her heirlooms. She was a delight. I was mesmerised with the way she went from a very French thick accent to a broad Southern one. It worried me when she told us it would take 10 hours to drive down to New Orleans if we went slowly so we left pretty quickly after that. I was only counting on 6 hour drive and perhaps another hour or so for stops.

We left a few minutes after 10 am and arrived at 6 pm after a few stops in Mississippi along the way. Thankfully not the 10 hour drive time predicted. I drove the last 150 miles and the best part of the journey was joining the causeways taking you into New Orleans along miles and miles of swamps and boat houses. Simply beautiful.

Sadly I had some bad shrimp in my first night in New Orleans and had to move to a hotel for 3 days, so I didn't get to experience all that I wanted to. Bourbon Street and the French Quarter were very much like I had imagined. But I never got to go on the evening dinner cruise on a steamboat, or the tours that travelled New Orleans and the neighbouring swamps. I never got to visit the voodoo houses, the cemeteries or try out the Cajun and Creole cuisine which are part of this city's soul.

I did however buy a beautiful acoustic guitar on my last day there, determined to make good of the situation. The bad deep fried shrimp could have happened anywhere in the world. I did feel very poorly at the time but it has not deterred my intent to go back to New Orleans in the future. Everyone we met was friendly, polite, open and warm. A taxi driver even came back to the Westin, where he had dropped us off, after I had left my mobile phone in his car. He was quite a character and spoke openly about his life, his girlfriend and his faith and of course the effects of Katrina on the city. It is a city like no other in the States that I have so far visited.

Inevitably we had to change plans. And although I lost some of the campground reservations, that's the beauty of travelling in an RV in a quiet time of the year, you can do whatever you like. Originally I had hoped to travel from New Orleans via Tallahassee into St. Augustine and then head up to Savannah and Charleston. Not meant to be this time around, however the unexpected beauty of the Florida Panhandle and the beaches of the gulf of Mexico really made my second week of travel.

We arrived just before sunset and drove along Pensacola Beach to Navarre along the Santa Rosa Sound. The sugary white beaches, the way the sun lit up the evening tide and the quiet miles of turquoise water on both sides of the road were breathtaking. This is probably Florida's best kept secret. And not a drop of oil. Believe me I swam twice. Apparently this is where they had filmed Jaw 2.

I was really excited we had decided to stay in Navarre for two nights. The campground was impeccable and it had its own pier, which under the moonlight was simply magical. The gentle waves, the lights in the distance but otherwise silence.

Carabelle had its own charm as well and in fact the campground was right across the road from the beach. I could not help taking lots of photos and swimming once again in the warm waters. It was lovely to just sit outside facing the beach, although we did succumb to plenty of mosquito bites despite the Deet pouring out from our clothes and arms and legs alike.

The last long stretch of road was between Carabelle to Forsyth. The most direct route was also slowest but it made sense to take our time and it was spectacular to see the multiple cotton fields and plantations.
We had decided to stay in Forsyth for the night as it was only 60 miles south of Atlanta which meant it would a quick journey up the road the following morning to return the RV. We arrived at the KOA around 6pm and they were the warmest people to greet me on arrival actually. I just loved the Georgia accent!

On our last morning it came as a bit of a surprise that we were only 8 miles west of Juliette where "Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe" had been filmed apparently. So we headed up a bit early and decided to try Georgia's speciality of Fried Green Tomatoes. The cafe was just like the one in the movie, and I think I was a bit star struck actually. Except for the extreme loud noise of the train going past whistling at the exact moment we had parked and walked up to the cafe. It was quite deafening! I am a huge movie buff so I had to visit the local gift shop and get some film memorabilia. One of the owners came up to me and talked me through some of the cast photos and stories. It was a great way to spend my morning before heading back to Cruise America, the RV rental shop. I made a mental note of visiting the Tara Museum of "Gone with the Wind"next time I am in Atlanta as well as Margaret Mitchell's house.

My last day in Atlanta was spent mostly in the Georgia's Aquarium which was probably the most relaxing way to spend an afternoon before the long haul flight back to Heathrow. I wish I had stayed longer. I feel like I had one week of holiday instead of two, but at least I made the most of it and came back a few pounds lighter and rejuvenated.

Note : Friends ask me why the States, why the RV? I have but a simple answer. Wherever I have been in the States I am mostly greeted with friendliness and warmth. Travel should be an escape from the mundane, and the wide open spaces present a world of possibilities. Of course it is nice to stay in fancy hotels which I did do in New Orleans and Atlanta. But I felt the most relaxed just helping prepare the barbie outside the camper under the stars or by the side of the Ocean. And hopefully I will do it again soon.

Travel Dates:

9th Sept Atlanta, Georgia

10-11th Nashville, Tennessee

12-13th Memphis, Tennessee ( although stayed one night in Arkansas)

14-18th New Orleans, Louisiana

19-20th Navarre Beach, Florida, Gulf Of Mexico

21st Carabelle, Florida, Gulf of Mexico

22nd Forsyth, Georgia

23rd Atlanta, Georgia

Shots from the road II

2010-10-02T12:00:00.001+01:00

Shots from the road

2010-10-01T15:00:00.001+01:00

Memphis. Home of Sun Studios.

2010-09-30T22:31:00.001+01:00

Nights in Navarre

2010-09-28T17:28:00.000+01:00

Gulf of Mexico II

2010-09-27T10:00:00.001+01:00

The beautiful Gulf of Mexico

2010-09-26T03:01:00.002+01:00

Christchurch earthquake

2010-09-04T01:38:00.001+01:00

To all my Kiwi friends in the South Island, hope you are all ok after reading this report.

Geonet's Update:

The magnitude 7.1 Darfield earthquake struck early on Saturday morning, and caused

significant damage in Christchurch city and the Canterbury region.

Last update September 4, 12:00 am

The magnitude 7.1 earthquake occurred at 4:36 am, the epicentre was 40 km west of Christchurch city, and the depth of the quake was at 10 km. The epicentre is close to the town of Darfield. There is no tsunami resulting from this earthquake as it has occurred on land. It is the most damaging earthquake in New Zealand since the Hawke's Bay earthquake in 1931.

Mainshock ("Darfield" earthquake)

Saturday, September 4 at 4:36 am, magnitude 7.1

2010-04-29T19:45:00.002+01:00

Of a need that searches,

How to fill the void.

