This year's fears

This year’s fears

So some of us are scared of airports;

The flatness of them,

The waiting,

The type of possibilities.

Also tunnels;

Smoky, dark tunnels,

Where there should be light,

And air.

Some of us fear forgetfulness;

Being useless,

Not helping,

Letting the rest of us down.

‘The rest of us’ fear night and day,

That nothing will ever be right again,

That ‘home’ and ‘safe’ are old words,

For other people.

And some of us are just scared;

That soon even fear will disappear,

That it is nearly over,

Whatever it was.

RF 2016

Simply this

What we want

Just to get on with things,

ordinary things,

exceptional things.

To take an unmolested walk,

or to the floor,

or our own time.

We want to be somebody,

and so do you,

you want that too.

RF 2016

I posted this elsewhere the other day - one of those places where things move quickly and you don't even get to be fish and chip paper afterwards. Here it can live a little longer... maybe till it gets to be a postcard or something. There are a lot of 'we's, and a lot of 'you's.

Visits past

Photo by Mark Stephenson

So, a few years ago, around this time of year, we were in Vermont (details here if you want them). I was reminded of this yesterday, thumbing through a book of Robert Frost poems that I found lying, unloved, in one of the many piles of books that clutter this house. I studied Frost at school, have even written a poem that mentions him before (back here, now a little altered) but now I have a new one (below). Well, a draft anyway.

Just recently I have been reading (via daughter) the Jackie Kay poems that she is studying in school. I know some people probably manage to take in nothing from the poetry that they are exposed to at school but for others these poems can be life-changing, mind-enhancing. You may not realise this at the time of course!

Bennington, Vermont (2011)

It is a crisp day,

Suitably Frostian.

A March Sunday,

New England,

History in the air.

In the graveyard

There are pointers

Only to your name.

Who else has that?

You’ve arrived, they say.

We walk on grass,

Visit a white church.

School poetry,

That old uncle,

Whispers in my ear.

RF 2016

Back on blog

Haven't done this for ages... blog that is. It feels weird.

Another thing I haven't done much of late is write poems... but here is one. May it be of interest to somebody.

Peace out

I do not google myself.

These days I am happier viewing others

who just happen to share a same name

(this name and that, and even the other).

I study their grand achievements:

doctors of psychiatry, literature,

an author of children’s books,

and whilst there was a time

I would have felt pressure,

disappointment and even a sense of shame,

I think that nonsense has finally blown away

and now, on some possibly insane level,

I just feel pride in their names.

Call me ridiculous.

I mean - look at this one:

Professor of cultural something or another,

Producer of academic tomes,

and, with the inevitable Fox/Quaker connections,

Promoter of peace to boot.

What a woman.

Today it feels enough, more than that,

that they are doing it,

that they are all so hard at work;

neat army of busy minds.

And me? What of the messy mes?

We just potter about quietly,

no need to panic,

for there are safe hands,

somewhere else,

getting important things done.

RF 2016

Different steps

Well, it's official - I have absolutely no time to blog in this new... job/life. So for now it's good-bye and catch you on facebook or in the flesh (that sounds weird).

p.s. Surprising info on the above song here . The song is always the thing!

x

Not that union...

So another Mo Fest (Montrose Music Festival) gone by here. Another weekend of sunshine and toons, toons, toons. Last year I wrote about how Montrose was (kind of) like New Orleans... this year... less writing but a song about another bit of the U.S. (above) from a band I saw on Sunday night in a local pub (one of the band, Brooks Williams, is a Georgian...). The band is State of the Union (nothing to do with Alex Salmond...) and I'd seen them before but it was an especially enjoyable night this time. Something about the weather, the blur of the busy weekend, the just being in the backroom ('lounge') of a pub in what some people might call the middle of nowhere (though I wouldn't obviously... any place can be cool, any place can be crap...) listening to such great music. I mean, there was a chalk board in front of the band saying 'food available in car park'... and there's something about that kind of detail. Maybe I'll even form a band now called 'food available in car park'... No. I won't. 

 

Anyway, things to do, offline to be. State of the Union are touring just now by the way and they have a new, second, album called "Snake Oil" (which I listened to three times yesterday like a teenager). Details on their website. And yes, this blog is just turning into a random series of songs. Again.

Bad blogger, good song

I know. I've been a bad blogger, an absent blogger, a person doing unbloggable things. Luckily, however, others are at work doing things I can post publicly about so here is Montrose singer/songwriter/musician Gary Anderson with his new song. Gary took my Michael Marra poem as a starting point but he has put in a lot of his own words and ideas into the song (and even some Marra too). It's good work. Enjoy. Sing along, why don't you?