Shadow of death

The shadow of death is cast by life itself

Remembrance Day

This day we pause our uncaring dash through life,
How much more we’d care if our country called,
And said we must die to take some muddy, bloody hill,
Or hold in our arms a dying boy
Who’ll never now get to live,
Only guess at what might have been.
All he can ask -
A shadow of a memory on the wall of names -
Is that we remember this debt
For all our days to come.

Tasting Death

Through insight we gain the wisdom to know that we can never experience death.
For there is no sense of taste without taste-buds, no sights without eyes,
No sounds when the ears cease to function.

Divided

Living divided from ourselves is our human fate,
As is the desire to be complete –
We will only completely satisfy
In death.

The day is what you make it

This day is whatever you make it:
A tick of the clock, passing unnoticed,
Or a deep tock, solemn as ritual.
On this day three years ago my mother died
Taking with her my link to the past,
A kindred spirit gone forever.
A year on I cried;
Two years on I forgot;
Three years on I practice remembering
This day is what you make it,
If you remember nothing else,
Remember that.

One moment

One  moment of time,
A teardrop in eternity
Or an endlessly flowing stream?
If we cannot permit it to be both,
We can never admit our own death,
Nor grow beyond the confines
Of our current life.

New Shoots

In the darkness of the earth

None shall see the sun,

And yet it is there:

Waiting, wondering when growth will come.

In the pitch of night,

Nothing is more certain

Than light will crack the dark,

A pendulum that must swing up

As surely as down,

A child that must grow

As surely as we must die,

And if the seed of death is carried by life,

Then death must usher in new life;

A potential bursting into being,

Rocks tumbling down a hill.

Let us not rejoice in the hidden acorn,

Nor the mighty oak we may one day be,

But the first green shoots of morning,

The dew not yet trampled,

By the Kingdom of the dawn.

The End

A 27-word challenge posted by Jenny Matlock inspired this little poem with the prompt ‘the end’.

Each moment a fragment of time

Whorled into the next,

By eyes averted from the end,

A trick of the light,

This illusion I call ‘my life’.

Rant at philosophers/Philosopher’s rant

Fine toothcomb through a desert of sand,

A microscope focused in all the wrong places,

Its owner stumbling over rocky ground,

Myopic vision missing the glory undivided,

The creature of deep meaning immune to the blade,

So many writers, so much wisdom,

Heavy tomes weigh down the mystery of age,

And spawning yet more,

Such as the question; was it worth it?

To use such long words to capture meanings,

Better expressed by old eyes in a young face,

A smile quick in sadness as in joy,

Shall I add my two pennies, I’d rather not-

Times a wasting and waves are bobbing far from shore,

Life is sweet and I’m not afraid of death,

Nor mistakes, they’re my friends every one,

When I’m depressed I ask why,

And look for the breaking of the storm to come,

New life’s born from every end,

Dash these stones to build stronger tower,

To better see my future flaws,

And aren’t they wonderful in a funny kind of way?

Without this road we’d have nowhere to go,

No boots to wear out on the travelling

Over next hill to wonders yet unseen,

I know I have nowhere I need go,

But I won’t turn my back on all that’s arriving fast,

Not when it’s happening right here,

So write on philosophers if you dare,

The world is full of great plans and planners,

Skilled architects convinced they made this so,

But plan me this:

A life of adventure where no day’s the same,

And I’ll never know – good or bad,

What’s coming next…?

Oh look, it’s already done,

I’m a man, a planner too

The deal is done and I accept it,

But richer journey it has become,

Control evading control,

I’ll breathe out and you breathe in,

And let’s greet her together,

Here she comes, dainty Future’s step,

And isn’t she a lady all aglow?

A time for thank-yous

You do so capture me with words,

As if I were nought but clouds about the moon,

Smoke breathed out from your cigar.

Still I would be flattered to be penned by such a poet,

As life made you,

The old dowager sighed before she died.

Did he ever write of her;

A fresh bloom briefly laid upon the world,

Before greying fall from Summer’s bright regard?

She never knew.

 

 

I would like to give my heartfelt thanks to Sonia at Doing the Write Thing for awarding me the Versatile Blogger Award!

It has meant a great deal to me to be read by writers I respect. Sonia is one of those like-minded spirits and a generous and talented writer to boot. Call me extraverted but the feedback I have received since blogging has given me a whole new reason to put pen to paper.

In accord with the rules of the award here are seven hereto (possibly) unknown facts about myself:

1. I used to want to be a musketeer until my best friend at the time, a six year old called Dorothy, told me they didn’t exist anymore. Needless to say I was very upset.
2. As a child I had a cat called Albert. He was black as midnight apart from bright green eyes, had fur as soft as silk, and used to bring us headless birds as gifts. He is buried in the garden now, but sometimes I still catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye.
3. I now live in a thatched cottage in the middle of the countryside. At night I can’t hear…anything at all! It’s amazing.
4. My most precious possession is a Katana (a Japanese Sword). But I rarely practice with it outside, in case I frighten the old lady next door.
5. I think my life really turned around when I was twenty-five and started practicing the martial arts seriously. Since then I’ve never had to use my fists and rarely wanted to.
6. My girlfriend is very beautiful, refined and organised, but when she laughs she looks like a little girl and sounds like an old woman. It cracks me up every time.
7. In personality I am most like my mother. When she was dying of cancer I wrote her a poem thanking her for everything she had done for me. The last thing she said to me was ‘thank-you for my poem’.

As I have already said being read by other bloggers has made a great difference to me. It has also been inspiring reading work by other writers. Here are fifteen of my favourites. Check them out and give them all the encouragement you can and they will do the same for you.

• erbdex at apriljournals
• Elli at Elli Writes
• Eva626 at herenownotforever
• The Hook at You’ve Been Hooked!
• Holly at writerinspire
• Ina at inaweblogisback
• Fey at mixxieboomboom
• halfwaybetweenthegutterandthestars
• mywordswhisper
• Stephanie at bekindrewrite
• Becca at beccagivens
• Jamie at Musing By Moonlight
• P.V.Zim at The Earthling Writes
• The Lonely Recluse
• Pat Cegan at Source of Inspiration