Petra Hermans's Blog: The Religion of The Blue Circle, page 27

What it gives

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Photograph I : Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans

What it gives

I would not call it responsibility.

I will not see it as my spirituality.

I say, in my youth, acts were

taken care of and before they

would ever speak,

a result was concluded.

Whenever, or if a country

has lost, perception towards

other human beings,

I am able

to hang over, and more,

above my present space.

One wind will not be forgotten.

After number 1, 2 is the opposite

to be returned by number 3,

when I cannot understand my alphabet.

It is a job, a task

and more, a religion.

I would not say, it is dedication.

I thank you, for your trust in me.

Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans

Europe, the Netherlands, Tilburg,

September 27, 2019

https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/9886593-on-sunday-morning-eleven-clock-he-listened-music-and-knew

https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/9937868-in-the-backyard-of-my-mountain-a-little-house-has

© 2019 Petra Hermans

https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/9940023-more-than-a-hundred-cuckoo-clocks-were-giving-a-sound

https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/9887007-a-dwarf-looked-in-it-s-own-image-of-a-pool

Loreena McKennitt – The Mask and Mirror, The Bonny Swans,

© 1994 Quinlan Road

Photograph II : Loreena McKennitt – The Mask and Mirror

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One translucent crown

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Photograph I : Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans

One translucent crown

Someone, said something,

to me, in the dark.

In my younger years,

I made baskets, paper pages

and crowns.

The coloured handkerchief

was already found, not to be lost,

ever.

I never had friends,

I had a lot of friends, no matter what.

They all, never however, spoke

a word to me.

Someone, in the dark,

said something, to me.

A crown can be holding on,

to pearls, jewels or stones.

If you need a belief, to believe in.

A woman started to talk to me,

I never seen, earlier, or once in my life.

I did not listen because time was lost,

longer than I could have been blinded.

I do not listen, for there will be no reason.

Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans

Europe, the Netherlands, Tilburg,

September 26, 2019

© 2019 Petra Hermans

https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/9982372-the-small-sensitive-and-little-child-had-eyes-to-look

Marianne Fredriksson – Noreas saga,

© Marianne Fredriksson, 1983

Marianne Fredriksson – Norea, dochter van Eva,

De kinderen van het paradijs

Uitgeverij De Geus bv, Breda 2004

ISBN 90 5226 656 5

NUR 302

Hoofdstuk 29, pagina 242

“Ze vertelde openlijk wat ze gezien had en zag de man

verbleken. Razend van woede wilde hij vertrekken, maar

in de deuropening draaide hij zich om en vroeg: ‘Hoe zag

het zwaard eruit?’

Norea begreep niet waarom hij dat vroeg, maar ze beschreef het:

een kort wapen met een gebogen handvat, zoals bij een sikkel.

Een tijdje later kregen ze een bericht van de man. Hij had de zoon

van zijn broer vermoord en liet weten dat de dreiging voor zijn leven

nu afgewenteld was en dat hij van plan was een oude man te worden.

Norea haalde het beeld van de man voor zich in haar geest, en keek

opnieuw naar zijn leven. Ze zag dat hij nog vele jaren voor zich had.

Als gevolg van deze gebeurtenis werd ze door schuldgevoelens geplaagd,

en in de verwarring waaraan ze daarna ten prooi viel, verloor ze haar zienersgave.”

Photograph II : Marianne Fredriksson – Noreas saga (1983)

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Left air of wind

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Photograph I : Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans

Left air of wind

I made one gesture.

I made that gesture.

The way he did.

He never asked.

You name it a discipline,

or exercise, you call it by name,

you laugh it away, in my wind!

The hawk did not watch

the clouds of sky, anymore.

The eagle was drowned by sunlight

and doves got feathered by white love …

An owl, again and by waterpool,

she did not see it All.

Her eyes were not blinded, no more.

A sound was all the Time

around my existence.

In white Light, I would vanish

according to the old tales.

