3 The Circle

My third response

The Circle

This winding road is actually a circle, 
From where you've come to where you're going,
Coming back always to the same place, 
Over and Over,
But changed.
And all the while another journey
Falling Into that deep universe, 
Slowly, slowly,
Where nothing changes






Day 3:

 3rd April 3rd poem.

Was inspired today by a walk along the coast . We took a path from the beach up a pretty winding staircase. Each turn gave a different, yet  interesting view which  made me reflect the path our lives take. Not sure I've done justice to it in this poem.

Go This Way

Go this way, by these winding steps,

                                    Up this steep slope.

                                                     Stop here, rest,

                                                                      Take in the view,

                                                                                     The castle - almost ruins

                                                                                                     Wealth mostly spent.

                                                                                     Carry on up, round another bend,

                                                              See the lake- shrouded in mist,  

                                               Past joys hidden.

            Struggle further, towards the summit,

                                                   Breathless,

                                                               The path narrows,

                                                                                Turn, see the valley

                                                                                            Deep, dark,

                                                                                  Lost moments of gloom.

                                                                                                 But now,

                                                                               Crawl on to the summit,

                                                       Lift yourself up,

                        Stand, breathe deep

     Look around,

                                      All before you takes shape

                                                             Holds together.

2nd day of response - What On Earth Comes Over Us

Day two of answering "A Poem A Day " . So, look to the end to find poem from 2nd April.
And my response:
 

What On Earth Comes Over Us

Waves of Christmas music drift through my head,
It's that time of year again - happiness, tiredness, dread
That things won't all go right.

Where's the list I wrote last night , what shall I get for Aunty Chris?
What size turkey shall we have? Or this year shall we give it a miss,
Oh, I am in a terrible plight.

But what is the whole thing really about, why do we make such a fuss?
Why is the whole world celebrating , what on earth comes over us?
It's only remembering a baby's birth and that happens every day,
But this little baby changed everything as he lay on the soft , dry hay



A poem I wrote yesterday, just for the craic:

JUST SAYING

Love is you taking the bins out,

And noticing what's behind that bout,

Of anger.

Just saying...

Attentive too to times of tiredness,

Not minding that I've not got dressed,

But languor.

Just saying...

Knowing I like a different channel to you,

Giving me my chance as well to view,

For longer

Just saying...

And when the opportunity arises and we're able,

Taking me to dinner to sit at table,

And romance me for ever,

Just saying,

Day 2 of the challenge "a poem a day in April".

                     This April Day

Look out to sea this April Day.
See the horizon curve
Across wide water.
Waves churned by wind,
Break on shores,
Sculpt  fresh  forms.
And wind turbines,
 Like catherine wheels
Turn to the tune,
Of spring.

And just to keep you going, another little story:




                               The Torch                                                      

“What’re you doing?”  Rob moaned sleepily, falling into the middle of the blow up bed, his elbows and knees hitting the cold, hard floor, as Liz stumbled over him.

“I’ve got to go to the loo,” she whispered, groping in the dark, “where’s the torch?”

Rob’s hands felt in the pocket at the side of the inner tent.

“Here,” he said, clicking on the Tesco pocket-torch and holding it up.

“Thanks,” she grabbed it, pointed it at the zipper and quickly opened it.

            She stepped quietly into the outer tent area so as not to waken the girls, whose low, rhythmic breathing assured her they were fast asleep. With the sound of rain on the canvas roof echoing in her head, Liz got on hands and knees and searched for her wellies. Next she slowly swept the torch in a circle. Now, where was her coat? Finding it on the back of a chair she shivered as she put her arms into the damp armholes, making a mental note that she must keep her clothes inside at night.

Wellies and raincoat on, she ventured outside onto the wet grass. Lifting her face to the moon, half hidden in cloud, she noticed that what she thought was rain was only drizzle. From the din inside the tent she expected a downpour.  Another sound, dull and repetitive, drifted from one of the other tents. Someone was snoring. 

Liz held the torch tightly in her clammy hands. She could see only a few yards in front of her, everything else left in unknowable darkness. She picked her way through the first of the two fields she had to get through. A feint smell of smoke from the bonfire of the previous evening wafted in the air, reminding her of the BBQ, the wine and friends singing late into the night. The only reason she’d agreed to this camping trip. 

As she continued on, the occasional sound of cracking twigs from the woods around her broke the silence and made her start.  She tried not to imagine what might be lurking in the black.  Pulling her coat tight around her shoulders she quickened her pace, grateful there was a pathway to follow and greatly relieved when the lights from the toilet block came into view.

On the way back to her tent she wondered if this would be the first and only time she went camping. What she knew for sure was that if they came again they would have to get a more powerful torch.

Now i have to put my think cap on and get writing the poem for tomorrow.

See you then.

Below Freezing

Below Freezing

Hats, coats, scarves, gloves -
Rushing past each other,
Heads down -
Breathing clouds into freezing air
On this  crisp November night.
Actively anticipating,  warm theatre.
"Come on, hurry...   Nearly there..."
Looking around,
At first, not noticing  - quickly passing him.
Stopping, turning
Eyes searching each other's
Thinking, Knowing, agreeing
And at once in that look
Deciding .
Hunching over in his blanket,
Hands and face red- weather worn,
Looking up, telling with his eyes, his story.
We could not pass.
We could not pass...

