Tag Archives: muse

fairytale dawn

I awoke this morning,
Bad breath and aching joints,
Rolled out of bed and woke up,
As I do each day, only to realise
That each day I awake at home,
Is a fairytale dawn.

Without the blue skied,
Green-treed commute,
With winter or summer,
Spring or fall outside,
It is all the same, for I am
Blessed with the beauty within
My life, and the life within
My home.

For when I stepped back into
The room, fresh-shaven, wide-
Eyed, and saw you there, angel
To my self-proclaimed devil’s in
The detail over analytical self,
Your blond hair spread waterfall-
Like across the pillow, soft in sleep
Teddy keeping my bare sheets warm,
Looking up at me expectantly,
I held my breath for a moment’s pause,
And realised how lucky I really am.

Then slipping next door, I awoke,
As requested, not out of spite, our
Beautiful angel, who’s smile beats a
Thousand suns, the soul-love furnace
Full of life and spirit, and realised I am
Double-blessed, for non-religious me,
This is warmth, this is love, this is what
Others call God.

And smiling still, kissing both goodbye,
I welcomed brisk winter’s late brush, shivering
Sinuously up my spine to tickle my fingertips,
Bessie Jr waiting patiently for the morning’s commute,
My smile widening ever more as I realised
That I do have everything I ever wanted,
Everything I ever wished for,
Right here,
Right now,
at home,
My life
is love.

Quiet please

Remember the Cat Stevens song, Father and Son?

Pico Iyer’s article talks about the same thing, only reversed. I see it myself in my own life. The difference is, I think, that technology is to us adults what addictive substances are to addicts.

We get addicted, distracted, embroiled, discombobulated.  Children can take it or leave it. My daughter has a mobile phone she uses less than me to check on the world and her friends.

She has a Mac desktop she uses mainly for homework. She also has an iPad, which she uses primarily for games.

The world is open to her. She knows how to get at it. Yet because it is normal she is not enamoured. She is a jaded technologist. And I am glad.

Me, I need to watch what I let my phone interrupt. I need to take a break, regardless of my job.

I have always said that for all of this doubling of speed and new and improved technology, how useful is it really? What do I use regularly? Notepad, Word, Excel. Extensions of paper. In fact, nothing more. And really only because of ease of reading (my handwriting is getting worse, not better) and ease of access – it is harder to lose an online file than a piece of paper…yet only slightly.

Sure there are useful websites (google maps…i.e. an atlas, or Trello i.e. a to do list), yet are they worth the aggro? Really?

I don’t think so. I do not know where all this is going. I do think the internet will really come into its own when oil is scarce and travel is truly a luxury once more.

Then solar powered totally self-sufficient data centres linked by solar powered satellites will link billions of hand crank kinetic powered laptops and computers.

Steampunk, here we come! ;D

Birdsong

 
“Save yourselves!” cried a tiny voice, squeaking in the early dawn as the collosal clock of doom ticked away. They could all hear it, deep in the gentle settling ticking and creaking of the great oak tree they nestled in, reverberating cold empty echoes in their frail hollow bones.

“Save yourselves! Fly away!” another tiny voice piped up, singing out harmoniously with the first.

The light broke proper over the forest, and the rest of the tiny voices began to shout out their warning, “Save yourselves! The end is coming.” But no one seemed to be listening.

“Save yourself!” shouted a red-breasted fellow, ululating the cry, choking on the final syllable. He himself could feel the warning of time ticking down to Doomsday vibratingly to the tips of his tail feathers. The fear froze him from within, even as he swallowed air to shout his warning once more. Still the large hand swept to the final time, resonating deeper still, deep down next to where the primal fear nestled in his subconscious.

“Save yourself!” echoed from branch to branch, tree to tree, yet no one was listening. Winter was coming. A winter that would last. And only the ancient memory of the dinosaurs vibrating spider-like in their tiny souls knew what that really meant.

And still no one listened.

Poemetics – poetry anthologies volumes 1-3 published online…

Hello all there out there in blog land…

I spent a good few hours over the weekend creating and publishing a handful of poetry anthologies entitled “Poemetics Volume 1…” to “Poemetics Volume 3…” on the ‘Smashwords’ website (smashwords.com).

You can find all three Poemetics volumes (now on Amazon instead of Smashwords) in one volume available for download here.

I will soon be adding ISBN references to them to get them onto Barnes & Noble, iBookstore and others.

Even only having them available on Smashwords (taking into account I have no idea how big this site’s user base is) these books were downloaded more than 100 times from about midnight Friday to lunchtime today – a very impressive statistic for a set of poetry anthologies for an unknown author on a single website.

It will be very interesting to see how this changes or expands (hopefully!) when these go online to the main ebook suppliers.

I am considering having these published as a ‘Print On Demand’ single volume book.

Any thoughts? (Feedback on the back of a postcard with some pretty scenery…it makes the day go by quicker and covers the holes in the walls.)

Until next time, live long and prosper! 🙂

mE

Potatoe potahto

Recently I was accused
Of some sort of racial slur
In a story I wrote
About gorillas in
Much Like Us.

When I looked again
Re-reading it through someone else’s eyes
Or as close as I could get in my own mind’s eye
I still could not see what they meant
Though I tried as hard as I might.

So I sat
And I thought
About all the pictures people see
About how we all see a different world
Through a myriad of different eyes,
How everything is up to us to define
Decipher, discover, decide
And we are all as infallible as each other.

From the slightest misunderstanding
To religious discourse, to racial hatred and outright war
The whole problem is us humans, desperate to not be alone
Fighting for some real meaning, some vital substance
In this life, on this rock, floating alone through space,
The vacuum that surrounds us.

There is no straight answer,
No all-encompassing truth that we can all happily
Accept, nothing that is so clear cut and true
That we all see it the same way, so we go on
Fighting and arguing, judging and describing
Pidgeon-holing. Reinforcing our own preset world view
Until all that exists in the wonder of reality
Fits within our own ten-second segment of bite-size life,
Allowing us to relax back into comfortable modes of behaviour,
The ruts of common existence and habitual blindness.

When will we all wake up to the pure beauty of clear sight?