Pearl in a dust-bin

Sometimes I think my mind is on another planet, or even another dimension where it’s writing with gusto leaving me blank and pallid so I apologise for my silence lately. The feelings I have to be able to write just aren’t around and I’m not going to force the words to appear.

However, I have been reading quite a bit and as you can see on the right there I am currently reading the huge four volume A Short History of the English People by John Richard Green. I’m about three quarters through volume 2 and Queen Elizabeth is on the throne being pestered by Queen Mary of Scots. I’m also reading Sir Walter Scott’s Lay of the Last Minstrel.

Previous to this I read a wonderful book by Marie Corelli called The Sorrows of Satan and if you get a chance I recommend it. Here are two quotes from the many excellent examples of her writing in the book.

…Be sure that if you are unhappily celebrated for either beauty, wit, intellect, or all three together, halfsociety wishes you dead already, and the other half tries to make you as wretched as possible while you are alive…

…To be missed at all when you die, some one must love you very deeply and unselfishly; and deep unselfish love is rarer to find among mortals than a pearl in a dust-bin…

I hope to be back soon with poems.

Happy Sunday and thanks for visiting 🙂

The lack of it

They appeared
in those days
as a feeling

and finished
I felt them.

I knew when a poem
was coming through
because of the pain

my head would be bursting
for days on end
and then a poem
worked better than pills.

Sometimes, thankfully
I’d get a weird gut feeling
and I knew
I felt
and I wrote.

Now I’m on different pills
so my blood isn’t boiling
my head isn’t bursting
and my gut isn’t feeling
so often

but neither is the poetry

(except for this 3am sleepless drivel!)