• Bodhisattvacharyavatara
    • Introduction
    • Chapter 1
    • Chapter 2
    • Chapter 3
    • Chapter 4
    • Chapter 5
    • Chapter 6
    • Chapter 7
    • Chapter 8
    • Chapter 9
    • Chapter 10
  • collected works
    • 25th August 1981 – count Up
    • askance From Hell
    • Batman
    • The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford
    • Bob 1995-2012
    • Edward Hopper: Poems at an Exhibition
    • David Bowie Movements in Suite Major
    • Eglinton Hill
    • FLOORBOARDS
    • Granada
    • in and out / the Avebury stones / can’t seem to get / a signal …
    • Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters]
    • Miller’s Batman
    • mum
    • nan
    • Portsmouth – Southsea
    • Spring Warwick breezes / over Bacharach fieldwork and boroughs with / the occasional shift and chirp of David / in the pastel-long morning of the sixties
    • through the crash
  • index
    • #A-E see!
    • F–K, wha’ th’
    • L-P 33 1/3 rpm
    • Q-T pie
    • U-Z together forever
  • me
  • others
    • William Carlos Williams
  • poemics
  • poeviews
  • teaching matters
  • wormholes

mlewisredford

~ may the Supreme and Precious Jewel Bodhichitta take birth where it has not yet done so …

mlewisredford

Tag Archives: net curtains

Hastings: neither all or nothing

07 Thursday Feb 2019

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

2018, 7*, being, birch, blue, buildings, church, doing, flats, furniture, grey, Hastings, height, houses, net curtains, passing, pavement, reaching, reason, roads, sea, silver, sky, steeple, steets, time, Victorian houses, walking, windows, wondering, writing

                                                                Hastings: neither all or nothing

                I walked steep down
                                through Victorian house fronts
                                                down the whole height of the
                                                                church steeple

                and stood at the grey sea
                                wondering if there was good reason
                                                to write of it, after all;
                                                                the houses

                were now flats with nets knotted in the
                                windows and abandoned furniture
                                                on the street, but look,
                                                                that corner building

                built to the shape of bifurcating roads, oh
                                and the silver birch at the edge
                                                of the pavement reaching
                                                                up into the blue

                cleared sky and although I needn’t write it,
                                I do; and the roots of this small
                                                tree have bulged the paviours
                                                                unnoticeably over the years

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

being & doing wormhole: it’s / not what you do or what you say / if it ain’t got that swing
birch wormhole: over-pink cagoule
blue wormhole: {reading right to left}
buildings & silver wormhole: London, 1809
church wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford – Trees
grey & sky wormhole: Impression of Winter: Carriage on a Country Road, 1872
net curtains wormhole: keep the light off
passing wormhole: passing
roads wormhole: SPRING AND ALL XI by William Carlos Williams
sea wormhole: Fishermen at Sea, 1796
streets & writing wormhole: on facing the Have
time wormhole: somehow
Victorian houses wormhole: Victorian pipework
walking wormhole: blister on me thumb
windows wormhole: Dulwich College, London, 1871

 

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keep the light off

01 Tuesday Mar 2016

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

2013, awareness, field, glass, hedge, light, looking, mineral, movement, net curtains, outside, rain, rooftops, shadow, silhouette, society, suburbia, true nature, wind, windows

 

 

 

                                keep the light off

                part the net curtains
                                out through the window … stop
                                and look and
                                              really look
                                the shaggy silhouettes
                                high to the left long to the right
                                              bristle and lean
                                awhile the drives and avenues of rooftops
                                extend like fields and hedgerows hideously
                                              all accepting the rain (running down the glass)
                                              to reveal their two-tone

                                                                                    mineral nature

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

awareness wormhole: thick thick fog
field wormhole: the continental stride of trains
glass & rain & wind & windows wormhole: fine droplets / across the glass
hedge & shadow wormhole: finding my own true nature – Plumstead, Woolwich, 190915
light wormhole: 1966 … actually sic // of it allllll-bsssssssh – poewieview #8
looking & society wormhole: the sounds of 1969 // [would have] seemed that way – poewieview #13
net curtains wormhole: south horizon
rooftops wormhole: organ / sunlight in all our eyes – poewieview #11
silhouette wormhole: Soir Bleu, 1914

