Café Crem

Art, Music and Words around The Coffee Table

A Cup of Coffee with my Friends

"Liquid Topaz, page 107," 5x7inches, mixed media, copyright 2011 Shelley M. House.

Stopping by to share a cup with some old friends. This piece is part of my new altered book series, “Liquid Topaz.” It’s been a fun summer project. I should be finishing it up this week, so I can call it done before the kids start school next week. Symphony rehearsals start up again in a couple weeks, so I need to put more time into practicing my violin.

Sitting outside the Wine Market on a hot summer night.

I’ve been selling my art at more outdoor venues. Just last Friday night was one of the fun Art Walks on the Square. I enjoy being a part of this growing creative community, and there is a wonderful energy to interacting with potential customers this way. I’ve got more Art Walk pics at my gallery blog. I’ve entertained thoughts of playing my violin outside at one of these events, when it cools off a little. I’ll keep y’all posted on how that goes 🙂


August 7, 2011 Posted by | Art, Cafe L'Arte, Cafe Literati, coffee, events, friends, fun, poetry, Shelley's Altered Book, Shelley's Creations | , , , | 2 Comments


Space, by Nicole

Beyond Pluto, beyond Mars,

Beyond the many, many stars,

Space goes on forever,

Let’s explore space together,

Mud monsters with many eyes,

Slimy aliens with antenni,

Creepy-crawlies everywhere,

They are rude, they don’t share,

We are blasting, blasting home,

Hey! There’s my garden gnome!

October 12, 2010 Posted by | Art, Nicole, poetry, The MiniBar | , , | 2 Comments

Space Food

Space Food, by Nicole and Shelley

Starting on my trip
In my new white spaceship,
I thought I would cry
When I hit a blueberry pie.
Certainly this would stain!
Who knew it would rain
Bananas, oranges and kiwi
So dense I could hardly see?
I heard tomatoes splat,
And when I thought that was that,
Space coffee flew past.
I had to think fast.
I filled my cup, grabbed a cake,
And landed for a coffee break.

July 19, 2010 Posted by | Art, Cafe L'Arte, coffee, food, Nicole, poetry, Shelley's Creations, The MiniBar | , , | 9 Comments

journal entry 18.01.10

November 19, 2008 Lac Rond

# photo { What I am reading: Stephen King On Writing }

# poem: a new beginning

I stood upon the hill

wrapped in my frock

the dampness filled my lungs

and all I could see was barren land

There was no movement

except the heaving of my chest when I breathed

There was no color

for I had been blinded by the flash

The silence was unbearable

until I heard a raven in the distance

and I knew he had found me

and I him

He feared not I

nor I him

and he landed on my shoulder

and I could hear him restless

I reached into my pocket

and pulled out a handful of dried corn

and I fed him

We spent eternity together

and when I walked away from this place

he circled high and low

and I followed him

My sight over the next few weeks improved

and one day when the corn ran out

and Arias was flying high and low

I came upon a forest green

and heard a spring riverbed

I drank from the water Arias had found for us

and he drank too

my parched lips cracked and bleeding

and I heard the voices singing

we followed the melodic melancholy

until we came to a waterfall

deep within the forest

and the voices went silent

and I feared

Then I felt a hand on my shoulder

and Arias was not to be found

and the hand turned me around

and I saw her standing there

with Arias upon her shoulder

and she sang for me and Arias

The others came out of hiding

and joined us in song and friendship

and I swear I could see Arias smiling at me

I never gave it a second thought again

and Arias and I lived out our lives

amongst our new found friends

and joined often in song

as we shared a new beginning together

# Inspired enthusiasm.  This is the way to know if what your doing is working for you.  So whenever there is inspiration and enthusiasm there is creative empowerment that goes far beyond what a mere person is capable of.  I gleamed this from reading Eckhart Tolle’s A New Earth.  Kind of ties into what Stephen King says in On Writing too.  Just write when you get an inspired idea and see where it takes you.  That inspiration usually contains the essence of enthusiasm when you can’t wait to get out of bed everyday to write.


