• 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: tea

good going into / that gentle night

18 Wednesday Oct 2017

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

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Tags

2014, 6*, beauty, being, death, evening, kitchen, letter, life, light, Mum, night, sky, sleep, tea, time, twilight, windows

                good going into
                that gentle night

                I’d have a cup of tea
                except it’s evening
                and I wouldn’t sleep
                so I just went ahead
                and did the dishes

                the light was fading
                so I cleaned them
                there in the twilight
                and by the time
                they were done,
                the dishes the sky
                the kitchen window
                and the woman in
                the hospital bed 16
                years ago were all
                of the same nature

                … and now I’m back
                to say how beautiful
                the evening is …

 

originally posted in the comments section to https://mlewisredford.wordpress.com/2014/08/08/letters-to-mum-iii-ongoing-term-eventually/ in response to – and using – Jana Smith’s lovely comments, 150814

 

 

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

beauty wormhole: reating & wriding
being wormhole: circuitry
death & kitchen wormhole: lesson from watching two crane flies work the evening / skating across the panes flying and pushing legs grappling / the glass crossing repulsive over themselves and clinging akimbo / for a rest until lifeless just to get their stickly bodies through to the light
evening wormhole: the evening
letter wormhole: duty free // chastened
life wormhole: concordance
light & sky wormhole: between
Mum wormhole: south horizon
night wormhole: the silent night of the Batman
sleep wormhole: lime crocs
tea wormhole: hello, luvvey, do you want a cup of tea?
time wormhole: clear as vista
twilight wormhole: twilight / and parasols down / within minutes
windows wormhole: slightly / uphill

 

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hello, luvvey, do you want a cup of tea?

09 Tuesday Aug 2016

Posted by m lewis redford in announcements

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

1992, black, blue, brown, cave, cliff, clothes, coat, doors, echo, eyes, falling, green, grey, groundlessness, growth, home, house, identity, Joe, kitchen, light, mauve, mist, mother, path, pink, planet, pointlessness, quotidian, red, school, searching, silence, sky, sound, story, streets, tea, time, voices, waves, world, wormhole, yellow

every day David would come home from school, and his mum would ask him how it went and he would say it was fine although he always wondered to himself what it would be like if he had a day at school which was worthwhile, and whether he would notice it if it happened; then he would have a cup of tea which his mum made him and he would do a hundred other similar things until he went to bed that night; and he wondered why it was that he had been doing this for years without any change when he noticed that the path leading to his front door didn’t in fact lead to his front door anymore but ownwards like a cliff-path, under the house and curling away into what seemed like a great underground cavern which was so big that it was like a world and the celing was so high that it seemed like a sky, although you could see it; his house was just there on a ledge on the side of a huge cliff, the street where he lived just wasn’t there, anymore; “do you want a cup of tea, luvvey?” sang his Mum from the kitchen window; “in a minute, Mum, I’m a little, busy, at the moment, I’m looking for the town where I used to live”; “OK, dear, but don’t stay out too long”; “Aaaaaaaargh!!!” said David, for quite a few minutes when he missed his footing on a pebble and fell over the edge of the path and down, a surprisingly long way without bumping into the side of the cliff at all, when he started realising that it was pointless – and a little silly really – him saying “Aaaaargh” when there was no one in possible sight anywhere around in this huge cave, what was the point, in saying anything?, so he stopped, but, as he looked below him, he could see, gradually, more clearly, a great blueness coming into sight as he fell, as if clearing through mist, with green patches, here and there, and yellow and grey streaks, and some more waves if you really looked; and David began thinking how pointless it was to describe the sea as “blue” when if you really looked you could see all sorts of colours in it, and he set himself the challenge of trying to find, really different colours that you wouldn’t expect to find in the sea, and after a while – as he fell and fell for ages as if he had jumped from an aeroplane – he saw a pink which quickly turned into a bit of red then mauve then blue and then the sleeve of the old man shifted as he took the pot off the fire to serve up the tea and the colours of his coat changed again in the half-light so that David couldn’t tell if it was black or brown or blue, anyway he was looking forward to his tea because it smelt richer and thicker than he had noticed it before but the man wasn’t offering him any and poured himself a cup only, besides David noticed that the man was growing larger but that the room wasn’t getting cramped by him; the man was now, probably, fifty feet tall and the sounds of his moving coat and his supping of the tea were starting to sound echoey; oh, no, it was David! he seemed to be shrinking, faster and faster, his clothes had long since ceased to be on him but around him and then he was lost in a huge valley between his shirt collar and the shoulder of his shirt and then there was a small hole at his feet which grew quickly so that he clung to one side of it to stop himself falling in but the edge of the hole became thicker and flatter so that it was smooth and there was nothing more to hold onto, so he wasn’t holding anymore, and he expected himself to be falling, but everything around him just seemed to be going away from him in all directions into blackness, when from out from nothing something seemed to come towards him, huge, with great speed, that he expected it to make a great rushing sound but it didn’t, it was totally silent, it was a planet, a planet so big that it make his legs wobble, coming straight for him, getting larger and larger so that it filled everywhere around him but it never seemed to hit, so he closed his eyes; after a while he told himself that he may as well see the End so he opened his eyes and the planet was gone, there were just dancing lights zipping round and round him so quickly that if he looked back along where they came from they would whip round so quick that he would see them a hundred times every inch he moved his eyes and eventually they went so fast he could just see bands of light surrounding him; as he travelled toward the centre, and the front door opened, the sun, which was low and had caught in the glass in the door and sent a dazzling piece of light straight into his eye, whizzed halfway around the horizon and disappeared behind some trees and the houses opposite and his Mum’s face, “hello, luvvey, do you want a cup of tea?”

