Another Passionate Issue

The Spring Issue of the newly-designed Passionate Transitory is now online. Do take a look. It's bigger and brighter than ever before! This new edition contains 61 poems by 29 poets — 16 of them new contributors. Once more, the standard of writing is very high, I think.

The Run

She had hoped for a hare.

Just one, something fast and mad,

ripping the moon-damp fields,

a thumper like herself.

Instead, after half an hour,

when her sneakers were soaked,

and the mist had dropped

like a bowl over Cherbury Camp,

muntjacs stepped out of the cloud;

paused for a moment, scarcely parting

the pearl and mushroom air; then ran

in trinity towards the copse.

Annette Volfing

Raining Quinces

My first poetry collection, Raining Quinces, is now available through Amazon US and Amazon UK and all European Amazon channels.

The book contains over eighty poems and is divided into three parts: Camino (poems inspired by wandering the French and Spanish pilgrim routes to Santiago), Lightness of Being (light verse and humorous poems) and Blue Fruit (poems on love, life, nature, landscape, art and family relationships). Linking these three sections is the implicit or explicit notion of spiritual quest. The book is dedicated to 'Camino pilgrims everywhere'.

raining quinces

farewell to the land of luscious fruit

where apples hang like rosy pink lanterns

and pumpkins swell like pregnant farmgirls

and bunches of grapes are purple chandeliers

and succulent figs so wickedly feminine

they seem barely legal

i’m back in the land of bitter sloes

where crab apples lie wasted in the orchards

hips and haws food only for the fieldfares

and blackberries are shrivelled up and tart

but it’s always raining quinces

in my heart

For me the quince is the essential taste of the Camino — read more about it here.

Kenning the Goddess

At the edge of sleep you softly cry;
your body shifts into a new position.
You — once singing muse, shape-shifter,
Celtic heiress of an old religion,

pagan druidess, dream-drifter,
surf-walker, sea-talker, sand-sifter,
jewelled chalice, bright cup, gold beaker,
soothsayer, rune-writer, riddle-speaker,

Ouroboros swallowing her own tail,
Guinevere, Igraine, Holy Grail,
Isis, Astarte, Ishtar, Artemis,
Danu, Kali, Lilith, Hera, Iris,

Selene, Circe, Ceres, Guari, Gaia,
Frigg, Freya, Shapsu, Thalia, Sophia,
Venus, Diana, Dione, Terpsichore,
succubus, enchantress, strumpet, whore,

Brigid, Bellona, Maia, Morgan le Fay,
virgin, virago, temptress, easy lay,
flint, fire, flaming torch, love–potion,
cornflower, blue flower, sapphire ocean,

sea wrack, bladderwrack, sea wreck,
albatross’s wing, swan’s down, swan’s neck,
song-maker, music-mistress, harp-plucker,
colt’s foot, cat’s eye, goatsucker,

hedonist, prophetess, huntress,
sun-seeker, rain-drummer, seductress,
truffle-taster, mushroom-eater, nectar-drinker,
reclusive anchorite, allusive thinker,

fox-furred, snowy-owl-feathered,
wind-beaten, snow-sculpted, wild-weathered,
bat’s echo, mouse tail, mare’s tail, peacock plume,
rainbow’s ending, river’s rising, salt spume,

damselfly’s delicacy, dragonfly’s shimmer,
butterfly’s flutter, glowworm’s glimmer,
violet, vermilion, viridescent green,
sweet briar, briar rose, eglantine,

pomegranate, grape juice, grenadine,
raven-haired, crow-clever, snake charmer,
dawn deliverer, daydreamer, night embalmer,
priestess of good dharma, bad karma,

pin-pricked, pine-needled, poison-darted,
Medusa-headed, Miranda-hearted,
many times married, many times parted,
man-manacled, girl-powered,

taut-bowed, taut-strung, poison-arrowed,
heaven-sent, hell-harrowed,
soft-skinnned, hot-spiced, musk-scented,
part real, part mirage, part invented,

