Posts

Putting a smile on the irregular face

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This day of miracle-points has nearly reached 7am, so not long till breakfast now. And the thrill of a new toothbrush has never worn off, and I will cry if it does.  271 From the shower room to The bedroom, a skin prickling Towel wrapped race Against cold air 272 At the mist edge, down By the reed bed, by the stream A furtive shape of cat slinks Hoping to blindside a shrew 273 Babies are awake. Bossy Dependent variable creatures Lacking calculated phrases Express values in tears and smiles 274 Wakeful infants learn stuff fast Here is one intently trialling Up-tucked knees in a pilot Crawling discovery exercise 275 In the crawl endeavour, the physical Method of reductive reasoning is  Favoured by infants. Each face-plant to The floor is a catalyst to change 276 As far as laundry is concerned Segregation is practical, so if bold Shades hang on the line, a heap Of pale is prepped next 277 I admire...

The Debt We Owe To Victorious Kwon

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Another interruption to my Miracle hunt project, but a distraction is as good as a rest! This is another story written for adults to read to children. It's about a Tae Kwon Do training exercise and it began its gestation when I began teaching these techniques to children. The more gruesome the story attached the more they understood and enjoyed the exercise. I tried the same approach with adults and it also works. It was just verbal fun until our 2010 TAGB West of England Summer Camp, when we were asked to write a ghost story, and I put Kwon on the page. I think if he had a Facebook page he would have more friends than me very quickly, so for reasons of professional jealousy he is currently banned.  Winner of the prestigious Best Bonkers Ghost Story TAGB Summer Camp 2010 The Debt We Owe To Victorious Kwon Kwon wasn’t like the other ducks. He was 18 feet tall, his kneecaps were made of steel and on the end of each wing he had a fist. He wasn’t the sort of ...

Don't feed the Drama Vampire!

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Stillpower: The True Path to Flow, Clarity, and Responsiveness This here article link also neatly links to my approach to writing. The source of creativity is often associated with wild emotional states, as though you have to tear yourself apart and use the bits to paint something dramatic. Peacefulness is seen as static and therefore unproductive, but the calmer I get, the easier the words and the meanings flow. Experience of life's dramas helps understanding but it needn't, it shouldn't, become an addiction.    Read and learn; peace out! xx

Poor spiders, always drowning

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The two roasting tin spiders were buried under a rosebush, I decided it would be the respectful thing to do; plus then they would become spider-ghost house guardians, always a useful addition to any household. The other weird thing I discovered one morning in our kitchen was the burnt earwig, standing in the middle of a gas hob, like an insect at Pompeii, a perfect ash statue of itself.  261 Mouse cremations are rarely Observed but here is an apostrophied Corpse on a dried grass mound Waiting for a starting spark 262 Stride through stratus, back to My crumbly house, the sun Also pushes, promises later Heat, as this mist dissipates 263 Drama occurs in the roasting Rack tin when two spiders are Found drowned in the pig’s blood Under the dinner joint 264 There are thirteen folk arts Vital to this industrious cottage Roasting meat is listed third One of six respecting food 265 Mindful preparation of meals Decelerates pac...

Back to fox poo, with an effervescent dog

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I still harbour some regret over not photographing the vivid purple fox poo. I love photographs, although sometimes I do think that people are so busy taking pictures of things they forget to look at them with real eyes. Mindfulness makes the best shots. I'm not sure how I would have fully conveyed the excellent moment of catching the fox crimping out that amazing colour, but I did utterly appreciate the moment. Literally, some shit is brilliant.  251 A wide blade of grass, glazed pale In dots. There are multitudinous Dimensions of dewdrops, these Are comparatively large 252 Fox poo-pile seizes attention Beads of undigested berry Glint in the dawn sun, flaming Shades of autumn 253 These plants; collective name Blackberry; diverge, like People, like breeds of dog, many Different ways of growing 254 Feasibly able to uproot, to gallop Across the field, over the hedge This blackberry extends in arched Tentacles, three arachnoid metres ...

Human sacrifice linked to wellington boots

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I am a quarter of the way into the task, and have googled the history of latex.  241 Butter waits in a glass dish, slid Behind the eclectic kerfuffle of Stuff dropped in passing, our Annoying kitchen table anthology 242 Coffee cup is tipped, to see Depictions cast in the grounds Ripple like low tide sand flats In repeated waving motifs 243 The jewels of my jam making Fill half a fridge shelf; here are fruits And flowers and herbs preserved In sugar and recycled glass 244 Each unique speckled soft Tan shaded scattershot Toast crumb on the circle Of plate rests abstractly 245 The history of my boots starts With some Pre-Columbian Mexicans Boiling latex into heavy spheres For bloodied games of life and death 246 The boot chronicle continues with The Duke of Wellington’s demands Comfort first for feet in battle and Afterwards, smart enough for the party 248 From ritualistic sacrifice, through Cold wet wa...

Flip flops and jam, the rural idyll

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(Nearly 6 am on Miracle hunt day. I have been wearing flip flops since I could walk and can run backwards in them.) 231 Inspiration is a secondary Response. Stripped down this Experience centres on the Simplicity of appreciation 232 Before I think to tidy up I take A survey of the house-mess An appraisal of status, if Not in flux, it fails 233 I point out the dog paw shapes On the oven door; dogs observe Emotion, not language, or old evidence Dog is happy, I am not cross 234 A motto on my cheap flip-flops reads You Can Never Have Too Many Shoe It’s not logical but the fun makes it beautiful A stamp of flippant glamour on rubber 235 The indoor woodlice hurry Gather under the bath Slug, on tiles above, wanders Alone, equally sure of purpose 236 From the cooking to the brewing Kitchen, coffee odour lingers Mingles into damp cottage, savoury Sour wet dog, onion, earth and spice 237 The stuck clock hand rep...