A planet
From dust and gas.
Beings
From atoms.
5 billion years
To create complexity.
Conscious minds
Make ever complex things.
Technology that rules us
Binds us
Drives us
Onwards.
STOP
Think
Deconstruct.
Simplicity can be inspiring too.
Monday, 12 April 2010
Saturday, 10 April 2010
The Early Years
Poems from old notebooks, over 10 years old.
Flicker, Flicker (29.12.98)
Flicker, flicker,
The lights through the trees,
Flash by.
As we roll on our journey to Watford Gap and beyond.
Holiness (30.12.98)
Jesus came to me in a dream one night.
He whispered my name,
And caressed my cheek,
He told me he loved me
In my hour of need.
So now when I pray.
I don't ask for me.
Just ask for forgiveness
For humanity.
Winter (18.1.99)
The sun glints on the river,
Like a giant mirror flashing light.
Buildings like trees,
Flank the water,
And January chill is all around.
Jack Frost's patterns are dispersed by the sun,
Icicle branches melt with ease,
Jack's fingers cut to the knuckles,
Free from the frozen underworld for a few precious hours.
The sun down,
Jack is quick in his work,
Like thieves in the night making mischief.
Ice ice everywhere,
Branches, diamonds, glittering stars,
Jack's frozen forest is formed again.
January (18.1.99)
Grey days
Hazy sun
Diamond flecked branches
White birds on still, glass water
And the moon lurks all day.
In winter the land is transformed
And we rejoice as our breath is taken away.
Lost Love (4.2.99)
The one I love eludes me,
Her features grow distant each day,
Her voice, a song on the wind.
We were once together,
But not as lovers,
Mere friends.
And now I see her never.
I don't know which is worse.
Contradictions (25.11.01)
The prime of my life,
I am.
I am in the prime of my life.
The spice of my life,
The price of my life
Is valueless or worthless?
Spiritual or listless?
Vibrant or jaded?
Happy or sad?
The polar nature of my life.
Nothing balanced,
Nothing right,
Nothing wrong,
Never weak,
But never strong.
Flicker, Flicker (29.12.98)
Flicker, flicker,
The lights through the trees,
Flash by.
As we roll on our journey to Watford Gap and beyond.
Holiness (30.12.98)
Jesus came to me in a dream one night.
He whispered my name,
And caressed my cheek,
He told me he loved me
In my hour of need.
So now when I pray.
I don't ask for me.
Just ask for forgiveness
For humanity.
Winter (18.1.99)
The sun glints on the river,
Like a giant mirror flashing light.
Buildings like trees,
Flank the water,
And January chill is all around.
Jack Frost's patterns are dispersed by the sun,
Icicle branches melt with ease,
Jack's fingers cut to the knuckles,
Free from the frozen underworld for a few precious hours.
The sun down,
Jack is quick in his work,
Like thieves in the night making mischief.
Ice ice everywhere,
Branches, diamonds, glittering stars,
Jack's frozen forest is formed again.
January (18.1.99)
Grey days
Hazy sun
Diamond flecked branches
White birds on still, glass water
And the moon lurks all day.
In winter the land is transformed
And we rejoice as our breath is taken away.
Lost Love (4.2.99)
The one I love eludes me,
Her features grow distant each day,
Her voice, a song on the wind.
We were once together,
But not as lovers,
Mere friends.
And now I see her never.
I don't know which is worse.
Contradictions (25.11.01)
The prime of my life,
I am.
I am in the prime of my life.
The spice of my life,
The price of my life
Is valueless or worthless?
Spiritual or listless?
Vibrant or jaded?
Happy or sad?
The polar nature of my life.
Nothing balanced,
Nothing right,
Nothing wrong,
Never weak,
But never strong.
Thursday, 8 April 2010
Birds, Bees and Miscellaneous things
Rainham Marshes is an oasis of green in Purfleet, Essex. It is owned and managed by the RSPB, a series of reclaimed marshes on the north side of the River Thames. Nature is contained in this small space surrounded by bland infrastructure; flyovers, power stations and even the Channel Tunnel Rail Link beneath. You would think that not much would live here, but it is in fact a wildlife gem.
