Here’s a sonnet I wrote to a lover 27 years ago. (Just click on the title below). I was so foolish in those days. Nothing much has changed…
Sometimes I feel your sunlight move away;
I fade and I grow cold and lifeless leaves
On limbs outstretched; in darkened skies there grieves
A dying tree for fields in which we lay.
Cool definition of political correctness which I saw today: “Political correctness is a doctrine, fostered by a delusional, illogical minority, and rabidly promoted by an unscrupulous mainstream media, which holds forth the proposition that it is entirely possible to pick up a turd by the clean end.” 🙂
I love being around genius people – those who show dedication, brilliance and passion in all they do, for whom no challenge is too great. Mostly they live and die unrecognised and unappreciated for their work. Doesn’t matter if it’s a street-sweeper extraordinaire, a mad professor in a laboratory or an artist who doesn’t need mescaline because s/he’s already there. My mind bounces off them like sky-dust in a tornado
Celibate solitude. It’s the only way. Splendid ice-olation. (I won’t go astray) here in my cave with a pen in my hand. For ages I’ve lived like a crab in the sand. Hermit-hearted. Eagle-eyed. Misunderstood. Hurts inside. At least no one listens each time I cry…
Well here’s a nostalgic little song which popped out of my head onto my Tosh while I sat alone in the dark in a lonely pizza bar in Ystad last night. It’s one of those which just had to be written or else. Held me hostage till it was finished..
I woke up in the morning
With a message on my phone
Saying: “A surge of huge emotion
’cause of you and I’m alone”
Why do you do this to me
When we long ago did part?
You have a way of reaching
With your words into my heart
There are far too many venue owners who expect musicians to play for just a meal and some drinks. That is disrespectful and exploitative. If they asked someone to come to their place and build a wall or mend some pipes they would have no problem paying the going rate. They wouldn’t dream of saying “Here’s your lunch; that makes us even”. A lot of work goes into a music performance. That work is worthy of remuneration.
Okay, here a brief flipside checklist for you. Positive checklist for you coming next. I had fun writing this…
Are you the kind of lady who likes all things in a box
Neatly lined up rows of shiny things
Always making sure you wear a pair of matching socks
Never wait to see what fate may bring?
Are you the kind of lady who works late into the night
After starting work before the break of day
Always using work to keep from feelingfullnesslife
(Workoholics keep all that at bay)?
I know a cave
it’s cold and clear and
right beneath my feet
so frozen there
I make my home all
I am not sad
or happy there ’cause
all the earth is flat
And all the things
which pass my cave don’t
have the tools for that
Ice crystals fell down from the sky that night
But that was when the moon had flown more huge.
[Its face a look of shock (or was it fright)
At all the futile stealth and subterfuge].
After circling in the snow (footprints new),
We climbed the spiral stairway (silent sighs).
Out of breath, our anticipation grew –
How hard it was maintaining the disguise!
The Sonnet is my favourite poetic form. I love the discipline and logical flow. 14 lines. 10 syllables on each line. Rhyming according to which school one follows (or I often make my own rhyming pattern). Here are two examples from my oeuvre: