Accident Prone II

I have mentioned that I may be accident prone
And that honest, when all’s said and done,
To be constantly damaging extremities
On the whole, is not really much fun.

Last weekend was the toe, though it’s healed rather well
To be fair, there’s not really a scar.
Then the dog took me out for a run the next day
And believe me, I don’t run that far…

But a pheasant flew up and well, being a dog
Bred for birds, she just had to give chase…
With an out-of-breath owner careening along
On the leash at a pretty good pace.

Not for long, ‘cause I tripped and she came to a halt…
With disdain in her eyes, she looked back
At the tangled-up leash and the owner she’d left
In a heap at the side of the path.

But I came off unscathed, which was lucky, I know,
There I was thinking all would be well,
Then I went to my son’s and tripped over a shoe
By the door… and of course, then I fell.

Now there’s not much of me, not in terms of my height,
Though in girth… let’s not go there at all,
Let’s just say that I slammed myself, with all my weight
And I battered my arm on the wall.

Is it broken? I ask, Will it go black and blue?
Or swell up? I was feeling quite dumb.
…And I also felt ill, as the pain settled in
And my hand went uncomfortably numb.

‘You will just have to rest it,’ they said and I laughed
For there’s no chance of that, not a whit!
And I went back to doing what needs to be done,
Though I really was feeling like…unfit.

Am I accident prone, or just clumsy, I ask,
Or perhaps at my birth, I was hexed?
And that’s all in one week and it’s not over yet
And I’m wondering what will be next?

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Stormclouds #midnighthaiku

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Guest author: Kevin Morris ~ Wild Flowers

“I perceive

The flowers as I

Pass by.

Should I

Grieve

That they will die?

I paused and smelt

And felt

Their slim stems that I

Could so easily break.

I chose not to take

And did the blooms forsake,

For I

Know that they shall die”.

 The Writer's Pen and Other Poems by [Morris, K.]

“Wild Flowers” can be found in “The Writer’s Pen and Other Poems”, a collection of 44 poems encompassing the passing of the years, nature, man’s place in the world and politics. The book is now available in the Amazon Kindle store for preorder
via Amazon USA) and Amazon UK .

Read Audrey Driscoll’s review of the book on her website.


Kevin Morris and his guide dog, Trigger.

About the author

I was born in Liverpool (UK) on 6 January 1969.

I lost the majority of my eyesight at 18-months-old due to a blood clot.I am a braille user and have happy memories of leafing through “The Oxford Book of English Verse” and other poetry collections in the school library. (I attended The Royal School for the Blind, followed by Saint Vincent’s School for the Blind, both of which still exist and are located in Liverpool). I read history and politics at University College Swansea and graduated with a BA (joint hons) and a MA in political theory. During my time at Swansea I participated in the student’s sailing club and have pleasant memories of swimming in the sea when the boat capsized! In 1994 I moved to London where I now live and work. I began writing poetry seriously in 2012. Much of my poetry is inspired by the environment. I am lucky enough to live close to an historic park in the Upper Norwood/Crystal Palace area (a suburb of London).Being visually impaired I use Job Access with Speech or JAWS software which converts text into speech and braille enabling me to use a standard Windows computer or laptop. My collection of poems, “The Writer’s Pen and Other Poems”, will be published in September 2018 and is now available, in the Kindle store for preorder.


Listen to a podcast of poet Kevin Morris discussing (and reading from) “The Writer’s Pen and Other Poems – http://worldpoetry.ca/?p=13500 


Find and follow Kevin

Blog/website    Twitter   Goodreads


My Old Clock I Wind: and Other Poems by [Morris, K. ]My Old Clock I Wind

A collection of 74 new and original poems by Kevin Morris. It contains both melancholy and more cheerful pieces contrasting the fact that We can enjoy life but at the same time cannot escape its inevitable end.

Audible (UK)    Audible.com    Amazon (US)   Amazon (UK)  Moyhill Publishing

The Royal National Institute of Blind People (braille edition) or call 0303 123 9999, quoting order number 25870603.

Review extract:

“…Allow yourself to wander through the changing seasons, to experience the magic of limericks, and to be entertained by the musings of a man who sees this world through different eyes… yet another opportunity to experience the world through the poetic eyes of a multi-faceted English poet. My Old Clock I Wind and Other Poems belongs in your collection.” ARA


Dalliance; a collection of poetry and proseDalliance

In this collection of poetry and prose the intimate connections between the natural world and humanity are explored, while a number of pieces are of a humorous nature.