 

written for my eldest child when he was young

 

 

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

black & mother wormhole: Doctor Strange III – the needs of billions
blue & eyes & sky wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – gull circling out at sea
brown & echo & red & yellow wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J Redford – Simon Upon The Downs
doors wormhole: El Palacio, 1946
green & mist & sound & voices wormhole: 1967
grey & kitchen wormhole: weight of high sash windows – poewieview #33
groundlessness & pointlessness wormhole: Jericho
house wormhole: tag cloud poem IX – haiku is awkward / the more that is left in / like uncombed hair
identity & world wormhole: lonely and free
light wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford – A Precious Moment
mauve & pink wormhole: my seat // now
path wormhole: 50 mph
school wormhole: Teaching career: much like Monet’s ‘Impression: soleil levant’ or, in the long run, de Chirico’s ‘The Red Tower’
searching wormhole: substance
silence & streets wormhole: Life on Mars? – poewieview #31
time wormhole: even / a second
waves wormhole: inbreath

 

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work

08 Sunday May 2016

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

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1978, contemplation, dressing gown, garden, Genesta Road, leaves, lifetimes, morning, Nan, night, patchwork, seasons, self-effacement, selflessness, sun, tea, time, work

 

 

genesta garden

 

                           my grandmother’s
                           multi-coloured patchwork gown;

                           she climbed the garden steps
                           at night and stood

                           contemplating
                           work done work to be done

                           in the morning
                           the sun was on the leaves

                           and glinted off the mug of tea
                           she’d been drinking

 

my ‘grandmother’ was Gladys Charlotte Conlay who lived a life of work for all her families, without guile or motive, between 1906 and 1989; the garden was in ‘Genesta Road’ – her last home which she made with her divorced daughter and her two grandsons

 

nan

 

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

garden & night wormhole: Michael Redford: triptych
Genesta Road wormhole: new garden
leaves wormhole: dog bark
lifetimes wormhole: a theremin note – poewieview #21
morning wormhole: nothing to say
Nan wormhole: finding my own true nature – Plumstead, Woolwich, 190915
sun wormhole: b / r / e / a / t / h / i / n / g
tea wormhole: Automat, 1927 – held
time wormhole: the both passive and transitive / non-presumptive pre-conceptualist attenuation of being
work wormhole: Teaching career: much like Monet’s ‘Impression: soleil levant’ or, in the long run, de Chirico’s ‘The Red Tower’

 

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Automat, 1927 – held

07 Monday Dec 2015

Posted by m lewis redford in poems, poeviews

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

1927, 2015, dark, Edward Hopper, evening, light, outside, tea, thought, time, windows, years

 

 

 

                                                              Automat, 1927

                                and so it came to evening
                                where all outside became

                                the dark of window
                                zipped by serried flanks of light

                                held in time
                                for tea – for long moments

                                gone cold while last thoughts
                                echoed back through canyons

                of event

 

the first of a triptych tucked quietly within an anterior quadriptych

 

 

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

Edward Hopper & years wormhole: Soir Bleu, 1914
evening wormhole: the windmill
light wormhole: the breath of London
tea wormhole: I can say / that I do all sorts of dance
thought wormhole: ‘from under the awning …’
time wormhole: 08:55
windows wormhole: bougainvillea

 

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I can say / that I do all sorts of dance

11 Tuesday Aug 2015

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

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Tags

2012, blink, Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche, dancing, identity, living, notice, rejoinder, tea, youth

 

 

 

                                                              I can say
                                              that I do all sorts of dance

                                but actually
                I just sit round the edge
                                              and wish I wasn’t there at all
                                collecting juxtapositions

                you asked me to dance*
                                but I only really know to dance
with a twist of notice
                                              and a blink of linger …

