Once, now a mere fading
memory of a distant time
far beyond the realms of
that which seems possible;
reliable as a twitching thumb,
I carried a burden upon on
my finger; a ring made of metal,
precious; my precious ring
I do still posses yet never
wear; too brittle my mind,
too thick the finger,
once I proudly wore
a dream now
slowly
fading
as one that lives in a country
I do not regard as mine,
I see stupidity like never before
revealed before my saddened eyes,
where April will not be followed
by a May in bloom; just disarray,
though mind you I do not regret
staying away from the disjointed
states of the american planes,
with a puppet without strings
like a Muppet with a fist up
his ring; I would have suffered,
I would though have done something
about it; carried that gun so proudly
sold over a Mexican counter; undoubtedly,
I would have made my mind up,
I would have slaughtered the sheep,
I would have drunk the blood of the
innocent; then made my way home to the
house; without regret
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.~Elizabeth Barrett Browning- Sonnet 43 {1806 – 1861}
Photo: Morning greeting’ – Gloucestershire, Cotswolds, England by Cat Perkinton.
Hey guys, my book is out and ready and I can’t believe it!!!!!!
I have been working on this book for the last year or so, and I think it may be one of the first things I am proud of when it comes to my poetry. Thank you all for your support and help over this last year –
Look what just arrived!
Note to self: You know this worry that has been spinning and turning and rumbling around for a while. About being alive but not having a life. Well, tonight I learned that you can actually have a life without being alive! It is all about being an object, and to transition between contexts, just get made, get used, and find a suitable afterlife; you can live forever, without actually needing to be alive. Wicked.
So, I made the plan that was a requirement this time. The ‘Essay Plan’ that would revolutionise my career and take my writing to new heights. I then turned towards the actual work, the writing. The Conclusion came easy, followed by an Introduction fitting for royalties. With 20% of the essay completed I sighed; where’s the body of this essay suppose to come from? The ‘Essay Plan’ clearly stated from where but […] . So I ended up on the sofa; with a pizza and a bottle of wine… Hemingway never said ‘write drunk; edit sober’, but I think this is going to be one of those nights.
I am, all things considered, fairly average,
On days of sunshine; a genius I admit,
Under dark clouds; a stupid, stupid git: git,
I am, all things considered, fairly average,
Cut me in half; any point will do,
You will find me in equal parts; of two,
A biped, one glass half-full; one half-empty,
I am, all things considered, fairly average
