(nijverheidskaai, molenbeek)
(for mara eastern’s poetry 101 rehab – couple)
*shot with nikon d700, nikkor 70-300 mm f/4.0-5.6 lens at 300mm, 1/320s and f/9, edited in lightroom cc, aperture efex pro 2 with multi lens filter applied, poem added in photoshop cc, no couples were harmed in the making of this post*
sprinkled
stirred
added
to mask
to obscure
reality harsh bitter life
a cube
a grain
a sprinkle
is that all it takes
to taste
better?
(for mara eastern’s poetry 101 rehab – sugar)
Day Fifteen of Writing 101 requires us to
“think about an event you’ve attended and loved. Your hometown’s annual fair. That life-changing music festival. A conference that shifted your worldview. Imagine you’re told it will be cancelled forever or taken over by an evil corporate force.”
Many hours were spent cogitating, contemplating, considering.
To little avail.
When pressed to name something that I particularly like, or identify a favourite, my mind freezes.
My hometown. Yes, I have a hometown, the place where I was born. But, not a place I regard as “home”. That place lies within. Not outside.
And music festivals? Yeah. Done that. Maybe even have a tee shirt. But, life changing? Nope.
Conferences that shifted my world view? Right. Been to a lot of conferences, find it hard to shift in my sleep during the sessions, but world view shifted? Nope.
Oh, and, as always, the task had a “twist”
“While writing this post, focus again on your own voice. Pay attention to your word choice, tone, and rhythm. Read each sentence aloud multiple times, making edits as you read through. Before you hit “Publish,” read your entire piece out loud to ensure it sounds like you.”
Ok. Now we’re talking. I do like the sound of my own voice. At least, that’s what they say. And that’s good, right? Right? Ah.
So.
I thought a bit more and then it came to me.
I remembered the day I realised that my life as a student was over.
And, yes I mean the studying part.
Not the other.
The mistaken assumption that on leaving University, I would leave behind forever the world of learning.
That’s what I am writing about.
Walking along a pavement in London. Thinking, no more Schrödinger’s cat, no more complex organic compounds, no more contemplating the infinite.
No more questioning the why, what, how, when, where and if.
No. I realised that I had traded that life of learning for a living.
Instead of reading to discover, I would read to earn money.
Yes, they had taken my soul.
An evil corporate force, well actually several different evil corporate forces, would now determine my direction.
No more worrying about the fifth dimension, the forces that bind the universe, the philosophical questions about who we are. And why.
No, now, balance sheets and books of account, files and fiches, debits and credits. A trial balancing account. A life where learning would end.
So. Yes, at that moment my heart and soul went cold.
So. Yes, I was wrong.
The learning and lessons had only begun, the real class about to start.
The class of life.
People, relationships, love, loss. And all the bits in between.
The event I feared. The end of learning. It never happened.
Instead, it blossomed and grew.
And, not just in me. In the faces of those who followed. Upturned eyes, hands reaching out, those searching questions again from younger minds. And the total trust that I would know the answer.
So, next time. When someone asks why.
Think hard, before replying.
As today’s Writing 101 prompt involves the use of “voice”, I decided to accompany my writing with a recording of today’s response.
(for wordpress writing 101 – day fifteen)
Such thinking really sucks. Big time.
That morning, the sun shone. Yes, really, it did.
Until it stopped.
I remember how it felt to finally feel happy, accepted for who I was. Even if that meant I was a rather poor tennis opponent. I laughed, I relaxed, I thought about a future. Dared.
The day after the shortest night.
Only, the night was only just about to begin.
I ran to the net, managed to tip it across, laughed as my opponent floundered, shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.
A leafy crescent in the centre of the world.
My world.
Which was about to implode.
Tired, and hot, we finished the game.
Walked back inside.
“Hey, there’s a call for you”.
Can you imagine. A time before mobiles existed. When shared phones in dingy corners were all that connected us? Or didn’t?
I took the handset, is that we called them then (I don’t think so?) and held it to my ear.
That familiar voice, one I thought had gone for ever. A voice full of things I could not, would not, hear.
“There’s been an accident. You need to come home.”
It wasn’t. But I did.
And so. After a morning of tennis and smiles. Laughter and life. I sat on the dusty kerb.
Waited for a car from a familiar stranger.
To pick me up.
That sleek, sporty BMW.
White. Dark light.
Transported me from light. Into a night that seemed then without end.
And that afternoon, as my fingers turned numb, my breath caught in my throat.
I found, what I had lost.
(For the last two weeks I have been attempting to learn how to write better. I’ve been taking part in Writing 101, an online course hosted by Michelle W from the WordPress Blogging U.
Today’s prompt was “if you wrote day four’s post as the first in a series, use this one as the second installment — loosely defined”
(for wordpress writing 101 – day thirteen)
in the space, of a day
what would you say
all the things, you wanted to say
those things about love and longing, fancies and fears
things about war and want, famines and floods
or, maybe just a few words about the space
the space where she lay
in just the space
of a day
(for mara eastern’s poetry 101 rehab – day)
no
nothing
nothing is
nothing is worth
nothing is worth this pain
nothing is worth this pain this
nothing is worth this pain this time
nothing is worth this pain this
nothing is worth this pain
nothing is worth
nothing is
nothing
no
(running man, mariemontkaai, molenbeek)
(for mara eastern’s poetry 101 rehab – no)
*shot with olympus om10, zuiko 50mm f/1.8 lens and ilford delta 3200 black and white film, feel his pain in the grain*
perhaps, the only way to float
to be, truly afloat
is to let slip the anchor
the shackles and rancour
break the chains that bind
the locks inside our mind
and be
afloat
(for wordpress weekly photo challenge – afloat)
afloat on belgianstreets
afloat on belgradestreets
"entia non sunt multiplicanda praeter necessitatem**"
searching for an answer, what, where, which, when, how
why
look, question, yearn for the truth, the search continues
choices and decisions, facts and figures to be weighed
complexity and detail challenge and defy
logic
when there in front of us
lies the simple truth
it’s really not that hard, not that complex
when faced with a choice
the simplest solution is often the
best
(for justine’s eclectic corner #9 – photography, quotes and poetry – a free verse poem featuring the edge)
** occam’s razor is a problem solving technique, the latin text roughly translates to “no more things should be presumed to exist than are absolutely necessary”
ever hear about the one who was always alone?
how he tried as much as he could to atone
how he woke in fright
looked round for the light
and realised at last that being alone was being at home
(for mara’s poetry 101 rehab – home)
andy townend 