 

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south horizon

23 Friday Oct 2015

Posted by m lewis redford in poems, poeviews

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

1960s, 2015, black, Bowie, childhood, horizon, light, London, net curtains, rain, sound, south, white, windows

 

 

 

                                     south horizon

                                     through sash windows
                                     with no net curtains
                                     the light of washing lines
                                     and upright poles comes
                                     black ‘n’ white ‘n’ wet
                                     into the utility room
                                     keeping the sounds of
                                     London at bay

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

black wormhole: that comicbookshop in dreams,
Bowie wormhole: no exit
childhood wormhole: sit
horizon wormhole: dream 230315
light wormhole: de Boeddha // of light
London wormhole: corner of Plum Lane / Eglinton Hill and / Shrewsbury Lane
net curtains wormhole: the / very gradual art of sitting
rain & white wormhole: purple and mauve
sound wormhole: we play / the game
windows wormhole: Eridge – Cowden

 

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the / very gradual art of sitting

24 Friday Jul 2015

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

2013, air, art, breathing, breeze, dark, doors, horizon, listening, net curtains, non-doing, open, paint, sitting, sky, smell, sound, streetlight, talking to myself, time, true nature, windows, writing

 

 

 

write in the dark
write after time
write with the window open
not seeing what you write

breathe the air, listen to the
distant motorbike changing
through its gears getting
speed up, getting nowhere

and feel the breeze and feel
the goose bumps but don’t
see what you write even if
the lights opposite go on

or off, anyway let the clear sky
horizon return to their windows
with their eyes rolled up but
don’t look at what you write

smell the breeze through
netting and over paintwork,
the bike still gaining somewhere,
wait for each light to go out and

the last door to shut, then get up
from the cushion and bow deep
to your own true nature, the
very gradual art of sitting

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

air & breathing & open & windows wormhole: I do
breeze & listening wormhole: Exceat to Cuckmere Haven
doors wormhole: tag cloud poem VIII – growth
horizon wormhole: my life / of others
net curtains wormhole: a light rosé
sitting & talking to myself wormhole: now, have I forgotten anything
sky wormhole: Buddha / Shakyamuni
smell wormhole: earthed
sound wormhole: along
streetlight wormhole: silhouette: // second / thoughts
time wormhole: of a sudden // all the time
writing wormhole: lo

 

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a light rosé

28 Friday Nov 2014

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

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Tags

2013, 4*, attention, awareness, books, dark, flowers, glass, lamp, mindfulness, net curtains, practice, reading, red

 

 

 

                                              the practice
                                of reading about
                mindfulness
                                in a book        I paused and looked up
                                and noticed the wine-red net curtains
                with sequined flowers floating awry
                                before the smooth-dark glass
                                              all lit from behind me by the single standing lamp
                                with which to read –

                                              a light rosé
                                              when thirsty

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

attention & practice wormhole: – sigh! –
awareness wormhole: a gift
books wormhole: letters to Mum V – carrying on in duty and love
glass wormhole: Plumstead – Woolwich 121114
net curtains wormhole: oh-pen
reading wormhole: Jean Miller kissed Salinger
red wormhole: whirlpool

 

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oh-pen

05 Friday Sep 2014

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

2013, 5*, breathing, dark, glass, light, looking, net curtains, night, open, sky, stars, streetlight, streets, time, windows, writing

 

 

 

                                                                      oh-pen

                                   wide the net curtains see straight
                                   through the glass to the empty street

                                   open out the double-glazing window
                                   and breathe the night and the streetlamp

                                   stick out your head and gaze away
                                   from any light to wonder if there is any

                                   darkness between the always
                                   stepped ages of stars in the sky

