So here I am locked in a shell, soaked in salty thoughts and fraught with shell shock. My mind is like tangled seaweed, as complex and as numerous as plankton. My worldly ambitions are as proud as a ships sail, as definite as an anchor hooked on the vast seabed. In my shell I remain, anticipating the tide. Bound by my inability to move a muscle or to take the tantalizing bait of freedom. When will the tide engulf me? When will my boats enter the harbour? How far can a wave really take me?
Like a lighthouse I flicker from light to shade. My inner domain is as blue as the ocean and as unstable as the rocky coast that surrounds me. And yet I remain attached to the jagged rock of life, unable to look out onto the wondrous pastures of Mother Earth.
One day the beach will be full. The tide will be veracious. The seabirds will flock on the cliff edges and ships from around the world will dock. The only light will be that of the penetrating sun beaming down on the Atlantic ocean like a spotlight, bathing the Earth in its love. The sea of despair will vanish and the surf will roll onto the lush golden sands. At last I will leave my shell and join mother natures circle and immersing myself in the ocean of abundance.
Oh clever owner, making this my prison
Not a bowl or bone to mention
The air is stuffy and the confines are hot
Oh clever owner, if only you would rot
The windows are up and the seats are down
You must think I'm a circus clown
All you ever do is just walk off
On a summer's day for a touch of golf
Leaving me behind in your automobile
Like a devil you inflict a gruesome ordeal
What is there to do but people watch?
For its not possible to open the windows a notch
As I slaver and pant you tee off and swing
On my thick fur the sweat does cling
As you make your way back celebrating
I lay on your upholstery salivating
The doors open and cool air rushes in
You sit on the driver's seat like its nothing
Oh clever owner, how I resent you
I feel so much pain, its untrue
I could do wrong and you'd put me down
So carefree, you would let me drown
It would be a better way to go than to die in this car
A much more bearable fate by far
Oh clever owner, how I wish you'd learn
Instead of leaving me at your mercy to burn
Oh clever owner, how I live in your fog
I am not your best friend, I'm just your hot dog
The squeak of the chair on the floor boards reminds me of marauding seagulls. The sound of my pencil puts my teeth on edge like chalk on a chalkboard. I Have nothing to fill my day other than staring endlessly at the porcelain rhinoceros, that stands proudly on the window ledge. Looking so still and serine. So Africa. What I would do to go there for a holiday right now or even just a quick elephant ride to fill the void in my empty soul.
Nevertheless I bloody love when it rains. The steady trickle of the water sounds inviting, like an egg frying, making me yearn for hearty home food. My mother standing precociously at the dinning table, with an oven glove draped over her left arm, yelling at everyone to make their way to the table for tea. Vivid memories wash in and out of my crowded sanctum, as blue as the ocean, as cold as my empty fridge. I walk up to the window looking out for answers, peering behind the curtains like a hermit.
Who am I to complain and ask the universe for more? I’m on six quid an hour, a reasonable wage. From this side of the street it’s a round of drinks and a salty packet of crisps to boot. Trouble is I’m in love. I can’t take my mind of Rosie on the other side of the road. Her long blond hair blowing in the autumnal wind. I don’t even have the gumption to summon the words to speak to her when I walk out of this semi detached prison. If only that Rhino could take me to the other side, to a more pleasant and fertile land, where the fridge is full and the gorgeous women smile back at my gormless face.
However there is one upside to this half realised life I’m leading. There is, wait for it, a packet of m&ms in the cupboard that I’ve been saving for a rainy day. I’m afraid it’s the only pleasure I can find behind these dirty cream curtains. The rest is just pure monotony. I feel like a fish swimming from one side of the fish bowl to the other. I can see the outside in all its transparent spender, but I have no concept within myself to jump out of the fish bowl. I have a bad back you see. There’s no way I’m jumping, its far too risky.
There was plenty of happiness back home. I used to water the marigolds’ with passion and vigour. I’d walk the dog, do some cooking, help mother out with the dusting. But now I live alone, looking out on a world that turns its nose up. It’s very prudishness has left me scared stiff behind these curtains. Wishing and hoping for an answer in the midst of the takeaway pizza boxes and empty beer cans that litter my lounge. So I ask of you these questions; do you want to stew in your own tea? Or jump out of the fish bowl? Ride on a rhino? And turn some lemons into lemonade? Your choice. I’ve made mine and I’ve never been able to completely open the curtains.
