All these days when I do seem to’ve done nothing
I have, at least, been loving you
As I have ever since I first saw you
And thought, yes, that’s who I’ve been looking for all this time
There she is, all done and dusted, forget about it!
As I continue to attempt to do
While you do your best to surprise and bemuse me
Amuse me and elude me, for now,
Till I’m driven sufficiently wild enough to cast aside all caution,
Or, excitement worn down, dust settled
Ready to get on with it in some sensible way,
Whatever that life we make together is.
Meanwhile, loving you continues as simply as breathing
And is, thankfully, for much of the time, rather more interesting.
The past is a bottomless treasure trove
Of makings and doings and endless natural processes
When I look back I see the lives of which I’m a part
But the future, the future is only death.
I can connect with the past
Things that have happened have affected me
I can see where I have come from
But where I’m going is all dark.
Days gone by were sweet or cruel
Memories and histories can be revised, renewed.
One tries to learn from the past
But what comes next is just a blank.
When I think of the past I feel bigger
Stronger for having survived it
But to think of the future
Is waiting for the axe to fall.
http://knittednotes.wordpress.com/ I’ve often enjoyed your Weekend movie slot, so here’s a classic movie you may not have seen:
Klondike Annie another mistresspiece from Mae West.
(also on my tumblr http://tmblr.co/ZUoF3q1Nq8hHo)
So I got to the wrong end of the vegetable aisle at Asda
When a formidable young mum blocked the way, I couldn’t get past her
With her kid, her pram and what, for the sake of the rhyme and the narrative
I shall describe as a truculent looking elderly relative.
Perhaps telling her child off for requesting some fruit
Or similarly engaged, she stayed obstructing my route
While I stood discreetly by, a model of restraint
Tolerating her boorish behaviour with the patience of a saint
Merely remarking, more to myself than to her
“Take your time, don’t worry, I can wait here forever!”
However, she not only heard what I’d said but addressed me
With that admirable Southampton manner of speaking extremely directly
“Just ask if you want me to move, I aint psychic,”
She said aggressively, nudging her sidekick
“What’s the matter? Don’t you know what to say?
Just ask me politely to get out of the way.”
Yet somehow I couldn’t and backed away silently
Droll monologue crushed, heart beating violently
Exchanging one last, not unsympathetic glance
With the child of the woman who’d stopped my advance.
Usually accustomed to being ignored
My witty soliloquies prevent my getting bored
But, though I often yearn to share my wit
On this occasion I didn’t enjoy it one bit
The woman was right, I had no reason to sneer
She had her business and I must’ve looked queer
A miserable old man, muttering under his breath
Unfit for anything but loneliness and death
If I’d been nicer about it we may
Have become friends at the end of the day
Instead of which I was left, alone and full of shame
With nobody but myself upon whom to heap blame.
After that I have tried to keep my thoughts to myself
To remember that muttering aloud shows poor mental health
But still, one cannot help thinking one’s thoughts
It seems that people constantly demand observations and retorts
Which, when you try to keep them silently in your head
Compel you to pull extravagant facial expressions instead
And that’s even more ageing so, I think quite rightly
I’ll carry on making smart remarks, but really really quietly.
[Can't come up with anything new yet, but I don't think I've blogged this before; if I have, I apologise, but it must've been a while. And it's a reminder of a bad habit of mine that has been getting me into trouble lately, again!]
Talented film maker and poet and a good friend, John has added enormously to my life with his friendship and practical assistance that has, for example, enabled me to keep this blog going for another year (despite recent paid employment induced lapses) by replacing and fine tuning my hardware.
Not an in your face kind of poet, John delivers his verse in a quiet style, that contrasts pleasantly with the way he rabbits and raves on the telephone, but even then he is interesting and witty, or enthusiastic at least. Like many an artist before him, John has his vices, chief of which may be photography, but he has skills, no doubt.