Exquisite Little Collection  Amazon review b

I loved the sheer variety of the pieces in this book – and the lyrical nature of the writing. Most beautiful. Two, in particular, stood out for me: ‘Dark Angel’ and ‘The Great Cycle’. Both evoked the connection we have with the world – though in very different ways, one being a physical bond with the natural world, the other a more inanimate ‘friend’! I thoroughly recommend this exquisite little collection.

Find all Kevin’s books on Amazon

book covers Kevin Morrisbook covers Kevin Morris


Tell me a story!

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The clerk of works ~ Tallis Steelyard

Reblogged from Jim Webster aka Tallis Steelyard:

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There are people of impeccable good taste whose houses are symphonies of elegance and charm. Yet how many cases can you cite where the house is testimony to the good taste of a third party who has created a masterpiece in spite of those who dwell therein?
It’s at this point that I’d perhaps mention Tildus Thallawell, said by many to the best lawyer in Port Naain. ‘Best Lawyer’ is an unusual title. Don’t assume that it might hint at some superior moral virtue, or even that he’s the one who supports most generously worthy causes, such as poetry, the queen of the arts. As ‘the best’ he merely wins more cases than his contemporaries.

Thanks to a long and successful career he is now ‘comfortably well heeled.’ Less generous men than me might use the phrase, ‘unfeasibly wealthy’ and the actively unkind might describe him as ‘stinking rich.’ Still he is wealthy enough to pander to his little foibles. One is that if he feels that a house isn’t in keeping with the neighbourhood he’ll call in artisans and have it altered. Now you might consider this to be perfectly commendable and wish there were more folk like him. When he differs from other, less forceful philanthropists, is that he does it to other people’s houses.

Continue reading at Tallis Steelyard

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A Thousand Miles of History XXVI: Going in…

The church of St Sennen did not disappoint. It has a cosy feel; a still, silent haven from the elements and the constant motion of the sea. I wondered how many women had taken refuge here in prayer over the centuries, waiting for their menfolk to come home from stormy seas and how many had given thanks for a safe return.

The simple bowl of the font is at least eight hundred years old, and, as always, when they have so many centuries of history behind them, it seems to be a symbol of the community of the church… the people and their stories. In a village setting, this feeling is even stronger; for hundreds of years, almost every villager would have been touched by the water it has held. The font cover is of more recent date. It was carved by a local farmer named Saundry from the timbers of the Khyber wrecked in 1905.

On the wall behind the font is an unusual wooden board, containing the text of a letter from a king. The Carolus Rex is a letter of thanks to the people of Cornwall who had given their support to King Charles I. The local website, which is well worth a read for both the detailed history and the sense of humour of its writer, says of the affair:

“For some reason, probably just a very sensible dislike of Roundheads, the Cornish tended to be loyal to the King during the Civil Wars, at least the richer ones did, and because of their willingness to hide the King’s son and heir in lofts, bedrooms and stables as he escaped from the Parliamentary troops*, Charles I wrote them a letter of thanks, copies of which his son Charles II commanded to be placed in every Cornish parish church at his restoration in 1660, where they have been largely ignored ever since.

* The Cornish almost certainly didn’t hide him in any such way really, not even in an oak tree.“

Frankly, as I have chuckled all the way through reading that website, I almost feel I am wasting my time writing about the church… I certainly can’t better the website! But… I have to try, even if it is only to record my own impressions of the place.

The quiet peace is appealing, yet it has a very practical and down to earth feel to it too, as if the life beyond its walls has seeped in with the mist. The lovely but unwieldy lid of the font has a nifty hatch arrangement that allows the font to be used without lifting the heavy wood.

The base of the tower is used as a vestry and is enclosed by a modern cedarwood screen which, according to the same website, now stops “the whistling draughts which shoot down the tower, and used to shoot straight up the congregation.” And the missing head of a statue of the Virgin, for whose decapitation the writer blames the Roundheads, was given a replacement by a local lady. I find her work serene and tender.

Georgian brass candelabra are the only ornate touch to the roof which is simple and functional. Although, “the Georgian years were not a good time for church attendance, even by the clergy,” says the website, detailing examples of less than regular attendance by at least one incumbent for whom the weather was as a determining factor.

