Day: September 29, 2022

The drowned world

I recall the wet green smell of air

Walking with you sister down 1the lanes11

Singing as we walked with open mouths.

Tasting the soft pureness of the rain.

In the woods we hoped see the deer

Children from the farm came out to play.

We soon picked up their accents and their grins,

The cow called sadly for its calf that day.

The dripping trees in sorrow wept to hear

The plaintive cow in grief beside the house

Little rivers ran along the road

I thought I saw a hawk descend and pounce.

Drown me with your tears you awful clouds

For all the world with sorrow’s well endowed

Depersonalisation disorder: the condition you’ve never heard of that affects millions | Mental health | The Guardian

https://www.theguardian.com/society/2015/sep/04/depersonalisation-disorder-the-condition-youve-never-heard-of-that-affects-millions

The gravity of loss brought me to earth

apple-tree-and-sunshine1


The gravity of loss brought me to earth




Beneath the rotting leaves, I lay with worms.
I wondered if I were of any worth

No more to be enchanted by love’s mirth,
I  with unnamed particles was turned.
The weight of loss bears down the heart to eart


I  did not know the way but saw a path
While I slept a new design had formed
I learned I need not think of what I’m worth

My sorrow brought no guilt nor fear of wrath
I am the  eagle and the twisted worm
In my little grave, I  loved the earth.

Like the adder, shocked into rebirth.
I from silent underworld had learned
Not to judge my soul nor think of worth.

I shall not  fear the flames of hell that burn
When blackness is accepted, may one learn?
The weight of loss breaks down the soul to earth
With dusty shredded leaves, we then converse





	


	



			
				


			

			
Don’t lie so still
		
	
	

		
















 Katherine  beautiful thoughts, childhood, Courage, death, emotion, how to live, images, sorrow, Thinkings and poems, truthfulness, virtue  October 2, 2021 1 Minute





Ah,brother I don’t want you to lie still





No blood to circulate,no thoughts,no will





No help,no humour.jokes no





sharp true eye





From our old shared pram,to live, to die.





I used to do your homework





late at night





Abstract thought to you was no delight.





You wondered over X and y and z





Preferred the shapes of Nature in your head.





I shall retain the memories of the good





You who taught me speech and hate and love

	


	



			
				


			

			
Where shore and country meet
		
	
	

		

I remember Arnside in the rain





I remember singing, country lanes





The joy of woods that run right to the shore





The happiness that makes the hearts deep core 





Beyond imagination I was pulled





Staring from the Knott I saw the gulls





Tiny vultures, eagles flying low





Looking for drowned sheep upon the shore





Paradoxes contradictions faith.





Nothing living now will go to waste 





Life and death, the host, the requiem mass





The living whole, the patient Death of God.





















	


	



			
				


			

			
Flat green leaves
		
	
	

		

Flat green leaves are saucers for the birds to sip from





See how cautious the blackbird is.  





All of a sudden he flies up singing.





Rustling in the leaves of the apple trees with his body





No he’s looking at the cats water





What kind of rule book does he have ?





Dont tell me he wants the cats food





Red leaves are drying in the sun.





Time to go home now

	


	



			
				


			

			
Where ‘er you walk….cool gales shall fan the glades
		
	
	

		
Even sauntering through a concrete junglecan be  like meditation.Being present to the people you meet like the checkout person,the waitress in the coffee shop,letting your dreaming mind wander over the faces of the people walking by and dogs walking on a leash with a mother and baby,the plants,the cleaners.. so many faces..being present is possible and better than ruminating over past troubles.


Drink your coffee outside,gaze and fall into a trance…it’s spring now and we can smell the soil changing with the sun and almost sense the bulbs pushing through into the small enchanted world of a planter in a busy mall in a town centre.


Of course I find it hard to be like that if I am rushing to achieve some goal.We need to be  somewhat like clouds floating through the sky on the wind..without effort.I keep telling myself


If I can walk through a puddle or two and remember other watery joys;see reflections in the water and admire the poor trees ,in solitary planters. yet growing there even  in such a place then a town centre can be a place to wander  as the mind digests recent happenings and ponders on the mystery of existence[Don’t talk on your mobile as you walk if possible as that will ruin your walk and annoy the real people you pass]…I .take a look at them in all their assortment.. wish I coculd photograph them.


This is what I do… you may have a different way of being in such places…roaming and wandering are not so easy for city dwellers


but we can find a way…imagine we are on a sea shore or in a wood…

	


	



			
				


			
				


			

			
Learn to Write Fiction
		
	
	

		

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/07/18/at-home/coronavirus-fiction-writing.html










Though some people have knocked out an entire short story in a single sitting, it’s more realistic to see writing a story not as an inspiration-fueled creative binge but as a multiweek project. It’s one you’re a lot likelier to finish if, rather than waiting for the muse, you create the possibility for inspiration by planning a time and setting up the circumstances that will allow you to write regularly. It also should be fun! The act of constructing plots, developing characters and creating dialogue can be challenging, even frustrating, but I never find it boring, and it just might allow you to escape from your daily life at the same