Of the old that nurtures,

Both wish and solace.

Of the new that writes,

Both real and promise.

Of a presence that teaches,

How to miss the real losses.

"The House", a horror short story

2010-04-15T19:24:00.010+01:00

THE HOUSE

“So thanks again for letting me stay here the night, sir. “ John said
“Yeah, you are not the first one to get lost. I am known as Mr. Fishwick around these parts.” The old man replied shortly.
John took his rucksack off his shoulders and smiled. Well it wasn’t any fancy room, but it would do him alright. One last assignment, damn it, that’s all, he told himself.
Outside the rain was falling short on the pavement as the old house creaked and shrieked through its pores... John lit a cigarette and looked at his watch, a few more hours till dawn. He put his cigarette out and laid on his back, eyes shut. At first he thought that his mind was playing tricks on him. But there was a continuous whistling sound coming from one of the corners.
He got up to get closer to it and there it was behind the wall, getting stronger and stronger.

“Anyone there?” John asked

“SIN!” it whispered.

“Look, this is not funny.” John said in a firm tone but unable to hide a degree of fear.

A pause and then nothing, just deafening silence. Until the creaking noise restarted and the wall started to shake and break in places...John placed the palm of his right hand against it and felt the vibrations opening small cracks in the wall and then a dripping sound commenced. In the dim light John touched the wet floor and followed the traces which were filling the cracks on the wall. In bloody red ink it spelled.

“ S...I...N”

"What the hell!" John cried in a muted scream, his voice closed in on itself.

Outside a loud knock on his door made him jump. The door opened not waiting for a reply.

“What have you done son?” The old man asked, stood at he doorway. His expression was somber and sad.

“Nothing, I was just lying down and... “ John never finished the sentence as the old man interjected.

“No, I meant what have you done? What crime?” He voiced accusingly.

John's face became expressionless. The sigh of relief had been replaced by a haunting feeling of desperation. How could anyone know?

“I.... I didn’t do it.” He simply said.

“You must have done something son, otherwise you wouldn’t be here” the old man muttered.

John said nothing.

“I am the Keeper. The guardian to this house. It claims all the sinners. The house of failed penitence some call it." The old man said breaking the silence. " Repent or the house will claim you."

John shook his head, nothing but nonsense he thought. He had taken precautions, made sure he was not followed. It was in self defence that was all. The old man was trying to pull some tricks, that's all.

"I will say it again, son. Repent or..."

"If you are threatening me mister you have another thing coming." John menaced.

"Son, there isn't much time." The old man said in a tone of subtle sorrow.

The words were shortly followed by a loud roar. Mr. Fishwick stepped back and stared at the young man before him. "Too late" He whispered.

John stared back in horror, leaning against the wall trying to find support as the ground threatened to open and swallow him. The house shook violently.

John let a loud scream "Shit, help me man.Please."

The old man lowered his eyes, retreating back to the front porch.

"Help. I have done nothing wrong. Shit... All I did was hit back in self defence. I did not mean to leave him to die. Please, I am sorry! Help...."

John's cries quickly disappeared as his body sunk into the floor and the house growled and then fell into silence.

Old Mr. Fishwick nodded to an invisible force. His eyes had watered, perhaps this time, he had hoped in vain. He did not like his job but that was his own act of contrition. He had confessed his sins and the house had let him live all those years ago, taking the place of the previous in keeper.

"It has been a busy season. A very busy season indeed." He sighed walking back to his room on other far side of the house. An old sign covered in dust and worn by time and erosion read "Redemption". It hung just by the street light rocking back and forth in the light evening breeze.

As the man prepared himself to lock the door, the sound of an engine stalling outside the house stopped him. Another car had pulled in front of the house. It had run out of petrol.

THE END

Note: I write poetry, short stories and currently writing a novel. However every so often I dabble in other genres experimenting. I apologise in advance if I fail miserably in this horror genre for all the fans out there, but then what is life without taking risks?

Janete

Utopia (from the Archives)

2010-04-04T00:51:00.000+01:00

What does it take

To dislodge an idea?

Like parchment paper, resistant

In the most weathered season.

But like most utopias,

We are full of flaws and quirks,

Barely surviving, as we fall a fool

Trying to bridge the distance.

And somewhere, buried deep,

In tainted scribbled notes,

By late nights and lattes,

We call off the searches.

This oratorio of greatness,

Leads to one possible truth.

The mirror is looking at you;

But which one will you choose?

Happy New Decade 2010!

2010-01-01T01:10:00.002Z

To all my friends and readers wishing you a very happy 2010 and may this be a great decade of wonderful accomplishments, love, peace and health.

Janete Cabral

Grand Canyon

2009-12-02T15:09:00.004Z

On a hazy day but still beautiful. Then came the rain, the thunder and the lightening.

Antics from the road

2009-12-01T13:52:00.007Z

Sunset over Utah

2009-11-30T11:48:00.002Z

Utah

2009-11-29T09:23:00.004Z

This week I have decided to put some photos from my recent road trip. Especially as winter is upon us and it is nice to day dream.

The Golden fields

The skyline

Bryce Canyon

Pokarekare Ana

2009-11-28T18:46:00.002Z

A beautiful Maori song and one of my favourites. Listen for yourself.

The perfect job

2009-11-27T21:52:00.001Z

I have just finished a six months post in Manchester. It was not without its trials and tribulations but I won't go into details.

Truth is I am struggling. I want to find the perfect job, but it just does not seem to exist. After the initial honeymoon as you are both learning to trust and work with each other, the period of disillusion ensues. Bureaucracy, timing, rules, uneven work load, everything can play a part.

I am an INFP and I have to deal with it. Myers Briggs tells me that INFPs have very high standards and are perfectionists and idealists. Consequently frustration and work dissatisfaction scores highly amongst this particular personality type.

Apparently I just need to accept that idealism can never be wholly satisfying. I had figured that much a long time ago, but how can I change who I am and what I aspire? Why should I accept second best? It bothers me seeing colleagues taking short cuts, compromising best patient care to achieve government target numbers. It is then I behave like a rebel, start to do my own thing and become more isolated in the process. I am not perfect or self indulgent, far form it. But I do value honesty, compassion and kindness. So much seems to be lost in this corporate world.

