• 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
  • poemics
  • poeviews
  • teaching matters
  • wormholes

mlewisredford

~ almost indefatigable and quietly militant naïveté …

mlewisredford

Tag Archives: sea

and ‘naerrgh’ a mention of a seagull’s call

21 Wednesday Feb 2018

Posted by m lewis redford in alladem poems

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

19th century, 2016, 20th century, 8*, access, air conditioning, alley, architecture, back, balcony, bay window, being, black, blindness, blue, burgundy, carlights, chimney stacks, clouds, compromise, contemplation, cross-section, distance, down, Eastbourne, eyes, facade, Ford Cortina, foreground, front, Have, height, hierarchy, history, hope, hotel, houses, inside, life, living, outside, passing, pier, pipes, privacy, prologue, promenade, sea, seagull, seeing, sky, society, sound, streetlight, sun, time, tree, up, Victorian houses, walking, walls, waves, white, windows

                and naerrgh a mention of a seagull’s call

                prologue

                the fetch of uneventful league to
                mingle with pier piles nonchalant;

                the borderline lightbulbs strung for
                decades between promenade lamp

                and stack of height and white façade
                of black-wrought balcony for where to stay

                setting

                frontage shows the way-to-look-
                ing blind to what is seen amid

                all the detail of hierarchy, eye
                turned to what it hopes, while

                rear windows, set central in
                the shapèd drop, look inward

                to find the fit to be; in time
                the rear extension of amenity

                cut fresh cross-sections of life
                turned 90° deep with windows

                unadorned; but then
                were added storey, creating alley

                to hidden access whenever
                contemplating the corners

                that encourage right angle
                where you can serve your

                down and truncating down-
                pipe blind to abutted wall

                perambulation

                                but, I’m in luck

                eye caught by extractor flaps
                in the foreground venting downwards

                venting upwards, sun neatly off
                the downpipes to the right

                on the left long-painted white pipes
                rusting, and between, a leafing tree

                undecided which way to lean
                the background, the monolith back

                of the seafront hotel, conditioning
                air; later, passing the backs of

                houses-become-their-own-entrance,
                seagulls perched at rest

                on the chimneys, I caught
                the tail of a reg-D Cortina with

                burgundy-deep fins and round
                tripartite lights, smaller

                than I remember

                epilogue

                oh, yes and a Persian-blue
                chimney stack with off-white pots

                under sky-blue sky
                and wisps of cloud

 

 

 

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

20th century wormhole: looking ahead
being wormhole: green and / luminant / to behold
black & blue & Have & living & passing & society & walking wormhole: Sheffield Park Gardens
burgundy wormhole: pine // gladioli // [&] wisteria
clouds wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J Redford – Working
compromise wormhole: after all
Eastbourne wormhole: city streets
eyes & life & seeing & time wormhole: 1964
history wormhole: looking / ridiculous
hotel wormhole: and // do your ears burn red?
promenade & sea wormhole: Bexhill 140215
seagull wormhole: do I
sky & white wormhole: travelling // arrival
sound & sun & windows wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – reaping
streetlight wormhole: ‘charcoal grey-slate sky …’
Victorian houses wormhole: red / lacquer / door
walls wormhole: certainly a Captain, / but not America
waves wormhole: place

 

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Bexhill 140215

17 Friday Nov 2017

Posted by m lewis redford in alladem poems

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1920s, 1935, 2015, 5*, ageing, balcony, Bexhill, de la Warr Pavilion, eating, grey, horizon, line, looking, model, photographer, poem, portrait, promenade, red, sea, sun, waiting, wife

                                Bexhill 140215

                                sugar blues necksweat
                                I need to manage what I eat
                                as I age
                sitting in the de la Warr Pavilion café est. 1935

                                looking for a poem
                                between the clean lines on the balcony,
                                … waiting
                for his wife, trying the zoom lens onto the promenade

                                of a photographer
                                trying positions of his model
                                in fashion-red
                hooded coat and flower heads on her hat from the 1920s

                                on the sun-grey sea
                                with wide horizon

 

 

 

