tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90542148017525974182024-03-21T19:17:20.767+00:00Love, Life, Death and AfterThe Poetry of William Oliphant
1920 - 2004Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger91125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054214801752597418.post-22469489974067850082019-08-01T07:23:00.000+01:002019-08-01T07:23:33.886+01:00Rats At Sea<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifDPFJSjz_uVhi0Jl96TcPgU1QdHfkHOtkTtlcrGgFDJicAJxCWOyEWkV-tC-iWDbTmJaoVgnercRBvIZgDiGfeYopE2a1RsZ1rEDssTycBOTTuQ2GkJ8J2rKAZP_phyURnC4HY44NjOfG/s1600/IMG_20190801_072050.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1599" data-original-width="1600" height="638" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifDPFJSjz_uVhi0Jl96TcPgU1QdHfkHOtkTtlcrGgFDJicAJxCWOyEWkV-tC-iWDbTmJaoVgnercRBvIZgDiGfeYopE2a1RsZ1rEDssTycBOTTuQ2GkJ8J2rKAZP_phyURnC4HY44NjOfG/s640/IMG_20190801_072050.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054214801752597418.post-12435030799175642392018-11-11T07:17:00.000+00:002018-11-11T07:17:31.358+00:00Armistice Day 2018<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054214801752597418.post-46874453362166903622018-10-31T11:19:00.000+00:002018-11-02T11:21:19.736+00:00TO A DESCENDANT READING MY POEMS <span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Looking for me?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">I posed for posterity. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">I used words to cover my tracks. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">Did my sincerity <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">sufficiently conceal my truth? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">Can you deduce what I was then<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">from idiosyncratic
verses <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">and a few ambiguous titles?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">Can you deduce what
I am now <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">from what you have deduced from then? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">Is that too much like sifting ancient light <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">to find a long-gone distant star? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">Then, I was X (I marked my spot) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">modified by youth and age and vanity <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">and love and suffering and indifference. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">Now, I am X modified by my purposes, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">as you are Y trapped in your own contexts. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">Where X equals Pure Me, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">and Y equals Pure You,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">there is nothing
stands between us,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">only time.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054214801752597418.post-84553222853868826132017-09-28T14:56:00.000+01:002017-09-28T14:56:32.641+01:00National Poetry Day 2017<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYA1ntsAuVQoKkaz-3FeWfHPN7wOSGoDeS1qpY5WA6hXrudW7gEhtu8lZ6QMGgcKZVIxgDB9AfpEdeQvKYZ1wf1yDQLCzrF4pKNxSyLs3sXHQlJHGiCvbH4ktUuxGdI6pHhYEXXmnF-F_T/s1600/22095451_10214229902648026_254502967_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYA1ntsAuVQoKkaz-3FeWfHPN7wOSGoDeS1qpY5WA6hXrudW7gEhtu8lZ6QMGgcKZVIxgDB9AfpEdeQvKYZ1wf1yDQLCzrF4pKNxSyLs3sXHQlJHGiCvbH4ktUuxGdI6pHhYEXXmnF-F_T/s640/22095451_10214229902648026_254502967_o.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054214801752597418.post-56759823020304467752017-05-06T06:06:00.000+01:002017-05-06T06:06:40.852+01:00You - Spoken by Jude Murray <iframe frameborder="no" height="450" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/321223893&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&visual=true" width="100%"></iframe>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054214801752597418.post-69684171479949642292016-11-14T19:44:00.000+00:002016-11-14T19:44:16.590+00:00Finding The JoinIf<br />
You can't,<br />
You won't.<br />
<br />
But if<br />
you are curious<br />
about what happens<br />
between<br />
twenty-three-sixty<br />
and<br />
treble-oh-oh,<br />
<br />
or<br />
what goes into<br />
the crack separating<br />
the last of May<br />
from<br />
the first of June,<br />
<br />
then<br />
you are in for<br />
a lifetime of<br />
