Month: December 2016

ghost boat

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ghost boat before seaford head
morning sea fog, whispering of baffle and blurr, doubt and nothingness
earlier the world suffused with a warm, washed out apricot glow, now faded to a wraith like clamminess
mist, pearl moistening every spiders web
a realm fungal furred, rot and cankour, yet gorse flowers still tweet strident yellow, coconut ponged
most branches are bare, crenullated with stone green lichen crisps, brittle as undersea coral
season for softening, of surrender to the earth, take us down gentle into this, our darkness

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ah do love a breakfast poetic blather!
on the way home, emerging from the murk, a fishing boat languishing just off mooring, ha, blasting out christmas tunes, hackneyed, but bobbing in the fog suprisingly jaunt joyful

morning pages

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wrote one side of morning pages left handed today, crab scuttle etching… a curious process, feeling that this my alien hand doesn’t belong to ‘me’… to escher mbe?
you can almost sense the grapple battle for control twixt ego and whom? mute, secret sharer
a twitch, when the ‘usual I’ has the upper hand, it falls apart, hand wrench arches in the wrong direction… d’oh bother blather
but allow the process and a curious hypnotic rhythmic flow begins… automatic, we know what to do
…and the words, are they any different? dunno, can’t read the illegible ink blot scrawl
looking out the window, world appears shimmering, the background to a tarot card, a slight slippage? mythic realm ever at our elbow
da vinci the invincible
anyway summon daughter from her slumbers, admire the red glow of rolled plasticine clouds.. sizzle mushrooms, pepper, tomatoes, garlic
what are words on the page anyway? tongue convolutions to not make a sound, words that crave connection, synapse fire flare, ink deluge
i’ve typed all this left handed, sense adandonned, suspect i’m incorrigible bored, ha, doncha know

aretha and carol

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on this hand aretha, all pink plumage, shimmer irridescence, joyful, stuck on a preposterous 60’s set
a voice of such timbre and depth, close your eyes and it rolls over you like the majesty of the ocean, bears us up
on the other hand, carole, plinkety plunk at the piano, looking like she’d snap in a gale… yet such strength, squawk of the mauled
her song, she lived it, she wrote it, perfectly embodied
beautifully squandered half an hour trying to work out which i prefer, a blessing
obviously – i love them both the most!

winter

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brutal bone gnaw withering cold… i set off on my bike across the tundra twixt b&q and bishopstone… still air, yet brrrr the wind chill from the velocity of my own whizzing, had to slow down to lessen the shriek shatter ice cream head
passed a poor little dead shrew on the path (i love the word shrew, none of that Roman flounce, a simple country saxon name befitting the creature)
no bigger than a teasel, i could empathise with its last words frozen to lips… ‘unloveable. too small. big cold’
lacking gloves, i’d gone with a stripey sock on each hand, zig and zag, berated by puppets as i pedaled
forever sartorially flummoxed by winter! summer it’s sandals, cargo pant shorts, a 10 year old moth eaten t-shirt, what could be better?!
nowadays it’s all about layers, chunky knit colourful sweaters… ‘cept i don’t have any… jumble sale strewn, lurid acrylics, something of the dressing up box… widow twanky at the tour de france
even the sea can’t be bothered, usually a hurly burly, giving it a ‘bit of this, a bit of that’
but today a half hearted lap, lap, the sound of someone gently closing a patio door
dreaming of a giant knicker elastic powered catapult to hurtle me to the tropics
rhythm of the seasons, means i can write the same post every year! and not worry about it
yet… headed home… thinking of a friend from the prairies
each leaf, every bush, frost licked to brittle needle diamonds
a tree with arms flung up, fractal, exultant, here midst the whisper beauty light
winter