poetry | 101 | rehab | road

nunca te entregues ni te apartes
junto al camino, nunca digas
no puedo más y aquí me quedo
–  music by paco ibañez, poetry by josé augustín goytisolo

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the road
the road, is long
the road, is long, and the road, is hard
the road, is long, and the road, is hard,
and

full,
of pitfalls,
perils, and
punishment

(for,
the unwary)

and

false,
turns

the road, is long
the road, is long and the road, is hard
the road, is long and the road, is hard
and (yet) it
is

(and,
always will be)

yours,
to

take


road

My prompt for this week’s Poetry 101 Rehab is ROAD and is dedicated to all those who walk their own, road


You can link to your post in response to today’s prompt by leaving a comment on my post and you can also tag your post with Poetry 101 Rehab so that it shows up in the WordPress Reader.

Please feel free to copy and paste the badge across to your own post and your own site 🙂

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More information can be found on my poetry | 101 | rehab page.

out in the midday sun | 3

You’re an expatriate. You’ve lost touch with the soil. You get precious. Fake European standards have ruined you. You drink yourself to death. You become obsessed with sex. You spend all your time talking, not working. You are an expatriate, see? You hang around cafes.
― Ernest Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises

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Funny how Hemingway summed up the dreams and aspirations of a group of young teenage boys who set forth on a European adventure. Perfectly.

We didn’t get that drunk, mostly sticking to orange, exotic, Fanta in deliciously heavy brown glass bottles. Oh, and ok, the occasional beer. We were young, I was only thirteen. And being thirteen in the Summer of 1975 was a world away from being so in 2016.

Sex? Well we dreamed of it a lot, fantasised about every girl we had met, and were yet to meet. But sex, as in real, messy, sex. No.
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poetry | 101 | rehab | scream

You and I must fight for our rights
You and I must fight to survive

Muse, Knights of Cydonia

scream
no one, will believe you

no one, cares

scream, and scream
no one, will believe you

no one, cares

scream, and scream, and scream
makes

no,
difference

until
one day

they do
care


scream

My prompt for this week’s Poetry 101 Rehab is SCREAM and is dedicated to all those who suffer, in silence


You can link to your post in response to today’s prompt by leaving a comment on my post and / or by clicking on the poetry | 101 | badge below and leaving a link.

And you can also tag your post with Poetry 101 Rehab so that it shows up in the WordPress Reader.

Please feel free to copy and paste the badge across to your own post and your own site 🙂

2015_06_19_09504

More information can be found on my poetry | 101 | rehab page.

poetry | 101 | rehab | the rope

happy,
despite

the rope,
that constrained
him

he
held on
to
hope


the rope

My prompt for this week’s Poetry 101 Rehab is THE ROPE and it was inspired by a comment left on (another) face, by LuAnne Holder, author of Wind Rush.

So, over to you.


You can link to your post in response to today’s prompt by leaving a comment on my post and / or by clicking on the poetry | 101 | badge below and leaving a link.

And you can also tag your post with Poetry 101 Rehab so that it shows up in the WordPress Reader.

Please feel free to copy and paste the badge across to your own post and your own site 🙂

2015_06_19_09504

More information can be found on my poetry | 101 | rehab page.

out in the midday sun | 2

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The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain.

How could a weekly blog post about the life of an Englishman living in Spain not include a reference to those words spoken by Audrey Hepburn paying the part of Eliza Doolittle in the movie My Fair Lady which in turn was based on George Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion?

Often misquoted as ‘the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain’, or is it just me that constantly misquotes it? Probably. So much for that expensive private education and my success in English Literature examinations which included, as it happens, studying Pygmalion. But, as I said in my opening essay, I like to think my education taught me to think, not to remember things. So there you are.

Anyway, I think it is a reasonably well established fact that English people, at home and abroad, like to talk about the weather. A lot.

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poetry | 101 | rehab | boys

Girls who are boys
Who like boys to be girls
Who do boys like they’re girls

Blur, Girls and Boys

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out in the midday sun | 1

 

For the last 52 weeks, each Thursday, I’ve been publishing a chapter in a serial story which I called dark | side | thursday. Each chapter comprised exactly 500 words (and yes, I’ve checked), usually accompanied by a photograph. Well, that story reached its climax today, although actually there was little climactic about it. At various times my story was referred to as Dickensian in scale and even, to my utter delight, a brief comparison was made to the frankly incomparable, in my view at least, Stephen King. I was also variously accused of going round in endless circles and irritating my readers with too much ambiguity, and a scantily clad plot.

The reality is that when I kicked off the project I doubted that it would last a month, never mind be completed and on time to boot. And yes, it was, both. Despite, well, despite a lot.

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dark | side | thursday | fiftytwo

This post marks the end of a project I started one year ago.

For 52 weeks, I have opened each chapter of this story with these questions.

Do you need, desire or crave a new challenge?  Are you open to sharing your dark side?

