Grammar Lesson

born dead
Take away the competition itself
Who’s got the biggest dick
Who can get it most excited
and irrational

Then life is an exercise of sifting
“Diving on the wreck”
Looking at all the evidence
Taking into account the above…
Comparing it with your own
Awesome loving experience
And doing the best you may

Meanwhile Mother Nature in metaphor
Will be making her own judgement
On your elocution

Whatever, you are already sentenced,
Full Stop.

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Think of it, think of it…

Two of my favourite poets, Yeats and RS Thomas. It’s not known whether this was a real or imagined event. Thomas often travelled on the Holyhead train, as did Yeats. They were contemporary, both passionate about their Celtic culture. Both, in my humble opinion, shared the same muse.

The rail rhythm of the first two lines is simple and stunning. And ‘In mutual silence closer than lover knit’ my favourite line in poetry… and life. This is not necessarily, however, the view of my own muse… the missus.

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Memories of Yeats while Travelling to Holyhead

How often he went on this journey, think of it, think of it:
The metrical train, the monosyllabic sea,
The listening hilltops, aloof and resentful of strangers.
Who would have refrained from addressing him here, not discerning
The embryonic poem still coiled in the ivory skull?
Boredom or closeness of age might have prompted, his learning
Concealed by his tweed and the azure, ecstatic tie;
But who would have sensed the disdain of his slow reply
Of polite acquiescence in their talk of the beautiful?
Who would have guessed the futility even of praising
Mountain and marsh and the delicate, flickering tree
To one long impervious and cold to the outward scene,
Heedless of nature’s baubles, lost in the amazing
And labyrinth paths of his own impenetrable mind?

But something in the hair’s fine silver, the breadth of brow,
Had kept me dumb, too shy of his scornful anger
To presume to pierce the dark, inscrutable glasses,
His first defence against a material world.
Yet alone with him in the indifferent compartment, hurled
Between the waves’ white audience, the earth’s dim screen,
In mutual silence closer than lover knit
I had known reality dwindle, the dream begin.

RS Thomas’s homage to Yeats

Plea bargain…

Related image

I need only air, water, food and love
I want to keep my ideas free
from the pull of popularity
from the machinations of material success

But please I beg you don’t take me at my word
Don’t leave me between my lines, untested, intestate
Use your instincts and no rationale
To resist and relieve me from a selfish wont

I’m relying on you to understand
My base need
Your shared responsibility
To satisfy my lack of greed Sf copyright
image by Shapeless C

 

Med Moods

Image result for santorini sunsets

Enjoying a holiday in the med, watching serene Santorini sunsets. Enjoying all those beautiful sensations of the Mediterranean; sun-dried tomatoes, olives, capers, bougainvillea, fig trees, pistachios, worldwide scents and suntan lotion floating on the warm breeze. Not having to write much as this is a living meditation but enjoying some great reading on WP, and this poem by Nicole Lyons in particular:

“This is the place where I have come undone,
and I walk softly around the edge of it.”

It sums up human life on Earth, well mine at least.

A Road Less Travelled

Hubris

has it ever occurred to you
that you’re held in contempt
because you are contemptible?

You  Ozymandias have declared yourself

outside the realm of normal men

you who had greatness thrust down at you

they the bearers of your good estate

outside the realm of normal doubts or cares

they who were deprived by your gain

they who are now  deceived by lack of wit

they who are not revolting as you declare

but, supportive of your myth, they do not dare
but be submissive, contrive to leave you as Percy said
Buried, all together, just as dead
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Life cycle

Life cycle

My formula for life is very simple: in the morning, wake up; at night, go to sleep. In between I try and occupy myself as best I can.
Cary Grant. actor

Every day Sun comes up Sun goes down
Socks on socks off
Every day people wake, do and dream
Socks get soiled socks get cleaned, so do feet
and ten thousand other things

These are all choices; love, hate, joy, grief
To go with the flow or let time be thief