I like April.
I get to write poems
Tapping away without a care in the world beyond
Scaring a metaphor out of hiding
Finding a a rhyme
(Which is as easy as tickling a simile
Out of my stream of consciousness )
Lending an ear to assonance and
Holding a meter to ransom.
Oh yes!
It's Good. All good.
I listened to this issue on "Job-Crafting" whilst in the bath just now, and was much taken with it. The Harvard Professor with the brief for employees in the workplace, had interviewed a number of hospital cleaning staff, quizzing them on how their version of the job matched that of the management. I think the kind of cleaners the hospital were glad they employed, were those who had made their job into a life-work. They had taken the dry list of 'things to do' and made it sing. Here's how it goes:
https://itun.es/gb/oB-u9.c
My brain was really taken with this, and returned immediately from it's beach vacation to run away with the idea of 'Life-Crafting'. (Website and tee-shirt to follow... .)
Life-crafting is all about looking at the to-do list and inviting it to contribute something meaningful to the wealth of human happiness. Just hold that thought, and let YOUR brain make it sing.
:)
28th October 2015
Have you noticed how the colour of the morning is yellow
Now that the days are shorter and the sun hangs low in the sky?
I mention this because it is Wednesday, and my birthday. If you have
Become sixty-five, or passed it, you too, will know, that
It is necessary to savour days like this one: hold it,
Not too tightly, and dare enough to venture out alone in
Solitude. There's a commodity not of this century, and conjoined with
Silence, a fitting present. I walk across the ploughed
Field peeping winter wheat, thick with Midland mud.
I rattle through the gate causing hopeful horses to canter up, whiffling for an apple..
I am for the woods. The yellow-light is amber here, and what space there is,
Is tunnelled by low-hanging boughs.
This is a day to remember all my golden days,
And anoint their beauty with an outpouring of thankfulness.
My daughter Kate married Darren in July 2014. In January this year, their son, Frank, was born. I took this portrait of father and son a few hours later:
The New Boys
He'll support Coventry City
And play, unabashed, with the girls on the playground.
He'll charm old ladies, and when she's too frail to walk, he'll
Fetch his grandmother her gin at family weddings.
There'll be laughter, a lot of it, and he'll wear sorrow like a mac
To be tossed aside when the sun shines.
His sister, yet unborn, will adore him, and he
Will always be her tormentor and her knight.
But for now, he lies in his father's arms, dreaming,
Not of the way it was
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