Gaze down upon the village
From the medieval keep
See the church and the graveyard
A perfect walled square
Filled with a thousand deaths
Then look to the right
The identical square
With new graves at its corner
As a postage stamp on an envelope
Waiting to be filled
With another thousand deaths
A symbol of our transient being
The impermanence of life
Viewed from a castle keep set in stone
He lived alone on the outskirts of the city, his small cottage facing out into the English countryside. On that bright summer’s morning he got out of bed and wandered to the bathroom, scratching furiously behind his right ear. An irritating itch! He filled the bath with warm water, knelt next to it, and, naked, gazed at his own reflection before plunging his face below the surface. Standing up, he shook his head vigorously from side to side for at least thirty seconds, water spraying everywhere. ‘That’ll do,’ he thought as he smiled to himself before walking downstairs and out into his sundrenched herb garden. Looking around, he took a huge deep breath. His nose and lungs took in the multifarious smells.
‘Grr…eat to be alive,’ he shouted to the world, before running across his perfectly turfed lawn to retrieve the football that the boy next door had kicked over the fence in error the night before. Just at that moment, Dorothy cycled past the cottage on the winding lane that led down to the lake. She looked over the garden fence at him, smiled as she always did, then screamed and pedalled off frantically as fast as she could. Glancing down, he saw his own predicament and rushed back into the cottage to put some clothes on. ‘Good grief!’ he barked.
Breakfast was a bowl of cereal followed by a bowl of water.
I worried about self-publishing but finally had a go, over the last 12 months producing six e-books and five paperbacks through Amazon. Their software is fine. No, I don’t expect to make money. That’s not the point. It’s been about self-discovery and trying to be creative. And a feeling of self-worth!
Join the social network
Listen to your views
Belief and prejudice confirmed
Enjoy accept fake news
No need for you to change at all
The echo drowns out thought
At one with your herding instinct
And a vote that can be bought
What is it?
About democracy
That you hate so much
The idea of consent by all
The strong the weak the rich the poor
The man the woman the old the young
What is it?
About happiness and freedom
That you hate so much
The joy on a child’s face
The bond between lovers hand in hand
The infinite possibilities in life
I do not understand such hatred
I never will
You look in the mirror and see
An old lady of letters
Faded cloth in the brightest of sunlight
But no
Wrong so wrong
That sensuous look
That beguiling voice
Is permanent ink
Just like those country girls
And that word you taught me
Coldth
Blessed goddess writer
Hello twitcher.
I’ve seen you before.
I’m not scared of you.
I’ll finish my tweet before I fly away.
So, dear muse, you are tired. Rest a while, I shall leave you in peace.
March 10th, 2015
