roderickwaller: WELCOME TO FILM AND BOOK REVIEW BY RODERICK WALLE...

roderickwaller: WELCOME TO FILM AND BOOK REVIEW BY RODERICK WALLE...: .Venkovsky Ucitel Aka' (A Country Teacher' 2008). A young man comes to terms with his homosexuality in a country school outside Prague. C...

WELCOME TO FILM AND BOOK REVIEW BY RODERICK WALLER

.Venkovsky Ucitel Aka'  (A Country Teacher'  2008).
A young man comes to terms with his homosexuality in a country school outside Prague. Confused by a broken romance with a woman and now growing desires for the landlady's son in the village; the appearance of a city man; ex-lover, the school teacher runs then hides and the finale is  beautifully acted in forgiveness and joy and one is left with a distinct feeling of hope for mankind.
It is a work of art!.

roderickwaller: WELCOME TO FILM AND BOOK REVIEW BY RODERICK WALLE...

roderickwaller: WELCOME TO FILM AND BOOK REVIEW BY RODERICK WALLE...: 'Preferisco Il Rumore Del Mare'. (I prefer to listen to the sound of the sea) Italian film: A story of a boy from southern Italy befriend...

WELCOME TO FILM AND BOOK REVIEW BY RODERICK WALLER

'Preferisco Il Rumore Del Mare'.  (I prefer to listen to the sound of the sea)

Italian film: A story of a boy from southern Italy befriended by a rich distant relative who takes him to Northern Italy. A story of cultural difference between the north and the south; a story of relations between a rich boy and a poor boy; interlaced with a priest helping the homeless and mafia involvement in business. So many stories set against the poor boy from the South; A beautiful, simple story with stunning photography and music!

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roderickwaller: WELCOME TO FILM AND BOOK REVIEW BY RODERICK WALLE...

roderickwaller: WELCOME TO FILM AND BOOK REVIEW BY RODERICK WALLE...: "Days of Heaven 1978 riveting superb movie. Masterpiece of photography and story line. Kept my attention 100%. Brooke Adams is brillia..."

WELCOME TO FILM AND BOOK REVIEW BY RODERICK WALLER

Days of Heaven  1978

 riveting superb movie. Masterpiece of photography and story line. Kept my attention 100%.

 Brooke Adams is brilliant. See it !!!!

roderickwaller: a new poem by rod waller 23rd july 2011

roderickwaller: a new poem by rod waller 23rd july 2011: "Express All aboard! We have been departed in a minute Please do not open the window blinds We are to go too fast for to you enjoy the sce..."

a new poem by rod waller 23rd july 2011

Express

All aboard! We have been departed in a minute

Please do not open the window blinds

We are to go too fast for to you enjoy the scenery

Anyway, you’ll be far too busy to enjoy yourself

Sit back and tense your body.

Chug a chug  chug a chug

Whoosh whoosh

The train will arrive at the first station, ten minutes ago

Do not alight the train, we could depart at any moment

Anyway you have no time to stretch your legs

There’s far too much to do.

Chug a chug  chug a chug

Whoosh

We will not stop at any more stations

We must keep our time

And make up for any time we might have lost

If we had slowed down

Chug a chug

Whoosh

We will soon arrive at the final destination

Please check your luggage

Kindly throw mementos in the garbage cans provided

Border customs are rigorous

And you may be prevented from crossing the border

If you resist

We hope you had a fitful and tense journey

We are proud to announce we made record time for this trip

Though it remains a mystery

 As to why each day

We journey

From A to B.

(Maybe treading time)

The regular service still plods along

Stopping at each station

Passengers are free to move about

And are relaxed

Though the fare is more and

The journey takes forever!

We recommend if you do

Decide to repeat the trip

You try the slow train.

Chug

Chug

Chug

Whoah!

roderickwaller: part four bedtime island

roderickwaller: part four bedtime island: "Part four ‘You are the story tellers But no books or pen’ ‘We are not like the artist With lead Or an artisan with an axe A soldering i..."

part four bedtime island

Part four

‘You are the story tellers

But no books or pen’

‘We are not like the artist

With lead

Or an artisan with an axe

A soldering iron

We live the story line

And imaginings’

‘We are young

Fresh from the womb

We are the story don’t you see.’

Davy looked away,

Blushed and said

‘You crazy fools!

Demons in my dream.’

Now:

The stowaway of Quintessence

Floats on drifting wood

She had leapt when Davy

Torpedoed the reef

Twenty days adrift

She sleeps fits and starts

In and out of a marvelous dream

That she and Davy

Explored a hole

Far away on the distant edge

Of the Milky Way.

That was before Davy

Losing of feeling

Left her at the harbor

On a fine summer’s day.

Though she sllpped on board

From the lighthouse boat

As Davy below waited

For the midnight tide.

