Silver Turrets, Glacial Pillars

silver turrets

glacial pillars

mist around

a castle barely there

whispered voices

disembodied

elusive valley

lost in mountains bare

enchanted hillsides

clouded rivers

vague departed

souls in coves and glens

tinkled laughter

those in knowing

dispatched from here

pale figures lived again

he and she there

those and them found

poor and paltry

rich and in between

past and present

glimpse of future

‘mid turrets, pillars

lives of all who’ve been

time entrapment

rooms revisited

sepulchre of spectres

seen before

craggy mansions

fog enshrouded

silver turrets

glacial pillars, evermore

vapour’d currents

earth, wind and fire

electrified in fields

still disbelieved

sparked by life-force

charged with purpose

redolent with birth and death

awake to unconceived

murdered, muted

self-inflicted

battle-wearied, shunned

the exodus

fled and fleeing

faith and courage

surrendered souls

in sickness and mistrust

silver turrets, glacial pillars

lost and found 

the almost

nearly there

heaths, lush landscapes

hearts hardened, frozen

hope harkens 

in the dale beyond despair 

 

silver turrets

glacial pillars

whispered voices soothe

from castles, truths compare

BST – Over Before It Started

I missed the extra minute this year

But caught the hour

Woke to find it waiting for me

Ticking, hither, come

I’ve almost spent it

Sixty minutes

If time is lending, I’m in the market

Blast! It’s done….

 

Given what an elusive commodity time always seems to be for me – for many of us – the extra hour afforded into this morning is a joy. I forgot until I remembered! Sweet. Spent it blog reading in bed with my caffeine fix. Luxury in its simplest form. I won’t think about the fact that I have to pay it back. :/

In The Lime Light – Paul F. Lenzi / Poesy plus Polemics

A rare insight into the man behind the words.

Booknvolume

Caption1

Yes, it’s the weekend at last and time, once again, for an In The Lime Light spotlight…(YAY!! the crowd goes wild!!) Please allow me to Introduce (If you don’t already know him from his amazing poetry) Paul F. Lenzi of Poesy plus Polemics blog: http://poesypluspolemics.com (stop right here and go visit…we’ll wait. No really, you won’t be disappointed, I swear!)

Welcome Back 😉 And getting back to Paul, via his own words: “I am the father of three adult children, each of whom holds my undying love and irrepressible pride. Grandfather of eleven heartwarming youngsters, whom I can never see often enough. One of the early baby boomer generation. Retired Manhattan insurance company executive. Lifelong resident of New Jersey until retiring to rural New Hampshire in 2005. A first generation American born to Italian immigrant parents. Rutgers University alumnus: philosophy, ethics and political science. A proud member of the Academy…

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Quietly Departed

Maureen o'hara quiet man John Wayne and Maureen O’Hara in ‘The Quiet Man’

Technicolor dimmed today

flame, temporarily, extinguished

as titian hair and fiery eyes

 bowed, quietly, out

may the wind carry you 

once more, mavourneen,

to rise again

free in fields of emerald fire

your light

to live forever

I was saddened to learn earlier this evening of the passing of Maureen O’Hara. I had been chatting about her recently with Cole, in comments, when we each discovered a mutual admiration for this fine actress who embodied strength in the roles she played. Aged 95, she had, as the saying goes, ‘a good innings’ but I know, from my own experience, that the loss of a loved one takes no account of their age. My condolences to her family. She will be missed by them even while she lives on for the rest of us in film and was rightly crowned ‘the Queen of Technicolor’.

Nod To BTTF

I hung around too long in tomorrow

awaited you in dated yesterdays

loitered on the cusp of nearly knowing

debated future’s past, dismissed delays

missed you moments melded into timeless

motility I rued and cursed the dream

fusion forced all time into the present

I’m stuck forever in a damned zone while

you’re lost to me in spatial time machine

 

I don’t get it either but it was a great movie. Anything with time travel in it has me losing a chess game in my head after the first couple of moves. Doesn’t stop me loving it though. 

Thinking November

I have the absolute cheek to have just signed up for National Novel Writing Month 2015. With last year’s novel still incomplete in edit, what exactly am I thinking?

Truthfully, I’m thinking that I am a great procrastinator, that I would be awful in the military life because I can’t take orders – even from myself, apparently.

However, I’m also thinking that this time last year I hadn’t even signed up to commit to 50,000 words in a month but I did it in the end.

I’m thinking that I knew the first book had a sequel as I was writing it and it seems daft not to get that down, considering it’s been mulling away in the background.

