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Thursday, 18 November 2021

Cut Your Cloth

After a while I return
Fairly quickly, from determining
That the Fair Isles are not for me

Although now more understanding 
Of the difficulty
To order the handmade pullover

These days it is the cruise ships
Whose needs are met first and foremost
They are the regular sources of income

And although they are here today
And gone tomorrow
That is no bad thing; to feed

The instantly gratified well-off clientele
No bickering, no bartering, and
Never, ever, is anything sent back


Wednesday, 17 November 2021

In Place Of God

It is you that are
Will it, say it
I am, I am, I am

It is you
Who walks beside the stream
It is you
Who sits on the bench to ponder

It is you
Who watches the leaves on the tree
Become disconnected
Before floating to the ground

That it is you
Let that give you solace
Let that give you strength
Let that give you a sense of direction

You, you who are your own faith
There is no other force
Nothing mythical, biblical

Or otherwise
But there is you
You are, you are, you are


Tuesday, 16 November 2021

Awareness Of A Longer Pause

My midday garden meditation
Is quietly interrupted
The iPad has overheated
It needs to cool down before I can carry on
The screen says Emergency, with exclamation mark
Though I think that is a slight exaggeration

Indeed, what it actually means
Is that for a short while
I meditated without any spoken word guidance
Then I took up my paper notebook and pencil
To write out these few words
Words for my own personal record of the silence

Indeed a record, of my personal reaction
To the Emergency, which of course
Had been of my own making
For it was I who placed the iPad on the seat
In the direct glare of the extreme heat
Of the sun which we are witnessing at the moment


Monday, 15 November 2021

Why Not Thoughts

How far might I go away
How deep into myself am I able to delve
In that one moment, of white light seen
Is all to be held
Is all to be revealed

The twisted tumult of torn heart strings
The frayed edges of a slowly dissolving mind
The darkness incorporated into the not knowing
The blind ambition of the not believing
Such calamity that the past is behind us

How distant might I become
How uncertain within myself of my own capabilities
In that one, one of many million similar moments
Are all mishaps to be seen
Are all hopes or dreams to be dashed


Sunday, 14 November 2021

Small Observations

The painter and decorator listens to music on his transistor radio, as he leans from his ladder, to paint the upstairs sash windows a high gloss white

Next door, the husband, of the husband and wife gardening team, leans thoughtfully on his upstanding rake

For myself, I walk to the post-office shop, buy an exotic ice-cream lollipop, and a glue stick, to complete my Artists Rules project

Alas, the three art papers, each with their own distinct colour wash, are not yet dry; more time is needed, I return to the writing

There is music playing, which requires some investigation; it appears that Vaughan Williams has been left alone in the bathroom

I look up the word congruence, for I have used it in my Soul Questions; I find the definition to be most agreeable