Give me a team of people who will take the time to listen. Who are ready to change the world. Truth is if I had money I would write and only do charity work. I would join the Medecins Sans Frontières MSF and help those who truly need it. I do not say this out of a completely altruistic nature, or a strong desire to feel needed or craving attention but simply to find a meaningful way to live.

I am selfish just like anybody else. I love beauty and the finer things in life. I like to indulge my family and loved ones with everything that I can offer and shower them with.

I am going for interviews at the moment so I guess it brought all this up once again. I want to make the right decision for a change, to find that perfect job. But it is difficult just before Christmas and the temptation is to accept any job that is offered without looking at the big picture. Particularly in these times of economic recession. So far nothing feels right so I will wait for as long as I can.

After all, I want to work but I also want to be happy. And it is so easy to be over critical and sometimes we forget to be kind to ourselves.

Oscar short listing: Under Our Skin

2009-11-19T23:07:00.008Z

Wow...My congratulations to the film makers and producers of the documentary Under Our Skin as it just been announced it has been shortlisted for an Oscar as one of the 15 finalists competing for the “Best Documentary Feature” in the 82nd Academy Awards®.

When I first ordered the pre release DVD and watched with great emotion the heart wrenching stories of fellow Lyme sufferers and their battle with the medical profession it made me humble and hopeful. That one day their voices would be heard. That one day they would get the acceptance and recognition they so deserve.

I posted the link to the trailer about a year ago and as a doctor and a Lyme patient and a friend (I hope!), I am so proud of all that they have achieved.

Thank you for believing and for being on the front line. You are true Lyme Warriors. Perhaps now change will come...

Once again, here is the trailer...Watch it in a cinema near you.

Brandi Carlile: Give up the Ghost Review

2009-10-20T22:11:00.016+01:00

I have just bought the album Give up the Ghost and I think it is Brandi Carlile's best accomplished, vibrant and risk taking one. Lots of promise for this young singer and her amazing band. Her voice just draws you right in from the start, powerful, enticing and mesmerising. You can't help feeling moved by the lyrics and hunger for more once it all comes to a close. And for the less convinced fans out there, Sir Elton John contributes to the song Caroline...Not bad for an endorsement and musical contribution! She must have been star struck on meeting him I am sure.

There are too many songs to mention such as Before it Breaks, Pride and Joy and Dying Day that I fell in love with. I guess you will just have to trust me and listen for yourself. I was introduced to her music by a friend in 2005 and I have actually seen the band play on three different occasions, so I knew what to expect from this delicious and emotive composition.

They certainly seemed to have grown more confident as a band taking risks and venturing into unchartered territories of Dreams and Oh Dear which could not be more further apart in terms of vocals, rhythm, instrumentation and style, but instantly became audience favourites.

The album is out! Her influences range from J. Cash, Patsy Cline, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Jeff Buckley and Elton John...

Dying Day is an unplugged version, which always sounds best when played to a live audience as showed in this amateur video shot in The Depot in Salt Lake City on the 10th september 2009. She has a lovely manner and engages her audience with fun and ease. The best thing though, I was there !!

This second one has been my favourite since she started playing in 2007 and has made it to this record. It is called Pride and Joy and it is beautiful.

And just because I had a fantastic time I will add this old and very engaging song called Turpentine.

South Lake Tahoe

2009-09-28T18:24:00.003+01:00

After picking up the RV in San Leandro the road trip really kicked off. By the way Apollo RV Rentals were excellent and I would recommend them to anyone wishing to try it. The pricing was very attractive too. I was familiar with them in Australia and New Zealand, but they have only recently started business in the US. It was fun being a leather tramp for a week...

I navigated our way out of San Leandro and into Tahoe, too scared to drive the monster onto the freeway. The Bay Bridge had been closed for repairs and a lot of traffic and confusion was expected as it re opened but luckily we missed it all and arrived in South Lake Tahoe in good time.

We stayed in a KOA campground, which was about six miles away from Lake Tahoe itself but in a quiet forested area away from the far busier RV communities. The first priority was to find a food market which thankfully we did. In hindsight it would have been better to do it at the start of the trip rather than racing against time so that we didn't have to hook up in the dark. But you learn these things as you go along. Raley' s had the most beautiful fresh fruit selection and grabbed a few beef skewers and prawns to be cooked later.

The inside of the RV was bigger than some hotel rooms I have stayed in the past. After being set up we considered lighting the barbecue provided by the campsite but sadly we had no charcoal. Probably not a bad thing considering the number of bear sightings in the area after dark. I remember holding the torch whilst my friend went outside for a smoke, it was about then paranoia set in. It made us laugh with hysterics after wards. Truth is some of the campsites have seen black bears as many as four in four hours however it tended to be the ones closer to the Lake itself. Still one had to be cautious...and no other soul was seen outside their RVs after sundown.

However as they say if you see a black bear in the wild be thankful. I liked the quietness of the place and finally caught my breath up and thoughts after the madness of San Francisco. The double bed at the back was very comfortable and I can't call it roughing it .

The next morning after stocking up once again at Raley' s, I must confess I stopped for my double espresso in Starbucks...they are everywhere !

The drive along the Lake was beautiful even if it meant putting us back by a couple of hours. The steep inclines and vertiginous scenery made for a slow drive but certainly worth it. I have posted a couple of photos. We turned left in Truckee to rejoin the I 80 towards Reno. And you know you have crossed the state line into Nevada when casino and gambling ads start popping up everywhere. I posted a couple of photos taken from the road.

San Francisco

2009-09-27T17:52:00.002+01:00

Labour Day Weekend was a very busy time to visit San Francisco, but it never lost its charm despite the masses of people and queueing. I had been there before so I happily crossed town on a cable car and took my time in Pier 39. It was a hazy day, the mist had come down after noon and covered the Golden Gate. We decided to take the ferry to Sausalito unaware of the Arts Festival and the bigger crowds of tourists and their bikes. It was amongst all the confusion that my wallet was stolen, right about the same time my friend first started to show the signs of food poisoning.

I suppose in every journey there are ups and downs. But this was just the start of our trip and I was not going to let it spoil it! I kept expecting for a third bad thing to happen but it never did.

San Francisco is a beautiful city, there is no denying it.