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

breathing wormhole: Tulips by Sylvia Plath – How Far To Step Before You Raise The Other Foot
glass wormhole: St. Ludwigskirche
light wormhole: stuck free to move within
looking wormhole: I could step / more open
net curtains wormhole: transition
night wormhole: Bat-Shadow
open wormhole: tune up // baton taptaptap
sky wormhole: Batman#175
stars wormhole: star / through the kitchen / window
streetlight wormhole: ‘I can hear it raining / but cannot see it …’
streets wormhole: ‘like a piece of ice on a hot stove / the poem must ride on its own melting’
time wormhole: contemplating my painted copy / of Vallejo’s Conan
windows wormhole: sitting up in bed s i m u l t a n e o u s l y
writing wormhole: day off

 

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transition

23 Sunday Feb 2014

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

2012, 6*, blue, books, breeze, childhood, doubt, freedom, ghosts, hope, identity, letting go, life, lifetimes, light, net curtains, nostalgia, reading, seeing, self-compassion, settling, sitting, transition, windows, wood

 

 

 

                                              sitting puts you in transition
                                              with little notice and less place

                                              reading between the books
                                              falling short of the ‘faves’
                                              with a whiff of nostalgia
                                              for a quick shot of maybe
                                              cut loose and drifting
                                              have I made a mistake

                                              but free – if I can ride it –
                                              to see how the light
                                              through net curtains wafting
                                              long by the window is
                                              powder blue across the
                                              furniture wood of
                                              childhood

                                              as long as I remember
                                              not to stay there too long
                                              and embrace the stranger
                                              I have become to myselves
                                              and their life for all of my lives

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

blue wormhole: let
books wormhole: successive scenes in the autobiopera / conflict and resolution in each episode // credits: me me me me me
breeze & identity & life & net curtains wormhole: mlewisredford introductory complete life audit confessional
childhood wormhole: Knapps
ghosts wormhole: across the room / through the patio doors / through the conservatory windows / at the bottom of the garden / the still bifurcated trunk of / the oak / before the let-grown hair and fringes / of the fir tree / blown every lifetime in a while by the winter sun // actually
letting go wormhole: and
lifetimes wormhole: still there // above the / Dallin Road / allotments / looking high over the river and the city
reading wormhole: practising
seeing & wood wormhole: … still waving!
settling wormhole: in verse / question / m a r k ?
sitting wormhole; the Big Stage
windows wormhole: tired

 

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mlewisredford introductory complete life audit confessional

19 Wednesday Feb 2014

Posted by m lewis redford in announcements

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

2014, blogging, breeze, clock, doors, flower, green, identity, lamp, lemon, life, London, mauve, meaning, net curtains, offering, openness, orange, purpose, sitting room, speech, Victorian houses, white

OK my dears, because you are my blogee friends and do me the honour of wriggling through my petites ramblings where you have probably surmised that I am a weed flowering out of a piece of neglected land by a once-brightly painted wall (of a Victorian house) in sauff-eest London, I’m going to let you all into a little secret: I am a compulsive geek, a compulsive geek-weed flower.   In my solipcistic search for a bit of point amidst all the ground … I count everything.   I’m not particularly proud of it, it doesn’t really add up to much and I am starting to sit in order to make all the counting so transparent that I’ll see right through it to the purpose I was looking for all along anyway.   But on the way I have collected (almost arthritically) a bunch of data about all sorts of things which have shaped me into the paricular flowered weed that I have become (mauve-thin thorns with white tips, deepdark green leaves at the top of the stem, and small but long petals with deep lemon edges, white middle and the thinnest blood-orange corrola and spine).   I have whole lifetimes of top 10s/20s – and more? – of word and picture and tone and image, my whole culture wrapped, bagged, ticketed and stacked into a comfy armchair in a spacious and double-faceted sitting room by a standard lamp and a ticking clock somewhere, doors open, net curtains billowing.   Slighty.   Occasionally.

So.   At the end of the day (litralee – I’m not even jokinngg-ugh) I audit my day and assign MY MEASURE of how much I got out of everything I did or how well I did it.   Or not.   The measure will only make sense to me, but they are A measure of how much I have got out of them, so I will include the numbers for your comparification (if you get that far).   Not geeky enough for you?   OK, try this on for size: I started doing this counting in 1998 and still do it?   Not even bothered yet?   I audit household work, career work, what I do for my kids, what I do for my wider family, what I do for my wife, what I do in my spiritual practice and what I do for myself at the end of every day.   Yawn?   I put all my numbers onto a spreadsheet (once I figured out what spreadsheets were) and have now got ongoing averages and charts for everything I do, hear, think and eat!   Whp-p! I saw your eyes twitch then, I’m getting to you, aren’t I (I’m sorry, but I’m on a roll now).   How about, once I settled my spreadsheet: I inserted enough rows above March 1998 all the way back to 2nd November 1959.   Yes, YES: the day I was born!   Do you see; do you see what happens when you start to listen to a geek; do you see my awful power …?   And then I retroactively filled in all the data!.   Oh, whoh; phew, sheesh – what a load off my mind; if I smoked I’d be taking a long draw at the moment – hot air through the teeth, down the throat – and holding it wondering what adjective would do justice to what just happened.

Actually, I think this confession is doing far more for me than it will ever do for anyone else.   Nevertheless I will be sharing with you some of the countings I have like a toddler sharing the stickiest boiled sweet that I’d saved in my hand just for you even though I’d scoffed the rest myself.   It’s sharing, I suppose, and it’s as sincere as a 54 year old child can be.   I’ll call them “mlewisredford’s top ten _______ !” and provide my own commentary.   I’ll store them under ‘poeviews’.   So you’d better have a wet handkerchief handy, you never know when I might proffer a little fat arm upwards with large ‘lashed eyes sincerely unwavering.

Look out, now!

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

breeze & orange wormhole: wha’
doors wormhole: tired
green & London wormhole: still there // above the / Dallin Road / allotments / looking high over the river and the city
identity wormhole: I don’t think I could do it any more
leon wormhole: the library, / you know …
life & mauve wormhole: in verse / question / m a r k ?
meaning wormhole: adversely / mistaking the finger for the moon / again
net curtains wormhole: 3:30 am
openness wormhole: practising
sitting room wormhole: across the room / through the patio doors / through the conservatory windows / at the bottom of the garden / the still bifurcated trunk of / the oak / before the let-grown hair and fringes / of the fir tree / blown every lifetime in a while by the winter sun // actually
speech wormhole: inverse superhero
Victorian houses wormhole: Victorian bays / right angles and eaves
white wormhole: let

 

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3:30 am

28 Tuesday Jan 2014

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

'scape, 2012, 4*, awareness, combe end, hedge, light, net curtains, night, roads, sleep, stars, streetlight

 

 

 

                                3:30 am

                      can’t sleep

                      streetlight outside
                      is not working

                      streetlight from
                      the top of the road
                      makes the
                      well-kept hedges
                      geometrical
                      illumines the back
                      of my car like headlights

                      and through the net curtains
                      I notice stars like never before

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

awareness wormhole: too
combe end & roads wormhole: through the window
hedge wormhole: your gold teeth
light & net curtains wormhole: red net curtains / with appliqué blooms
night wormhole: inverse superhero
sleep wormhole: really
stars wormhole: half an hour
streetlight wormhole: 1965

 

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red net curtains / with appliqué blooms

13 Monday Jan 2014

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

'scape, 2012, 4*, blue, clouds, light, morning, net curtains, red, sun, walls, white, windows

 

 

 

                                   red net curtains
                                   with appliqué blooms

                           sun failing wholly
                           to shine through
                           the morning clouds
                           shifting like a quilt

                           but on the deep deep blue
                           wall the white borders
                           of the haphazardly hanged
                           pictures were light bright blue

