Rocking Chair (Something True)

Rocking chair, right by the weather-beaten door.
I wouldn't care, if my feet still didn't touch the floor.
But now they do, and now that you
Are more than something black and blue, I say, 
Just tell me something true.

My favourite shirt has holes, and in places I can't hide
So should it go? If it still fits me then I really don't see why
What should I do? It's time to choose,
But with so much still to lose, I say,
Just tell me something true

Because I'd like to change my tune.
And not walk a different path in these same clothes each afternoon.
I'd settle for a clue.
Just tell me something true.

Rocking chair, wearing grooves into the floor.
If I didn't care, would I show myself the door?
What's there to prove, and who to?
Is it time for something new, I say,
Just tell me something true.

Which shirt should stay, and which should definitely go.
I tried them every way, and still don't really know.
I always liked bright blue, I still do, whether round, buttoned or crew, I say,
Just tell me something true.

Because I'd like to change my tune.
And not walk a different path in these same clothes each afternoon.
I'd settle for a cue.
Just tell me something true.

I've watched a lot go by
In my rocking-chairing life.
And it all seemed so worth time
I was learning by the knife 
One thing I know for sure
Is I'm really great at rocking 
By this weather-beaten door
Here next to you
Saying the only thing that's true
That's what I do, no less will do

This is the one thing that is true

When All The Signs Are Swept To Sea

When All The Signs Are Swept To Sea

When there's bridges over bridges
No wonder there's no time 
To let your grass grow
Yeah you know
We're all sinners in the innards so
You better race your boat along the beach
before there's no time left to reach

All the bitches and their kitsches
No wonder I don't know 
Which way my hair grows
Yeah do you know
We're all skin heads in the innards so
You better pinch your nose and start to speak
Before there's no time left to peak

But I don't know
Which way to go
To get me to tomorrow

And I don't know
What pace to go
To make it to tomorrow

All the preachers and the teachers
All wonder and chastisement 
While my doubt grows 
Yeah you know
And winners must be grinners so
You better hope the chosen hold the key
When all the signs are swept to sea

But I don't know
Which way we'll go
When we get to tomorrow

No, I don't know
Which face should show
To get me to tomorrow

And I don't know
I never seem to know
So just stay close
And help me through tomorrow

More Lake District Photos - On The 170th Anniversary of Robert Southey's Death

As mentioned in my previous post I was lucky enough to be in Keswick, visit Robert Southey's grave and to stay in Greta Hall, the home where Southey lived most of his life, on the 170th Anniversary of his death, 21st March 2013. 

I would like to thank Jeronime, Scott and their lovely family, current owners and B&B Managers at Greta Hall, for their wonderful hospitality, as always!

Here are some more photos. Including a couple of panoramic shots you will need to click to view full size.

The Peak of Skiddaw - Keswick, Lake District, Cumbria, UK


Crosthwaite Church - containing an effigy of Southey and where he is buried.


View of the mountains from Southey's grave.


Greta Hall - Keswick, Lake District, Cumbria, UK

360 Degree Panorama of Keswick & Derwent Water

Panoramic Shot of the nearby Yorkshire Dales

Stanzas Written In Robert Southey's Study

Despite many creative things to blog nothing has been getting posted. So it is that I go right back to March 21st, the 170th Anniversary of Robert Southey's death, with this entry. I was lucky enough to be in Robert Southey's Study in Greta Hall (Keswick, United Kingdom) for the second time - and on such a meaningful occasion. 

While sitting in his study I read the following poem in a collection of his works, written late in his life - a telling depiction of his love for books and respect for their writers. Then below that is a poem I wrote immediately following reading his.



Stanzas Written In My Study

by Robert Southey

My days among the Dead are past;
Around me I behold,
Where're these casual eyes are cast,
The mighty minds of old;
My never-failing friends are they,
With whom I converse day by day.