US Road trip 2009 itinerary

2009-09-26T10:20:00.008+01:00

What a wonderful trip it has been. A lot of lovely sights and friendly folk, despite a wallet being stolen and a case of food poisoning at the beginning of the journey. From crowds in hotels in big cities to the vast empty spaces in the wilderness it has been a memorable time. I guess it really started as a road trip when I picked up the 31 feet Apollo RV from San Leandro and stared at it wildly as I was fast learning how to manoeuvre it. It really felt like an adventure about to start. I have written down the itinerary dates and will be posting some photos. More to come...

Day 1 -3 : San Francisco, California

Day 4: South Lake Tahoe, California ( 1st night in RV )

Day 5: Elko, Nevada

Day 6: Salt Lake City, Utah

Day 7: Fillmore, Utah

Day 8: Jacob Lake, North Rim Grand Canyon, Arizona

Day 9: Mesquite, Nevada ( hot, hot, hot !)

Day 10-12: Las Vegas, Nevada ( Treasure Island hotel, the lost hours... )

Day 13-14 : Los Angeles, California

Brandi Carlile

2009-09-04T14:50:00.002+01:00

Manchester Academy 2, 9th August 2009

Poetry and travel

2009-08-25T14:05:00.009+01:00

Hello everyone,

It has been a while since I last posted. It has been very busy at work, commuting and long distances but I was also left recovering from a health problem for some time. All seems to be on track though.

In a way, I left my recording of my poem The Sea to simmer and marinate for a while and receive all the lovely feedback that it did. I just wish I had come back sooner. Thankfully nothing to stop me from regular posting.

The comments mean a lot to me, good and bad, and reminds me why I do it in the first place. I love writing. It inspires me and challenges me and I get to meet several other people through this very platform.

I am working in general practice part time now, left my sea days behind although not my passion for traveling. I am hoping to rent an RV in September and travel from San Francisco to Los Angeles via the Grand Canyon. The flight and a couple of hotels are booked so just waiting to hear from the rental company for confirmation. Nothing excites me more than the prospect of waking up to a sunrise overlooking the Grand Canyon. I am taking my camera and my mac with me.

Recently I went to see my parents in the Algarve. Sun, sea and a lot of fun. Even went to the Seafood festival in Olhão and saw Brandi Carlile live for the second time. It was a lovely weekend.

For those who don't know her, Brandi Carlile is a really talented singer and composer who has just finished promoting her second album The Story. Her new album Give up the Ghost is coming out in October. I love the albums but she excels in live concerts, what an amazing performer.

Well better post this before battery runs out.

Kisses

Janete

Christopher McCandless

2009-06-06T12:39:00.005+01:00

Alexander Supertramp, i.e Christopher McCandless wrote this in his journal prior to his death:

"So many people live within unhappy circumstances and yet will not take the initiative to change their situation because they are conditioned to a life of security, conformity, and conservatism, all of which may appear to give one peace of mind, but in reality nothing is more dangerous to the adventurous spirit within a man than a secure future.

The very basic core of a man’s living spirit is his passion for adventure. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greather joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun."

Isle of Pines, New Caledonia

2009-06-05T16:54:00.000+01:00

I have only been a couple of times to the Isle of Pines, but thought I would post a few photos.

Jeff Buckley

2009-06-04T21:34:00.003+01:00

His voice is perfection, just love it ! His early death was a big loss to us all.

Damien Rice

2009-05-31T18:18:00.003+01:00

Another beautiful performer, the very evocative Damien Rice

My Pacific Dawn: swine flu

2009-05-27T11:28:00.001+01:00

The Pacific Dawn was my first placement as a crew ship doctor for 3 months. It must be 18 years old by now, previously known as the Regal Princess. Despite its age and lack of grand class status, it certainly has its charm and I am very fond of it and have good memories. Therefore I wish all my friends and mates on the Pacific Dawn best of luck and a speedy recovery! I can only imagine how busy it must be during the swine outbreak... Thinking of you !

The beautiful South Pacific

2009-05-23T11:18:00.001+01:00

There is no place on earth as beautiful as the South Pacific, however we did get some fierce force 10 storms at times and it was not an uncommon occurrence when panels started falling from the ceiling. When the weather got that bad we were not allowed on the open decks and the port holes were shut, so I didn't always get to take the most impressive moments.

Although ships these days are built like fortresses so we never feared. I am happy with my sea legs and loved every minute of it!

Ship doctor

2009-05-22T11:16:00.005+01:00

Saying goodbye to ship's life.

It has been an adventure. A life inspired.

Belonging

2009-05-17T07:11:00.001+01:00

You search the boundaries
Past distant lands and foreign tongues
For what the soul need matter.
Holding to one true feeling,
Where the heart stops short,
Of the fear in believing
It will not fill again.

Perhaps you will wake up,
To the life you have aspired
And all those years of longing
Will not go unanswered.
For all that it may seem,
I have thrown the ropes
Awaiting your grasp, fierce
In this hope of belonging.

Janete Cabral Copyright

Wala, Vanuatu

2009-05-16T05:58:00.004+01:00

Mystery Island, Vanuatu

2009-05-06T11:48:00.005+01:00

I have decided to share with you some of the photos I took whilst I working in the South Pacific as a crew ship doctor. I have been truly lucky . Today I will post a few photos of Mystery Island,Vanuatu. No one lives there as the locals believe it is haunted however they do come on boats with their crafts when a ship is in. The ships can't actually dock so passengers are carried in tender boats.

Vanuatu is beautiful by the way, like much of the South Pacific. I have had the chance to visit Port Vila as well as Wala. I will post a few more photos soon.

An old photograph

2009-05-03T00:20:00.001+01:00

I follow the traces
Of black and white stills
Searching, for a likeness
Amongst the bright lights
And aged white cloths
From an old time past.

I read the lines
On your face, inspired;
And I, the keeper of the flame,
Of the one who could not love me.
It was then we parted, estranged
Friends, each looking for an answer.

This all I have left
And some ink fading letters,
And perhaps the seldom longing
Which burns my thoughts
Into the early hours of the night.
As the restless sleep befriends
The light which is not meant to breathe.

But I have taken my chances
And as the morning breaks,
My smile meets the old prints.
A time that was, in now past,
As memories live without pain
And old friends find their own way
And my heart is full again.

Janete

Copyright 2009

Positive Western Blot IgM Lyme Borreliosis

2009-04-20T00:35:00.002+01:00

What do you say now Liverpool Tropical School of Medicine?

