Some words

The soldier

A cold wind blew in from the sea as Private X huddled into his padded jacket and drew his fur hat further down over his ears.

Why was it that he always seemed to pull the cold dark watch? Sitting waiting for an enemy that threatened his Country and all it stood for. 

Private X was a patriot, he wouldn't be standing here if he wasn't. He and all his comrades were volunteers who had rushed to the colours to defend their homeland from the evil that was coming.

His watch neared its end, soon he would be back in the warm guardhouse; then a shot. No warm guardhouse for Private X. No more watches in the cold dark hours, No more defending his home. No more anything.

Blank Canvas

The blank canvas of the day

Lies before me like an open plain

Inviting me forward

Into another day where

The possibilities are endless

Words

Words, words, waves of words

Falling in a jumble onto the Shore

Of the page once blank

Now awash with words which

Trickle down to become sentences

To make sense and become

A poem or a story

No longer just words

But a sensible group to entertain

Or shock, or both

Still thinking

Sundays were always been a day I found difficult to deal with. This was the day when I would sit and dread the coming week, school or work loomed up on the near horizon beckoning me on for another week of unhappiness. Looking back I can recall only one day when I felt truly happy. It was a day during the school Summer holidays in 1976. It was a lovely sunny day and I was walking along the road from our house going nowhere in particular and the thought entered my head that I had absolutely nothing to worry about. I had no responsibilities and my whole life was laid out in front of me like a blank canvas ready for me to decorate as I pleased. Things didn't turn out as I hoped on that day. Within 10 years I was living away from home with a failed marriage behind me and a job I couldn't do well and any emotional support I needed hundreds of miles away. I still look back on the 9 years I spent in Southend with regret, tempered only by the few good friends I made whilst I was there and without whom I reckon my life would have fallen apart completely. Still,  one shouldn't dwell on the past even though I have managed to make the same mistakes on a regular basis which leaves me where I am today. Without the mistakes I've made over the years I wouldn't be sitting where I am today, in a pleasant flat in a beautiful part of the world, newly retired from work and a fresh blank canvas in front of me, the prospect of a new life beckoning. Funny how things turn out isn't it? My main problem was always bottling up my thoughts and over-thinking every little thing. This blog has solved the bottling up element and I've certainly reduced my thinking to the bare minimum, taking each day as it comes, dealing with what can be dealt with and letting fate (for want of a better word) take care of the things I can't control. Now all I need is to meet my new life-partner in a bookshop somewhere and away we go.
Peace and Love, x ttfn

Thinking

I've been retired now for a couple of weeks and it's great. The freedom to do what I like when I like is marvellous and has lifted my mood no end.
There are times though when I realise that pretty much everything I do I do alone. Now I'm quite happy with my own company and I'm not complaining, it's just occasionally it would be nice to have a significant other to share things with.
I'm not looking for a wife or even someone to live with, just someone special with whom I can share my thoughts and they can share theirs with me.
I thought I had found such a person not so long ago but my long distance relationship with her didn't work out.
So I will carry on alone until she comes along, a person whom I can visit and who can visit me and in the intervening times can communicate online. These days one doesn't have to live in the pocket of the person you are with, just know that they are there to chat and would be happy to meet when time and funds allow.
Anyway enough of this navel gazing, back to being retired and on to finishing The Tale.
Maybe my next post will be about my new long distance relationship, let's hope so. Until then, peace and love. ttfn

This post has no title

St George's Day today and also the date on which William Shakespeare was born and died. Speaking of writing, I just sat down to try and write a few more words of The Tale but nothing came to mind, zilch, nada, nowt. Still if I sit down each day I'm sure something will come. After all this is my job now and nobody said writing was easy so I'll just keep plugging away.
That's all I have to say today so until the next exciting instalment I say ttfn.

Peace and Love x

18 days...but I'm not counting.

In 18 days from today I will start my pre-retirement leave culminating in my early retirement on 29 April. From that day forward I hope to spend the rest of my days finishing The Tale, writing some more poems (maybe even learn some of the rules of writing proper poetry) and reading all the books that are piled up on my 'to read' stack. I also hope to throw in a bit of travel when finances allow. Oh, and learn Dutch.
I also hope to blog a bit more and try to chronicle the progress of The Tale as I plod on to the end. I can't promise it will be a magnum opus but I hope that if it ever gets out to a wider audience it will entertain those who read it.
By freeing myself from the daily grind I hope to be able to relax and settle down to a writing routine. The poems will continue to come when they come, each one has been produced on a whim, when something has sparked an idea which just flows rather than me sitting down with the intention of writing a poem.
So there you have it, no major plans other than a total shift of lifestyle, wish me luck.
Peace and Love. ttfn x

A poem

A Weekend thought

The dull dead hand of the weekend

Lies heavy on my solitary soul

The hours drag by with no light

At the end of the tunnel.

No, wait!

The club opens in five short minutes

A beer and a chat livens the day

That's all right then.

Phew!

The Great Day

The Great Day

The Great Day creeps

Like a snail up a hill

I would like it perhaps

To break into a jog

Towards a time when 

Books can be read 

And written

travel undertaken

And the chains cast off