4am Musing

I get up to protect me from my own thoughts, which come as sharp-edged boxes marching towards me in military formation; each one dropping into place, robot-like,as they assemble into their final positions.


I am slightly off-centre in a Rubik’s room.

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Once… Then… Once… Now…

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Once…
I was the best thing to happen to you
Once…
I chased the ghosts away
Once…
You couldn’t take your eyes off me
Once…
You yearned for me every minute of every day

Then…
You barely even noticed me
Then…
The ghosts came back to stay
Then…
I caught your eyes wandering
Then…
I heard you speak another’s name

Once…
This would have burnt right through my soul
Once…
I’d be haunted by inadequacies
Once…
I’d take it all into my heart
Once…
When you held all the cards and keys

Now…
I’m the best thing to happen to me
Now…
The ghosts belong to yesterday
Now…
My eyes are open wider than before
Now…
I’ll handle all that’s thrown my way

The Reason

Please support Dave on his travels and get along to see him if you can. 🙂

The Good to Talk Tour

A few weeks back I was thinking about a good friend of mine; Lizzie Lee.

We met while we were volunteering at No5 Youth Counselling in Reading. She was already counselling when I met her, but to start with I was the duty receptionist for the Wednesday evening rota.

I’ve no doubt we were the rock and roll rota. I’m pretty sure the amount of laughing and swearing that went on in the counsellors rest room during that time was unsurpassed. Mostly because of Lizzie.

Lizzie was, to say the least, a prolific swearer. The competition to say the c word first each night was almost always won by her. She used it as a term of endearment and as the worst possible insult. Sometimes in the same breath. I don’t think I ever got a christmas card from her that didn’t feature that word.

Eventually I would go through…

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My Crow’s Poetry

Mi-crow-poetry 🙂

The Write Stuff

Crawford the Crow - photo Taken by Jane Goldsack Crawford the Crow – photo Taken by Jane Goldsack

My Crow’s Poetry

Crawford the crow
Usually spoke with Cawtion

But, sometimes he was
Excrawdinarily erudite.
His poems, of which there were many, were scrawled upon
Scraps of paper that he found
When rooting around for his food.

One of his best was a poem
He wrote one Saturday in January
When he’d just been thrown a measly crust
It was okay, but tasted of dust
But, then a chunk of cake came towards
And in his mind it deserved awards
Not that Crawford should have chocolate cake to eat
But, just this one, as a treat.

His poem was:

Cake, I like your style
Your taste is worth my while
And though my tummy may soon ache
I’d like to say I loved you, cake.

Short and sweet it was
Which as the crow flies is the best way,
Because…

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Testing the Kindle upgrade

I am testing the Kindle upgrade.
It lets me talk instead of type.
In theory, this should save me quite a bit of time;
I just need to get my head around the punctuation function.
For, whilst I know how to insert a comma, and a full stop.

So that’s how it works. If I say, ‘new paragraph’, it will indeed give me a

However, if I want to say

I can’t actually say it because it will give me a new paragraph instead of the words. (I had to type that in).

If this is not making sense, might I suggest that you upgrade your Kindle, if you have one, and try it out for yourself.

Overall, I am rather impressed and will probably have a lot more to say from hereon in.

She sells seashells on the seashore.

Wow! Such fun!

Lines Upon a Page (LBN)

And here is my other half’s submission… with link to what it’s all about 🙂

Graeme Sandford

I…

IMG_5141 edit 1

…am taking centre stage

(in an LBN – a little black number

which is slightly ‘off the wall’)

Am I on the right lines

As I preside over my court?

I focus upon the passers-by

who are by-passing the others to gaze

solely at my décolletage;

barely pausing at the collage next to me;

before also by-passing the purchasing of a single thing.

When suddenly, I descried someone wearing…

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almost

the exact same creation as me!

Imagine my total loss of elation.

Just imagine!

I could have cried.

Now, side by side we stand;

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Imperceptible in our differences

almost

but, one of discerning tastes

Must have preferences…

Look at her page lines!

I, am the real

deal.

————————————————————-

This poem was inspired by the two delightful pictures above by the Natural Connections artist Sarah Louise Baker.

For more information, visit:http://www.hampshireartandcraft.org/community–fundraising-events.html

Picture
Picture
Picture
Saturday 8th November 2014, 6.30 – 8.30pm

An evening of…

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Streams of consciousness

Beautiful words

Peace, Love and Patchouli

You come to me
In Deepest slumber
Teaching
Reaching
Lessons of student and sky
To fly yet grounded
Document lost
Who I am
Nowhere to be found
On the higher plane
Conscious running free
Like clearest mountain stream
Slivers of silver reflected
Through the rushing movement
Emotion like slippery stone
Creating waves
From underneath
Below the surface there lies
A higher horizon of night to day
And caught in the middle
Between light and dark
The stream slips past silently
And in the moment of perfect solitude
The dawn of realization
That this is all
There needs to be
The here
The now
The who I truly am
A part of whole
Yet nothing at all
A speck
A grain
Of sand in time
Streaming form
Of memory.

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