Snow and sun carpet the mountain tops
A seasons relentless paradox
Bird and bee hover in natures circle
This humble giant yields another miracle
As this tranquil stream meanders like a snake
These meager boulders hasten to flake
I gather my thoughts in a bundle
My very own internal jungle
As I step on this mighty mountain
My dreams trickle like a fountain
Is it all one sweet illusion?
Or the Earth's love and strength fusing?
Casually I make my way
The clouds gathering without dismay
As I reach the immense peak
My thoughts fall in a heap
Oh mighty Snowdon
Close to a sun shining so golden
As I walk back down to your foundation
I realise you are the king of this nation
As I mentioned in my last update, inspiration is the key to being a creative writer. Simply opening up to the universe of imagination and letting the pen or buttons do the work. Recently my inspiration has been stimulated by photography. My partner Leanne has kindly sent me some photos to get me inspired. They have worked a treat. The images that she sent to me are on most of my recent posts at the bottom. At some point In the future we hope to combine photography with writing in some way.
I have noticed that the breadth of my work has been poems as of late, which is surprising given that all my life I have written short stories and not a single poem. Nevertheless it proves that once the creative juices are flowing anything is possible. My favourite piece so far is ‘The Ancient Oak’ which represents the power that mother nature has to replenish the Earth. Nature has always been a key part of my life and its no surprise to me that its coming out in my writing. Other themes are that of spirituality and ego, which to my mind is the false self. I hope to continue helping others find their passions and getting rid of the ego that prevents us from reaching a higher consciousness level.
I would like to take this opportunity to thank all of those who have liked, commented on or read my blog. I appreciate it so much. I realise I have a long way to go. But remember that a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. Tomorrow I will be going on holiday to North Wales. Hopefully the weather is kind to us because it certainly has been a cold spring so far here in England. I hope to come back with lots of writing. I will be taking my laptop with me but will not be blogging for a week or so. No doubt the scenery is likely to inspire me to an adequate level. Until next time…
Oh precious shell
What have you to tell?
The secrets of the sea reveal
Nothing but a wave you feel
Trouble is your stories are trapped
Inside an ivory case, they nap
Why you keep so private? I cry
Like seabirds my questions fly
Your stories are forever enclosed
An enigma of the ocean. I suppose
If I put you to my ear would I hear
The tide ebbing without fear
The waters dancing on sand so smooth
You are a piece of God I can prove
For as long as the ships set sail
You will not tell of any tales
Instead you remain a shell
In deep mystic waters you dwell
Reading this book makes me shudder with the same shuddery feeling when in the presence of my father, bound to his arm chair, smoking a devilishly potent cigar in his study. It moves and perplexes me to the point where I have to combine my reading with some ambient whale song through my headphones. They prove a pain to remove from the pocket of my jeans, as if fastened by some mysterious super glue. I manage to get them out after a few frantic tugs and place them to my ear lobes, hoping it would counteract the sombre expirations in this terrifying read.
I am sitting in a park, where the chilly wind festers behind the abandoned swings and roundabouts. The eerie silence feels numbing to the bone, brittle and fierce on my flesh. There are no children, not so much a dog or his owner on this well trodden field. I sit alone, perched on one of the many old wooden benches. All of a sudden a bird flies towards me, almost swooping into my face with intent. I dart out of the way as fast as my body can move. Falling to the ground with a thud. The gruesome looking bird sits on top of my book that lies on the muddy grass beside me.
‘Watch it’ I shout.
The bird looks at me with a vague look on its face. Tilting its beak to one side as if to analyse what sort of creature I am. It's eyes are jet black, its feathers scruffy. The bird flies into the sky that now flashes with the most magnificent folk lightning I have ever seen.
‘A storm?’ I question.
Before I can stand up, there in front my very eyes is the ferries wheel of death, that was so vividly depicted in the novel I was reading. Standing some 100 feet high in the middle of the park, lightning striking in the background and hundreds of those ghastly birds swooping in and out of the enormous steel supports. I catch a glimpse of a little girl in a black and white dress entering the ride, via the turnstiles. It's the same schoolgirl in my book. Am I dreaming? I here laughter as violent rain now cascades down my face, onto my jeans. Thunderbolts thrash from the gathering clouds as if the sky has just rewired itself. I watch as the wheel rotates slowly in the heavy storm.
‘Surely its not safe in this weather’ I question.
I quiver at the thought of what could happen, as I amble anxiously towards the deathly attraction. Suddenly it gains a tremendous momentum. I here screams and more screams. I stand frozen to the ground like a spike. I feel helpless yet compelled to make it stop!
‘No, no, stop, stop’
Now I’m the one who’s screaming…