We visited on the Saturday 27th March. It is accessible by public transport - London overground and then the Essex Coast to Coast service to Purfleet, followed by a short walk to the reserve. We spent a good few hours there. There is lots to explore; the area was previous used for military training and is sprinkled with army paraphernalia; shooting ranges and bunkers.
We kept a little list of all the things we saw:
Goldfinch
Greenfinch
Sparrows
Collared dove
Little egret
A tree full of bees, the air full of scent
Blackbird
Shelduck
Wigeon
Lapwing
Reed bunting
Snipe?
Blue tit
Moorhen
Coot
Mute swan
Mallard
Golden plover
Pheasant
Heron
Magpie
Woodpigeon
Thrush
Dunnock
Tufted duck
Skylark, a melodic song high in the sky
Chiff chaff
Wren
And I ate a magnificent home-prepared packed lunch - home baked dark chocolate biscuits were a particular favourite.
We visited on the Saturday 27th March. It is accessible by public transport - London overground and then the Essex Coast to Coast service to Purfleet, followed by a short walk to the reserve. We spent a good few hours there. There is lots to explore; the area was previous used for military training and is sprinkled with army paraphernalia; shooting ranges and bunkers.
We kept a little list of all the things we saw:
Goldfinch
Greenfinch
Sparrows
Collared dove
Little egret
A tree full of bees, the air full of scent
Blackbird
Shelduck
Wigeon
Lapwing
Reed bunting
Snipe?
Blue tit
Moorhen
Coot
Mute swan
Mallard
Golden plover
Pheasant
Heron
Magpie
Woodpigeon
Thrush
Dunnock
Tufted duck
Skylark, a melodic song high in the sky
Chiff chaff
Wren
And I ate a magnificent home-prepared packed lunch - home baked dark chocolate biscuits were a particular favourite.
Snowdon
Up with the larks.
The sun peers out promising much.
Bundled up in layers,
Eyes peep out
Through fabric.
A rapid ascent,
Boulders and rivulets
Underfoot.
The halfway house
But no time for tea.
March on
Snow deepening
Sky closing in.
Past the railway station
And the point of no return.
A white mirage
Snow blind
Struck dumb by the beauty of ice.
Careful trudge
Following footprints
Onwards
Upwards
Into the wind
Steely determination
A will to win
To defeat the mountain.
To touch the pinnacle.
A moment of joy;
Breathless
Inspired by the beauty around me.
Breathe deeper and suck it in.
The summit.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
My dad and I climbed Snowdon on Easter Sunday. It is 3,560ft, the second highest mountain in Britain. The snow was deep, seven foot drifts in part. It was so beautiful; white glare as far as the eye could see. Nothingness. Only snow, ice and wind and fading footprints.
The sun peers out promising much.
Bundled up in layers,
Eyes peep out
Through fabric.
A rapid ascent,
Boulders and rivulets
Underfoot.
The halfway house
But no time for tea.
March on
Snow deepening
Sky closing in.
Past the railway station
And the point of no return.
A white mirage
Snow blind
Struck dumb by the beauty of ice.
Careful trudge
Following footprints
Onwards
Upwards
Into the wind
Steely determination
A will to win
To defeat the mountain.
To touch the pinnacle.
A moment of joy;
Breathless
Inspired by the beauty around me.
Breathe deeper and suck it in.
The summit.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
My dad and I climbed Snowdon on Easter Sunday. It is 3,560ft, the second highest mountain in Britain. The snow was deep, seven foot drifts in part. It was so beautiful; white glare as far as the eye could see. Nothingness. Only snow, ice and wind and fading footprints.
Change Afoot
Today the earth smells different
Damp and fecund
And heat radiates after sun down.
The gnarled hawthorn tree is in leaf,
And blossom has already fallen,
Petals like crimson blood on the path.
I felt like a foreigner on my street.
