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 🙂

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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

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

Nicole’s picture

Nicole worked really hard on the colors of this art piece, and wanted to share it online. She also wrote the poem herself.

May 25, 2010 Posted by | Art, Nicole, The MiniBar | , , | 6 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

How injured I am

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Kev writes: Some time ago, on Cafe Crem, there was a short discussion on the merits, even the relevance of football in our society. Miki and I , being fans of the game and Derby in particular, saw something profound within the game that society as a whole takes from it. There is a great swathe of ordinary folk across the world for whom “the beautiful game” underpins their very existence. It is responsible for their highs, and their lows – each of which are handled with maximum emotion from the heart.  If you look around the net, you will find an image of a football stadium, and overlaid is the legend: “This is my church – this is where I heal my hurts”.  So today, to give some insight into what the game means to the football fan, I have pleasure to present, with the writer’s permission,  a poem about the love of the Rams, Derby County, by a friend from the BBC 606 Football discussion boards, MapRead , entitled:

How Injured I Am

I got myself to the ground
At last, away from the din
Of my chaotic life
Away from the pressures
The stresses and strains
Some space for me found
Where I could be part of a family
Of a group, of a fellowship
All wanting the same result
At last, some space to think
About nothing that invades me
About nothing that pervades me
Or raids my troubled mind
I disappear into the crowd
I talk to strangers, it’s allowed
At last some space to breathe
To escape into my other world
Where I am free to judge
To shout and be angry
To laugh, to cry, to point
To moan, to sit and ponder
Just to watch eleven heroes
Don the jersey I once dreamed
Of wearing proudly myself
Yet it never quite happened
I was neither good, committed
Talented, hardworking or fit enough
The game is great
The space is huge
I breathe easily for an hour
And a half plus stoppage time
How injured I am
With my unfulfilled dreams
Of never being a hero
Never playing the Ram.

MapRead ©2009

March 25, 2009 Posted by | Cafe Literati, poetry, sport, writing | , , , , , | 10 Comments

Tree Gods

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Tree Gods

 

They wait, these trees.

Slender children of older gods,

Mighty as towers but long gone,

Fallen to ruin and leaf mould.

They wait, these trees.

Winters pass like melting snow;

The glades grow dense, with brambles

Hiding their burrowing feet.

Moss-furred stumps,

The bones of their ancestors

Remind them of past glories.

They wait, these trees.

Summers pass like blooming flowers.

The dells ring with song

And deer run in hidden paths

Of dappled sun and shade.

They wait, these trees.

The tiny child grows up,

Grows old and passes on,

Houses rise and houses fall

Towns boom, towns bust,

Kings and queens come and go.

The trees alone remain.

March 5, 2009 Posted by | Cafe Literati, nature, photo, Viv's Art, Viv's Poetry | , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

A Brush with Poetry -1- : Aftermath

Cafe Crem being above all the place where artists, musicians, writers, poets, etc. share and combine  their art, we (Miki & Kev Moore) will present you here this collaborative work between us,  which we initially called “A Brush with Poetry”.  It is a “third art form” created by Kev´s interpretation of Miki´s paintings through poetry and accompanying music.

We will start with Aftermath which was the first of the series.

“Aftermath”
(click on the arrow below the picture to hear the music and Kev Moore reciting the poem)

aftermath-small

….

Below Kev Moore performing the Brush with Poetry series at a Cafe Gallery in Mojacar (Provincia de Almeria, Spain)

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By Miki & Kev Moore

March 5, 2009 Posted by | Art, Ca' Puccini, Cafe L'Arte, Cafe Literati, Kev Moore's Music, Kev Moore's Poetry, Miki's Paintings, poetry, writing | , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

The Window

the-window-s

By Miki

February 26, 2009 Posted by | animals, Cafe Literati, death, life, love, men, Miki´s Poetry, personal, poetry, women, writing | , , , , , | 17 Comments

Dark waters

Dark Waters

 

My own darkness rises to meet me:

As close as my own shadow and as dark.

No charm, no talisman, no prayer,

No kind words, no good intent,

No strong will, no firm purpose,

No amount of intellect or wit

Can even begin to save me.

Like a wall of water it rolls onward

Vast and unstoppable as the tides

That wash the shores each day.

The water fills my ears near to bursting

And I hold my breath as long as I can.

As I breathe out one final time,

Beyond the rushing waves that cover me

I’d swear I can hear whalesong.

by Viv

February 18, 2009 Posted by | Cafe Literati, death, life, personal, poetry, psychology, Viv's Poetry, writing | , , , , , , , | 10 Comments

The Poison Tree

Not by Shelley but by William Blake of Tyger, tyger fame.

I first read this when I was about 9/10 and it scared me..

 

I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe;
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I water’d it in fears,
Night & morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with my smiles
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright;
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine,

And into my garden stole
When the night had veil’d the pole:
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretch’d beneath the tree

February 13, 2009 Posted by | books, culture, death, education, friends, literature, personal, poetry, random | , , , , , | Leave a comment