heart-stopper, head-gamer, mind-bender,
soul-sister, life-lover, love-lender,
sweet honey, sweet grape, strong wine,
thief’s consort, knave’s tart, king’s concubine,

weed-widowed, viper-tongued, world-weary,
moon-struck, moon-eyed, moon-bleary,
sun worshipper of a million suns,
stargazer at a million constellations,

embracer of magic, entrail-diviner,
tracker of turquoise, tourmaline, gold miner,
destiny’s chameleon, luck-chancer,
dark diva, moon river, moon dancer —

gently moan into your pillow,
lost in dreams of your old being,
lost in some fold or crevice of your mind,
lost in some atavistic, ancient feeling.

Your body shifts, dream-writing its history
like Minerva or Calliope; 
once you were mad Ophelia, now Penelope.

Walking the Poem

I took my poem for a midnight walk,
thinking I might find out its meaning,
what it was about, how it might talk.

I took my poem for a midnight walk:
the sky above a pin cushion of stars,
the moon a melon slice, the silver birches

leaning into obscurity, half tangible,
half immaterial; and as I paused to take
my bearings, my poem ran ahead

and lost itself among the shadowed gardens
and dark alleyways. To tell the truth
I felt relieved to be without the pull

and tug of its straining leash. I felt
light-headed, fancy-free, rid of a burden.
I took my poem for a midnight walk;

but it wanted a life of its own and fled
into a night of stars blinking like diamonds
around the moon’s shut eyelid, and the trees

sighing into a midnight wind,
unwitnessed, undescribed. I took
my poem for a midnight walk; it fled;

I got my own life back; and was content
that I could live life now a little bit
without the painful struggle to express it.

Lake

Grebe Lake, Whisby Nature Park, Lincoln.

A lake is the landscape's most beautiful and expressive feature. It is earth's eye; looking into which the beholder measures the depth of his own nature. HENRY DAVID THOREAU

Dancing At The Heart Of The Earth

Last night I was idly doodling with pen on paper when I suddenly remembered reading something on am's blog, Talking 37th Dream (Rumors Of Peace), several years ago. She remarked on the fact that the words 'Earth' and 'Heart' were anagrams of each other. I decided to pursue this pleasing coincidence. (Or is it a coincidence?) First of all I drew the following word square...

... and then I filled in the central vertical and horizontal lines of the word square with the word 'Rumba'. The rumba is, of course, a Cuban dance. But its roots are in Africa, which is our human heartland, since the first homo sapiens developed on Africa's earth...

After that it seemed natural and obvious to complete the remaining verticals and horizontals with the words 'Aquae' and 'Tabor'. The tabor is an early European portable snare drum played with a stick in one hand. It's the hallmark of an improvisatory one man band, often heard in a pipe-and-tabor combination, but also used widely in massed bands. So here we have a potent symbol for music, the very heart and soul of individual and communal spiritual and earthly life...

'Aquae' is the plural of the Latin 'Aqua' or 'Water', and water comprises 70% of the earth's surface and 60% or more of the adult human body (incredibly, the brain is nearly 80% water). Water is essential for life and is basic to our very existence. Indeed, the first simple forms of life originated from hydrothermal vents deep in the oceans. It also has magical, mystical and healing properties. You could say that water lies at the heart of our very presence on this earth... 

There is more. In my drawing the word square lies within a circle and touches this circle at four equidistant points.

The circle is a symbol for the universal, the cosmic, the sacred and the divine. It's the shape of the earth, of the stars, and of all the planets and their orbits. It symbolises inclusivity and completeness. It's the form of the yin yang symbol. And it represents the circularity of time and the seasons, the unchanging cycle of life, death and rebirth.

The square has four sides and four right-angled points, and symbolises stability, groundedness — rooted-on-earthliness. The number four is a mystical and spiritually significant number. There are four seasons, four elements, four geographical directions, four mathematical processes (addition, subtraction, multiplication, division). There are four Christian Gospels, four Evangelists, four horsemen of the Apocalypse, four Noble Truths of Buddhism. There are four Humours (blood, yellow bile, black bile, phlegm), four Temperaments (sanguine, choleric, melancholic, phlegmatic), four Cardinal Virtues (justice, prudence, temperance, fortitude) and four suits in a pack of playing cards (clubs, diamonds, hearts, spades).