The old new once more.
My head filled with ideas and hopes,
I felt like me again.
Look up,
Look around,
Keep pace with the speed of change.
These are the months of beauty and joy.
Embrace the light, the scent, the change.
Unfurl and uncoil the winter self.
Let new life in.
Damp and fecund
And heat radiates after sun down.
The gnarled hawthorn tree is in leaf,
And blossom has already fallen,
Petals like crimson blood on the path.
I felt like a foreigner on my street.
The old new once more.
My head filled with ideas and hopes,
I felt like me again.
Look up,
Look around,
Keep pace with the speed of change.
These are the months of beauty and joy.
Embrace the light, the scent, the change.
Unfurl and uncoil the winter self.
Let new life in.
Tuesday, 6 April 2010
Poem Friday # 6
The Super-Organism
Red towers on the Afrikkan plains,
Shaped from the belly of the earth.
An ingenious organism lurks beneath;
Labouring at life.
At the heart lives the Queen,
A fat controller,
A factory farmer of eggs.
At her side: The King.
A devoted partner.
A father of plenty.
The workers form the core,
Toiling tirelessly.
Small, yet perfectly formed.
The soldiers guard the Tower.
Steely menace,
Serrated pincers - protecting their Queen.
No light can penetrate this world,
And the air is damp,
With water harvested from the deep.
In this dark place,
Lives a super-organism:
A billion-strong composite parts
Serving their Queen.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In case you are interested, this was inspired by a book I re-read recently called the 'Soul of the White Ant' by Eugene Marais. He was a journalist, lawyer, poet and amateur naturalist and devoted part of his life to the study of the 'white ant' or termite. His theory is that the termite colony is in fact a super-organism with each ant fulfilling the role of an organ i.e. the Queen is the brain, the soldiers the white blood cells and the workers doing pretty much everything in between!
Red towers on the Afrikkan plains,
Shaped from the belly of the earth.
An ingenious organism lurks beneath;
Labouring at life.
At the heart lives the Queen,
A fat controller,
A factory farmer of eggs.
At her side: The King.
A devoted partner.
A father of plenty.
The workers form the core,
Toiling tirelessly.
Small, yet perfectly formed.
The soldiers guard the Tower.
Steely menace,
Serrated pincers - protecting their Queen.
No light can penetrate this world,
And the air is damp,
With water harvested from the deep.
In this dark place,
Lives a super-organism:
A billion-strong composite parts
Serving their Queen.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In case you are interested, this was inspired by a book I re-read recently called the 'Soul of the White Ant' by Eugene Marais. He was a journalist, lawyer, poet and amateur naturalist and devoted part of his life to the study of the 'white ant' or termite. His theory is that the termite colony is in fact a super-organism with each ant fulfilling the role of an organ i.e. the Queen is the brain, the soldiers the white blood cells and the workers doing pretty much everything in between!
Thursday, 25 March 2010
Microcosmos
Beneath your feet,
Under the tarmac,
Lie a billion tiny creatures.
They clamber up grass stalks,
and scurry under pebbles.
They speak in vibrations,
Mate at pace,
Life speeded up.
Predators?
There are too many too mention, so they live fast, die young.
They don't wish for glory, fame or money.
Needs are basic:
A little patch of disturbed ground,
A bit of moisture,
Occasional sunny spots,
And enough dead matter for food and shelter.
There is nothing to question, just the business of living.
Little creatures scuttling around,
Enjoying simple things.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Poem Friday, #5
Under the tarmac,
Lie a billion tiny creatures.
They clamber up grass stalks,
and scurry under pebbles.
They speak in vibrations,
Mate at pace,
Life speeded up.
Predators?
There are too many too mention, so they live fast, die young.
They don't wish for glory, fame or money.
Needs are basic:
A little patch of disturbed ground,
A bit of moisture,
Occasional sunny spots,
And enough dead matter for food and shelter.
There is nothing to question, just the business of living.
Little creatures scuttling around,
Enjoying simple things.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Poem Friday, #5
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