                                as I wandered
                through the days thinking of rejoinder
                                I stirred a cup of tea
                                              the bag twirled
                                and clung to the spoon
                                but I kept on
                stirring more slowly about the edge
                                and the bag
just spun at first then trailed
                                even after I lifted out the spoon
                and added milk

Student: Is it that hope and fear have to fade away before the –
Trungpa Rinpoche: before the dance can take place. Yes, definitely.
Student: What you’re saying is that you have to take the first step …
Trungpa Rinpoche: Yes, you have to be pushed into it …
Student: Are you pushing?
Trungpa Rinpoche: I think so**

 

* I started writing this with Sarah Jane Jacobson who used to run a blog on WordPress; I kept on demurring that she was too young and energetic for me, so it came to nothing; I’ve just re-found my parts and doodled with them bittersweetly
** selected exchanges between Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche and students during the Crazy Wisdom Seminar at Jackson Hole, Wyoming, December 1972 (compiled into ‘Crazy Wisdom‘, Shambhala, 1991, page 35)

 

 

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

Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche wormhole: first a mishap then clear vision
dancing wormhole: sight / seeing
identity wormhole: Detective Comics #345
living wormhole: the endless acts of life
tea wormhole: dawn

 

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dawn

24 Wednesday Dec 2014

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

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1980, 5*, abandonment, breakfast, cars, dawn, eggs, emergence, fir, motorway, night, passing, radio, sound, streetlight, tea, travelling

 

 

 

                                dawn

                                the cabin-loggy

                                ===============
                               !! bacon-burger bar !!
                                ===============

                                blumbered from the crackly radio

                flat fried eggs blupped onto the bonnet from the tree-lamps
                                down the middle of the motorway

                and as the spikey-fine fir trees flinked some white silliness
                                into my piping-hot tea –

                “Whappo” said the tatty tyres slapping the tarmac
                                over the hills and far away

 

 

 

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

abandonment wormhole: ‘“Never,” said the Sandman; / he blinked …’
cars & passing wormhole: Plumstead – Woolwich – Plumstead 290508 – / the breath of London
dawn & night & sound & streetlight wormhole: the silent night of the Batman
emergence wormhole: glass
fir wormhole: sounds // suddenly / stop
motorway wormhole: we // walk
radio wormhole: King of the World
tea wormhole: smiling
travelling wormhole: sometimes

 

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smiling

19 Wednesday Nov 2014

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

2013, 4*, alcohol, beauty, Brussels, cafe, clothes, love, passing, people, posture, smile, step, tea, walking

 

 

 

                           at the café by the Grand Place
                           on the terrace by passing people

                                     smiling
                           I take a sip of lemon tea

                           for I do not drink alcohol
                           to notice beauty of tired-step

                           out of tick with neck-tock
                           the elbow-pull of shirt-wide fin across the back

                           and the variety of toe-plant matched
                           reassuring to the heel lift-flip

                           to have a good time

 

 

 

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

beauty wormhole: Dr Strange II – … things are the same again
love & passing & people & smile & walking wormhole: Plumstead – Woolwich 121114
posture wormhole: should is good when / too used to cruise
tea wormhole: a cup of tea, gov

 

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a cup of tea, gov

25 Monday Aug 2014

Posted by m lewis redford in announcements, poems

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

2014, 4*, anniversary, blue, Carol, Gran Canaria, love, morning, pink, portrait, sea, sky, sound, speech, sun, table, tea, terrace

 

 

 

                      she’s ‘roughed out an essay’
                                   on the terrace table
                      while the sky rose blue and distinguished itself
                                   from the sea
                      now she squeaks about the apartment
                                   in pink crocs
                      as the sun appears from over the cliffs behind making
                                   a cup of tea, gov

 

on the happy 33rd anniversary of that growing contract between us, exempting itself from all clauses that never have been needed had they been made anyway, through sheer maturation; we are almost organic, now …

 

 

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

blue & sky & sun wormhole: I could step / more open
C wormhole: happy birthday, my love
love wormhole: letters to Mum IV – healing comes in smiling
morning & sea & sound wormhole: !
pink wormhole: on sitting / in front of / a hedge
speech wormhole: letters to Mum III – ongoing-term // eventually
table wormhole: swifts test the chasm of sky
tea wormhole: again

 

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again

23 Thursday Jan 2014

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

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Tags

2012, 7*, acceptance, blogging, breathing, compassion, conservatory, dancing, emptiness, fly, identity, lifetimes, living, lost, love, markbook, movement, name, paint, poetry, publishing, realisation, recognition, self-containment, sitting, talking to myself, tea, teaching, thought, wood, writing

