Inspiration...Time and Tide.

There's so much "stuff" out there...apart from in here 

...that's at The Potters House....I mean.

Then every now and again you see something and some art touches a very deep spot in your soul.

That's how we felt seeing the work of Roger Hardy in The East Coast Cafe in Aldeburgh.

An Exhibition called ...Time and Tide

   

From the reedy banks of the Alde river he collects driftwood and over time turns it into stunning assemblages.

I have always been an edge walker...that's the edge of the tide.

Whether Ballyferris in Northern Ireland...our favourite beach in Spain or nowadays Morecambe Bay.

And if you are such a walker you can't help but love how the sea takes what it can..changes it and throws it back up on the banks and beaches when it 's finished with it.

   

This is worth a look online for any assemblage lover of art and walker on the edge.

A Poem for Thursday..."A Time in Times"

 

There are times in all of our lives when we have to stop on the road we are travelling...look around at the circumstances...and review the situation.

 

It can be a change of direction is needed...and a change of priorities

 

This was our experience...it made us the people we are today.

 

A Time in Times.

We disappeared into a nether world.

Became invisible and without form.

People who had known us passed by unblinking

Those who sensed our presence were few and far between.

All that we had been had disappeared with the mists of time.

Persona non gratis is what we became.

Even Harry Potter could not have gone as completely as we did.

So new rules had to be formed.

New priorities and timings worked out.

This nether world was to us an enigma.

And so we set to learn the laws in our new country.

A Poem for Thursday....... Love, words and time.......

Love Words and Time 
 
I sat on the hard hospital chair beside him.
Three times I sat beside him.
For five weeks altogether I sat beside him.
At home, the girl was left to look after her dad.
Barely five years old was the girl in those days,
Those thirty five days in all.
She looked after him and he
Looked after her and
Picked her up from her school
As if all of this was normal.
Each day she waited with him at the bus stop.
The bus that took them to the city hospital.
The famous hospital backed with footballers money
Making it possible to look after the children.
This child came back to me after each op
Grey faced and blue lipped.
I just kept the mummy smile hovering over him
And assured the scrap of a boy
That everything was fine.
He was doing great.
Edward Lear was there too.
Every day he offered up his magic words
Offered the owl ...offered the pussycat.
The green faced Jumblies and their boats.
Pea green and sieved....off they sailed!.
Healing comes with a look and some words.
That must be why it all happened that way "In the Beginning".
Oh yes...and time too,
That heals
...love... words...time.
Give me that and I can cope.
We never talk of those thirty five days.
Why should we? We're lucky..
Like John Lee Hooker...and the blues...
Love ,words and time brought us to the point we are at now.,

 

They went to sea in a Sieve, they did,   In a Sieve they went to sea: In spite of all their friends could say, On a winter's morn, on a stormy day,   In a Sieve they went to sea! And when the Sieve turned round and round, And every one cried, 'You'll all be drowned!' They called aloud, 'Our Sieve ain't big, But we don't care a button! we don't care a fig!   In a Sieve we'll go to sea!'       Far and few, far and few,             Are the lands where the Jumblies live;       Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,             And they went to sea in a Sieve.

II

They sailed away in a Sieve, they did, In a Sieve they sailed so fast,   With only a beautiful pea-green veil Tied with a riband by way of a sail,   To a small tobacco-pipe mast; And every one said, who saw them go, 'O won't they be soon upset, you know! For the sky is dark, and the voyage is long, And happen what may, it's extremely wrong   In a Sieve to sail so fast!'       Far and few, far and few,             Are the lands where the Jumblies live;       Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,             And they went to sea in a Sieve.

III

The water it soon came in, it did,   The water it soon came in; So to keep them dry, they wrapped their feet In a pinky paper all folded neat,   And they fastened it down with a pin. And they passed the night in a crockery-jar, And each of them said, 'How wise we are! Though the sky be dark, and the voyage be long, Yet we never can think we were rash or wrong,   While round in our Sieve we spin!'       Far and few, far and few,             Are the lands where the Jumblies live;       Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,             And they went to sea in a Sieve.

IV

And all night long they sailed away;   And when the sun went down, They whistled and warbled a moony song To the echoing sound of a coppery gong,   In the shade of the mountains brown. 'O Timballo! How happy we are, When we live in a Sieve and a crockery-jar, And all night long in the moonlight pale, We sail away with a pea-green sail,   In the shade of the mountains brown!'       Far and few, far and few,             Are the lands where the Jumblies live;       Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,             And they went to sea in a Sieve.

V

They sailed to the Western Sea, they did,   To a land all covered with trees, And they bought an Owl, and a useful Cart, And a pound of Rice, and a Cranberry Tart,   And a hive of silvery Bees. And they bought a Pig, and some green Jack-daws, And a lovely Monkey with lollipop paws, And forty bottles of Ring-Bo-Ree,   And no end of Stilton Cheese.       Far and few, far and few,             Are the lands where the Jumblies live;       Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,             And they went to sea in a Sieve.

VI

And in twenty years they all came back,   In twenty years or more, And every one said, 'How tall they've grown! For they've been to the Lakes, and the Torrible Zone,   And the hills of the Chankly Bore!' And they drank their health, and gave them a feast Of dumplings made of beautiful yeast; And every one said, 'If we only live, We too will go to sea in a Sieve,---   To the hills of the Chankly Bore!'       Far and few, far and few,             Are the lands where the Jumblies live;       Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,             And they went to sea in a Sieve.

---

A Poem for Thursday.

The Murmuration

Did Steinbeck have the low-down

on starlings?

Someone did.

Are they held together

by the elastic string of time?

Their timing is certainly precise.

Even gulls

who get caught up

in that display

avoid black wings

that shimmer

in the late sun.

Given Time.

I only seem to have time at the moment for bits of sketches,

what with workshops and garden parties!

But here's another little one of husband and muse at work with clay. 

and yes "He does seem to have lost the p(l) ot!"