The first piece here, made during the Apples and Snakes / City Eye Poetry Film Workshop Weekend 5 & 6th July 2014, strikes me as a masterly piece of film making
Almost a Poem
And he’s allowed me to share two more pieces.
In This Poem
Music and pictures prominent. But there are some very finely chosen words here.
The Beast of Burnley
Yes, that’ s really him speaking! Showing his Essex roots. However, I suspect that the sculpture was crafted by another, and that John will give details in a comment when he has a moment.
Along with his work John’s attitude to it is something to admire – he’s not in it for the money, but to share the love, man, and other stuff, obviously. So enjoy this special guest poet and I’ll be back to suck the enjoyment right out of you, perhaps as soon as next Friday – I’ve got the weekend off!
As every schoolkid knows
Racism can be fun
But it’s always wrong
Just another kind of name calling
Bullying, picking a fight for no good reason.
Name calling is of course essential
To the educational process
As we learn to call things by their right names
And try to find the answers to all those important questions
While avoiding becoming a show off and/or a bore.
No question has only one correct answer
Context is all, so give an answer appropriate to the occasion
With a suitable amount of detail, no less nor more
And a tone that matches that of the questioner.
Try to follow the best examples when you have questions of your own.
Not providing an answer can seem neglectful or rude
So if you find yourself unable to respond immediately or appropriately
You may be able to gain time by promising to do so at some definite future date
Just don’t expect anyone to wait indefinitely for your response, however great
And keep in mind what has come to be expected of you.
Giving unbidden answers may be welcomed
But, just as questions can provoke a surprising response from you
So the opinions you share may be surprisingly responded to;
Take great care when asserting that an opinion you have is true,
You may think you’re speaking the truth, but where’s your proof?
It’s grand and important to give things a name
To remember where the name is from.
The object, subject or person you name is rarely the same to everyone
So try to be understood and to understand
How best to represent that thing, yourself, who you are and where you’re from.
[Mark Khan is a remarkable artist, musician, friend and now - partly thanks to my influence, I like to think! - poet. The following is an example of his poetry.]
Absorb the Succulence
Feathery meat is in the stockings of wheat
The taste of haste was the arrow in the eye of 1066
The delicate knit in the knights of the Bayeaux Tapestry
Tapping on the sty of the cross bedded pitch for the joy of the hit
Expanding mind or shrinking organs that abbreviate the storm through a bullet holed sieve.
I asked for runner beans if you please,
We must save the pods of the succulent peas
Condor the moment as silence flies above head
Seen not but hovering in the dark of night
How coarse is the bark of an elm tree in the height of winter
The farmer’s garden forever absorbs the succulence in hindsight
The high priestess’s insight, you may or you might
Try to flourish in the height of the tallest strife.
Mark Ullah Khan
[To illustrate this poem, I've added images from the Bayeaux Tapestry and Piers Ploughman, but Mark's own art can be seen in many places, including Southampton's newest gallery https://www.facebook.com/mark.khan.758?ref=ts&fref=ts and he continues to be creative at all levels, at a frighteningly prodigious rate!]
You spend your life defying death
Reanimating the dead as they appear
On screens, in books, in petty details in your memory.
You live in your own little world
Populated by the absent few on your list of favourites
Those you still want to love, impress, argue or discuss things with.
You ignore the living but they are surrounding you
As you all fight on alone for your survival
And the continuation of what you know.
You should look around, see who’s left alive
Still moving, teeming with need
Wanting the presence and attention of another being.
The world of the living is a scary place
But now this is what you have to face.
This clip shows my first (hopefully not last) appearance at Write Angle, the open mic event in Petersfield run by Leah and Jake Cohen, who video every person who gets up and make You Tubes for free! Every month is different and that makes it exciting, as you never know how it will turn out but one thing for sure is that you’ll have a memorable evening.
You’ll be warmly welcomed to their monthly events at The Square Brewery in Petersfield, and you can see more videos of past performers, by David Stone, by visiting their website here: http://www.petersfieldwriteangle.co.uk/