I’m thinking that I may be sorry to commit to this once again, especially as I obviously hate editing – unless it’s other people’s – just like the writing it down part.

I’m thinking, though, that I have nothing to lose and that I might even manage more of the edit on the first while working on the second because I’ll be so immersed in it again.

I’m thinking that I’m about to move school again in a couple of weeks and that could mean more or less work. And I don’t know which.

I’m thinking, ‘Oh,shit, why am I even letting others know?’

And, mostly, I’m thinking, blogging is one thing, Anne-Marie, but why exactly did you start that in the first place if not to actually gain the confidence to write that book you always knew you would.

Right now, I’m thinking why am I talking about myself in the third person? I hate that.

Frankly, I don’t really know what I’m thinking.

But I’m inclined to share my thoughts, sure or otherwise. So here you have them.

Last year, I swore off blogging during the week to make sure I focused on Nano. It was hard to let go of the reins. Your blog’s like your baby. Well, I think it is. You kind of nurture it along and watch it grow.

Last year, I had tremendous help from guest bloggers who made sure my baby was fed and watered. You know who you are. I don’t know if I’ll be able to let the reins go so completely this time – I’m a born mum – but I would be grateful for offers.

I spoke this over with my family last night. Mixed reception.

‘You haven’t finished editing the first one!’ D’uhh, I know.

‘Does that mean you’ll be holed up in your office again for a whole month?’ Thought that was a bonus for them, myself.

‘Do it, Mum!’ I think I’m gonna.

‘Whatever makes you happy.’ Thanks, hon.

So, I’ve registered. Another one of my not-thought-this-through-type-of-plans-that-I-don’t-make.

I might even try to plan this time – I’ve got nearly two whole weeks before it begins. Loadsa time. :/

So, this is by way of being my notification that I’ve enlisted. About to take orders from myself again. Someone has to keep me in check in the absence of a sergeant-major, I’m thinking.

Second Revolution

Record Spinning on Turn Table

(Play It Again AM)

– the record is not broken –

– though rift in operation –

– jumps along –

– every groove –

– its own peculiar nuance –

– deny –

– to disbelievers –

– it was ever –

– just a piece of plastic –

– he sang my song –

– self-effacing –

– to newer models –

– deemed superior –

– to me ’twas special –

– he played my dreams –

– in words and rhythm –

– found my soulful heart –

– the record is not broken –

– though he’s quiet –

– residing on some shelf –

– time turns the tables –

– i play his tunes –

– sadly –

– nowadays –

– i play them for myself –

It appears I cannot resist the rhyme even after the free.

The Revolution

Record Spinning on Turn Table

Record Spinning On Turntable )

pincered digits

pivot arm

thread needle

gingerly, my

sleeveless apology

cringing

at crackles

careless handling

i was the revolution

i intone

among the glory notes

i was the revolution

now disdained

to silver’d discs

apoplectic pods

that overflow

overburdened

streaming

quantity

content you forget

you dust me down

appreciate the memories

and return me to my shelf

where we, the others,

whisper technology

and await

new revolution

it always comes around

 

Household Tips #5 – The War Gene – it’s a thing

Why is it that the second most expensive item I own sits in the driveway next to the first? If I could put the car in the house I’d do some weather damage limitation and combine the value. But I can’t get the car up four steps. Or through the door. It’s a thing cars won’t do.

So it sits out there wondering why I don’t value it enough to give it shelter. I let the dog and the cat in. The weans all have a place to rest their wearies. But, poor car, despite faithful service and being one of my best friends – we go everywhere together – languishes in the great outdoors like an abandoned pet. I talk to him. Usually, it’s, ‘Don’t you dare make that noise!’ and ‘ Come on, boy, you can make it.’ Kinda the conversation I have with my husband from time to time. And I let hubs in the house.

The reason I am a wanton mistress to Ford is because my garage is full of stuff. Stuff it should not be full of. Some of that stuff doesn’t even belong to me or anyone else who now lives here.

There are china dolls with creepy faces.

china dolls

No way are they getting back inside. Eldest daughter left them here when she moved out. Along with a collection of other dolls from far flung parts. It was a thing she did at one point. Years ago. So why are they still there?

That’s down to a thing I do. I’m sure I inherited what I like to call ‘the war gene’. My parents were both ten when WWll began. They lived through the bombs and evacuation, the rationing and the make do and mend years.  Couldn’t get bananas till the banana boats made their way back up The Clyde. Powdered eggs. Wtf! 