When I went to see the consultant in Liverpool in April 2008, I was hopeful to get some treatment. My memory was failing me, I had given up work for 3 months and it affected my muscles, joints and ultimately my mood. All I could do was hope that someone could listen, that someone could take me seriously enough.

The consultant seemed nice enough, although alarm bells should have warned me when he confidently said that 3 weeks of doxycycline was more than enough to kill any Lyme bacteria....Guess he had not heard of L or Cystic form of the Borrelia spirochaete and the fact that Chronic Lyme Disease exists as an entity. If you need evidence there are many papers all around the world published in the matter.

I was discharged from clinic ultimately saying that my bloods had been sent to the Health Protection Agency and that the report had worded that there may have been too much background staining and therefore dismissing my previous positive result. I had Erythema Migrans which is pathognomonic of Lyme disease clinically...What do you say to that?? Re write medicine??

But according to them anyway, Lyme Disease does not exist in New Zealand...Wrong again...Better check your facts. Oh and they also had lost some of bloods...Who am I going to trust here do you think?

In July 2008 I repeated a second test in Portugal which remained positive. It was then after writing an article about my experience with Lyme, that a few good people equally suffering from Lyme disease put me in touch with a Lyme Literate Doctor in the UK. I had lost faith in the NHS, so I went private and have not regretted it ever since. The improvements are remarkable and although there are still some minor issues I can't thank my LLMD enough.

I was determined not to let the Lyme stop me from what I loved doing, my work and my travelling. So I decided to work as a ship doctor in the South Pacific and then again in the Caribbean. I was very lucky and privileged but also worked very hard to balance everything.

In March 2009 as I was changing antibiotics I developed a significant Herxheimer reaction. Some of the old Lyme symptoms were creeping up again. The senior doc agreed to send my bloods for further testing in the lab in Florida guess what? my IgM WB was positive for Lyme Borreliosis as per CDC criteria. IgG was negative but then my infection is still active and current. As I recall Florida sees a lot more Lyme cases than the labs in the HPA.

What do you say Health Protection Agency? Do you claim to have more experience than the CDC and three other positive WB tests ( two done in Portugal and one in Florida ) ? A formal enquiry instigated by the governor of Connecticut has currently frozen the IDSA guidelines. But what about UK or even European guidelines? Are we going to be dictated by the corrupt insurance companies in the States who had vetted interest in 9 out of 14 members, the same people responsible for producing guidelines ? The same guidelines which are then accepted as the gold standard for the rest of the world ??

In my work as a General Practitioner in the NHS, I take my time as much as possible, I am thorough and patients later thank me for it. They often say it is because you listen. There are many things I do not know and I search for help and guidance when I don't know. I am not afraid to ask for help. I do not have the arrogance that some of my fellow colleagues so clearly express The old mantra ..If I can't explain it then it does not exist seems to work for them.

This is incredibly frustrating. We have the lowest consultations times in Europe which leads to large amount of stress amongst staff, GPs and patients. I believe in an NHS system and free health care but sadly government changes dictate that doctors spend most of their time worrying about QOF points, profits and hospital stars and less about adequate patient care.

At the end of the day, I sleep well at night thinking I have positively influenced the lives of a few people simply by listening and daring to open the can of worms.Thankfully I am not alone and there are a few willing and great doctors out there.

Post Scriptum: Oh and may I suggest you watch the documentary Under Our Skin ?You will learn something.

Haven

2009-01-13T13:24:00.001Z

Uninvited,
A high pitch cry
Breaks the glass,
As an old photograph falls
Into the concrete ground.
A mockingbird shoots
Past the tainted window,
As snow skies approach
The old house on the hill.

Like a page in a book
Waiting for its turn,
The young boy stares
At the grandfather’s clock
As music will come
And his mother will dance.

The bounteous fires
Feed on this winter solace
As strong winds hiss
The wish of a mother
To keep her boy safe
Here, in this now.

Happy New Year

2009-01-10T23:08:00.000Z

Wishing my all friends and readers a very happy New Year.

Thank you for all your kind words and encouragement.

Yours,

Janete

Summer

2008-11-18T23:42:00.000Z

Summer

I have seen it, the first light
In eastern shores, past miles
Of dirt and gravel, as the heat
Lifts its veil in the morning mist.

It meets rivers and gorges
Against the giant sky high
Guardians, as waterfalls reflect
The bed of shells and stones.

It is this taste of summer,
Which still lingers in my lips,
Of cherries and vine grapes
And the brown dust, in the humid air.

There are golden fields,
Laced with lavender, washed
By sand and dried leaves
And the midday sun.

It wears the brilliant reds
As the cicadas play, to greet
The evening dew and kiss
The dreams of summer nights.

Janete Cabral Copyright 2008

Barack Obama : How wonderful

2008-11-04T23:59:00.004Z

"I have a dream"

Congratulations President Elect Obama !

Ouvea, Loyalty Islands

2008-09-09T03:00:00.002+01:00

Out of Uniform

2008-09-09T02:00:00.005+01:00

Hello from the South Pacific!

Will try to post some photos now that the internet is working on board the ship...it has been temperamental at times.

All the best

janete

South Pacific

2008-07-28T14:13:00.005+01:00

Hello friends!

Thought I would post briefly to explain my absence...

I have started a new job as a Ship Doctor, currently sailing the South Pacific. It was unexpected, incredibly busy lately but a wonderful opportunity for three months Will hopefully get time to write a longer post.

Best wishes

janete

Under our skin, trailer

2008-06-01T02:13:00.001+01:00

Lyme disease

2008-05-19T17:52:00.010+01:00

Just thought I would update some news as some of you have asked why I had not posted as often lately. Rest assured I am still writing plenty! This is my perspective as a doctor and a patient of the failing medical profession's attitude towards the unknown. The last paragraphs sum it all.

It all started after a visit to a farm in late December 2007, beginning of summer in New Zealand. I was bitten by a tick and not noticed it at first. Within a few days I started with a few random symptoms which I won't go into too much detail just now. I thought I was very unlucky, succumbing to a few ailments at the same time. I carried on working but felt very tired.

One day my left axillary lymph nodes became very enlarged and painful and that was when I noticed the remainders of an engorged tick...I was horrified as you can imagine. It was a friday evening, too late to go to my health center and I did not want to burden the guys after hours. So I self prescribed penicillin. The symptoms worsened as I experienced the Herxheimer's reaction ( healing crisis ) which happens in Lyme disease. I was certain then the tick was a carrier of Borrelia burgdefori, responsible for the disease.

