sun

Haiku is pointless
Unless it’s the finest tip
Of ancient wisdom

Know the history, the art
Let it well up from the spring

pointless star

Only connection counts
There’s an infinite amount
But the secret is knowing  where
Where is the fine complexity of air

It’s everywhere that which is joined and is linked
Inside outside and the thing itself

People are so interesting
Self and selfless
And the heart Sf copyright

 

Genii, help!

This Henley poem below inspired me to be more master of my own fate years ago.
I’m trying to get a little hub going to encourage people struggling and in recovery
to write, blog, use social media – to express their creativity, generally.

Initially, there’s a private Facebook Group, Touched by Fire,  to collect a few people
who know these worlds and would like to discuss their possibilities…

Would love to hear from anyone who could help, get the thing up and writing.
Image result for i am the captain of my soul

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.

By William Ernest Henley

To Blog or not?

brainflight
…the memories, the experiences,
just started welling up and out of me,
even through organs that should be incoming only,
through the pores; everywhere – just had to capture a few,
anchor them in some way,
otherwise they’d be at the far reaches of the universe
before their worth could be known

To be, to blog, to catch in the web
seizing moments before they get scarce
aye, there’s the rub,

To recollect in tranquillity,
To reap the reward of a life of travail
on our gorgeous globe where all’s One,

or goneSf copyright

(with apologies to Shakespeare, Wordsworth and people who count syllables)