With them I take delight in weal,
And seek relief in woe;
And while I understand and feel
How much to them I owe,
My cheeks have often been bedew'd
With tears of thoughtful gratitude





Stanzas Written In Robert Southey's Study

by Joshua Jones

Who remembers you
When old has passed to new
And new is getting older too

Who recalls a word
You once spoke and they heard
Or they read before you were interred

Who gives much thanks
That here near Greta's banks
You toiled for hours, quill in hand 

Who really knows
The "you" beyond poems and prose
The hopes you never shared or showed

Just know that I
'Til the day I die
Shall share your writing far and wide

For as long as one remembers
You shall always be alive

Look Up or Look Down?

I'm really glad I named this blog "My Fight To Write". It's a great reminder for me to always keep fighting, no matter what resistance or obstacles are in front of me. And so I do ~ I keep fighting to write.  

But I also have "My Fight To Run". Another thing that I know makes me feel good physically and mentally, but does not always happen as regularly as I'd like.

I probably push myself too hard, as I do with most things, so there are frequent times over any run that I have to will myself to keep up the pace and not give in to the desire to stop or slow down. 

Often when I'm struggling I find myself staring down at my feet. 

When I notice this I usually tell myself to look up ahead, not down, with the attitude that looking down is weak and negative. But today I got a new perspective on this.  

I pulled my eyes up and looked ahead to a yellow street sign a few hundred meters up the road. I locked onto to, trying to strengthen my resolve to push on. But the sign was so far away that it didn't seem to be getting any closer. My resolve started to weaken.

I looked back down at my feet and as I watched them pushing the ground away underneath me I felt like my pace was pretty good. I could see that even though the sign didn't seem to be getting closer very quickly I was doing well to hold this pace. 

So "looking down" doesn't have to be so negative. 

Let's not say looking "down" though. Let's say looking "closer to now" ~ to be properly M.C. (motivationally correct ~ as most motivators would encourage you to speak). 

Looking up is important. You need to dream. You need to set your sights on where you want to go. But it can leave you feeling like you're making no progress. When you look closer to now you can see that you are in fact moving towards your goal at a decent pace, even if it doesn't seem like it when you look at the goal itself, way off in the distance.

So next time you're feeling discouraged about your progress towards a goal off ahead, look  at what you're doing right now to get you to that goal, then keep pushing. Watch the ground move along underneath you. 

The only thing that will prevent you from reaching that goal is giving up and stopping.

I will add one disclaimer here though - sometimes you simply have to go a little easier on yourself. Don't stop moving of course! But just give yourself a little credit for how well you're doing and don't push yourself to the point of collapse. 

Because then you will stop! 

Better to be consistent but slower than inconsistently faster. You know - the hare and the tortoise story... 

 

"Like Fires" - The Truth About True Love

I wrote this for Sam for our 1st Wedding Anniversary on Jan 5th. 

I may not post love poems constantly on this blog as I used to, but it's not because I don't write any or feel any less in love. Quite the opposite in fact. I just decided I wouldn't be posting every love poem I wrote on this blog anymore. Hopefully it makes this one all the more special for those who like reading them.

If you didn't know, I have been married before, for 6 years of a 9 year relationship. Sometimes what you believe is true love is not, although it is great at the time for many reasons. True love is something else. It's something you can't know the feeling of until you are feeling it. Most importantly, it's something you never doubt. And with Sam, I never have. I had trouble accepting it was true ~ or even possible ~ in the earliest days, but deep down I never doubted it.

People ask me how you know when someone is "the one". It may be a worn out adage, but I can say, in complete honesty, that you really do just know. So if you don't know ~ irrefutably, without a single question ~ that this is the person you want to spend your life with, then you haven't yet felt true love.

I'm very glad I'm one of the lucky ones who has and gets to live with that feeling every day. I'm thankful every day that Samantha came into my life. It will never be the same.  