I saw a GP the following monday who prescribed me Augmentin for one week, given my fever and symptoms, but failed to realize the urgency of early adequate treatment in Lyme Disease, despite all good intentions.

After I voiced my concerns, a colleague mentioned the name of a Microbiologist Specialist with an interest in Infectious Diseases, who kindly saw me in short notice. Unfortunately after the consultation he did not think it was a tick. Even though I saw it with my own eyes and asked a friend to confirm it and then removed it with tweezers. I was told to take painkillers and that I was probably suffering from a viral infection. Oh yes, the old virus excuse...The term some of my colleagues use when they don't know what is going on...

You can imagine my frustration. I was finding it very difficult to walk and had a lot of bone pain and numbness and at times a very high fever. Lyme disease or not, as a doctor I knew something was wrong. Still I wanted to make the most of my New Zealand experience so I carried on working to afford my caravan holiday in the end. I carried on with antibiotics for three weeks.

I actually began to feel better soon after and went on to have the holiday of a lifetime! I loved my " Jucy " caravan and saw much of the beautiful South Island as portrayed in the photos I have posted on this site. I was able to do sea kayaking in the Abel Tasman, glance at the Glaciers and gently hike in the Southern Alps. It was an unforgettable experience, so much so I did not want to come back to the UK. I enjoyed the freedom of the road, the pleasurable scenery, the laid back attitude far from the " rat" race.

When I came back, I worked in Accident and Emergency for two months but slowly symptoms started to come back. I had vowed to find out the truth about what happened anyway, but now with the symptoms again it prompted me once again to ask for help. I quit my job and visited family for two weeks. I was referred to the Institute of Tropical Medicine and tests came back positive for Lyme Borreliosis.

Funnily enough a few days later I actually developed the Bull's eye rash, which when encountered is pathognomic of Lyme Disease... so much for irony.

I have been taking doxycycline since and I am seeing an infectious disease consultant tomorrow.

So why the long post? I wanted to make a point. Not necessarily about me specifically as I am only one of many who suffer from this silent plague. But the fact that I am a doctor, I was able to recognize and reach for early treatment as this often betters the chances of full recovery. I am thankful for that. However I feel very sorry for all those who were not so lucky. Those who faced the medical establishment illiteracy regarding Lyme Disease and could not ask for help. As doctors we fail to listen to the patient. And when we cannot explain the medical mystery we attempt to give it some sort of name, some sort of virus perhaps. And failing that we accuse the patient of fabrication of symptoms, of somatomization, in summary "all in their head". As a doctor I will confess I did not know much about Lyme, only enough to think of it as a differential diagnosis. But I also like to think that when I am faced with something I don't know much about, I ask for help. A second opinion, a referral; I acknowledge my own limitations in the interest of best patient care. But so many doctors don't...

So to all you lymies out there I wish you the best of luck. Talk to your doctor and if he/she does not listen despite all good intentions ask another and another...

WAITOMO

2008-05-04T13:05:00.001+01:00

WAITOMO

( wai: water; tomo: hole in the ground)

The man stands tall, holding on to the rope
Pushing the boat along, so gently over the water
Which fills the cave of no other sound.
A swift turn and a few drops fall,
As the air becomes humid and cold.

First there is darkness,
But just as the eyes begin to learn,
They are blinded, by a sudden show
Of ten thousand lights, a mirror
Of the night sky, high above on the roof.

In one moment, more than black walls
And shimmering stars and breathtaking
Awe, there is a presence and nothing
Prepares you for it. Spellbound,
It whispers, all this, all this is life.

Janete Cabral Copyright 2008

INFP

2008-03-14T02:50:00.004Z

After one of my shifts, late at night, I decided to try to understand why sometimes I feel very comfortable in some group or work environments, but not others. Why I prefer to express myself in writing, why I put a great deal of thought before actions, why other people's emotions have such an effect on me and why I abhor rules and regulations.

I have done this test before and always score INFP. It has been helpful in understanding, both the good and the bad traits. And although we are individuals and this is just another label, I have found it to be comforting knowing I am not the only odd one out.

This is what they say about the 1% world population that are INFPs:

INFPs are creative, sensitive souls who take their lives very seriously. They seek harmony and authenticity in their relationships with others. They value creativity, spirituality, and honoring the individual self above all else. They are very tuned into inequity and unfairness against people, and get great satisfaction from conquering such injustices. An INFP is a perfectionist who will rarely allow themselves to feel successful, although they will be keenly aware of failures. INFPs also get satisfaction from being in touch with their creativity. For the INFP, personal success depends upon the condition of their closest relationships, the development of their creative abilities, and the continual support of humanity by serving people in need, fighting against injustice, or in some other way working to make the world a better place to be.

Highly creative, artistic and spiritual, they can produce wonderful works of art, music and literature. INFPs are natural artists. They will find great satisfaction if they encourage and develop their artistic abilities. That doesn't mean that an INFP has to be a famous writer or painter in order to be content. Simply the act of "creating" will be a fulfilling source of renewal and refreshment to the INFP. An INFP should allow himself or herself some artistic outlet, because it will add enrichment and positive energy to their life.

Do you know which one you are ?

Missing New Zealand

2008-02-22T22:41:00.006Z

It has been three weeks since I have arrived back in the UK. I have been working very hard, seven and eight days stretch with very few days off. Not the job description I had been offered! Three days off in the month of March is not my ideal job either. I have had very little time for myself and I am sorry for being offline for so long! No money in the world is worth it and there are more important things in life.

I had such a wonderful time traveling in January in the South Island and the summer was beautiful. Every day I miss it. I miss the light, the azure waters, the openness of kiwis...It has probably been made worse as I came back to the North Hemisphere and it is dark, wintry and full of ghosts I thought I had left behind.

I am considering taking some time off work and dedicate it to my writing. A time to catch up with family and find some work as a locum doctor here and there. It is always awkward to leave a job, but I am handing in my notice next week. So wish me luck my friends...

I am really missing New Zealand.

Marlborough Sounds

2008-01-17T19:37:00.000Z

As I am on the road just thought I would put up a few more photos, it is gorgeous down here.