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

grey & sun wormhole: Cocktails in 1951
horizon wormhole: ‘God, who am I …?’
looking wormhole: Plumstead – Woolwich – Plumstead 220211
promenade wormhole: London Hearts – poewieview #4
red wormhole: leaves
sea wormhole: concordance
waiting wormhole: just

 

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concordance

19 Tuesday Sep 2017

Posted by m lewis redford in alladem poems

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

2014, 7*, age, armour, discovery, Donald Fagen, expectation, eyes, flow, Gran Canaria, Have, holiday, identity, image, life, looking, music, passing, Salinger, sea, sitting, sun, Sylvia Plath, waves, writing

                                                                                                how to be
                                                                                in a holiday resort
                                                                where the Have is strolled
                                                and swaggered and tattoo’d
                                catching glance like after-image
                when the eyes are closed?

                                                                ~O___,

                                why aren’t I writing?            Well
                                                                I am
                but I was expecting to see something else when I wrote
                                the flow of another holiday
                                                rather than the
                                                                concordance
                                                that I have still yet to discover
                                in my writing eyes wide
                                                closed

                                                                ,___O~

                                                                certainly
                                                the sun and skin keep me
                                                                lapping without gain
                                                                and replaying the chorus from the ‘Nightfly’                
                                                                                unsure if I ever got the verse

                                                                ___“O”—

                                                                but nevertheless
                                                I still worry that I don’t write
                                                                as Plath and Salinger would lifefully so

                                                                I even know the answer
                                but I cannot sit at the moment,
                                                                I thought I had armour by the sea but it has

                                                                so quickly rusted
                                                and I’m overweight and 54 thinking
                                                                of illness and waste

 

 

 

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

eyes & Salinger wormhole: slightly / uphill
flow wormhole: happen//ing
Have wormhole: pass and / fro
holiday wormhole: holiday
identity wormhole: h’rk ‘eh ‘heh ‘hair ‘yeah ‘eh?
life wormhole: I turn to wake up
looking wormhole: Tara mantras
music wormhole: in the Java ‘n’ Jazz
passing wormhole: ‘someone …’
sea & sun & Sylvia Plath & waves & writing wormhole: jump start
sitting wormhole: woman / has worked in the gym / got a build

 

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jump start

11 Monday Sep 2017

Posted by m lewis redford in alladem poems

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

2014, 6*, alleys, bodies, exploration, faces, flesh, following, Gran Canaria, holiday, mind, nerve, sea, settling, sun, swimming, Sylvia Plath, thread, vista, waves, writing

                                                jump start

                sun-holiday can’t write
                                wanting to have written
                                                explore new alleyways find new vistas

                                                but the flesh
                is too blurbly and the faces too sneery
                                to settle my mind –

                                                                hanging stalks in the waves
                                                coming ashore
                                not coming ashore clinging to finger butt –

                that I cannot find a thread
and I cannot follow a nerve down to wherever it flinches
                                and tightens

                like Sylvia did in the
                                Letters for a Birthday
                                                at Yaddo

 

 

 

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

faces wormhole: so pleased to see you again
holiday wormhole: forgotten anything
mind wormhole: where it has taken birth / may it not decrease …
sea wormhole: wasted –
settling wormhole: in the / Citadel / Park / a leaf / new / ly fell
sun wormhole: the evening
Sylvia Plath wormhole: landscape of cloud over London / with differing depths of grey
waves wormhole: divergent // direction
writing wormhole: reating & wriding

 

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wasted –

29 Monday May 2017

Posted by m lewis redford in alladem poems

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

2013, 3*, being, doing, living, lost, sea, waste, waves

                                day spent
                                doing my
                                own thing
                day spent doing things for others, both

                                wasted –
                                I was not
                                there –
                lost in the shallows of the sea along the flat shoreline

 

 

 

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

being wormhole: nothing significant
doing wormhole: Salisbury Cathedral // suspended in everything
living wormhole: in the / Citadel / Park / a leaf / new / ly fell
sea wormhole: chartless …
waves wormhole: the bench

 

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chartless …

17 Wednesday Aug 2016

Posted by m lewis redford in alladem poems

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

1967, 2007, 5*, abandonment, business, career, children, comics, cult, Dad, family, groundlessness, isolation, land, life, lifestyle, music, people, poetry, private, relationship, religion, sea, searching, trauma