sideroads and<br />
alleyways<br />
and strange people<br />
and stranger<br />
experiences and<br />
<br />
finally,<br />
perhaps after you die,<br />
it will all<br />
become clear and<br />
<br />
you<br />
will<br />
understand.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054214801752597418.post-19387478704166699702016-10-18T15:34:00.000+01:002016-10-18T15:34:17.492+01:001984<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyy8dkDBHAIcFS7cOx52Adi-HusPtqBYrh3VxDC4ADLsjJqCbxklTNMZ25hyIwRGjs5lak8eAKv8pRNpk-qTiKdTLmxYwMPw9w9UoolYQfPam33d9a-Qos3uAxTaQD_XwIyal4fmztFJNi/s1600/14705764_10210825600822608_1248364471635095218_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyy8dkDBHAIcFS7cOx52Adi-HusPtqBYrh3VxDC4ADLsjJqCbxklTNMZ25hyIwRGjs5lak8eAKv8pRNpk-qTiKdTLmxYwMPw9w9UoolYQfPam33d9a-Qos3uAxTaQD_XwIyal4fmztFJNi/s1600/14705764_10210825600822608_1248364471635095218_n.jpg" /></a>woil</div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054214801752597418.post-63566043193934946632016-03-21T21:10:00.001+00:002016-03-21T21:10:47.033+00:00Pastorale<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054214801752597418.post-66422896685708128502016-03-21T10:09:00.000+00:002016-03-21T10:11:09.215+00:00World Poetry Day 2016<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7MbXOE0T3HUp0AjQUwuphl6P8dHFqmhnd7OxjxBhO3cnY9psitdGbwenWAGSotZWVLt1u9-1O3KY2EFaQHt6e5cBsjqnz7flz7OzTguuEUVeBuIXNIfNITXsqXZpeiaGP9H2aQWpyaAze/s1600/Lovers+Moon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7MbXOE0T3HUp0AjQUwuphl6P8dHFqmhnd7OxjxBhO3cnY9psitdGbwenWAGSotZWVLt1u9-1O3KY2EFaQHt6e5cBsjqnz7flz7OzTguuEUVeBuIXNIfNITXsqXZpeiaGP9H2aQWpyaAze/s400/Lovers+Moon.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054214801752597418.post-73073176231892011712016-02-14T09:05:00.003+00:002016-02-14T09:06:20.784+00:00Valentine<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054214801752597418.post-17737384777636260632015-11-11T10:00:00.000+00:002015-11-11T10:36:45.020+00:00My War So Long Ago<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><span style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI8XTH-3Gwiu6FTqQjottaeYEUdUl56sDZhrD8KQepNz5wY7u6WsQWc8aJGs1vZ_xrkFQIG4-rBmGIB0sqyd9Bh-o2GNlgm2jjVNZSCcyFGIZD3fAZp_BHcHhqyJg1zPL5UQ9mFSdqyzIY/s320/530627_4863203504474_959709924_n.jpg" width="320" /></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>image from the Peace Pledge Union www.ppu.org.uk </i></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
My station built,<br />
So many round me leading<br />
And I not led.<br />
<br />
My living spilt,<br />
So many round me bleeding<br />
And I unbled.<br />
<br />
My sorrow's quilt,<br />
So many round me crying,<br />
My tears unshed.<br />
<br />
My touch of guilt,<br />
So many round me dying<br />
And I not dead.<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054214801752597418.post-78721660905854015702015-08-14T10:40:00.000+01:002015-07-31T10:41:25.293+01:00Meditation<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEwXqcdccgA0C4xf2E-yX84KUmZ7XjC9nWfyFMv0mYTvzMZjdGStaHowIVgTGBJWgeCuoYILhGKMmjYtmBlXVkdufTnSI5vjL8HHcjku-6slbCNHWpoNh_vwif900haZfF6GCjIFV2CWHf/s1600/Autumn+Tree+Mull+sm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEwXqcdccgA0C4xf2E-yX84KUmZ7XjC9nWfyFMv0mYTvzMZjdGStaHowIVgTGBJWgeCuoYILhGKMmjYtmBlXVkdufTnSI5vjL8HHcjku-6slbCNHWpoNh_vwif900haZfF6GCjIFV2CWHf/s200/Autumn+Tree+Mull+sm.jpg" width="149" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>Autumn Tree- Mull<br /><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px; text-align: left;">© Judith Murray</span></i></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I sat<br />
And sought<br />
The tree-ness<br />
Of the tree<br />
And found the tree's<br />
Own search to be<br />
The me-ness<br />
Of the me.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054214801752597418.post-66317499060462928672015-07-31T06:00:00.000+01:002015-07-31T10:31:12.592+01:00Birthday Tree<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Happy Birthday Granny! </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvqUuws7qlSl5kn7WHn6SsE19Z8XO1PgTiOnIcaXXnWDai02IkbxeFZHn8NKYrk9EZxITum3c9GOTfAx43n4DWQAobNX5niD7-MMeWPjw3xBS40wEakoZIiH31uQ6FxaCnz_QtVPnJdb9o/s1600/IMG_20150611_124317.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvqUuws7qlSl5kn7WHn6SsE19Z8XO1PgTiOnIcaXXnWDai02IkbxeFZHn8NKYrk9EZxITum3c9GOTfAx43n4DWQAobNX5niD7-MMeWPjw3xBS40wEakoZIiH31uQ6FxaCnz_QtVPnJdb9o/s640/IMG_20150611_124317.