Sorrows of the Chameleon

By Ella Wagemakers

In this first poetry collection by Ella Wagemakers, some of the poems date as far back as 1984. Most of them, however, were written within the past five years. She chose the image of the chameleon because of the ability of this reptile to change its skin pigmentation. This occurs naturally, without the animal being able to control the phenomenon. The author compares this flexibility of disguise to the ability of people to adapt to their situations. This adaptability, however, may also result in an irreversible identity crisis.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 28, 2007
• ISBN: 9781465325860

Ella Wagemakers

Born of unknown parentage sometime toward the end of September 1961 in Manila, Ella Wagemakers emigrated to the Netherlands in 1988 and became a Dutch citizen in 1993. She obtained a master's degree in education in Tilburg in 2003, worked full-time at the Dutch Police Academy for nine years, and is currently teaching business communications and project management at the Hogeschool Rotterdam (Rotterdam University) in the IBMS programme of the Rotterdam Business School. Her first book (written in Dutch) is an eight-hundred-plus-page genealogy of the Wagemakers family. Her first poetry collection, Sorrows of the Chameleon, was published by Xlibris in 2007. Metal Ox Moon is her second collection. She lives with her husband, Adrian, in West Brabant, is still active with genealogy, and is also into photography, travel, reading, and philately.

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Copyright © 2007 by Ella Wagemakers.

Photographs:

Front—taken by Erik Christenhusz in IJmuijden

Back—taken by Henk Buijs in Apeldoorn

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Contents

FOREWORD

IN MY SECRET COUNTRY

THE CHILD YOU HAD

GAIA

MONSOON

PERSPECTIVE

IN MY SECRET COUNTRY

OUTPOST

REMNANTS

DUST ON THE GROUND — A SENRYU SERIES

LAND WHO WOULD NOT HAVE ME

WHEN I AM DEAD

THE DREAM

THIS IS THE ROAD

SPRING, 2006

MEETINGS

GIVE ME A SIGN

WALKING

OLD CHILD

I WAKE TO THE RAIN

MY WORDS AND I

SHARDS

HOUSE ON THE HILL

MAUSOLEUM

FAT BOY TRIPTYCH

WALL

THE WART

X" MARKS THE SPOT

ENNUI

I WAKE TO THE RAIN

I SAW THEM

WOMAN BY THE DOOR

HELMOND

PAGODA AFTERNOON

MORNING AFTER

OLD MAN ON THE BRIDGE

BEN

ANIMAL PLANET — A HAIKU STRING

MODERN ART

DYRHOLAEY BEACH — FRAGMENTS

VIK

AMSTERDAM

BRIENENOORDBRUG

ON THE BRIDGE

POEMS FOR THOSE WHO COME TO MY DOOR ASKING FOR DONATIONS

WOMAN BY THE DOOR

PIG HEAVEN

FOR THE TSUNAMI VICTIMS, 2004

MOON HAIKU

TANKA—A SELECTION

TEA HAIKU

THE BODIES

THE AFSLUITDIJK3

SHOWER

ANDÀY

OTHER HAIKU AND SENRYU — A SELECTION

WARZONE

HAPAG

HAPAG

LOOBAN

IKALIMA NG HAPON

BETWEEN THE SHADOW AND THE SOUL

HOW I LOVED YOU

WAITING FOR YOU

FOR RI

APOLLO’S ODE TO APHRODITE

SUNFLOWERS

LINES PROMPTED BY A SONG BY ANOUK

YOU HAVE WOUNDED ME

AFTER AN AFTERNOON IN BREDA

THREE WHO PASSED BY

DRAGONFLY

BETWEEN THE SHADOW AND THE SOUL

ROSA BELLE POITEVINE

THE GIFT

DESERT PLATEAU

TO DANTON R.

FINALLY, A WISH FOR YOU

DRIE DIE VOORBIJ LIEPEN

DRIE DIE VOORBIJ LIEPEN

EINDELIJK WENS IK JE IETS

THE WAINWRIGHT’S SON

— A HAIBUN

THE WAINWRIGHT’S SON

EXCERPTS FROM

‘DUTCH JOURNEY’

EXCERPTS FROM ‘DUTCH JOURNEY’

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS AND THANKS

AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL NOTE

Endnotes

This book is dedicated to

a woman I have never met

my real mother

Only what is entirely lost demands to be endlessly named;

there is a mania to call the lost thing until it returns.

—Günter Grass

All my love

to Ad

and heartfelt thanks

to Petra Hissink and Henk Buijs

at Apeldoorn

A deep bow

to the memory of

Pablo Neruda

FOREWORD

my first attempt at a book of poetry

a collection of feelings sans sentimentality

looking clearly through an evening mirror

from the present to the past

an attempt to climb the Everest of my hopes

and plunge into the ocean of my anxieties

words which will hopefully paint

a fleeting hologram of my shapelessness

a moth’s trip to the tantalizing moon

a dragonfly’s wings scorched by the sun

finally it can be said

that I have dipped the marrow of my despair

into the ink of my serendipity

Ella Wagemakers

September 2006

IN MY SECRET COUNTRY

THE CHILD YOU HAD

is gone;

dead like the garbage

rotting near the bay;

the very image worn out

like rosary beads

rubbed numb

till all the prayer

had gone out of them.

You wanted her lost,

and now I lose myself,

doomed to a life

of hangmen,

executioners and judges,

jailers of the spirit,

a homeless chameleon

in an obscure jungle

hiding from ominous

birds of prey.

Yet the jungle is home

to strange creatures;

flying snakes,

hairy sloths,

vampire bats thirsting

for fresh blood;

apes of noble lineage;

spiders weaving

kingdoms of webs,

killer fish;

tadpoles, alligators;

and birds of paradise

thriving in anonimity,

their nest a hammock

of feathers,

their magical rituals

unrecorded,

their poetry

beautifully

incomprehensible.

GAIA

Your womb moulded me into a