                                                                chartless …

                                … since 1967
                                no moorings no ports
                                my search for land
                                through comics poetry music religion
                                reclusive

                                … my own Dad
                                moored in music and
                                an ideal partner outside
                                his family his job his own business
                                reclusive

                                … people landlocked
                                from trauma have
                                houses and lifestyle
                                and children and soap and opera
                                all private

                                                … all susceptible to cults
                                and all of life is a
                fluid cult …

 

 

 

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

abandonment & Dad & family wormhole: what life went on
career wormhole: dry rot
comics wormhole: Doctor Strange I – the trashcan tilted the better to see now the street
groundlessness & searching wormhole: hello, luvvey, do you want a cup of tea?
life wormhole: passing skies
music wormhole: words tumble like / boulders – poewieview #25
people wormhole: even / a second
poetry wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – autumn
sea wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J Redford – Simon Upon The Downs

 

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The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J Redford – Simon Upon The Downs

04 Thursday Aug 2016

Posted by m lewis redford in asprinkalla prose

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

'scape, 1967, air, autumn, beauty, beech, blue, branches, breeze, brown, butterfly, child, clouds, countryside, cows, echo, eyes, field, finches, friends, green, hedge, hill, horizon, lark, leaf, leaves, life, meadow, Michael J Redford, morning, mouse, October, orange, parents, red, sea, seagull, sky, solitude, South Downs, space, sun, the Boats of Vallisneria, thought, trees, village, walking, white, wind, windows, yellow

While staying with some friends at their South Downs home one autumn, I espied their six year old son Simon making off across the meadow at the foot of the hill.   Having been asked to keep an eye on their offspring while they went into town, I took up my walking stick and opened the back door.   As I stepped into the sun, I recalled those beautiful hours many years ago when I first walked the slippery grass of the Downs alone and first became aware of their warmth and their beauty.   For this reason I remained at a discreet distance and kept well out of sight, not wishing to intrude upon the boy’s apparent solitude.   I relived those distant moments with this young child, wondering if his thoughts were parallel with mine.

It was a mid October morning, one of those rare mornings when each distant leaf and twig is etched with startling clarity against the pure motionless air.   A faint haze of cloud occupied the northern sky, yet immediately above, the heavens were of such a blue that, even as he gazed, young Simon’s eyes ached at the brilliance of it.

The hedgerows were beginning to thin a little so that he could just make out the faded stubble beyond.   Haw berries were in profusion and were difficult to distinguish from the leaves, many of which had turned a deep russet brown.   He climbed to the brow of the hill, crossed to the stile in the far corner of the meadow and paused.   This was the furthest he had ever been by himself.   He knew this meadow fairly well for he could see it from his bedroom window.   This is where the big brown cows file slowly by in the drowsy summer afternoons and where, if you are lucky, you can see the rabbits scurrying about in the hollow down by the thicket.

He turned and peered over the stile into a new land, a land of sharp prickly stubble and straw bales stacked in towers across the field like an army marching down upon the red roofed village below.   A cloud of finches rose from the ground, as if the boy’s sweeping gaze was of material substance, touching the birds and startling them from their gleaning.   The land sloped gently away to the village and there levelled out to the broad patchwork weald cradled within the gentle curve of the downs upon which he stood.

Never had the young boy seen such a view, its beauty being enriched by his apparent solitude.   Here, high upon the downs, he was a giant surveying his kingdom and strode the browning fields to the horizon counting them as he went.   He came to love the scene dearly as the years went by, often returning later in life to relax in the spaciousness of it; to release his mind, his very soul, to soar high above, around and within and become part of this spacious beauty.

He clambered over the stile and made his way along the headland.   He liked walking upon stubble because it crackled and popped beneath his feet and trapped air burst forth from the hollow stems.   The day seemed a little warmer now and somewhere high above, a lark sprinkled the field with song.   Then a rustling in the hedgerow close by brought Simon’s gaze to rest upon the tiniest mouse he had ever seen.   It was the little creature’s white waistcoat that gave him away, for his yellow-orange jacket blended so with the coloured leaves about him, yet, even as he looked, the twinkling eyes and quivering nose disappeared.   He dropped to his knees and squinted between the leaves.   One leaf in particular caught his eye.   It was noticeable by the fact that one side of the central rib was of a deep chocolate brown colour while the other side remained green, and on the underside of the brown half each tiny artery and vein was etched clearly in red.   Plucking the leaf, the boy rolled over onto his back and looked up through the overhang of the hedge and on up through the branches of a great beech tree to the sky beyond.