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054214801752597418.post-20527113372224715832015-06-14T08:34:00.000+01:002015-06-14T08:34:11.976+01:00Anniversary<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkcihKEptyPGhL6rXsKcW_H2UA8eo7lmUer1_-x84zjD5vndtXNJz_tKmppXca_4yySbgXHqZUZEHA5iRULF_VebhwYD3SEHCXtPH6Gh0HEWBl_dz_JdpJaXQ2qlsb-wTYeqhEfSn-q50-/s1600/IMG_20150614_093022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkcihKEptyPGhL6rXsKcW_H2UA8eo7lmUer1_-x84zjD5vndtXNJz_tKmppXca_4yySbgXHqZUZEHA5iRULF_VebhwYD3SEHCXtPH6Gh0HEWBl_dz_JdpJaXQ2qlsb-wTYeqhEfSn-q50-/s640/IMG_20150614_093022.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054214801752597418.post-55927463680586777142015-05-30T12:13:00.000+01:002015-05-30T12:13:46.828+01:00The Poem<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5uSvV09bW56Oq2exV6UhTnS7C1EWu2ZBxBsylEO2TtPllu7BVwXjzMC6cFhTTTbdXcs5_5rJWwAUpPS40E85IgXb7ZbaA3yMgpxbS562C21lUuE4DaSmUX2Qvs7xIMRfrToPjXl-meJR6/s1600/20150530_102029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5uSvV09bW56Oq2exV6UhTnS7C1EWu2ZBxBsylEO2TtPllu7BVwXjzMC6cFhTTTbdXcs5_5rJWwAUpPS40E85IgXb7ZbaA3yMgpxbS562C21lUuE4DaSmUX2Qvs7xIMRfrToPjXl-meJR6/s640/20150530_102029.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From the writer's own typed collection</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054214801752597418.post-46843931358042465392015-05-13T11:38:00.003+01:002015-05-13T11:39:13.408+01:00The Auld Enemy (last of four short poems)<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: #fefdfa; color: #073763; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, FreeMono, monospace; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: large; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;"> It's not so much that we</span></h3>
<div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1436558718494108549" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: #fefdfa; color: #333333; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, FreeMono, monospace; line-height: 18.2000007629395px; position: relative; width: 586px;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAq9-OruR9LHPXj0qdXo5oJu9fiju8n_ubLhkxlfzNf3QPkiG2Sh1f-7aQrDCYkr20kcy4sTUrKylH_Ku1wWD_IOKU5UmBH8s2a8RVka7tTXFhGn0o0DVrEwvM_eLvX8azTvb3noYX2V9i/s1600/London+protest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAq9-OruR9LHPXj0qdXo5oJu9fiju8n_ubLhkxlfzNf3QPkiG2Sh1f-7aQrDCYkr20kcy4sTUrKylH_Ku1wWD_IOKU5UmBH8s2a8RVka7tTXFhGn0o0DVrEwvM_eLvX8azTvb3noYX2V9i/s200/London+protest.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="200" /></span></a><span style="font-size: large;">have long memories</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">as that it is still</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">happening to us.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054214801752597418.post-76307519578023484052015-03-16T08:00:00.000+00:002015-03-16T08:00:14.318+00:00For Robin Oliphant 1933 - 2015Today we say goodbye to Robin Oliphant, Artist (and Grandpa's wee brother) who died on Sunday 8th March at the age of 81.<br />
<h2>
The Magic Door</h2>
<br />
Step lightly through the magic door to friends,<o:p></o:p><br />
Nor yet regret the room you are to leave.<o:p></o:p><br />
Dream more of new beginnings than of ends.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
Though going, and your imprint's loss offends,<o:p></o:p><br />
And you ever reluctant to bereave,<o:p></o:p><br />
Step lightly through the magic door to friends.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
And if the blanket of the past descends,<o:p></o:p><br />
Seduces you to sorrow and to grieve,<o:p></o:p><br />
Dream more of new beginnings than of ends.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
Those old men cashing wisdom's dividends,<o:p></o:p><br />
Recalling what a foreguard can achieve,<o:p></o:p><br />
Step lightly through the magic door to friends.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
And, seeing with perception that transcends<o:p></o:p><br />
The images myopic eyes perceive,<o:p></o:p><br />
Dream more of new beginnings than of ends.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
Consider then, as your last pace impends,<o:p></o:p><br />
The greetings you are likely to receive.<o:p></o:p><br />
Step lightly through the magic door to friends,<o:p></o:p><br />
Dream more of new beginnings than of ends.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054214801752597418.post-55167830757121239952014-09-25T10:18:00.003+01:002014-09-25T10:19:37.670+01:00Before The Holocaust<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: #fefdfa; color: #073763; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, FreeMono, monospace; font-size: 22px; font-weight: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;">So society puts a small boy with ambition</span></h3>
