I’m not really sure if that should be doodling or dawdling.
After all, if I’d been in a hurry, I wouldn’t have been paying attention to the bits and bobs of rubbish strewn across the pavement; it was only because I was dawdling that I noticed these doodles formed by a couple of rubber bands I suspect were dropped by the postman.
Continue reading “just doodling”
I reckon I started writing poetry some fifty years ago.
Since then, there have been periods when ideas have flowed thick and fast. There have also been times when I have forgotten about poetry, perhaps for years on end.
And then there have been times when I have not forgotten about poetry, but it seems to have forgotten about me.
Continue reading “not my idea”
The EWS logo on the side of a train the other night caught my eye: it seemed so eminently traditional that I felt it must belong to the era of nationalised railways and navy blue quilted anoraks.
Having looked it up online, though, I find the company is only twenty years old. I also find that what I think of as an anorak probably bears little resemblance to the original Greenlandish garment.
Continue reading “transports of delight”
I’ve mentioned before that, although I don’t mind dealing with negative subjects, most of my poems and other writings are optimistic in tone.
So, as I noticed that I’ve recently gathered a number of photos taken in the dark, I thought I’d pop back to the dark ages today:
Continue reading “the dark side”
I have occasionally wondered why children seem to instinctively draw the sun as a yellow circle with straight lines radiating from it, but looking at the glorious sunrise in the photo above, it certainly makes some sense.
Yes, I know: I overuse the words glory and glorious, but surely it’s justified here?
That can no doubt be seen as a purely subjective opinion but, when referring to the next picture, which I personally consider rather less impressive, I gather glory would be the technically correct term:
Continue reading “glory all around”
When I was out walking the other day, I came across this lovely angle, where the Grand Union Canal crosses the railway track.
Initially, I thought of Frost’s “two roads diverged in a yellow wood”, but that wasn’t quite right, as there were no steps down to the train line so I had to keep following the towpath, whether I wanted to or not.
Continue reading “let me count the ways”