Tales are not told

by a strong structure.

Someone, really, made a mistake,

not more than two.

The owl had her height,

her strength and weakness

and when the Moon

is silenced by no sound,

the green doubt falls apart.

Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans

Europe, the Netherlands, Tilburg,

September 26, 2019

© 2019 Petra Hermans

Jonathan D. Spence – The Memory Palace of Matteo Ricci

New York, N.Y.: Viking Penguin, 1984

Jonathan Spence – Het geheugenpaleis van Matteo Ricci

De missie van een Jezuiet in China, 1552-1610

pagina 257

“Ricci ging daartegenin met een analyse van het vermogen van de geest

om kennis van het bovennatuurlijke op te slaan en die te weerspiegelen.

De spiegel, zei hij tot Sanhuai, is ten slotte niet de schepper van de zon die erin

wordt weerkaatst. Terwijl een volgende gang werd opgediend, konden de andere

gasten zich mengen in een discussie over het thema van de aangeboren goedheid

van de menselijke natuur. Om op de elkaar weersprekende standpunten van de

boeddhistische priester en de verwarde argumenten van de andere gasten te reageren, gebruikte Ricci, nadat een uur was verstreken, zijn mnemotechnische gaven om alle tot dan toe aangevoerde argumenten samen te vatten.”

Photograph II : Jonathan D. Spence – The Memory Palace of Matteo Ricci

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A small tailor

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Photograph I : Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans

A small tailor

In my garden, no plastic trees,

plastic flowers or beer cans

grow upon the grass under my roots.

In my sky, no plastic beer cans

fall from Heaven.

It is the sensitivity of robots

in order to cherish plastic language.

The balcony has been taken care of,

as usually, in Time.

Whenever the old Donkey

would ever give another coin,

the small tailor kneeled but did not bow.

It is the same fairytale with the golden eggs.

In my right hand,

the child had a coin;

it was paid for

but she could not feel the weight of it.

I look at my left hand.

It is empty.

Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans

Europe, the Netherlands, Tilburg,

September 26, 2019

© 2019 Petra Hermans

Photograph II : He had those Chrysanthemum, covered by plastic bags

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All along the rain!

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Photograph I : Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans

All along the rain!

In nights, long years ago and years past,

I heard rain, I loved.

It was music, touched in my soul.

The music was written

high tones, low tunes, a melody

of love and poetry.

No music in the world, in my world

told her story in silence.

The language was called, for roses

do not love me, deeper than you ever will.

All the love in our world, tripled low,

slowly and in higher grounds …

through the night in a new sound

of a grey, grey morning.

It was December.

And I saw it, I saw it All,

falling down, thousand of flakes,

a million signs of happiness

and one spirit to be one in her heart!

Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans

Europe, the Netherlands, Tilburg,

September 25, 2019

© 2019 Petra Hermans

Enya – And Winter Came…, Winter Is in the Winter Night

© 2008 Warner Music UK Ltd.

Photograph II : Enya – And Winter Came…, Winter Is in the Winter Night

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Too long hairs

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Photograph I : Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans

Too long hairs

I have been little,

small and young.

Yes, I was.

In my first grade,

I did not need a desk;

water and wind were All,

in my deep serious interest.

The second degree was mastered

at the first place.

I was little, so I could hear my own voice.

The third and last class

never acknowledged the Teacher,

or student.

They put me, at the End.

You might think, it is easy

when all the intentions

have fallen in love, with me.

It is.

Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans

Europe, the Netherlands, Tilburg,

September 25, 2019

© 2019 Petra Hermans

https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/9352348-majestic-a-hundred-birds-tons-of-billions-return-to-my

Photograph II : Jonathan D. Spence – The Memory Palace of Matteo Ricci

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The grey coat

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Photograph I : Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans

The grey coat

It was written by four letters.

Strange. Six.

Stranger.

I entered the building, not a hundred,

or a thousand times.