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In charge of a button marker DANGER,<br />
And knowing that he is a smart politician<br />
Goes back to its trough and its manger.<br />
<br />
But a small boy plays games, adopts roles and acts parts<br />
And, as boys do, grows up tall and broad,<br />
Plays with diamonds and spades and with clubs and with hearts<br />
And has been been known to play God.<br />
<br />
And sometimes a role or a part doesn't suit,<br />
And here are the visions that linger:<br />
The petulant stamp of a petulant foot<br />
And the petulant thrust of a finger.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054214801752597418.post-90302858356666133982014-07-17T12:39:00.000+01:002014-07-17T12:39:53.686+01:00A Course Of ActionSomething must be done!<br />
Something drastic, something<br />
to assuage the bleak, black guilt<br />
felt for all the whales, the dolphins<br />
flown to their icarus suns,<br />
<br />
for all the black babes in Africa<br />
metamorphosed into<br />
matchstick men by fat, white<br />
market forces everywhere,<br />
<br />
for all the blistered lungs,<br />
the profitably powdered<br />
living bone, the purple pulp<br />
of the imploding, pulsing flesh<br />
of peasants in three continents.<br />
<br />
Something must be done.<br />
Something personal to me,<br />
and enraged symbology,<br />
a protest with posters,<br />
a suicidal leap perhaps<br />
from a ground-floor window.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054214801752597418.post-1467634017962184112014-06-13T09:00:00.000+01:002014-06-13T09:05:40.911+01:00How About A Poem<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjniFBF5NnMwf1xeg4q2T_pCBVvA7pLLAYK1xNRpeWI8u2MQNKUADNkOV8ckAqM40sJjjXm3o60v1xeacnkq2I3V0AHcOvHYQmtwNArr5BWo0l6R7s10i2hWfTjfYUNxaJACk_H5dZpZ2tZ/s1600/headed+for+hemlock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjniFBF5NnMwf1xeg4q2T_pCBVvA7pLLAYK1xNRpeWI8u2MQNKUADNkOV8ckAqM40sJjjXm3o60v1xeacnkq2I3V0AHcOvHYQmtwNArr5BWo0l6R7s10i2hWfTjfYUNxaJACk_H5dZpZ2tZ/s1600/headed+for+hemlock.jpg" height="185" width="200" /></a></div>
Something of beauty<br />
in its sounds,<br />
in its images.<br />
<br />
Profound<br />
in its meanings,<br />
in its insights.<br />
<br />
Evocative<br />
of deep feeling,<br />
of soul-searching.<br />
<br />
A touch of melancholy<br />
for the melancholy man.<br />
<br />
Earnest,<br />
concerned,<br />
<br />
AND FATALLY FLAWED.<br />
<br />
Intent on telling the tales<br />
of the saint who grassed<br />
to the secret police<br />
on his father's politics,<br />
<br />
and the angel<br />
in the bar of Heaven,<br />
masturbating.<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054214801752597418.post-45505530496196690782014-05-18T13:29:00.002+01:002014-05-19T08:15:27.206+01:00Forgiveness <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyAea1koikLDc-Hpbi7zQvNekAahdFFVYDz2TIv4TSkvyUlWvK8baeqiyxrfU0Smw7zr9vkIrTdbAHtSQsmpkLtz7pUcaB5WbJ74r7fwf5Tl6LTPn47m_T0cjhunyxNKZUw35qDTVFCOiz/s1600/barbed+wire+sm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyAea1koikLDc-Hpbi7zQvNekAahdFFVYDz2TIv4TSkvyUlWvK8baeqiyxrfU0Smw7zr9vkIrTdbAHtSQsmpkLtz7pUcaB5WbJ74r7fwf5Tl6LTPn47m_T0cjhunyxNKZUw35qDTVFCOiz/s1600/barbed+wire+sm.jpg" height="149" width="200" /></a></div>
<i>I have just returned from a visit to the Nazi death camps at Auschwitz- Birkenau. I<b> <a href="http://ceibhfhion.blogspot.co.uk/2014/05/a-bit-of-perspective.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: purple;">blog about it here </span></a></b>and include this poem. </i><br />
<i>It </i><i>seems appropriate to post the poem again here too. Jude x</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
A curtain corner raised,<br />
I witnessed Jews,<br />
enlightened since their passage<br />
through the Auschwitz ovens,<br />
rescuing former camp guards<br />
from the stinking pits<br />
remorse had dug for them.<br />
<br />
I bring it to your attention<br />
you bombers, you famine makers,<br />
you adjusters of populations.<br />
These children you kill<br />
might learn, by this light,<br />
a love which, brought to bear,<br />
could drive you screaming mad.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054214801752597418.post-6003443426036759132014-04-14T18:00:00.000+01:002014-04-15T09:46:01.075+01:00You<div><p dir="ltr">You<br>
Cry rivers,<br>
Rage rapids,<br>
Croon the deep dark loch's<br>
Eternal mystery.</p>
<p dir="ltr">You<br>
Move and are<br>
Like a glacier,<br>