I then, as I do now, invited you to read on.


Did you have a dark side?

AJT_6650-EditOr, thought you may have had one. Or indeed worried that you might have one. Or, for that matter, worried that you didn’t and would have liked one? If so, for 52 weeks, I have invited you to join me here for dark | side | thursday.

I have been writing a story. A dark story that has unfolded as the weeks passed. Each Thursday, at 13:00 UTC (with a few exceptions), I posted a new chapter. Each chapter was exactly 500 words long, and most were accompanied by a photograph (and those that miss a photograph will soon have one).

If you wish, you can catch up on the whole story here.

Shared your dark side?

I would like to thank all who have joined me either by reading some of my posts, or by writing your own dark story, week by week, and those who have dropped by, now and then, perhaps when the mood suited you or, perhaps, when it didn’t, and by sharing a photograph, poem or a suitably dark piece of prose.

I invited you to cross over to dark | side | thursday create your post, tag it dark side thursday and link to it by clicking on the dark | side | thursday badge below, where you could also find all the contributions to date. Or you could simply share your link in the comments section of my weekly post. And, should the mood have taken you, you could add the badge to your post.

I will now work on a compilation of the story. More about that in due course.

Once again, thank you for coming with me on this journey.

And now, finally, my closing chapter.


dark | side | thursday | fiftytwo

The fingers were smaller than his, delicate and trusting, those of a child.  They held his hand tight. He turned to look down at the boy. The boy’s eyes were clear and bright, they held his gaze.

The boy spoke.

‘Our time is running out.’

In reply, the man squeezed the boy’s hand tighter, looked toward the horizon. Spoke one last time.

‘There will always be time.’

– – –

What follows are extracts from contemporaneous news reports.

Police are investigating reports of a man and a young boy thought to be missing off the west coast. Their identities have not been released to the press. A police spokesperson declined to comment on whether their investigation was linked to recent reports of a yacht seen adrift in the ocean. The spokesperson confirmed that officers were investigating a number of leads and asked that anyone with information should come forward. The spokesperson declined to comment on the relationship between the man and the boy.

Police confirmed today that a trawler returning to port encountered a yacht drifting in the ocean off the west coast. The skipper of the trawler, having recalled reports of a missing man and boy, interrupted his journey and members of the crew boarded the abandoned vessel. The yacht was wooden in construction, in good condition, the sails had been carefully stowed, there were no signs of damage, empty water bottles and unopened packages of food were found in a wooden compartment. Un-named sources stated that a black key had been found on the floor of the yacht. When asked for confirmation on this point the police spokesman declined to comment, stating only that the vessel had been taken ashore for further investigation.

This weekend’s dramatic stormy weather was in part responsible for the discovery of human remains in a recently opened tomb in the town’s main cemetery. The tomb had been open for some time although no one at the site was able to explain why. A  lightning strike had caused heavy damage to a tree, part of which had collapsed and fallen through rough hewn boards that had been used to cover the entrance to the open tomb. Workers called to inspect the site reported that the open tomb had filled with water and that, when checking the damage, they discovered the the remains of two unidentified persons below the surface of the water. Police were called to the scene but declined to comment on the discovery.

Un-named sources have reported that remains recently discovered in the town’s cemetery were those of a man and a woman. Both were reported to have been badly burned and the body of the woman suggested that she had recently undergone abdominal surgery. Police declined to comment on what they described as unhelpful speculation.

Sitting on the bench, she watched them, busy behind the hastily erected screen that covered the tomb’s open mouth.

As the evening drew in, she placed a hand over her swollen belly, smiled, and rocked a little.


The portal to dark | side | thursday opened on the twenty first day of may in the year twenty hundred and fifteen and closed today

fiftytwo | fiftytwo

dark | side | thursday | fiftyone

Do you need, desire or crave a new challenge?  Are you open to sharing your dark side?   Then read on.


Do you have a dark side?

AJT_6650-EditOr, think you may have one. Or indeed worry that you might have one. Or, for that matter, worry that you don’t and would like one? If so,  join me here each week for dark | side | thursday.

Over a period of 52 weeks, I am writing a story. A dark story that will unfold as the weeks pass. Each Thursday, at 13:00 UTC, I will post a new chapter. Each chapter will be exactly 500 words long, and will be accompanied by a photograph. You can catch up on the story so far by clicking here on dark | side | thursday

Share your dark side?

I invite you to join me either by writing your own dark story, week by week, or, if that is too much, by dropping by, now and then, perhaps when the mood suits you or, perhaps, when it doesn’t, and by sharing a photograph, poem or a suitably dark piece of prose. To cross over to dark | side | thursday create your post, tag it dark side thursday and link to it by clicking on the dark | side | thursday badge below, where you can also find all the contributions so far. Or you can simply share your link in the comments section of my weekly post. And, should the mood take you, you can add the badge to your post.


dark | side | thursday | fiftyone

The beeping stopped.

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