There is some really lovely stained glass, particularly the memorial window to John Giffard Everett, thirteen times elected Mayor of the City of Wells in Somerset.  Both the style and the subjects are unusual, showing St John, Jacob and Enoch. The latter raised a private smile after our encounter with Dr Dee at the Elizabethan workshop in April.

There are other memorials on the walls, some of them simply engravings below the carved and gilded panels showing scenes of local life that line the wall behind the main altar. Others are grander affairs in marble, crafted for posterity but often touched with an echo of a family’s love.

Once more, we were surrounded by angels too… carved on the bench ends in the chancel, guarding the altar with golden wings and looking down on the church from its jewelled windows.

And, as a finishing touch, a fragment of a medieval wall painting peeks through the whitewash of the Lady Chapel.

St Sennen’s is an odd mix of faith and pragmatism, beauty, extravagance and simplicity, passion and solid reliability…. much, I think, like its people. Visiting these old churches is not only a privilege… for in how many other places can you get ‘up close and personal’ with artefacts hundreds of years old and still in use? It is also a way into the heart of any community.

Christianity, of whatever flavour, was the official religion of these isles for many centuries and, for most of that time, was as much an obligation as a choice of the heart. However a church was founded, its life evolves around its people and it shows.

Perhaps the most touching and telling detail for me was the pulpit. Not for the carvings of saints, bishops and the Baptist, but for the fish that ‘swim’ through the foliate frames to every panel and all around the edges. You might miss them at first glance, but once seen, the central role played by the sea in the life of this congregation cannot be missed.

Of the thousands who visit Land’s End and Sennen Cove every year, many of whom stop at the First and Last Inn, whose car-park adjoins the churchyard, I wonder how many take the time to visit this quite and peaceful little church, the first and last in this corner of Britain?

I would like to express my thanks to the writer of the St Sennen’s church website for the comprehensive history and the laughter.

Posted in albion, Ancient sites, Art, Books, Churches, Don and Wen, historic sites, Photography, Sacred sites, Stuart France and Sue Vincent | Tagged , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Proud Angel… Stuart France

*

“The Peacock Angel fomented a rebellion

among the Angels of Heaven,

where he had been a leading light.

*

He declared that he would go

and found a kingdom for himself.

*

Continue reading at Stuart France

 

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Polarity #midnighthaiku

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Old Blue Devil ~ Steve Tanham

 

Within the sky

You formed one day

I have you said

With dipping horn

Not gone away

Continue reading at Sun in Gemini

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The (dead) crow, the red fox & the turkey (feather) ~ Alethea Kehas

Reblogged from Not Tomatoes:

I used to keep a journal just for animal encounters. Not just animals, insects too, and birds, and all manner of non-human life forms I met up with each day. I was interested in their symbolism and what it might mean to me. Synchronicities and patterns. The universe talking in code. I used to do a lot of things I no longer do, and these days I am acutely aware of how much I am allowing myself to be wrapped up in the mundane, favoring it over the magic of life. Not because I want to, but because I have somehow convinced myself that I must. I must search not for encounters, but for artificial messages. Messages that I must send to get readers for my new book. It is a task I do not like, but that in itself is a lesson and, therefore, a gift. How do I make magic out of the mundane? Somedays it’s easier than others.

Continue reading at Not Tomatoes

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Principles of Fire (3) Essence and Origin ~ Steve Tanham

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Part One

It is unusual to be able to say definite things in the teaching of spirituality, and yet, with essence, we can…

We can say three definite things: that Essence is our life; and that everything that is not essence is reaction and the history of reaction. We can also say, as did the ancient alchemists, that essence is not an idea, not a creation of the mind, not a thing to be imagined and created, but a physical pre-existing thing with substance. The alchemists, with their gift for hiding things under our own noses, described this ‘stone of the wise’ as ‘hidden in plain sight’.

You may never have heard of the word essence in the context of spirituality. Its use was an attempt by practical mystics of the last century to resolve the profusion of ideas surrounding the real meaning of the word ‘soul’. The word soul is used all the time, and we may already have an idea as to what it is. We think of something as ‘soulful’ when it touches us at a depth beyond the usual reaction. We think of our lives as, perhaps, a journey towards our own soul. We may consider that our soul will survive the death of our body, and travel through some afterlife. Or you may not… You may love the idea of a very exact definition of something that has been described as the centre of our real existence.

Continue reading at The Silent Eye

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