In Chinese symbology a square within a circle represents the union of heaven and earth, and in Jungian psychology it represents the complementary balance of body and psyche. Leonardo's sketch, Vitruvian Man, shows a man within a circle within a square; this creates an analogy between the harmonious workings of the human body and the harmonious workings of the universe, ie it illustrates the microcosm within the macrocosm, the macrocosm within the microcosm.

And there is more. Let's look at numerology. The words 'Earth' and 'Heart' which enclose the word square (and are the only words touching the circumference of the surrounding circle) can be analysed numerically in this way. If 'A' equals '1', 'B' equals '2' and 'C' equals '3' etc, the word 'Earth' becomes 5, 1, 18, 20, and 8, which adds up to 52; and the word 'Heart' becomes 8, 5, 1, 18 and 20, which adds up, of course, to 52 again. Does the number '52' ring a bell? Yes, that's right — it's the total number of cards in a pack of playing cards. You know, those playing cards which have four suits, with one of those suits being hearts. And we have four words here too — two 'Earths' and two 'Hearts' — so that's four packs of playing cards!

To sum up: I believe earth and heart, both anagrams of each other, have a symbiotic and mystical relationship. The earth was the heart of the universe in pre-Copernican times. And the earth remains at the heart of our mortal existence. Water, or aqua, is our lifeblood, the source, the stream, the well, the substrate, the fountainhead. Music, represented by the tabor (its rhythm percussive as a heartbeat), can also be seen as central to our well-being, giving pleasure, meaning and depth to our lives. And the rumba is a dance from the heart of Africa, whose earth can be considered the origin and heart of human life.

Note finally that the word 'Rumba' forms a cross in the centre of the word square, and a cross, whether Christian or otherwise, has four sections and four points. And the letter 'M', at the very centre of the square, is one of the two letters ('M' and 'N') which lie exactly midway through the alphabet.

I danced in the morning when the world was begun / I danced in the Moon and the Stars and the Sun / I came down from Heaven and I danced on Earth / At Bethlehem I had my birth. SYDNEY CARTER Lord Of The Dance

We should consider every day lost on which we have not danced at least once. FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE

Dance is the hidden language of the soul.  MARTHA GRAHAM

Richard Thompson

Image courtesy of Kevin Smith at Wikimedia Commons.

If most people had to list our top UK rock and roll guitarists, the names of Eric Clapton, Rory Gallagher, Hank Marvin, Mark Knopfler, Jeff Beck and Jimmy Page would probably come to mind. However, polls regularly place Richard Thompson as the best British guitarist (certainly the best folk-rock guitarist) of all time, and I wouldn't disagree. In the songwriting stakes, too, I would put him up there among the greats — look at his beautiful songs Beeswing and Dimming Of The Day, for instance.

I suppose Thompson may not be quite as well known and appreciated as some of our musicians and songwriters because his songs can appear melancholy and depressing, hard-edged, out of the mainstream — a little too, well, folky. But I myself love his romantic realism and his folk roots.

I've followed Richard since his early days with seminal folk-rock band Fairport Convention and through his forty-album career. I even once had a chat with him and his then wife, Linda, at the bar of St John's College, Durham, during a concert break.

It was a privilege to see the wonderful Richard Thompson again last night in Nottingham's Royal Concert Hall. He's on a UK tour at the moment with his band (Taras Prodaniuk on bass and Michael Jerome on drums) to promote their new album Electric. He's gigging the US in March and April. Do see him if you get the chance.

Here's a live performance from Austin, Texas, of his song Put It There Pal.

Internet Activity

I thought it might be useful to give a summary of my relevant Internet activity — it covers my four blogs, my poetry journal and my two Facebook pages.