At the zenith the azure had deepened and was of great and wonderful contrast to the coloured leaves about him.   He was conscious of the great depth above him yet lifted his arms to touch it, his fingers tracing the graceful boughs above.   And there, framed within his outstretched arms, within that riot of dazzling colour, he became aware of life, all life, from the very earth upon which he lay to the cosmic depths his fingertips caressed.   He became aware of its vitality, its beauty and its warmth.   And the young boy gazed in awe and wondered.

He loved the countryside and the old cottage where he lived with his kindly parents and he looked forward to the walks and picnics they took together.   But here was a new experience.   For the first time in his young life, Simon was away from home and alone.   The great hill and reared itself between him and the little cottage cutting off all visual contact with things familiar.   Suddenly, it was as if the countryside belonged to him, it became as intimate and close as his own loving parents.   As he gazed above with half closed eyes, the blue sky poured down its warmth upon him; the mild breeze lifted his fair hair and tickled his forehead and the Red Admiral butterfly danced for him and him alone.   This was indeed his land.   He rolled over and hugged the earth close to him, clutching handfuls of dried leaves.   Tomorrow he would discover a new land beyond the shoulder of the downs and perhaps one day he would even reach that distant ring of trees.   But not now, for there was a touch of urgency in the falling leaves and the echo of a gull circling far out above the sea, filtered through the wind to tell him it was time he was on his way.   So, with a twig of deep red leaves for his mother’s vase clasped tightly in his small fist, the boy arose and turned once more to the hill.

How sad thought I, is the cry of a gull, or was it merely the mood I was in that made it appear so, for echoes of the past, no matter how happy, are always tinted with sadness.   Following the young explorer I thought up these few lines:

                Hark to the seagull’s urgent cry
                Which faster leaps than body flies,
                Leaps from the soul, bounds o’er the tree –
                Crowned beasts alone above the sea.
                Then down upon the ewe-cropped sward,
                Through rabbit’s hollow, shaded run,
                Along the white and winding track
                And up once more into the sun.
                And on the salty wind that sighs,
                The fading cry looks o’er the sea
                To see its birthplace glistening white
                And wheeling, circling, ever free.

 

read the collected work as it is published: here

 

 

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

air & blue & eyes & green & sky wormhole: weight of high sash windows – poewieview #33
autumn wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] by Mark L. Redford – autumn
beauty wormhole: Doctor Strange II – … things are the same again
branches & leaves wormhole: Is There / Life on Mars? – poewieview #32
breeze & clouds & horizon & trees wormhole: carpet worn / to the backing – poewieview #30
brown & space wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] by Mark L. Redford – moment
child wormhole: The Boats of Vallesneria by Michael J. Redford – Autumn Thoughts
echo & field & thought wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] by Mark L. Redford – from arm to nature, doing nothing
hedge & morning wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford – Olly
life wormhole: even / a second
orange wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] by Mark L. Redford – the soft canticle of the gourds:
red & walking wormhole: my seat // now
sea wormhole: Le Pont des Arts, 1907
seagull wormhole: the missing chord // the now-silent seagull
sun wormhole: trellis / and wisteria – poewieview #29
white wormhole: ‘hope for things to come’
wind wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford – A Precious Moment
windows wormhole: magnetic field
yellow wormhole: Doctor Strange III – the needs of billions

 

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Le Pont des Arts, 1907

09 Monday Nov 2015

Posted by m lewis redford in alladem poems, poeviews

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

1907, 2015, air, bridge, cream, Edward Hopper, grey, lemon, morning, Paris, passing, river, sea, sky, steel, sunlight, walking, wind, years

 

 

 

                           Le Pont des Arts, 1907

                           in 1907 girders were made
                           curved to span a river in
                           tempered sprung, perched
                           across pillars, a taut hold
                           of tonnage letting the

                           frozen strain of arched
                           air through which to sea,
                           allowing the first parting
                           for cream sunlight to
                           wash the quays a new day,

                           holding up ridiculous Way
                           for passers-over blown
                           full against over-clothes
                           regalia by the fithery grey
                           sky preparing lemon

 

 

 

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

air & grey & wind wormhole: sooner or later
bridge & Paris wormhole: The Louvre in a Thunderstorm, 1909
Edward Hopper & years wormhole: Western Motel, 1957
lemon wormhole: that comicbookshop in dreams,
morning wormhole: Morning in a City, 1944
passing wormhole: all along the blue sky
river wormhole: Bodiam Castle
sea wormhole: dream 230315
sky wormhole: hungry for a thread or two
sunlight wormhole: sit
walking wormhole: Sunday afternoon

 

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dream 230315

18 Tuesday Aug 2015

Posted by m lewis redford in alladem poems

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

2015, airport, beach, business, Carol, Charlotte, dream, horizon, identity, leisure, life, lightning, looking, morning, Mum, plane, sea, station, sunshine, talking, time, town, train, walking, windows, Woolwich, work

 

 

 

                                                      dream 230315

                           walking through town in a Woolwich
                           cleaned timeless on a sunny morning

                           into the clinic along Powis Street on time
                           for my eventual appointment in life;

                           the first client amid the beginning-of-day
                           chat, dispersal into action behind screens;

                           she sits on the settee, I sit on the swivel
                           chair; she looks at me       assessing, I feel

                           good in my natty casual clothes; she cannot
                           speak, tries several times, she consults a

                           colleague; they are surprised, the consultation
                           becomes a sit-down party, I, fade from the

                           scene … walking about the seaside town, the
                           preparations for the coming day of all the

                           business and the leisure to be made from it –
                           hand-painted lettering in bleary windows a

                           metal stand is handed down to the beach
                           showing the way to the after-dinner boat

                           trip (where will it moor?); the water is full
                           of junked buoys, slimey and sun-faded; a sea

                           plane passes overhead up the beach – no help –
                           a huge helijet comes in low – gigantic – heading

                           for the airport – airport? – falling, she’s
                           too big for the town, nose-diving, disappears

                           into collapse like a building with plumes
                           of columns and lightning on the horizon;

                           Carol and the kids; I run to where I left them,
                           not at the station, no entry; but here is

                           Charlotte, only 6; train is leaving town,
                           Charlotte has gone, I cannot see Carol;

                           I run down the platform to say goodbye,
                           she turns to face me; she is Mum

 

 

 

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

beach & morning & time wormhole: that comicbookshop in dreams,
Carol & looking wormhole: recline
Charlotte wormhole: ‘my Dot …’
dream & windows & work wormhole: Evening Wind, 1921
horizon wormhole: the / very gradual art of sitting
identity wormhole: it is complete
life wormhole: Detective Comics #345
lightning wormhole: footfall
Mum wormhole: heirloom – break / after heavy shower
sea wormhole: Buddha / Shakyamuni
talking wormhole: you can only smell the candles / when they have been snuffed out
train wormhole: travelling
walking wormhole: earthed
Woolwich wormhole: Jackie’s slight smile

 

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Buddha / Shakyamuni

10 Friday Jul 2015

Posted by m lewis redford in alladem poems

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

2014, blue, Buddha, cliffs, Gran Canaria, mantra, progress, sea, shadow, Shakyamuni, sky, sun, swimming

 

 

 

                                Buddha
                            Shakyamuni

                                no matter
                the progress I thought I made
                paddling on my back away from
                the cliff head to the sun

                                the point
                at which the bluffs and crags
                the face-shapes and scars
                exposed-cracked shadowed-clean
                distant distinct and clear

                                met
                the sheer sky from top to bottom
                                didn’t shift
                                at all

                om muni muni maha muniye soha

 

 

 

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

blue & sky wormhole: Bodiam Castle
Buddha & sun wormhole: ambling around / the garden centre
sea wormhole: ‘discution poli / d’orage …’
shadow wormhole: library: start where you are IV // all the distance I have travelled!