January 19, 2010 Posted by | Michael Pokocky's Poetry, photo, poetry, writing | , | 7 Comments

journal entry 17.01.10

Val David walk 16th November 2009

# photo {I miss the fall light of early morning walks along Riviere Simon, Val David, Quebec, Canada}

{re-post from Redroom:

Today’s entry is a “blast from the past”

# I found this on the net today for Google Alert – Farrar, Straus, & Giroux: namelos: Publishing the old, old way. Part I | Highly recommend reading the first of several forthcoming parts from Steven Roxburhg

#f journal entry 30.08.09 I want to be in great health.  There’s so much I want to do. Now.  There’s an insanity that sets in your mind when you desire to be published so much.  And I think this is tragic.  Its silent; destructive; and theres a trail.  Anyone on that trail cannot help but step in it.  Thats another tragedy. So what I stand for I don’t care if you care.  I stand for a healthy state of mind.   And I do what I love.  Writing.  I don’t care to be published. Its not important anymore.  Its a way of life for me to write and to live joyfully.  Just think about how tragic it is when an obsessive “I want to be a published writer” behavior leads to drug and alcohol abuse disguised as the muse in one’s head, and the tagedy of what your children inherit from your obsessions, unfulfilled.  And obsessiveness is just one point to discuss.  There are a thousand other habits that can be broken.  Some good.  Some bad.  But the bad ones got to go for the sake of a life well lived.  And you can sense you’re destruction in them.  I’m glad to be emptying my mind in this journal.  Way to much to keep locked up inside.  Better to get it down and out.  Set oneself free.

# poem

Pieces of me

i’m wandering

for a long time

looking for peices of me

i can’t remember anything

its a good day when i do

then again

it is better not to remember some things

Copyright (c) Michael Pokocky 17.01.10


January 17, 2010 Posted by | Michael Pokocky's Poetry, photo, poetry, writing | , | 1 Comment

journal entry 16.01.10

Inspiration at John Le Grec | Where the writers go

# photo Inspiration at John Le Grec | Where the writers go

{re-post from Redroom:

# poem: Passion and Purpose

i dreamed of a distant place in a distant time

of three men in brown robes and one in white

i was there too at an outdoor table by a white building on white dessert sand

the only colors were the green of a green plant and the deep translucent blue of the man in the white robe

his face was like fine chinese porceline

oh but his eyes were clear and kind and knowing

he reached very quickly across the wooden table and touched my forehead between the eyes

i immediately went into convulsions as if having been electrocuted

and awoke spasmodically unable to keep from contorsions and violent movement

my wife awoke and held me tight until it passed

and then in the passing i cried from a well so deep inside

sobbing, eyes filled with tears running down my face like a spring mountain stream

then it passed and i felt a extraordinary calm not of this world

and the thought occurred to me it was love

only much later would i find out it was a divine intervention

and the love was actually a glimpse of the profound bliss we all are capable of feeling

i’ve searched and waited for it to happen for a long time afterward until i gave up

it was then that i found it again and now experience it several times a week

to have glimpsed the human potential has changed my purpose from what i want to do

to what i sense is wanting to be born into this world.

Copyright (c) Michael Pokocky 15.01.10

# I am having apple pie with ice creme right now at John Le Grec.  Just waiting ’cause they had to go out and get the ice creme — for me?, how kind.  I love writing in the black artist sketchbook I have returned to from the moleskin’s because they are too expensive.  The artist sketch book: more room, whiter paper in dim conditions relfects the light better for these old eyes, well its just plain fine.  Ah the apple pie has arrived.


January 17, 2010 Posted by | Michael Pokocky's Poetry, photo, poetry | , | 2 Comments

journal entry 15.01.10

Diary entry: Tolstoy became famous first for writing Childhood.  Such a simple title. Such a great book. 06.01.10

photo: Tolstoy became famous first for writing Childhood.  Such a simple title. Such a great book.

{re-post from Redroom:}

# Something is speaking to me.  For me.  And sharing my journal yesterday is like opening up myself not to boast or to invite attention but rather to give to give for I need nothing back from this you see.  I am at peace with this; perhaps I have found that one true thing that is in line with how I actually live my life everyday.  Its been an everyday for many years.  Why did I hide from this; or did it hide from me because I was not open to it.