A million time of times were studied.

It was cold, in winter time

and our street shines in the Morning Light.

When I got Home, that afternoon,

something was really new, to me.

My bicycle had a new sound.

He looked at me, under his roof.

He looked at me.

The grey coat cannot be guided

in letters, therefore it All changed in white.

As a young girl, I was attracted

to glass and sand.

The water behind the grey coat

glitters every night.

Someone has taken a photograph.

Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans

Europe, the Netherlands, Tilburg,

September 25, 2019

© 2019 Petra Hermans

Michael Ende – Momo, oder: Die seltsame Geschichte von den Zeit-Dieben

und von dem Kind, das den Menschen die gestohlene Zeit zurückbrachte (1973)

Photograph II : Michael Andreas Helmut Ende – Momo

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Dinner at night

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Photograph I : Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans

Dinner at night

I saw him, by white problems.

The face smashed through all windows,

only three times, I suppose.

The children could not buy any books,

for school.

His wife transformed the old bookstore.

In the store,

he looked for a bag

but the umbrella fell

on the floor.

And then, he looked

into my eyes.

I cannot eat by an hour,

he has never touched a table,

in my Home.

The hands take paper

before the pair of glasses

are found, alive.

I say, you look wisely,

not handsome but in a certain way,

it should be loved in silence.

Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans

Europe, the Netherlands, Tilburg,

September 25, 2019

© 2019 Petra Hermans

Hoofdstuk 60, pagina 332

‘Het water zakt’, zei Noach.

Op een ochtend kwamen er meeuwen over het schip gevlogen,

de witte vogels landden op het dek. De kinderen juichten en voerden

de bezoekers visafval en brood en de vogels bedankten met een hoge gil

voor ze verder vlogen. Naar het noordoosten.

Ze kwamen iedere morgen terug, maar na ongeveer een week

veranderden ze hun gewoonten. Nu landden ze niet langer op het dek,

maar kozen ze ervoor de ark in zijn kielzog te volgen, op zoek naar afval

van de huishouding aan boord.

‘Begrijpen jullie wat dat betekent?’ vroeg Napular met een jubel in zijn stem.

‘Ja’, zei Naema en ze lachte naar hem. ‘Ze hebben een andere plek om te rusten.’

Marianne Fredriksson – Syndafloden

© Marianne Fredriksson, 1990

Published by agreement with Bengt Nordin Agency, Stockholm,

Sweden

© Anna Ruighaver en De Geus BV, Breda 2008

© Nic Skerten, Trevillion Images

ISBN 978 90 522 6659 6

NUR 302

Photograph II : Marianne Fredriksson – Syndafloden (1990)

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In grey colour

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Photograph I : Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans

In grey colour

As a child, I continually

played, false.

I mixed all colours, how foolish!

The Road is not that empty,

I cannot help or behold myself.

All colours lost it, that day.

My teacher, five class higher

than eleven, looked at severe weather,

outside our window.

The old doctor abusively broke the glass.

I saw the sand running down, at my Table

and backed behind a closer wall.

It was silent and I have forgotten,

who mixed all the colours, on that moment.

He did not even look at me.

Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans

Europe, the Netherlands, Tilburg,

September 25, 2019

© 2019 Petra Hermans

Photograph II : T he Crystal and Blue Ball

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All kinds of feathers

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Photograph I : Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans

All kinds of feathers

Before, I started the new day,

I felt the love, all over and inside,

my silent spirituality.

Someone, who I had tried

to reach out, to

never faded, away.

Certainly, he was There.

He started the day as a new day,

by looking at a new watch,

I do not know why.

Silently close, I smiled the day away,

I had a closer look at my watch.

I see, it is the difference

between a minute before 12 O’Clock

or a second, precisely after my Time.

Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans

Europe, the Netherlands, Tilburg,

September 25, 2019

© 2019 Petra Hermans

Photograph II : Michael Ende – Die unendliche Geschichte (1979)

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