Month: September 2016

Dying Sun

lizaaitken


And so the light is fading, the winters drawing near.

The summer sun is dimming, the days are not as clear.

I’m thankful for my summer, the joy along the way.

And now the winters drawing in, shorter are my days.

With winter comes warm fires, dying embers in the grate.

Like memories that fade away, even now when I’m awake.

But I’m thankful for the days we had, the joy along the way.

If only the summer sun would wait, for just a few more days.

Back to the Sea

lizaaitken

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I must go down to the sea again, to the lonely sea and the sky. 

And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;  

And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white tails shaking,

And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the sea’s again for the call of the running tide

Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;

And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,

And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea gulls crying.

I must go down to the sea’s again, to the vagrant gypsy life,

To the gulls way and the whales way, where the winds like a whetted knife.

And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,

And a quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long tricks over.

~ John Masefield

 

This was my step fathers favourite poem, it was read by my nephew at his funeral.  He had been in the Navy and told many tails of his travels.  Before that he piped the ships out to sea as a piper.  His father had spent a lifetime in the Merchant Navy and the sea was in his blood.  After he died my son told me he felt he had gone back to sea, I agreed as that is where I see him.

There is something about the sea that draws me, I’m drawn in all seasons but I do love the power of the waves crashing against the shore.  The sea takes no prisoners, we are at its mercy always and should respect its presence.

I hear the term ‘living on the edge’ is associated with those that are drawn to the sea and in some way connected with madness.  If that’s the case I’m okay with it as I am ruled by the elements, the brightness and warmth of the sun, the influence of the moon and tides, the power of the sea and the beauty of nature.

I walk to the sea when I’m unsure of myself, confused or melancholy in a way.  I let the wind blow through my hair and the salted wind whip at my face and it puts things back into perspective for me.  I realise I am just a very small part of this huge universe and everything will work out as it should.

 

The Ship

lizaaitken

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The powerful ship moved purposefully through the water.  The ship travelled through a sort of canal with buildings on each side, crashing and breaking the boarders of the land, tall houses falling in its wake.  It reached the sea and rose high before it charged towards the waves as if in battle.  We were as much victims of the ship as the seas in which it sailed, caught in its depths and awaiting our fate.  The ship crashed to the left and its passengers fell and crashed with it.  I grabbed my yellow sailing jacket, I knew we were in for a rocky ride, I wanted to be prepared.  The last thing I remember before I woke was that I could not tie my shoe laces in preparation for the journey ahead.

I sat up in bed and looked around, heart beating and catching my breath.  I wrote it down, I wanted to remember for the morning for when I woke.

This morning I reached up to the shelf for my dream book before preparing coffee.  I hadn’t needed to see my scribbled reminder, it was still very clear.  Without looking I knew that rough seas couldn’t be good, that in my dream I was prepared or trying to prepare myself was something, but I felt it might indicate a long ride ahead.  That the ship was big and strong gave me hope, because although it was throwing me all over the place it gave some protection.

The dream dictionary told me ships are an augury of profitable ventures, however a shipwreck portends to a situation where you will have to defend yourself.  The dream book directed me to look up ocean, it said that in any dream the condition of the water and weather must be taken into account. The water and weather had been horrendous in my dream.  Rough or stormy water is a warning that real courage will be needed to overcome your obstacles, just what I need at the present time!

I have one hope though as the book suggested an ocean voyage predicts a lucky escape from an irritating problem.  I guess I must have got on the ship in the first place to have hung my yellow sailing jacket.

Any other interpretations out there much appreciated 😉

 

 

‘canvas’ – some kind of metaphor

lizaaitken

I love this kind of metaphor

sovietcola's avatarSovietCola

There’s a canvas. White, pristine and unmarked; a blankness that seems to stretch on forever. Almost seems a shame to leave a mark, but that’s what it’s there for. A few splotches of colour settle onto it, breaking the spell. These strokes are foundational, basic, the first impressions of a young mind whose sense of wonder and discovery have yet to be broken against the cruel shores of reality. As time goes on, more is added to the canvas. Likes and dislikes decide the tone of the following layers. Routine, familiar faces, your slowly expanding perception of this world. Along the way powerful moments that influence you deeply, whether you know it or not, leave their traces, guiding much of what will be added. The years pass and now more intricate lines appear as you begin to draw your own conclusions about the world. They may be influenced by lines…

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Righting my Wrongs

lizaaitken

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Treading of footsteps throughout my mind.

Of days gone past I should have been kind.

Rose petals falling, loving words never said.

Lone flowers unplanted, a void in my head.

Vacant spaces, channels not making sense.

Vast chasms of darkness, held in suspense.

Retracing my steps, I paint these halls bright.

With glorious blooms, I put my wrongs right.

Befuddled  

lizaaitken

I’m sort of mystified as to where my soul is at this very moment, is it in its entirety with me, or is a part of me or somewhere else completely.

I’m also bewildered as to why am I searching to find myself in a spiritual form, if I actually only exist for this moment in time here and now.

I’m baffled by feelings that I am an immense being, that I experience myself in dreams and wonder if I continue to exist somewhere outside of myself.

I’m bemused to how much time and effort goes into this journey, puzzled by my determination to understand the intricate maze of the universe.

I’m confused by the enormity of my search and perplexed because in all probability I won’t ever discover the answers here as the physical me.

 

I love to philosophise on the meaning of it all, the wonders of the universe and what IT is really all about.  Have you got any nearer to the answers?

 

Perplexed – DP

lizaaitken

My son is a fantastic writer but he doesn’t write, I’m perplexed.  I don’t get it, he’s a natural wordsmith and orator with a fabulous understanding of English language but does not have enough  belief in himself.

I would die to be able to write like him, well you know what I mean. I wouldn’t die as I need to be his mum but you will get my drift I’m sure.

I write quite simply, I don’t use long words because I don’t have many but I think I get my point across.  I am so immensely proud of my son and his ability to use words to conjure up imagery, he’s ability to debate and get his point across, his kindness and respectfulness in communications.

I’m not biased, well maybe slightly but he is a fabulous writer and I’ll say it again I’m perplexed.  Amongst other things, he writes short stories and when pushed he might blog.  Okay, he uses the odd expletive but not to much to put you off.

Today he wrote a story called Collection on WP. I would be so grateful if you would take a look, he needs some followers to encourage him -https://sovietcola.wordpress.com/2016/09/14/collections/

https://sovietcola.wordpress.com

Thank you lovely people 🙂