inexorable.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I<br>
Am waist-deep<br>
In you,<br>
Heart-deep.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I<br>
Drown gladly<br>
In your discharges.</p>
<br/><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Q2ki6NyO3pSmmMusi-heNzofUVva8qHlbgdnL6C96ynt-YWgcDAueCBZaWuuHitYlhxB0jM2nx4ab61YF8_dzDuEW_5S3XlWZQwsvYJ6c46J5z2kNq2U34KyvoBk1KsEdkqGeg2pKvvV/' /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054214801752597418.post-76892051606287646542014-04-07T18:12:00.000+01:002014-04-07T18:20:10.412+01:00Funeral In Lewis<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnC_IDvjRBSgaSC4ggaBd4kDpXGefglrM4Sxl61fr3K-uctk9j6-EqjWctfQsja0j7hXmyeY_mP3sxMEeonqBuzdoA86XqPBnDGZCJmWMUyHK-ENDLxO_3TQRiO9I61aT_6ObgdKd_b8eW/s1600/island+view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnC_IDvjRBSgaSC4ggaBd4kDpXGefglrM4Sxl61fr3K-uctk9j6-EqjWctfQsja0j7hXmyeY_mP3sxMEeonqBuzdoA86XqPBnDGZCJmWMUyHK-ENDLxO_3TQRiO9I61aT_6ObgdKd_b8eW/s1600/island+view.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
We lowered the coffin ourselves into</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
the grave and threw the cords on top.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Sea-wind, gentle for Lewis, stroked</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
my face. The poem sounded right</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
and I consigned John's body to</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
the raw, cleansing earth and commended</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
his spirit to the love of our</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
ancestors. Amen. Nor was that</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
pretentious. I could have accepted</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
his saying the same over me.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
We did the filling-in ourselves</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
and left the old grave-keeping man</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
treading the turfs across the scar,</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
stooped, deliberate, at home</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
among the random headstones.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Crossing The Minch, and on that long</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
car journey south from Ullapool</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
I thought about the funeral.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
I thought it was an honest one.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
I think it was an honest one.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054214801752597418.post-9210142246968687722014-03-29T13:59:00.001+00:002014-03-29T13:59:52.493+00:00Are You Listening? <div><p dir="ltr">Paying attention<br>
one to another<br>
lights us up<br>
blows the breath of life<br>
up our noses.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Being dead<br>
doesn't mean<br>
we've gone away.<br>
It merely means<br>
we're paying attention<br>
to something else.</p>
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054214801752597418.post-3196398300521280092014-02-14T12:28:00.002+00:002014-02-14T12:28:53.735+00:00Our LoveNot for nothing<o:p></o:p><br />
did the love that we have known<o:p></o:p><br />
last all these years.<o:p></o:p><br />
It is no small thing -<o:p></o:p><br />
though we be small -<o:p></o:p><br />
the force that flashed between us<o:p></o:p><br />
and went on.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
Unattenuated by the law<o:p></o:p><br />
of the inverse square<o:p></o:p><br />
which gutters light<o:p></o:p><br />
and is the quenching maw<o:p></o:p><br />
of the magnetic spectrum,<o:p></o:p><br />
our little fondnesses<o:p></o:p><br />
which modulate love's carrier wave<o:p></o:p><br />
are taken in an instant,<o:p></o:p><br />
with no reference to velocity,<o:p></o:p><br />
outwards in quantum leaps<o:p></o:p><br />
to the very rim of time.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
Any lovers anywhere<o:p></o:p><br />
could tap and live our love<br />
with just a prayer,<o:p></o:p><br />
a suitable antenna,<o:p></o:p><br />
and perhaps a flair<o:p></o:p><br />
for frequency.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
No!<o:p></o:p><br />
It is no small thing,<o:p></o:p><br />
our love,<o:p></o:p><br />
our spiralling,<o:p></o:p><br />
eternal<o:p></o:p><br />
love.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0