Whispers and Wanderings

This story was born on a cold Sunday evening in late February. It was the end of a quiet, unproductive weekend, spent alone, doing nothing but watching tv, reading, eating. You know those kind of days - we all have them - idle pointless days.  This particular evening I was joined in my night time ablutions by a fly. It was restless, trapped and seemed to me to be in distress. Taking pity on the little insect, I climbed out of the bath, carefully trapped it under a glass and let it out of the window. As I settled back under the bubbles I found myself wondering what it would be like to talk  with a fly, what it would say if we could communicate. The story, which follows, is how I envisage my the conversation would have gone on that wet, empty evening.  THE PHILOSOFLY  I am sure that the fly didnt mean to end up in my bathroom that evening, but I felt genuinely happy to have it's company. It had been a long and empty winters day and, other than the droplets of rain run...

Below is a homage to William Wordsworth's poem "I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud" (1802) and also to the poem "London" by William Blake (1794). These are two of my favourite poets from the "Romantic" era.  I have named the poem "Politics". I can't call it an original but I hope you like it ... POLITICS  I wandered lonely through the streets, where voices rise and often meet, In crowded halls where power is sought, and leaders fight with words distraught. The banners waved, the speeches loud, a sea of faces in the crowd, Yet deep inside, a sense of gloom, for truth and trust seem bound in doom. I saw the promises they made, to heal the wounds, to fix the trade. But underneath, the cracks appear, where greed and lies both persevere. I heard the clashing firey cries, as untruths soared to touch the skies, But in the quiet of the mind, a peace was lost, no hope to find. Yet through this chaos if you roam, a thought will rise, like birds that comb...

 The sun dips low in skies aflame, A quiet close, yet not the same. It spills its gold on field and tree, And leaves a gentle glow with me. The breeze is soft, the colours wide, And though there is no-one at my side, I smile and breath the evening air, And feel a peace that lingers there. I dream of someone yet to find, A kindred soul, a steady mind. Someone to share this quiet light, And watch the day turn into night. But for today the sky is mine, A gift of colour, calm, a sign. That something good is drawing near, A warmer wind, a voice to hear.