“Feelings dwell in man; but man dwells in his love. That is no metaphor, but the actual truth. Love does not cling to the I in such a way as to have the Thou only for its ” content,” its object; but love is between I and Thou. The man who does not know this, with his very being know this, does not know love; even though he ascribes to it the feelings he lives through, experiences, enjoys, and expresses.”
Martin Buber, I and Thou
They worked hard
they fought for us and you
collier men and collier boys
steel working men too
paid their way
paid their dues
but who speaks today
for me and you?
Blossom
Looking out from the 700 foot contour
rain kissed the barest touch of grey mists
on hills in distant woodland patchwork
each tree reveals hued leaves and buds
different colours mottled vibrancy offered
lime shades of oaks glittering early leaves
glistening Ash buds unseen barely lingering shy
in spring still holds back from false summer days
the Raven in its bowered oak cleft kingdom
unstirred by gusting wind or raindrops frapp
rifled oak bark running hard lined rivulets
in the orchard salmon pink quince glows
Lightest yellow whitening moorland grass stretching
waved wind shifting flows into the uplands plateau
distant ravens specked black in white grey clouded skies
wheel unhinged glide soar above the flat worn track
(excerpt The Ghost Road)
Stress related break from writing broken! And the relief when the words come through and the story begins to tell itself again a delight.
@robcullen
I was handed a box
containing poems drafts
from 73 and 74
the word holds
connotations of bees
storing honey for harder days
days of wiser eyes
archive of forty years
recognising a voice
echoing still.
Source: :: the red coat ::
This is a shout out to poets artists writers creatives do something!
There seems to be so many ghosts today
Remembrances of other times
And that fear of war again.
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