In the UK last month, I made quite a few journeys by train, which is one of my favourite ways of travelling. I like stations, from the main London termini, where the platforms run straight into bright modern shopping centres, to the sleepy country halts, where there’s no ticket office or porter, and no phone for miles.
Category: writing and writers
more mythical beasts
After the apparent popularity of the two splendid beasts in my previous post, I looked through my files to see if I had any more.
Not only is this an impressive animal, but I’ve even found a poem that mentions unicorns to post with it. I am shocked, though, to realise that I wrote it nine years ago and I have done nothing with it.
Continue reading “more mythical beasts”
diy
As I have nothing written and ready for posting, I offer these two splendid beasts from the storytelling bench at St Mary de Crypt in Gloucester and ask you to use your imagination to supply a suitable text:
shooting stars II
Yesterday‘s narrator had all she wished for, which might be why the poem was so short. Today’s narrator doesn’t, though she seems to have realised that wishing on a star won’t help:
Perseids
The night I met you fire flared in the skies
and seams of gold were visible across
the coalmine dark. Nature had purged the dross
of normal life, it seemed. We raised our eyes
to watch with joy as stars fell round about:
each one a dream of summer love, a wish,
each an unspoken promise, each a kiss
that fanned desire and silenced truth and doubt.
And so we boldly told each other lies,
pretending to believe they could come true;
we watched those stars like lovers, though we knew
that we could not escape existing ties.
At heart, we knew the stars are fixed, not free,
set in their courses, much like you and me.
star’ku
Watching shooting stars,
your arm around my shouldersNo need for wishes
For those who are looking for more perseids, I posted a few other pieces on the subject of shooting stars this time last year.
don't confuse the narrator 