Wellington

2008-01-02T02:56:00.000Z

I first came to Wellington seven years ago and loved it. It is a beautiful city and harbour and it is wonderful to be back. I have made the most of it in the last two weeks, although now that summer is here it is gorgeous. I can't wait for the concerts in the park to start this weekend and continue for the next 22 nights. There 's nothing like listening to a live jazz band and sipping a glass of wine in a summer's evening...I will upload a few more photos when I can but these should do as little taster...

New Year 2008

2007-12-31T09:19:00.002Z

To all my friends out there who have patiently waited for my writings to be published online despite my travels and meanderings on the other side of the world, I am wishing you a wonderful Christmas and a very Happy New Year !

May all your wishes come true. And let us continue this friendship far beyond 2008. It has been great meeting like minded souls, once strangers but now friends; such caring individuals who have taken the time to comment and encourage me. Sorry, that will be the sentimental side emerging once again...but then again, we are amongst poets and friends.

A toast to you :)

The Unknown

2007-11-18T01:30:00.000Z

It pledges to change me
This unstoppable force
I have long courted.
But playing safe
I have kept my distance,
A fool’s delusion
Into thinking, again
I will escape it.

Say I do, and I do not;
This dance of words
Like your comings and goings
Are short of the yearning
For the something more.

And now as the ground
Beneath me shakes,
Threatening to swallow me whole,
I part my friends from my foes
As I stand alone achieving
That old inspiring feeling;
The unknown has come to greet me.

Janete Cabral Copyright 2007

Spring in Lake Taupo, NZ

2007-11-03T00:26:00.000Z

Beautiful Kaikoura

2007-11-02T19:00:00.004Z

This photo was taken a few weeks ago whilst traveling with my parents and showing them South Island. It is a truly beautiful place which I hope to go back to in the summer...It is now Spring and day light saving permits more driving hours.

I am staying in Hamilton until the end of the month and then heading south to Wellington. Unfortunetaly I can only connect to the internet seldomly, hence the sparce posts. I am however writing as much as ever in the evenings and soaking in the bright New Zealand sun. Work in the A&E clinic is still busy but I found out that the hours and work load suit me well. The GP days may be over if I choose to work in emergency medicine...but who knows?

I will be uploading more photos in the days to come and hopefully a few of the new poems.

Wishing you all the best and thank you for your continuing patient reading !

This season of hope

2007-10-05T10:03:00.000+01:00

The wind rises,
As the thick black clouds
Conceal the red dust sands
And night draws in,
As the rain prevails.

These are the days
Of winter, the cold fest,
In the vast wet lands.
It knows of darkness
And fading lights.

I would borrow a sunrise,
If only you would let me.
But it must run its course,
And patience, you tell me.

Soon, the old skin will shed.
Breathing in the new airs;
As it seeks your healing touch,
This four letter word,
Spelled hope.

And so time hails the coming
Of brightened days;
Mapping the frontiers
Of new desires; fresh
Voices whispering,
We are in for the long run.

Janete Cabral Copyright 2007

Words

2007-09-22T07:49:00.000+01:00

I scribbled words on paper
Pieces I have lost, but the meaning
Haunts me. I dig and dig
But my mind is locked
In a past; a trance perhaps.
All things move forward
Or so does the ad and the old man say.

We live different lives, some call them
Lies; they sting, they hurt
And they make us feel alive.
I have a secret. Don’t we all?
It is all in the detail, the keen eye
Of the lover, and the critical observer.

Words, they can hang around
Like false promises. At least
Those who come from your lips.
But I am not bitter. I forgive you.
After all, I just loved you too much.

One step forward, torn between two worlds
That, I could probably manage.
For this shadow life; this sipping cocktail
Of addiction. It has long been my serving history.
This skin is too comfortable to wear.
And can you blame me?

Janete Cabral Copyright 2007

Reflections

2007-09-05T11:13:00.000+01:00

In these fluid times, searching for answers,
You have found me, another missing piece;
And made me your anchor.

But you weren’t prepared,
To lend your truth, too weak to tell,
You borrowed the heart of another.

And as the day grew older,
As you shared my smile
I learnt to tame, to be blind to your flame;
Though my belief has tired.

But there are times, off guard,
Enwrapped in your little finger,
When I trust this love,
Though I am none the wiser.

But one day, for each mile I have done,
For each hour I have waited,
I will leave unrepentant.

Janete Cabral Copyright 2007

Home

2007-08-13T03:23:00.001+01:00

My skin is still intact;
Weathered, it has traveled
To the calling of places.
Of years, moving in and out;
It has known different tongues,
Over paid rents and bible preaching
Manic neighbors.

And now, as I have crossed
To Oceania, the turquoise waters
Remind me of my birth of known,
My trust of real and this love I own.

Cathartic,
I cannot forge the sentiment
Nor feign belief; for this is my swan tune,
And the memory I have served.

So that is how it ends,
After many twists and turns
I will rest, in the ancestral home
Perceiving all, that is to come.

Janete Cabral Copyright 2007

New Zealand landscapes

2007-07-21T14:44:00.000+01:00

As it is winter in New Zealand, I am dreaming of sunny days...I will hopefully make the most of the snow when I head south in three weeks. But for now, amongst all the rain and foggy days, I will indulge in summer photos...After all it is a beautiful country.

The Hills of Coniston

2007-07-13T06:09:00.000+01:00

We walk this land of absence,
In nights filled with darkness.
Amidst the patchy mist,
The black green hills,
And the scarred waters.

Hand in hand my friend,
The moon has a hidden shine.
Like your un played kiss,
Sunken in the embrace,
Beneath the starry skies,
And my quickened breath.

Alone, we waited in stillness
Letting the fire of others
Warm us; wish we could stay,
Wish we could belong this way.

My love, the sun has drawn in
Enlightening your radiant smile,
And the lines I have grown so used to.
But a life apart, yours and mine
Until the hills call us home
And we revisit this night.

Janete Cabral Copyright 2007

The complexity of being

2007-07-07T03:28:00.000+01:00

You roll out the dice. The hands tremble,
Too willing to rub off the mask
Which has grown on you for years.

Like falling pieces of a jigsaw
Skin dry, the tears fill the words
In the vast eroded geography of being.

You rise, reaching the quiescent lights
Away from the solitude of the awaken lights,
To the multiplicity of mended dreams.

Janete Cabral Copyright 2007

Of love

2007-06-24T11:40:00.000+01:00

Stranger,
I have known your many faces,
By the measure of your touch,
The bright lights and fleeting fancies
Of likes and dislikes.

