The image with the prism rainbow is a reflection from my window and I think it looks pretty neat especially as it gives the shadow some light and fits pretty well with the story.
I forgot to add some snippets from the book, so here they are 🙂
There is a silent calm travelling through his life, it permeates his being, his actions, his connections: he is a tree amongst the noises of humanity. Sometimes he thought of himself as wandering in soulless oblivion, then he thought of himself as wandering in search of she who understands. She who is equal to his silence; she who is the shadow to his tree, or he the shadow of hers.
Sitting one time in the silence and deathly stillness of an emerging sunrise he had a moment of acuity, for there on the horizon time was being born. He became aware of how mighty is silence and stillness and of how, even for a few seconds, this gap in time was magical and eternal. He lived in this moment and came to see the endless possibilities of thought.
The raven in the sunshine gleams in its blackness. Its bulky shadow gives flight to its consciousness and thus its intelligence. Its beak points while those eyes, looking beyond what mere humans can see, penetrate the arena and off into the fields of time and mystery where the knowledge of all things become known. The raven in the sunshine gleams deep in the pleasure of its secrets, and at once he sees the beauty of it all, but seeing is not having. He can hear the distant musicians. He can see the collection of art. He can see the butterfly dazzling the flower with its own beauty. He can see the clouds as they move in their silent caress of the universe. He can see the colours of humanity, and at once the pain of it all struck him with sharp needles of confusion.
Naked are the stars in winter as they caress the evening sky with their immense solitude, like so many leaves blinking when they fall and flutter in the breeze as moonlight kisses them. He lays upon the ground watching the rhythmic blinking where he drifts into an unconscious moment of trepidation. Dare he allow himself to sink into the flesh of life shining above him? Dare he allow his soul to touch those many deaths and births? Dare he begin to forget her so he can begin to know her? Dare he and if he dares, how does he begin?
I’ve uploaded the pdf, the cover images and played about with the cover maker on Lulu. It did say however that my image might not print as expected, something to do with frame rate but I’ve read that others have gone ahead and printed and it’s come out fine so I’ll wait and see as I’ve just ordered a proof copy 😀
So fingers crossed that I’ll soon be anouncing the new book and a competition (although I said this the last time with Broken Roses and forgot!).
It carries on, in a way, from Broken Roses and hopefully it runs neat from dark to light, or lightish hehe and also I have it so it’s kind of cicular.
Hello everyone, it is a very happy day today. I took delivery of my new collection of little thoughts, which includes …
If a butterfly can change the weather then our smiles can change the world
Deep in the twin souls of one is where shadows go to become the sun
Freedom comes from loving what is
The book is available to buy here at Lulu.com where you’ll also find my first book, Silence Happens, which includes …
As a leaf falls, know this Earth is not ours
When in pain, think of the reason for this could be the cure
Skin talks in colour when it should talk in love
Thank you all for visiting and following my blog. You are all very much appreciated and if you want to read more about me, please click here to read my interview with a journalist from the biggest-selling regional evening newspaper in Britain.
I have edited some and added a good handful
of new and unpublished Little Thoughts.
Now Lulu seemed very confusing to me at first
until, that is, assistance appeared in the form
of my very, very good friend, Diane M. Denton
who also helped with the editing.
(Please visit Diane’s site for lovely art and exquisite poetry.
Her Novel ‘A House Near Luccoli’ is literary historical fiction set in Genoa
imagining an intimacy with the 17th century composer. Alessandro Stradella.)
My wonderful, wonderful, lovely friend, Sarah Whiteley
gave me the encouragement, and still does,
to get off my backside and get something into print.
(Please visit Sarah’s site for her beautiful poetry and stunning photography.
Her first chapbook No Direction But Home is worth every second of time spent reading it.)
I would like to thank everyone who has been with me
since I started writing poetry in August 2011
If you could see the smile on my face as I type these words