The weekend runs right
On by, like raging river, or
Firelight flicker, until all that
Remains is a whisper of time,
Flown by, fluttering soft as the
Wings of time allow, echoes off
The soundless touch of winter’s
Kiss, brushing away summer’s
Warmth, until all that’s left
Is bright sunshine painting
Pristine blue, with chilled
Wind sending brisk messages too,
And in the end the weekend flies
Like a morning dream, Sunday
Afternoon sigh, the creaking of
Old young bones and joints,
Not yet used to the change in
Time, yet feeling the weather
All the same, so it is now, as
Weather promises winter’s bright
White light and cozy night, so
Joints delube as cold settles in,
And once pliant skin wrinkles,
Like a grandparent’s grin, so that
All we have to go on now, is the
Thought we will be young again,
Somehow, that as spring and
Summer break from winter’s thawed
Embrace, so too shall we return to the
Start of the race, although foolish to
Hope, too hopeful a fool, for this is the
Life we live but once, and once we live,
No repetition so cruel as weekend’s
Promise, of summer’s cycle coming to
An end, again, brushed by time’s butter-
Fly wings, and the last kiss of hot sun,
Sweat reminder’s walk through Windsor
Great park, now resting aching as old
Young must, the joints now creaking,
Now filled with rust.
Category Archives: a day in the life
Day to day thoughts, tickling my fancy. The random stream of chattering consciousness striding royally through me each day.
ghost child
Today I saw, walk back
From work to the train, just
Another normal day, breathing
In the freedom, of time earned, a
Smile near breaking, as I watch a young
Girl, maybe 2, dodge her mom’s hand
While crossing the road, my smile
Dying as she wanders too far,
Parent inside wishing she
Would cross safely, mind
Showing the great
Yellow bus coming
All too fast, all
Too soon.
Then they cross,
Safely.
My mind wanders. I am
Still in that space between
Dream and waking, wandering
Through the damp familiar streets
Of my own mind, wondering what to
Have for dinner, when I see the couple
Standing staring back past my shoulder,
At the now empty road, and I look with
Them, for them, searching for that
Little girl, nowhere to be seen,
No longer a little girl but the
Phantom of a dream
Memory shared, lost
Waking dream,
Shared again,
Lost again,
Gone.
Yee-haw!
Wow. So that’s what it feels like to come to the end of a novel, and even start the second one.
The rollercoaster is over, or has only just begun, as I have as yet to let anyone read this revised draft.
Nervous? Yes.
Excited? Yes.
Exhausted and exhilerated? Double yes.
Where to now?
Do I go the old school route and hunt down an agent, trap them with style, cunning and a well-turned phrase, joining forces to create a hunting party out for the rare blood of the oft-maligned and dying breed of old-school publisher in the hopes of them seeing the diamond in the rough; maybe not the next JK cash machine but at least worth investing time, energy and publicity in?
Or do I surf the light fantastic and punt into the lake placid of self-publishing and self-promotion? Is my book eye-catching enough to light the bushfire of people’s imagination and flow through word of mouth into the collective subconscious?
What to do, what to do. (Ideas accepted on a postcard, written in binary or Sanskrit.)
Whatever the future level of success, I wrote it, from beginning to end and back again, and that is enough for me (for now).
If people enjoy reading it and want more, that will be all I ever wanted.
Here’s hoping! 😉 (Just in case you are wondering where you can lay your hands on my book, please keep your eyes peeled on my blog / twitter / linked in / Facebook account, where I will be broadcasting more exciting news (exciting to me at least!) as soon as I have it.
Til next time, be good to one another, cause each other is all we really have.
Peace out,
mE
newoldache
Sadlonelyemptyache, born
Of lost things found, and
Lost again, self-same circle
Of longing begun, ful-
Filled, now empty aching
Has begun.
For my love is
Not here, although not
Far, by far, she lives
Forever within me, inter-
Twined lives and love for-
Ever more mine, as
I hers.
Into this confusing mess
Pot of swirling happy buzz-
Gone now, leaves me sub-
Dued, yet not dude still,
So still inside, sad but yet
Not sad, lost, not yet
Found, just so, just me
Missing you,
Missing me.
Please come home, my
Love, that is my soul-
Food, making my world
Sing harmoniously in tune
With itself, and all round,
Still, not still, yet sad,
Not sad, just aching for
You, please come home,
Please come home.
I know it is only,
A day or two, not long,
Considering the life-time
I already waited, for me,
For you, to be as one, just
So, as one. And as I sit,
Staring past phone at yellow
Painted wood gym floor,
Hearing but not hearing
Instructor’s shouts, encouraging
Children to work harder,
Try harder, because anything
Worth doing, is worth doing
Right, worth waiting for.
And so the child inside
Me, still afraid of being left
Out alone in the cold, must
Learn your loving touch will
Return, your smile will shine
Once more, your sweet perfume
To fill my mind and soul with
Light, making everything around
Me bright, with love, with warmth,
And everything in between,
And so I know it all will be well.
To miss you, even happier
Than I have ever been before,
Joyful in a life well lived, loved
Through and through, I know this
Is only a minor test, one of many,
That this life will throw our way,
So bring it on I say, bring on the
Dry hot ache burning missing
You, because I can take it
I say, I can take it for I
Love you with all of
Me, my love, with
All of me,
Forever.
you
Complete me!
Cries my heart-song.
Make me soul-
Deep happy, hums
The depths
Of my being.
Always are there
When I need you,
Know what to say,
Caress the stresses,
Smooth the wrinkles,
Keeping toil-wrought
Demons at bay.
Break all my pretensions, into
Digestable pieces, rake back
Sand-coated crunch-tastic woolly
Thinking, freeing me
To be me, each
And every day.
Intrigue me,
Intoxicatingly true.
Complete me,
Just being you.