The other day – well, Christmas Day, to be more precise – I wrote a post with poems about sleeping.
That post nearly didn’t make it through to publication, though, as I realised I’d made a stupid mistake when I decided on the title: since restive was entirely the wrong word, I came close to abandoning the whole thing.
Then I considered re-thinking things and using the title cat napping to post the same poems with a different set of photos.
Continue reading “cat napping”
I don’t celebrate Christmas and try hard to avoid the consumer chaos, so this time of year is always a bit strange: I feel there should be something a little special, but am not quite sure why or what.
Some wintry weather might help – there’s nothing like a bright frosty morning for clearing the mind and restoring the spirit. But when I went for a brief walk in the park this morning there was really nothing particularly seasonal, just vast expanses of sodden leaves and an unpleasant amount of mud.
Continue reading “slightly festive”
I suspect many people will be spending Christmas afternoon dozing on the sofa, remote control in hand, watching the TV.
So it made some kind of sense to me when I woke up this morning with the idea of using “the restive season” as a title and writing a blog post with poems about relaxation or sleep.
Then, of course, I woke up properly and remembered that “restive” has little to do with rest – rather the complete opposite: it’s fidgety, not relaxed.
Continue reading “the restive season”
Whatever name you prefer to use for it – the Cold Moon, the Long Night Moon, the Oak Moon, the Wolf Moon, or simply the Moon before Yule – I’m afraid I don’t have a photo of last night’s full moon.
I do, however, have a number of poems with the moon in them.
Here’s one of them:
Continue reading “cold moon”
the sun flowers
and sheds its petalled light
into the corners
of our unswept lives
I said this morning that yesterday was grey, with little to recommend it. Today has not been much better, although I suppose it must be slightly brighter and less grey, if only because it has been a day of domesticity: I have been washing and ironing, sweeping and dusting, scrubbing, mopping and polishing.
Continue reading “lighter, whiter, brighter”
don't confuse the narrator 