Like Fires 

It's now a year and here we are

Still in love above the dark

Still as one with fun and talk

Feeling each other wonder more

About how, with all the fallen leaves

Always falling from the trees

Swept like embers in the breeze

We fell to one white sunny shore

And not one crazed or hazy day

Can keep our flames strong gains at bay

In our souls it grows each day

Though we may be laying on the floor

You see, it's the deepest love

Like a holy golden dove

That all want but can't englove

But which we'll share forever more 

Sammy B, between our eyes

Sparks like fires light up the skies

And so we'll be 'til Venus dies

Of this single thing I'm sure.

Forever In Memories Hall

A week ago my Nanna, Nola Adams, passed away leaving her partner of 70 years, Cyrus Adams, and a large loving family. I also lost my Great Aunty Beth (who had just turned 100) a couple of days later.

They both lived long and happy lives, and I'm extremely thankful for that, and to have shared so much of mine with them. Particularly considering the poor young souls who lost their lives in the terrible tragedy in Newtown, Connecticut, last Friday. They should have all had the opportunity for their grandchildren to tell stories about them like this one. My thoughts are with the families and community effected.

For those in the know (which is just close family and friends) you will notice there are many quotes and references to the poetry Cyrus wrote for Nola over their lives together. 

One other explanation - "The Hello" is what my Uncle Robert called the telephone when he was a toddler. I thought that was quite a funny and personal little memory to add.

Nanna was a special person, as I believe the poem will illustrate, and myself (and all the family) will miss her greatly. But none more than Grandy (Cyrus), and my heart goes out to him with this poem. I wish so much I could hug him, but I hope this poem is a close second. 

Forever In Memories Hall

Click here to hear me recite this poem

In the fourth year of The Forties true love's lance did pass

Through the heart of a Chapel Alley Boy, in his first typing class.

For when his eyes locked with the teacher's he went flush in the face

And with her frequent instruction he soon typed at a pace!

But no pace could compare to his wildly beating heart

For this girl of true worth, from whom he soon dread to part.

Yet part he must, for Avondale's gates soon did call

But he placed her picture safely in Memories Hall.

And oh, how slow passed those three years of time.

He poured out his longing in rhythm and rhyme,

To his auburn-haired love, and recalled the joys had

When each heart enriched the other with feelings glad.

And the leading of our Savior's hand did see

That in Fourty-Seven, On the Second of January,

They would marry, and head straight to Fijian shores

To build a family while in loyal service to The Lord.

So soon there was Robert, with a splinted leg.

And Rosalind, with Mum's auburn hair on her head.

Then Janice came when two more short years had flown,

'Til they all took turns talking on "The Hello" to home.

Still the love between Nola and Cyrus did thrive,

No matter what challenges would come in their lives.

For Nola was ever his "Inspiring Star":

His "Wanderer's Guide", whether near or far.

And she also guided us kids, with much wise advice,

Always candid and consistent, caring and concise.

"A glass of water when you rise", "Be respectful in dress"

"What Kraft or Kellogg's may do well, Sanitarium does best!"

But most importantly, "never let peer pressure get to you,

It's not worth turning your insides all blackened right through.

For those who frown or give disapproving looks

Are not friends worth having, in our Nanna's books.

And she'd never forget the dish each grandchild preferred

So at each family gathering we couldn't wait to be served.

And oh, we loved her Mulberry or Fig & Ginger Jam

And much of it was donated, or sold on market stands.

So for seven happy decades Nanna warmed good Grandy's heart,

Just as that first phone call that got them their start.

For a woman of such giving is so rare to find

So committed to God in body and mind.

So many she prayed for in earnest each night

Then each day (bar one) worked in quiet delight

For family and friends, for the needy and hurt

Not for glory, but always for spreading The Word

And it's this long impeccable life that she led,

This care that she shared from breakfast ‘til bed,

That sees so many here in remembrance today

To thank The Lord for sending dear Nola our way.

So I end this poem with a loving line straight from Cy

That he wrote "To Nola!" in a year gone by;

"For God in His goodness has made us both one,

And so we'll remain till days are all done."

Oh Nanna, how we love you - and 'til The Lord's second call

Your picture stands forever in Memories Hall.