 

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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
  • wormholes

recent leaks …

  • {Ellen Terry’s house}
  • skeins of candy pink and lilac
  • so where have I got:
  • polystyrene / boulderscape
  • to arms, then;
  • TWIMC; FYI; NB and cop an ‘earful of this
  • the turtle and the yoke
  • stuck in lower realm
  • perspective
  • where did the silence go

Uncanny Tops

  • Moebius strip
  • me
  • 'I can write ...'
  • covert being
  • like butterflies on / buddleia
  • 'hello old friend ...'
  • To my Mum
  • start where you are I
  • amid
  • 'I wanted to write a poem'

category sky

alladem poems announcements asprinkalla prose awards poeviews teaching

tag skyline

'scape 2* 3* 4* 5* 6* 7* 8* 9* 20th century 1930s 1959 1960s 1961 1963 1964 1965 1966 1967 1968 1969 1970 1970s 1971 1972 1973 1974 1975 1976 1977 1978 1979 1980 1981 1982 1983 1984 1985 1986 1987 1988 1989 1991 1992 1993 1994 1995 1996 1997 1998 1999 2004 2005 2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2012 2013 2014 2015 2016 2017 2018 abandonment abdomen acceptance accountability achievement adjustment advert Africa afterlife afternoon age ageing agenda air airport Alan Moore alcohol Allen Ginsberg alley allowing amber ambition America Amitabha Amsterdam anatta angel anger angle anxiety apartment appearence apple apricot architecture arrival art Ashdown Forest assessment for learning attention authority autumn Avengers avenue awareness awkward balance balcony bark bass bathroom Batman bay window beach Beatles beauty becoming bed bedroom beech beer beige being Belgium belief bells bench Beresford Square bicycle Big Picture biography birch bird birds birdsong Birmingham birth birthday black black bat blackbird blindness block blogging blood blossom blue blue bat blues Bodhichitta bodhisattva Bodhisattvacharyavatara body books bookshop boundary Bournville Bowie boy branches breakdown breakfast breasts breath breathing breeze brick bridge Brighton broken brother brown Brussels Buddha buddleia building buildings bureaucracy burgundy Burt Bacharach bus bushes business butter butterfly cafe Canary Wharf cancer cape capitalism care career carlights Carol car park carpet cars Castleton cat cathedral cause and effect ceiling Central Park centrifugal centripetal chair change chaos charcoal Charlotte Chenrezig child childhood children chimney chimney stacks Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche choice chords Christmas church cigar cigarette circle circular poem city class click clock clothes clouds coffee coffee shop cognitive hierarchy colour columns combe end comics communication compassion compromise connection conservatory consistency consume consumerism contemplation copper beech corner cornice corridors cottage countryside courage cowl cows CPD crane cream creation creativity crow Crowborough crying Cuckmere Haven cuckoo curtains cypress Dad dancing Daredevil dark Darmstadt daughter dawn death decades decision dedication defeat defining democracy depression desert desire despair detachment detail dialectic dialogue dining room Dionne Warwick direction disappearance discernment discipline discovery discussion disempowerment dissolving distance distraction divorce dog doing doors Dormammu doubt drawing dream dress drips driving drops Dr Strange drum dust duty dwelling Dylan earrings earth east Eastbourne eating echo economics Eda Eddie Campbell edge education educational behaviourism Edward Hopper effort eggs Eglinton Hill Eiffel Tower electric ellipsis elm embarrassment emergence Emma Peel emptiness empty encounter endeavour Enlightenment ennui Eternity Europe evaluation evening existence expectation experience exploitation expression eyebrow eyes facade face faces faith fall falling family fate father fear feeling feet fence field fields film finding finger fingers fir fire flag flagpole floodlights floorboards flow flower flowers fly flying fog footsteps forest form found fracture Frank Miller freedom friends friendship From Hell frustration furniture future game garden gaze Gene Colan generation Genesta Road gentleness Geshe Kelsang getting ground ghosts girl giving glance glass glasses God gods gold gorse government grain Granada Gran Canaria grass gravity green Greenwich Park grey ground groundlessness growing growth guilt guitar guru gutter habit haiku hair hands handshake happiness harvest hats Have hawthorne Haywards Heath head hearing heart heat hedge height Herbert Road Herstmonceux Castle hidden hierarchy high hill hills Hillside history holiday home honesty hope horizon horizontal horse Horsham hospital hotel house houses housing estate Howl Hulk humanity humour hurt husband hyperbole ideas identity