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

blue wormhole: the library, / you know …
clouds wormhole: side / window
light wormhole: clouds
morning wormhole: father figure – triptych
net curtains wormhole: open / window
red wormhole: you are in uniform
sun wormhole: only
walls wormhole: Beresford Square: // it’s alright it’s alright
windows wormhole: window open

 

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← Older posts

… Mark; remember …

"... the impulse to keep to yourself what you have learned is not only shameful; it is destructive. Anything you do not give freely and abundantly becomes lost to you. You open your safe to find ashes." ~ Annie Dillard

pages coagulating like yogurt

  • Bodhisattvacharyavatara
    • Chapter 1
    • Chapter 10
    • Chapter 2
    • Chapter 3
    • Chapter 4
    • Chapter 5
    • Chapter 6
    • Chapter 7
    • Chapter 8
    • Chapter 9
    • Introduction
  • collected works
    • 25th August 1981 – count Up
    • askance From Hell
    • Batman
    • Bob 1995-2012
    • David Bowie Movements in Suite Major
    • Edward Hopper: Poems at an Exhibition
    • Eglinton Hill
    • FLOORBOARDS
    • Granada
    • in and out / the Avebury stones / can’t seem to get / a signal …
    • Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters]
    • Miller’s Batman
    • mum
    • nan
    • Portsmouth – Southsea
    • Spring Warwick breezes / over Bacharach fieldwork and boroughs with / the occasional shift and chirp of David / in the pastel-long morning of the sixties
    • The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford
    • through the crash
  • index
    • #A-E see!
    • F–K, wha’ th’
    • L-P 33 1/3 rpm
    • Q-T pie
    • U-Z together forever
  • me
  • others
  • poemics
  • poeviews
  • teaching matters
  • William Carlos Williams
  • wormholes

recent leaks …

  • “…and may the great elements…”
  • paisley // implicitly
  • this pocketed being
  • the inevitable tock // when we close our eyes
  • time
  • the simple prayer // the tattered poem // the bitter lament
  • taking birth
  • mirror
  • long / road
  • ‘in my car I pass…’

Uncanny Tops

  • me
  • Moebius strip
  • YOUNG WOMAN AT A WINDOW by William Carlos Williams
  • 'in my car I pass...'
  • 'the practice ...'
  • 'I can write ...'
  • like butterflies on / buddleia
  • meanwhile
  • 'hello old friend ...'
  • under the blue and blue sky

category sky

announcements awards embroidery poems poeviews reflectionary teaching

tag skyline

'scape 2* 3* 4* 5* 6* 7* 8* 20th century 1967 1979 1980 2008 2009 2010 2011 2012 2013 2014 2015 2016 2017 2018 2019 acceptance afternoon air Allen Ginsberg anxiety architecture arm in arm attention awareness Batman beach beauty bedroom being birds birdsong black blue Bodhisattvacharyavatara books Bowie branches breakdown breathing breeze brown Buddha buildings career Carol cars change child childhood children city clouds coffee shop colour combe end comics communication compassion compromise crane creativity curtains dancing dark death distraction divorce doing doors dream Dr Strange earth echo Edward Hopper Eglinton Hill emergence emptiness evening eyes faces family father feet field floorboards garden Genesta Road girl giving glass gold grass green grey growth haiku hair hands Have hedge hill hills history holiday hope horizon house houses identity kitchen leaf leaves lemon letting go life lifetimes light lime listening living London looking lost love management managerialism mauve meaning mind mist moon morning mother mouth movement Mum muse music night notice open openness orange others park passing pavement people performance management pink Plumstead poetry pointlessness politics portrait posture power practice professionalism purple purpose quiet rain reaching reading realisation reality red requires chewing river roads roof rooftops samsara sea searching seeing settling shadow shops silence silhouette silver sitting sky skyline sleep smell smile snow society sound space speech step stone streetlight streets sun sunlight superhero table talking talking to myself teaching teaching craft Thames thinking thought time train travelling trees true nature university voices walking walls water waves white William Carlos Williams wind windows wood Woolwich words work world writing years yellow zazen

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