So they were raised to cut cuffs, turn collars and stitch repairs. Make your own. Reuse buttons and bits and bobs. Value everything. Waste nothing.

I’ve got that gene.

I recycle everything I can. Want to weep when I visit the recycling plant and see all the TV’s and fridges that have been discarded. I want to find out if they died or if they just became obsolete to a better model. They never answer when I ask.

Part of recycling involves not throwing things away if I think a) I might use that later b) that’s a bloody shame, what a waste c) that’s too good to get rid of d) that stuff’s not mine e) I’m so ashamed, I’ve hardly used that.

When my mum died my siblings and I had quite a time of what to keep and what not to keep. She had the war gene. Everything seemed to have sentimental value or intrinsic value. After attempting to go through them I stored them in the cellar. I now have a cellar with books and papers belonging to my mum and not the heart to go through them again. Still. Six years come St. Andrew’s Day.

Add into the mix two other kids who have flown the coop, left gear, come home again, left more gear. And, in the case of one, is still here because a) she really can’t afford it while at college b) thinks she can but is actually quite enjoying having all facilities for her and her cat c) can’t quite make up her mind. It’s a Mary thing.

The other one is definitely out but is currently in a furnished flat so we’ve got his shit too, including a) a microwave b) bits of furniture c) umpteen boxes d) fishing rods and equipment because he doesn’t want to get rid of them but isn’t fishing for fish at the moment. Bigger fish to fry. That’s a Joe thing.

other folks' stuff 3

Further to the mix, add my husband’s tools/gardening equipment/wood that he can’t bring himself to part with because a) he might use it b) he’s a dab hand at making and repairing c) it’s all perfectly good wood d) it’s my bolthole and I keep what I want here. Wood. It’s a Frank thing.

wood and scooter

And, that’s a scooter hanging from the rafters. Because, maximise space. Clever, eh?

Into the cauldron, add all my paper work from schools (because, yeah, I’ll use that again), years of writing, household crapamailia that has to be kept in case one day I need to prove that, ‘I did so bloody pay that!’, books of mine, more books of mine, a wide variety of craft materials that I’ll definitely get back to using when I have time and little trinkets bought/made by offspring. Why is keeping that tat a thing?

University/college stuff that my kids want to hold onto but don’t want messing up their flats.

A pram. Yup. Beautiful pram that was Anna’s, in the cellar, waiting. I’m not having any more! But, seems a shame to get rid when I have daughters at that sort of age. I know!

Guitars that have been replaced with better models but I feel sorry for.

guitars 4

Poor buggers. They need to go. Nothing can save them now. Wonder if guitar heaven is a thing. They did nought wrong.

Um, what else?

Chairs – because we need extra ones for occasions. But not all the time. Why buy more every time? Common sense thing.

Bikes. Fair enough, they get used.

Clothes. Fecking clothes. Do you have any idea how much room (not to mention washing) clothes for a big household take up? Fortunately, hubs used those tools and wood and screws and savvy to build custom-made wardrobes in every bedroom. Begs the question why one or two of my crew still hang their clothes on the floor. That’s a thing I hate.

I’m also really good at recycling clothes and fill up bags on a regular basis. Put them in the garage till I’m ready to take them for recycling. Then my eldest daughter brings more in that she’s getting shot of, we all have a rummage and snaffle the ones we like. And I send the rest away. To the garage. Pending. It’s an Anne-Marie thing.

With determination, black bin bags and a hardened heart I’m back to asking, ‘Does this give me joy?’ If it doesn’t, it’s going. Apart obviously from the crap I have to keep for the purposes of a) I’ll definitely, maybe use that at some point, b) that’s not mine to decide on, c) aww! my mum/dad/weans/memories.

I don’t see the car having a place to shelter any time soon. What am I, Superwoman? But, I might manage to shift things around a bit, make a few phone calls threatening decapitation of creepy china dolls and I’m definitely throwing out all my school crap. That’s what the internet is for.

Well, that and telling you all about how I propose to spend my Saturday – opting to streamline my life. Again.

It’s a thing I do. From time to time. Genes, got a lot to answer for. Been proven. Real thing.

Another thing. Procratination. Not started yet. Thought I’d blog about it first. It’s a WordPress thing.

And the sun’s shining. Ford is calling to me – take me some place, far from this driveway. Leave all this behind. They do so talk!

aa_1982_pontiac_firebird_trans_am_knight_rider

Aye, ah wish. I’d make houseroom. Not the Hoff, bleugh! Here Kitty, Kitty.  Weird thing, saying that. I’m not even a cat lover. More genetically programmed for dogs.