‘And I wore a suit of sails

Stowed in the hold

Where Davy came

But did not look.’

(The stowaway:

Her heart-break,

 Love of pride.

While the Captain;

His foolishness,

 Pride of love.)

Having leap-frogged

The horoscope of planets

Their laughter echoing

In ravines

A distant beep resounded

Their trepid steps lit

On rim

And bending over

Davy fell

Distraught she follows him

And they fall for years and years.

Then:

Angelica stroked

The broken-legged pair

She clasped their ribs

To the fulcrum

Of the circle taking shape

From the hole

The three travelers

Dissolved to

Molecular state

Now free of form

Their mass surged

To a spaceship standing by

At number nine,

The Cosmic Crossing.

Blast off!

It shook Celeste

Swept the dirt and cob-webs

From the temple story

And our friends

Solidified.

Davy is the stowaway

And she, Davy.

Angelica?

Angelica emerged unscathed.

The writing is on the wall

As they speed to the tiny dot

Called by the local folk

Mother Earth.

Now:

Angelica buoys

Her stowaway along

The line of swelling wave

And overhead

 Migratory birds

Strangely dally

And their leader at the V

Descends; rests his feet

On the driftless head.

roderickwaller: part three: Bedtime Island

roderickwaller: part three: Bedtime Island: "Part three: An artist etching Pencil lines of Cognizance: Eyebrow strand, a nostril base, Vein in a lower lip A smudge of jaw Tip of thu..."

part three: Bedtime Island

Part three:

An artist etching

Pencil lines of

Cognizance:

Eyebrow strand, a nostril base,

Vein in a lower lip

A smudge of jaw

Tip of thumbnail

Dash of earlobe:

A boatload of people

Rowing along a vein.

Then:

Dumb Davy swallowed

Visions pulsed his neck

Though temporary landscape

Caught his breath

When In a sudden

 Quintessence leapt

Hurling him to the rail

Fingers clawed him

Somewhere

Blood River thrashed

The mane

Shattering the mirroring sky

And poor Davy was fed

By the Artist’s pencil line

Below the bow

To the bedroom time.

Above time: the rage

Below: the peace

Drifting south

Davy dancing

Cast an eye

Had seen the rippled smile

Of his blood line

Of story makers

In the beginning;

When pressed lives on sheets of rhyme

Then touched him.

Each story panicked

 In desolation spoke

“Don’t forget me

Don’t forget me!”

But even the first Teller

Is alive to tell the tale!

Why the pages panic?

Why we panic?

We, the first leaf

And at the last

But will remove

Til Davy found

The pebbling shell.

And pressing to his ear

Sensed the whisper:

“Hear the story line

My Son!

You are remembered.”

Davy is in the bedroom time

Hooray! Hooray!

We are so glad

You came.

The whispering story men

Exclaimed.

roderickwaller: Part two Bedtime Story Island

roderickwaller: Part two Bedtime Story Island: "Part two: Scrappy, scudded Davy Was sunking in the sand That had been beckoning From the reef Seen from Quintessence eye He is sleep..."

Part two Bedtime Story Island

Part two:

Scrappy, scudded Davy

Was sunking in the sand

That had been beckoning

 From the reef

 Seen from Quintessence eye

He is sleeping and dreaming

When, awake by a golden moon

Which shot a  ray

 And sounded on a shell

Further up the shore

He weaved on wobbling knees

Under the pebbling shell

Giving way, sucked

Violated Davy down

Then, sliding a massive mirror

He glared on sharks and mermaids

On the emerald lined fishing lane

Blurred by salt

Deeper between the rushing squad of fish

An artist etching

Pencil lines of

Recognizing faces:

A parent, grandparent, great grandparent

Ever more; racing upward, shooting down

Mesmerized the sunken sailor

Save the mumbling liquid

 And moaning of souls

Of Silent songs of yester generations

 swilled the avenues of

Davy’s mind.

Reflection of his genetic code

Beaming

As his father’s smile

When that saint of the unlocked

Deeper

Spoke his bed-time story

Of a Mirrored Isle.

Formless whispering

Bubbling from gaping mouths

Davy leaned closer to hear:

Thomas, 95 when I heaved

John a blacksmith from Coddlington

Only 37

Mary a weaver

 in the court of King Arthur

Winnowed at 33

Steven, courtier to Juluis and slayed by Christians

Man, lives in a cave

 And hunts the dinosaur

Killed at 21 .

The river of blood stretched far

And here there were no gales, mistrals

Roaring nineties

There is no moving

No confusing

Only clarity.

No diamond or desire

No wisdom, no information

A jolly life for the searching sailor

Had been searched and purged

Now free to sail the Quintessence.

On the ribbon of blood.

Looking upward to a sky

And shooting moon

Staring back at his own

Reflection

Staring him in the eye!