To my treasured readers,
I’m currently looking out of my window upon an autumn scene. Leaves take turn to gently drop from their trees like burnt yellow snowflakes. Other evergreens provide a more modest colour of summer passed, while the coming winter shows its early dress through the small red berries. Above them all is a sky soaked with grey and white clouds. It’s Sunday, so feels like the very air is taking a deeper breath before Monday begins the rush once more.
How the season’s change!
I find Saturday a day for shopping and family and sports and generally letting one’s hair down. On the other hand, on Sunday I do like to get a good chunk of writing done. That’s why even before I eat breakfast, you’ll find me eagerly getting through my correspondences and any work commitments while the light of day is gradually waking. The aim is to be ready to write straight after breakfast.
Once I get into the poetic mood, I find the words arrive from the living beat of life, death and all the wonderful or terrible drama in between. There is a magic bus that takes me on a journey and stops at each part of life, so that I can feel the abundant poetry which lies behind the normal.
For example: A child holds his mother’s hand while watching another child be told off by their father. I then feel the poetry within me, as I imagine that watching child’s thoughts.
It would go something like this:
He watches the big man shout
At his small boy looking sad
And wonders if he will do that
When big, and his small boy is bad.
It’s like poets and writers seem to have another sight of things that gifts them a chance to communicate their observations on a higher, more interesting level. Would computers be able to do that? I very much doubt it, as it comes from the feelings of the spiritual soul that only true life possess.
I have a third book of poems that I’m rather proud of coming out today, titled This Curious Life. It is full of my deepest feelings and a return to the kind of poems you have read or will read in my first book, It’s A Funny Thing, Life. I hope the poems will move you when read as much as they moved me when written.
Until my next blog I wish you all that’s good and hope you that will buy yourself or a friend a copy.