My main blog, The Solitary Walker. This summer it will have been online for six years. Yes, it's about walking — but many other things too, such as music, books, poetry, philosophy, Buddhism, landscape, natural history, photography, cookery, Marmite and country dancing (only joking about the country dancing). I am always delighted to receive comments on this and on all my other blogs. 

My blog Turnstone features quotations from and thoughts about the books I've been reading, and other odd snippets besides, or as the subtitle defines it: 'Shards, Sweepings, Stealings, Sayings, Secrets'. 

Words and silence is an intimate and highly personal blog concerned with self-discovery. You might call it 'a journey towards ecstatic truth'.

You will find an archive of all my poems at walking in words.

This is the site of my poetry magazine, The Passionate Transitory. It comes out quarterly, and submissions are most welcome. The Passionate Transitory's Facebook page is here. Why don't you pay a visit? More 'Likes' are always appreciated!

Finally this is my own personal Facebook page. If I've known you a while as a regular blog reader and commenter, why don't you call in and become a Facebook Friend?

Schoolboy Howlers

In midevil times most people were alliterate. The greatest writer of the futile ages was Chaucer, who wrote many poems and verses and also wrote literature.

Romeo and Juliet are an example of a heroic couplet. Romeo's last wish was to be laid by Juliet.

Writing at the same time as Shakespeare was Miguel Cervantes. He wrote Donkey Hote. The next great author was John Milton. Milton wrote Paradise Lost. Then his wife died and he wrote Paradise Regained.

Later, the Pilgrims crossed the ocean, and this was called Pilgrim's Progress. The winter of 1620 was a hard one for the settlers. Many people died and many babies were born. Captain John Smith was responsible for all this.

The greatest writer of the Renaissance was William Shakespeare. He was born in the year 1564, supposedly on his birthday. He never made much money and is famous only because of his plays. He wrote tragedies, comedies, and hysterectomies, all in Islamic pentameter.

It was an age of great inventions and discoveries. Gutenberg invented removable type and the Bible. Another important invention was the circulation of the blood. Sir Walter Raleigh is a historical figure because he invented cigarettes and started smoking. And Sir Francis Drake circumcised the world with a 100 foot clipper.

From the Internet (source unknown).

Birdwatching

Hide at Langford Lowfields.

Today I returned to my local RSPB reserve, Langford Lowfields, which I last visited four weeks ago. The weather was cold and the sky overcast. I thought it would be interesting to make another list of all the birds I saw and compare it with yesterday's; the habitats of woodland, farmland, lake and river were very similar. Twenty-nine different species were recorded, slightly fewer than yesterday. These birds were on both lists:

Wood pigeon, rook, crow, jackdaw, robin, dunnock, blackbird, cormorant, mallard, pochard, tufted duck, wigeon, coot, gadwall, goldeneye, shelduck, grey heron, great tit, blue tit, chaffinch, black-headed gull.

And these were the new sightings:

Magpie, greenfinch, goldfinch, yellowhammer, reed bunting, pintail, mute swan, little egret.

Finches, robins, dunnocks, great tits, yellowhammers and reed buntings were busy at the feeders near the hide. It was great to see a little egret, though these birds are becoming much more common now in the UK. But the highlight for me was a pair of pintails — such strikingly marked ducks, especially the males with their chocolate-brown heads, gleaming white breasts and long, black tail feathers.  

Daffodils emerging through last year's leaves at Langford Lowfields.

When I Thought I Was Right I Was Wrong

When I thought I was right I was wrong.
I was weak when I thought I was strong.
When I thought I was big I was small.
I was short when I thought I was tall.

When I thought I was young I was old.
When I thought I was hot I was cold.
When I thought I was good I was bad.
When I smiled I disguised I was sad.

When I thought I was saint I was sinner,
A loser and never a winner.
I was lost when I thought I was found,
In a tunnel deep under the ground.

When I thought that I might not be heard
I left without saying a word,
I left without writing a line,
And I thought I would manage just fine.

I knew I had nothing to say
When the night would not turn into day.
When I thought I was white I was black.
It's too late. But I wish I was back.