Sad:
A dozen
And more moons
Storm stranded
By jealous tides
“Do you know
Who I was?
Where I have been?
That I could summon,
So casual-easy, the
Thunders and mischiefs
You most desire?”
Sad:
A dozen
And more moons
Storm stranded
By jealous tides
“Do you know
Who I was?
Where I have been?
That I could summon,
So casual-easy, the
Thunders and mischiefs
You most desire?”
We are all capable of such extreme,
Easy self-deception,
Such arrogant vanities –
Aren’t we ?
The plain truth was always that
The words which we scratch
With broken-holiday spades,
In drying sand;
The shapes we construct
Between tide and tide;
That we daub so righteously
On the division walls
Or broadcast to the electric winds
Across the wireless world
Were never meant to last!
Or … ?
My earliest on-line publishing was on a different site (www.webook.com)*
This is a lightly edited piece that first saw the light of the blogiverse there and was inspired initially be
a piece by “Juli Sabado”.
*my work is still there, in fact, but under a different pseudonym “Paul Rudge”
What are we looking at when
We are looking at the sea …
Hypnotised by the sea?
Do we look at a
Fluid mirror of our souls
Without realising this truth?
The depths, the shifts,
The emotions, the storms
And the turning tides? Continue reading
Let’s raise a glass,
Maybe more,
To the double-intensity,
Up on the stands,
Handlebar gladiators;
To the front-rows,
No-space tiptoe dancers.
How easily, lazily, deliciously languorously
the surface-basking leviathan exhales
This skybridge to isolation futures
In the low-swell tropics to doldrums
Dreamtime sea.
I’m stranded, every which way,
Whatever I do, on this island’s
Desolation rainbow waters;
Cut loose, cast adrift:
Tranced, mazed and drawn by fascinations
Beyond the comfortable, familiar shallows …
But dreadful feared of the
Tides, depths and distances that are coming.
28/7/2013
Restless are the
Seas and sands of time:
Tidespun and windworked
Lines of invested time.
Ever faster the full moon
leaps the mortal fences.
I laugh now to think
How devoutly I avoided
Crossing the cathedral threshold
That leads to the Church of Clocks;
Ignored the insidious drip-tock-drop –
Thinking I was being somehow brave –
The doors that closed,
The ones we didn’t see.
Why did it take so long to realise
That our bodies are merely pins
Mercilessly nailing our want-away shadows
To the dry, stinking mud?
23/5/2013
Adventures in the life of an English allotment
Original Nature Photojournalism
Garden Blog of the Year 2016
Welcome to my world: digging, harvesting and other stuff
for your family
The evolution of an old farmhouse, an American woman, an Englishman and their dogs.
Sharing moments of life + motherhood to encourage fellow mommas
If you could go anywhere you wanted, where would you be headed right now?
surfing my tsunami
blowing through the cobwebs of my mind
Just another WordPress.com weblog
Writing the Wrong, Right, and Ridiculous
Life after the Care Farm
The most Dangerous plant to sleep under is the water lilly
Local History for Great Wyrley and Surrounding Areas
Tales from the mouth of a wolf
introspection & reflection, poetry & prose
Posts about old Hollywood, current concerns
Gunn4