# Awake Awake

an opening through the bush

a snow covered field

a lone deer crossing

and i am breathless

within without

am awakening

i know not what it is

yet the deer stands still now

i am lost to my thoughts

overhead the cry of an eagle

joyfully i look up

forgetting the breathless moment of the deer

i am one with the eagles cry

suddenly i am hit heavy

a profound weight on my shoulders

what happened

the disconnect was but for a moment

the breathless deer

the crying eagle would be forever

this duality of breathlessness and broken pervades my thoughts

and we spend eternity trapped in that incipient Hell

awake awake

is the proverbial whispers we don’t hear

copyright (c) Michael Pokocky 15.01.10

# I am not feeling as lost this year as I have been for the last 20.  I wonder what this means.  Ah I don’t really need to know.  I am “doing” instead of “thinking” and the second I think I am dead again.  Must keep on this peaceful path. There is no stress nor effort other than my pen scratching across the paper.  I can hear it now and its a melodic mantric melody keeping me sane.

# Thank you Blessed Virgin Mary.  Use me as you wish.  All I care about is that you take care of my family as you have for so many years now.  Thank you for blessing my family with the Holy Spirit in the name of the one who never cried out ever especially the day he was beaten to a pulp and nailed to the cross.  I shall call out His name for I honor you Son, Jesus.

January 15, 2010 Posted by | Michael Pokocky's Poetry, photo, photography, poetry, writing | , | 2 Comments

The Unreasonable Man

Last spring I was suddenly involved in a poetry book illustration project… and here is the result:I am proud to announce today the publication of this book, called

“The Unreasonable Man”

Book Cover The unreasonable man

and written by the Australian poet

Tariq Segal.

In his own words

“Well…  I’m thrilled to announce, the release of my book, my thoughts about life, through the years that this took.
Glad that it’s finished, and glad that I spent, time penning my thoughts, letting emotions vent…”

The book is designed as a coffee table poetry book. It contains 60 of Tariq’s favourite poems with each poem accompanied by either an illustration or photograph.

Tariq says:

“.. I think the artwork alone is worth owning a copy, and being able to review my thoughts as well can only but confirm your own sanity…”

Well I must confess, most of these illustrations, about 50 I guess, are my paintings. 🙂

And here is what I have written in the preface of the book:

“Having myself been an „unreasonable“ person from the very beginning of my life, my encounter with The Unreasonable Man could not fail. As I started reading his poetry, I felt at once a deep connection to his wild world of thoughts, passion and revolt, and agreed at once to become with my art, a part of it.

I was amazed to see how many of my paintings seemed to have been created exactly for his poems,  illustrating in vibrant colours, lines, forms and structures what the poet is saying in words and the empty spaces in between.

But not each of his poems found its rightful painting.. We both collaborated in a weird process of  re-creation, by which  the characters featured in some of my paintings started to assume a life of their own, moving and wandering around, invading Tariq’s universe of poetry, in search of their own particular place among his words. Sometimes they even ended up taking possession of other paintings, either chasing the original occupants away or, more peacefully, finding their place at their side. You will understand what I mean when you look at the original works through my websites!

Anyway, to work on the illustration of „The Unreasonable Man“ was a totally new and very exciting experience in dealing with my own art, seeing me naturally „forcing“ them to interact and fit to the words.

I want to thank Tariq for this wonderful experience and his wise and creative advice in the choice of the paintings.“

For those of you interested in the musings of this troubled mind the book can be purchased online from the US  at:
1. :
2. :

The books are also available through Tariq Segal himself, above all for those of you who are in Australia. If you are interested please contact Tariq at

by Miki

November 8, 2009 Posted by | Art, Cafe L'Arte, illustrations, life, Miki's Paintings, news, poetry | 7 Comments

Like Dominoes

domLike Dominoes

The days fall like dominoes
One, Two, Three, Four
They are relentless, until the last
A cascade, a waterfall of time, unslowing
Enjoy the moments in between
Enjoy the seldom seen
If we could stop an instant and hold it in our hand
But it ripples through our fingers like a grain of sand
And the days repeat and disappear
Too fast to seize the moment
Too quick to grasp the portent
Until the end of our toppled life comes into view
A pile of days, all used by you
Like dominoes.

© Kev Moore August 2009

August 21, 2009 Posted by | Cafe Literati, death, Kev Moore's Poetry, life, personal, poetry, writing | , , | 5 Comments

First haiku

I must confess this:

No haiku have I written 

 Till I wrote this one

May 11, 2009 Posted by | literature, poetry, Viv's Poetry | , , , , , , , | 9 Comments