Colours

I'm supposed to be
preparing a portfolio
of work for a deadline
about to whoosh
over my head, leaving
me diminished by
my lack,
feeling stupid.

The magic button works
the first time; this nihilism
requires the severest application
of cognitive behavioral therapy,
self-medication or
total despair.

One thing is certain:
dissonance with everyone else.
No-one exists precisely
on my plane;
there will only be
rescuers and the indifferent.

What better thought is there now than to pick up poetry and convince oneself that the time will be well spent.  'Colours' by Yevtushenko

When your face
appeared over my crumpled life
at first I understood
only the poverty of what I have.
Then its particular light
on woods, on rivers, on the sea,
became my beginning in the coloured world
in which I had not yet had my beginning.
I am so frightened, I am so frightened,
of the unexpected sunrise finishing,
of revelations
and tears and the excitement finishing.
I don't fight it, my love is this fear,
I nourish it who can nourish nothing,
love's slipshod watchman.
Fear hems me in.
I am conscious that these minutes are short
and that the colours in my eyes will vanish
when your face sets.

Homonyms and anagrams

A word having the same sound, or even the same spelling, as another but having different meaning or origin. 

Nyseo, yones, soyne, ensoy, osyen, are words made up from two different words - anagrams of Yes and No. They are words that straddle the binaries of positivity and negativity. They are not real words. They are not homonyms. I made them up to fit the title.

I made them up because the definition of a homonym is a useful way in to discuss character.  There is a character type who, upon being asked to attempt something new, untried, potentially risky, will say yes.  Then there is the type who, being asked the same question, will say no.

The character who says, 'yes' can be described as foolhardy, inconsiderate of risk, excitable by nature. This character is unreliable. This character takes on too much responsibility.  This character might fail.

The character who says, 'no' is sensible, cautious, does not over-extend his/her energies. Is calm. In refusing risk, this character makes fewer mistakes. This character can be depended upon. To say no is a good trait.  After all, where would we be if everyone said 'yes' to new things? Who would be blameless then?

To examine the origins of 'yes' and 'no' characters would be an interesting exercise.  To ask which type is likely to be happier would be another interesting exercise. So there it is, a writing exercise just made: define a challenge for a character-type to encounter and overcome.  Choose either a 'yes' or 'no' type...

A development

Adelaide Morris MA (Soton) BA (Hons) MMRS; a string of hard earned letters that impress some people enough to trust that I know a thing or two.  Maybe I do and maybe I don't.  Like a lot of people I just haven't been found out yet. There's been more flying by the seat of my pants than real flying.

However, all those suffixes have been bookended by a bruising new development - a small person - new in the world who confers a grander title. No role profile has yet arrived but I rather suspect I'll be flying by the seat of my pants again. At least this time I get a chance to fix some errors from the past, and make some new entirely ones.

Home is also Music

This is a beautiful poem (in my opinion) written/translated by
Qasim Haddad Mohammed A. Alkhozai



In the music that wanders in the rooms of our little home,
And climbs the walls, windows and bookshelves,
The music that shares our dinner and love
And reads poetry;

In the music that flows under our blankets,
And swims in the milk of our children,
And when we go to sleep and wake up
It stays at night watching our days,

In this music, wait for me,
In this music, I shall wait for you.

Learning to say no (a work in progress)

This may become a series of 'work in progress' poems because that's what I am, a work in progress.

I'm quite busy at the moment
Yes, yes, I know, so are you
But I am quite busy at the moment
Of course your work is important too
But really, I am quite busy at the moment
It's the cutbacks, I agree
Trust me though, I am quite busy at the moment
Well, we might blame the PhD
But it remains, I am quite busy at the moment
All being asked to do more with less, yes
But I'm still quite busy at the moment
I know your project is important
But I'm just quite busy at the moment
Will it really only just take minute?
Because I am quite quite busy at the moment
Well maybe a short meeting
I warn you though - quite busy at the moment
How busy?
Hang on, I'll check my diary

Balancing the act

Act, suggests performance.  Performance suggests planning, some type of rehearsal. We all do perform our various roles but I don't believe a great deal of planning goes into some decisions.  However smart we might like to think we are, many decisions are based on instinctive feeling.  Like the day I decided that my, then, two young children should learn to change their own beds; a simple skill that would contribute greatly to their future well-being, and that of their partners.  So I set them to this, now noble, task by explaining that they'd need, to remove and replace the existing duvet cover.  Off they trotted to their respective bedrooms, clean covers tucked against their skinny ribs, full of excitement at this new challenge.

Some time later, passing my daughter's room I noticed a half-filled duvet cover wriggling with the internal energy of an enthusiastic eight year old.  'You ok Steph?' I called out.  'Yes,' a little voice answered from the folds of cloth, 'I think I'm getting the hang of it.'

It didn't matter that I'd forgotten to tell them how to do the job because both beds were eventually changed and they felt a sense of achievement for having done it.  They worked it out for themselves and they've been doing that ever since; mostly successfully and, thankfully, without major disaster.

Now I find myself in the company of another wonderful group of young people who, at the start of their independent lives, are working things out for themselves. Who am I to tell them how to do it? Some will climb inside the problem; others will grab corners from the outside and shake vigorously.  And some may decide the cover doesn't need changing. They'll get the hang of it and at least they have a choice.

They inspire strong emotions in me when I'm with them, maybe because they are so new in the world; getting the hang of it.  I think about teenagers whose parents don't/can't support them; those who face peril just fetching water; others who will never even grow to maturity let alone be educated.  Those who have starved, shivering in the cold of a Syrian winter; the list seems endless.  And there's those who, a few weeks ago had little to worry about except themselves and who now face the prospect of being invaded by a larger, stronger neighbour.  I've been asking myself what that must feel like.  My research instinct takes me to the 1930s when Poland faced months of anticipation prior to German and Russian invasion.  What is normal any more in circumstances like that?

The nature of my blogging is that it takes me to unintended places and, what started as a light-hearted introduction towards a poem has devolved to a darker place.  So enough now.  The sun is shining and there's a piece to be written about being in control...

 

The speed of love

My dial-up was slow

Your twelve pages of love

Took ages to flow

From my printer