And then we saw a kiosk selling hot drinks and food,
And decided to get him something.
Coffee with sugar, that will help warm  him
And some chips as well, with salt and vinegar.
We tentatively approached - not knowing how we'd be received.
Bending down, meeting his eye we ask,
"Would you like a hot drink, we've brought you a coffee
with sugar, for energy, ( we rambled, nervously)."
He looked up and from within brought forth a love
And thankfulness in the blanket of his smile.
"Oh ladies, thank you so much, thank you, thank you..."
Words from the depth of his heart that found my heart .
He declined the chips very delicately,
Had some earlier from another kind passer by.
We left him then ...
Forever changed...

Thanks

Thanks to all of you fans who have been consistently reading my blog .
There have been over 11000 visits now and I have had 187 comments
 on the blog itself. That is apart from the many comments that have
been posted through Facebook.
I am so pleased that so many have enjoyed my stop/start attempts. I always
 like to hear what you all think.
I don't always feel that I have anything much to say and find it takes me a while
to have the courage to post anything at all.

The Crippled Woman

The Crippled Woman
  Lk: 13, 10-17

I'd heard of this rabbi, heard His words were life-changing,
I was eager to  be there, to hear Him for myself.
My cousins brought me that morning, after a good breakfast,
To the synagogue  -  It was the Sabbath.
Warmed by the sun we walked and discussed what
 He would be like.
Through the throng - jostled and pushed - there we were.
Eyes, accustomed to looking at the floor,
Now glimpsed, only for a moment, His manly features.
Suddenly His gaze held mine, frozen in time
He spoke, called me over
The crowd, quiet now, waited for Him to speak again,
Parted as I shuffled forward - dazed.
Holding His hands above me, a warmth ran through my blood,
Easing all feeling of pain,
He uttered,
"Woman, you are rid of your infirmity,"
As if in a dream I lifted myself up until I stood straight.
After eighteen years bent double, I was overjoyed.
I danced around, thanking Him and praising God.
It was all so unexpected.
I have told many people my story of that day when
I met Jesus in the synagogue.

The Poor Widow

Playing with a biblical theme today. 
I enjoy looking at the women in the bible and imagining their story. 

The Poor Widow

With heart full of thankfulness,
Shawl gathered around bony shoulders,
Head bent and adorned with
black headdress-
Cleaned,
I step out into the sun
And walk the three miles
To the Temple.
The dust of the road
Dry - hot
Catches in my throat
Irritates my feet.
But, today joy replaces fear.
Today, I give all - Everything,
Because I want to.
Two pennies...
Not a lot, you might say...
But for me there is nothing left
To give.
I drop them in the treasury,
Hear them fall ,
Jewels for my crown...
God has given to me first-
Now...

Luxury

The poetry prompt for today was luxury. I couldn't think of much so just wrote something:

Luxury.

What is luxury?

Is it fine clothes, 

And upmarket cars,

Carpets with deep pile,

Soft underfoot? 

Is it eating out at a posh restaurant,

With jewels falling over a sumptuous table

While ordering the most expensive champagne,

(Which tastes no better than lemonade,  

By the way)?

Is it a sensational cruise around the world

On five star liner,

With people milling about 

Seeing to your every whim?

What a luxurious life that would be .

But no,

Luxury isn't any of that.

It is awakening to a brand new day,

And seeing the sun come up,

Getting out of bed on two good feet,

Walking to adventures you're ready to meet.

It is having family,

Friends, and other folk

Who make your life what it is

A luxury of parts.  

My husband is doing portraits to raise money for our little friend Ollie, who thinks it would be a luxury to be able to walk by himself  :

50 Portraits for Ollie.
This is a contemporary portrait 8x8 inches in acrylic of a little friend of mine Ollie . This is the first portrait in a series of fifty portraits that I aim to complete to help raise funds for Ollie to have an operation in America . This painting is from a picture that Ollies parent's sent me .The aim is that you send a photo of any portrait you wish to be painted - person, pets etc and I will paint an acrylic 8 x 8 painting on canvas board You donate £ 40.00 to Ollies fund for which you will receive your painting . This is a preview of the idea. We have to finalise the details I just want to get this out there. So please share.

Treasure Hunt

Just taking these six words from the November prompt to play with today:

relent, horrendous, artifact, lagoon, wobble, and plunder

Treasure Hunt

The plight of one
Who has an horrendous urge
To plunder,
Who does not relent
In pursuit of the priceless artifact
Which, when found makes him wobble
With delight and dive into
A lagoon of pure joy.

Playground

PLAYGROUND

We weren't allowed to stay in
Even if we had bad weather
With coats and gloves we were shoved outside,
And told  we could huddle together.

That was ok for those who got on
They made their groups and told their tales,
But for me there was a lonely chill in the air
As I stood alone beside the rails.

The icy wind nibbled at my ears
And I watched the others warmly wrapped
I was invisible it seemed to me,
Scared in my  loneliness-  trapped.

That was when I was six or seven
But nothing changed much in the years after that
Teenagers still being marched out of doors,
I'd try to join in, get caught up in the chat.

You'd think I was happy to look at me
Jostling with others, learning to survive
It  put the bullies in their place
They wouldn't win while I could strive.

I thought I'd left all that behind
Grown up, been healed, moved on
Until I stood outside the playground
As a mum waiting for my son

The social isolation I felt came back to me
Those fearful emotions were with me again
But now I'm a grownup and have to get on
I'll smile, talk and finally, maybe,  bury the pain

COUNTDOWN

COUNTDOWN

I have just seen the countdown
To Christmas.
Thirty eight days, six hours, thirty four minutes
And forty seven seconds...
Of course , it's less now
And will be every moment..
Why count the days
So fervently, so expectantly...?
Why put such pressure before
Limited brains...
Money must be spent-
Presents, food, clothes.
Many will be paying back
For many months to come
And all for a day
A day when we remember,
Or do we,
A little baby's  birth.