illness illusion image impermanence importance inclusion Infantino infrastructure injustice ink inside insight inspiration institution interdependent origination iron isolation ivy jazz jewel John Joker Jon Joni Mitchell Joseph journey joy justice karma Katie kiss kitchen knowing knowledge Kos lamp lamp post land landscape language lark laugh laughing lawn laziness leaf leaning learning learning objective leaves legacy legs Leicester leisure lemon lesson planning letter letting go Lewes library life lifetimes light lightning lilac lime line listening living living room LoJong London loneliness looking loss lost love madness magazine management managerialism Manhattan Manjushri mantra marble markbook market maroon marriage married Mars mauve meadow meaning measure meditation memorial memory message metaphor Michael J Redford middle way mind mindfulness mint mirror mist moment money moon moonlight morality Morecambe morning mother mother sentient beings motorway mountain mouse mouth movement Mr Magoo muddy Mum muse music naked name Nan National Curriculum nature naïveté Neal Adams neck net curtains newsagent New York night Nightmare noise non-doing non-striving nose notebook nothing notice now numbers oak obligation observation ochre offer offering OFSTED olive open opening openness orange organic education orgasm others outcome-led education outside owl page pain paint painting parent parenting parents Paris park passing pastel path patience pattern pavement Pema Chödrön Penguin people perception performance performance management perspective petals petrol philosophy phone photograph piano pigeon pigeons pine pink pipe pipes placement plane planet planets planning plants play Plumstead Plumstead common pocket poem poessay poetry point pointlessness politics pool portrait possibility posture potential power powerlessness power lines practice Prajnaparamita prayer precision presumption pride Priory privacy process production professional development professionalism profile progress promenade pub public service public service cuts publishing puddle pupils puppet purple purpose question questioning questions quiet radio railtrack rain rainbow Ramsden Heath reaching reading realisation reality rebirth reblog recognition red red bat reflection reggae regret relationship relaxing release relief religion remembering renunciation resource responsibility results-led education retirement returning rhetoric rhyme rhythm Riddler ripple river roads Roan School for Boys Robin rock role roof rooftops room roots rose roses running rust sadness Salinger samsara sand sandstone sandwich satisfaction Saturday saxophone school sea Seaford seagull searching seasons secret seeds seeing self self-compassion self-containment self-love September settling shade shadow shamatha-vipashyana shame Shantideva shape shelf shift ship shirt Shooters Hill shop shops shoulders Shrewsbury Park Shunryu Suzuki Roshi sidewalk sight significance silence silhouette silver singing sitting sitting room skin sky skyline sleep slogans smell smile smoke snow society son song sound south Southsea space sparrows speaking speech speed spell Spiderman spontaneity spotlights Spring square squirrel stairs standing Stan Lee staring starlings stars state station statistics statue staying steel Steely Dan step Steve Ditko Steve Englehart stillness stone stopped storm story Strange Tales streetlight streets stress strike striving struggle stucco study suburbia suffering summer sun Sunday sunlight sunset superhero Superman supermarket superpower survival swimming sycamore Sylvia Plath table tag cloud poem talking talking to myself Tara targets tarmac taste taxi tea teachers teaching teaching art teaching craft tears teeth telephone lines terrace texture Thames the Boats of Vallisneria the British Empire Thich Nhat Hanh thinking Thor thought thread throat thunder tide tie time tin tired toes tonglen town traffic traffic lights tragedy train transition transmission travelling tree trees truck true nature trumpet truth tulip Tunbridge Wells turquoise tv twilight typewriter UB40 Uckfield-London line ultimate reality Ulverston uncle understanding universe university up vague valley value value-bled education value-led education values vanity velvet venetian blinds vermillion vertical viaduct Victorian houses view village vindication vision vista vocation voices vow waiting waking walking walls walnut wandering wanting war warp watching water waves weather weeds weft weight whale wheat white wife will William Carlos Williams willow wind windows windscreen wine winter wires wisdom woman wonder wood Woodbrooke woodland Woolwich words work workload world writing years yellow zazen Zen
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