Friday, July 6

A Poem for Thursday

The Sea and Life

You have to learn
   to time the waves.

Then jump
   at just the right moments
     to avoid being dragged under.

I found it difficult
   at first.

Then a rhythm emerged
   was it every seventh wave?

In between
   went swimmingly.

It has taken me
   a lifetime
      to time life's waves.

They say
   it comes in threes.

Why is there always
   a number?

Did someone
  work out the world
     in a maths lesson?

I'm hoping that this one will be acceptable to The Mag: definitely to do with water and the hope that I don't drown! Oh and a great prompt in the redon..I've always loved his dreamy work. Thankyou.

Wednesday, July 4

A Poem for Thursday.

The Outing to Dungeness
Prospect Cottage

Basically it was just a hut
A fisherman’s hut
Along with all the other huts
Now I love a hut
I would like a hut by the sea
Not too much to keep tidy
And the sound and smell of it all…

Basically it was not really a garden
Just the way you collect bits of plants along the beach
And hope that they might take root
And help you to remember that day
By the sea on the beach
In the shingle…

Really it was not sculpture
Not what those earnest artists
Like Andy or the Welsh man would think of as sculpture
More like me when I walked the sands at Ballyferris
And picked up the rubbish that the others had dropped
Well I say the rubbish
I never actually thought of it that way…

Really I wasn’t too sure about the yellow windows
And the writing on the end wall
All about the sun
Though the mist obscured it that day
And the words were a bit small
Now that my eyesight is not what it was…

So what made me cry?
For it was only a fisherman’s hut
It was only the shingle all around it by the road
It was only railway sleepers upended
Standing like a modern Stonehenge
And the perfume of the gorse
And the yellow horned poppies…

No really …there was not much there you know.

[This was the day that we went looking for Derek Jarman's house on the shingle in that magic spot called Dungeness. The brochure say the largest area of shingle in Europe. Full of wild sea flowers, protected by the local authorities....mysteriously beautiful.]

A Poem for Thursday

The Beach Sellers

Two weeks each year
in the sun.
Three beach cover-ups
in the "Spanish drawer".
A new look arrives.
Soft jersey,
brightly coloured,
it swathes the body.
I'm tempted.
Cuanto es?

walk so far
in the mid-day sun.
Straw hats
and sturdy sandals.
Heavy bags on their shoulders.
Always smiling.
"Very pretty"
"Very good price"

This is another in the series that I made while on the beach in Spain. So many characters that I've noticed over the years.
I'm linking up to dVerse open link night 51 again.
Thanks for the opportunity dVerse!

Tuesday, July 3

Monday, July 2

excerpt from "Blindness" by Jose Saramago

"I think that we are all going to die, it's just a matter of time, Dying has always been a matter of time, said the doctor,"  Blindness by Jose Saramago  p.280.

Reading this at the moment and thinking how up to date it is on so many issues. Not least...the banking ones.