It’s a long way off, but

The KingdomIt’s a long way off but inside itThere are quite different things going on:Festivals at which the poor manIs king and the consumptive isHealed; mirrors in which the blind lookAt themselves and love looks at themBack; and industry is for mendingThe bent bones and the minds fractured By life. It’s a long way off, butContinue reading “It’s a long way off, but”

“Fluttering and dancing in the breeze”

It is once again that wonderful time of year when daffodils abound. The photo above is Ullswater Lake in the Lake District in northern England. It was while walking home to Grasmere along with his sister Dorothy that William Wordsworth enjoyed a host of golden daffodils. In fact it is Dorothy who writes in herContinue reading ““Fluttering and dancing in the breeze””

A man from Porlock?

Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s two most famous poems are without doubt – The Rime of the Ancient Mariner and Kubla Khan. The former, my all time favorite about which I could write at length. However such a poem is far to long to place in these blogs, so I will settle for Kubla Khan. While readingContinue reading “A man from Porlock?”

“Saying the Names”

I ask you today to recall those memories of walking round a harbor or marina. Naming a boat allows for all sorts of creativity and imagination. Perhaps you have seen these names on your harbor walks – Old Buoy, Seas the Day, Go with the Flow, Lady of the Lake, Fin and Tonic, Reel Love.Continue reading ““Saying the Names””

The Ends of the Earth

We find ourselves now in the season of Lent – a journey towards Easter. I am thinking about journeys and pilgrims. The pilgrim walk in NW Spain – The Camino de Santiago de Compostela (also known as the Way of St. James) is not quite on my “bucket list” but it’s close! It might edgeContinue reading “The Ends of the Earth”

“being too happy in thy happiness”

Without doubt the poem Ode to a Nightingale by John Keats (1795-1821) is a classic. There are just too many great lines to count, it might be easier to number the not so good lines of the total of 80 that make up the poem. Keats writes from a drowsy numbness as if he hadContinue reading ““being too happy in thy happiness””