 

 

 

                                … ohpe!
                there it goes again
tens of hours of shaping and formatting a piece
                and placing it and checking it
                                no hits

                timely reminder
                                again
that I have rather seeped into publishing of late
                like gloss paint dried into wood-grain
                                making me all used up
                and no air for writing
                                no air for living or sitting

                                again

                same as with markbook
                                years past
                the same as with anything
that can find my way through the anonymity and overlook
                                enough
                to become identified
                                and then flog it
                flog it for all its worth
well why not flog it for all its worth
                                because it puts all my eggs into one basket
                and baskets these days
                                are one among a million

                —o—

interlude

                the fly
that was annoying me in the too hot conservatory is now
                gracefully
                circling
in the pint of peppermint tea I was letting cool
                and was really
                looking forward to

                —o—

                I need to flush
the askance and dance
                                through everything I live
                not just through the poetry
                                but
                I can’t do that
if I am too gravitated in the centre of anything trying
                desperate
                                to Make Me a Star and Saviour!

                … guess
guess what the conclusion is going to be
                                c’mon now
how can I loosen my centre of gravity
                so I can askance and dance freely
                                without being there at all

                                come on now class
                Redford – put your phone away
                                and give it a try
Mark – stop staring out the window
                Lewis – put your hand down
                                give the others a chance
                altogether now:
                                SIT!

                —o—

                …

                … OK, Lewis, tell us why …
well if you sit being aware of the thousand thoughts and movements which are not sitting
                without
                going
with them and just smiling on them sweetly as they pass
                                you create a gap in the centre –

                                no you don’t
                the gap is already there
in fact there is nothing BUT gap
                                there has always only been nothing there   -yes
                alright Mark
let Lewis finish:-

                – you create a gap
in the centre of thought and movement
                through
                which
you find your true self which was never localised in the first place
                                no matter how hard Redford tried –

                oh so
I’ve been wasting my life trying
                alright
                Redford
calm down don’t –

                slam
the door
                go after him will you Mark
tell him he’s been living his wastes all along but that
                                he still needs to find those gaps in the
                                              first
                                place

                —o—

                oh, and Mark, try not to be so insensitive in future

 

 

 

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

acceptance wormhole: Woodbrooke labyrinth / affirmations
breathing wormhole: too
compassion wormhole: Beresford Square: // it’s alright it’s alright
conservatory wormhole: dream / 130207
dancing wormhole: slow slow / quick quick / slo / w
emptiness wormhole: ‘set the controls / for the heart of the sun’
identity & tea & writing wormhole: through the window
lifetimes worhole: gravity
living & sitting wormhole: while
love wormhole: 32 years
markbook wormhole: pep talk
poetry wormhole; chores to do – diptych
publishing wormhole: successive scenes in the autobiopera / conflict and resolution in each episode // credits: me me me me me
realisation wormhole: adversely / mistaking the finger for the moon / again
recognition & teaching wormhole: :just wondering …
talking to myself wormhole: practise what you doing / give what you having / breathe what you remember
thought wormhole: the ocean
wood wormhole: Michael Redford: // someone missing

 

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through the window

22 Wednesday Jan 2014

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

'scape, 2012, 5*, cars, combe end, dog, girl, hair, identity, listening, looking, passing, portrait, reflection, roads, smell, tea, thinking, walking, wind, windows, writing

 

 

 

            through the window

            I looked
at the man across the road
            look
over his shoulder as he did something up the stepladder what’s he
            looking at
I thought and took a sip of tea and
            saw
a prettygirl crossing the road without
            looking
adjusting her headphones walking her dog
            looking
at the ground to sniff letting the wind hold her hair across her face while the car passed behind her
            looking
at her stride listening to her music
            checking
her reflection in the tinted glass of the parked car then she
            faced
the wind and walked on and I
            gazed
down and faced the page I was writing on
            both of us satisfied

 

 

 

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

cars wormhole: zazen in everyday life
combe end wormhole: open window
dog wormhole: first dog / in the park
girl & hair & passing wormhole: Herbert Road diptych
identity wormhole: zazen
listening & roads & smell wormhole: Anglesea Road
looking wormhole: the library, / you know …
reflection wormhole: morning / cloud pass
tea wormhole: grey sky
thinking wormhole: the ocean
walking wormhole: while
wind wormhole: … the discipline of shamatha / and the waft of vipashyana
windows wormhole: red net curtains / with appliqué blooms
writing wormhole: adversely / mistaking the finger for the moon / again

 

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… 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…’

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  • YOUNG WOMAN AT A WINDOW by William Carlos Williams
  • 'in my car I pass...'
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  • 'hello old friend ...'
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