In a look,
I have read the big signs,
May it be tears and follies
But they are all mine.

Such is the calling,
We build worlds around you.
Everywhere, elated smiles
And half broken hearts.
The dichotomy of loss, hand in hand
With walks in the park
And champagne on ice.

There are those who meet
In hurried silence, those
Who claim there was never time,
Always another something else.
But you can not hide it,
Not from lovers, nor the mothers
Nor the widow’s son.

The clock announces the hour
But it can not stop you.
You burn alive, in the chest
And in the memory of many others.
But your colors know better
They shoot the stars, the blue skies
And all that is worth waiting for.

I am prepared
For your comings and goings;
I have been under your spells.
So I wait for your return,
By the chimes of Saint Augustine,
As I have known of chaos,
And now I will know of love.

Janete Cabral Copyright 2007

The Hunger

2007-06-15T16:12:00.000+01:00

The clock pushes midnight;
The sour moon covers the streets
With longing and the parting it dictates.

An old pocket holds a ticket,
A one way exit, from the desolate
Sidewalks and the clarion mutter.

Then resolute steps cut through
The grounds, searching
The eyes and faces, for what is missing.

At last, you glue up the pieces
Of the shattered mirror, unveiling
The lines and your carved years.

But it is the hunger
Which keeps you going. The invention
Of solace, in a country apart, you call home.

Ode to a Homeless Friend

2007-06-14T13:23:00.000+01:00

Walk with me,
In this frozen night,
As I move with my chances,
Against the tides of indifference.
Bare hands, I am paper thin
In this city’s maze; and my dreams alone
Feed the warming fire.

But do not fear me,
Nor the dirt on my clothes.
I am more than my possessions,
Breathing the same air,
The same complex, loose connections;
Just trying to make a living.

Look at this old brick house,
Tall in the fierce wind, it says
A happy family lives here.
Does it illuminate the truth
Or remind you of the sweat
And the tears; the ghost
Of a captured past.

I know no walls,
And I am not alone, the lights
Of the city are never out.
In this graffiti painted streets,
Past the card box fences,
And the fading heart of strangers.
But do not worry, my friend
I have chosen this life,
And your secrets are safe with me.

Janete Cabral Copyright 2007

Radio Podcast

2007-06-13T07:02:00.000+01:00

Hi guys!

I have been kindly invited to read out one of my poems, The Making, at Syndown Radio ( Thanks Geoff ! ).

It's a great site, check it out!

Janete Cabral

Presence (II)

2007-06-04T12:03:00.000+01:00

An old staircase
And a grey fleece jacket
Weathered, it still bears the scent
Of the friend, I was not prepared.

The kiss still fresh,
As the clock molds the hour.
Hush, the light is almost here.

The memory lives,
It scares me; I fell hard
I feel too much.

The water is rising,
One deep breath
And I search your eyes.
Silence…I miss your presence

Janete Cabral Copyright 2007

Rising veil

2007-05-21T02:15:00.001+01:00

Times we search with the eyes of blindness
To break these thickened walls called sadness

For what is silence which brings no peace
But a faded cry of an inside emptiness

And yet the true season lies within
And real the moves behind what is seen

Janete Cabral Copyright 2007

Spellbound

2007-05-03T10:50:00.000+01:00

We lie as one,
Our hands entwined,
Build the moist in my lips
Though I lose my say
To the rising pulse

I breathe once
A cup full once of your scent
Like a rush of drunkenness
In my veins corrupted
I am under your spell

Janete Copyright 2007

Reaching

2007-04-27T16:22:00.001+01:00

The clock is ticking
In the sober air
Flash, interrupted words
Which find no echo
To trigger the fires of care.

Yours and mine
Shadows amongst the crowd
Clatter, hiding the tender eyes
Of the reaching, against denial,
The cancellation of time

But the estranged stare
Tells a different tale,
The sharp fall from grace
Invisibile and unrequited
We know all too well

Waiter, pour me some wine
Alone in the Sud Express
My lover has ceased the search
And the tears have now dried.
But the arrested heart still beats
For the one true thing, I am still reaching.

Janete Copyright 2007

Lovely New Zealand

2007-04-27T08:48:00.000+01:00

South Pacific Ocean

Coromandel Peninsula

Craters of the Moon, Taupo

Champagne Pool, Craters of the Moon

Huka Falls

Raglan Beach

Huka Falls

25th April Revolution...Portugal, 33 years later

2007-04-25T03:59:00.002+01:00

The Carnation Revolution (Portuguese, Revolução dos Cravos) was a peaceful, bloodless, military-led coup d'état, started on April 25, 1974, in Lisbon, Portugal, that effectively changed the Portuguese regime from an authoritarian dictatorship to a liberal democracy.

On this day , 1974 at 12:15 am, the national radio broadcast Grândola, Vila Morena, a song by Zeca Afonso, which had been banned from airing and broadcasting as deemed communist. This was the secret code announcing that the revolution had started.

Despite repeated appeals from the "Captains of April" on the radio inciting the population to stay at home, thousands of Portuguese descended on the streets, mixing themselves with the military insurgents.

One of the central points of those gathering was the Lisbon flower market, then richly stocked with carnations, which were in season. Some military insurgents put these flowers in their gun-barrels, an image which was shown on television around the world. This would be the origin of the name of this "Carnation revolution".

Viva a Revolucao!

Coromandel

2007-04-23T13:52:00.000+01:00

Coromandel Peninsula, South Pacific Ocean...Beautiful isn't it ?

Posting a few photos from New Zealand

Testing new layout

2007-04-05T15:07:00.000+01:00

New Zealand

2006-12-12T21:02:00.000Z

Sometimes life has a way of changing...It turns out I will be actually heading off to New Zealand for a few months after all. I am still planning to visit Australia but only as a holiday.

I am delighted about New Zealand actually. I went in 2001 as part of my elective and fell in love with Wellington immediately. Lots of wonderful memories and friendships, can't wait! Although at the moment I will go wherever the job takes me. I am sure it will be challenging and different from practising in the UK. The NHS is certainly going through a very hard time at the moment. But there isn't a day I ever regret becoming a GP, I certainly love my job.

Any New Zealanders out there ?

Antigua

2006-11-18T19:24:00.000Z

Just been to the beautiful island of Antigua...It was a perfect November