As you may have noticed, I'm back Massive progress was made with the book over the weekend. We selected the photos needed and I have a print-out version of the whole thing. In musical terms that's a demo It'll take another session to wrap things up and I'm confident that we'll be ready to go come late November

Meanwhile, here's a piccie of me at the Devil's Den, one of Avebury's many wonders.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/darksta...s/10211708033/

Willow

Weeping as for a lover’s broken pledge,
green tears trail the river’s edge,
caressing waters over summer’s sedge.

Limbs drift, languid in desolate air,
teardrop leaves seep despair,
teasing sunlight into shadow’s lair.

That has a hypnotically relaxing air about it Scottie.

Ah you're back. Pleased to hear that all went well and look forward to seeing the new volume. It's a miracle that it's safe to stand near those stones - I wonder how long it took to get the balance. Lovely sky as well.

Dark Star takes some great photos - I looked through loads of them, but I don't think I got to the end. I'll have another go later if he doesn't mind. You make a good team.

PS You'd better pop upstairs to Chatter, Twass is missing you.

A beautiful poem Scottie - it reminded me so much of Ophelia, the painting by John Millais


Hi Biz - look again at the photo. On the right you can see a flat Victorian slab that's shoring up the monument. It has the date engraved on it too, which is 1826 I think. Thanks for your kind words on the book. I'm sure Dark Star won't mind you browsing through his photos, he's taken thousands!

I've already visited Chatter - it's good to be back

You know that's exactly what I thought, but I couldn't for the life of me remember what it was called or who the artist was.



I meant the stone balanced on the top.

I know - I think the Victorians re-arranged the Devil's Den at some point after it had fallen.

Louise in October

Louise if I'd known just one person like you
My life might have had an entirely clear view,
So now I imagine my past and the park
With trees in the twilight some time before dark.

A schoolgirl who doesn’t fit in with the crowd,
A schoolboy who dare not show off or be loud,
If only we'd met in the October grey
Returning from class at the end of the day.

Yet how can two lonely souls first start to sing
Or muster the courage to say anything?
Perhaps if I tell a joke, rolling the dice
On that chance encounter it might break the ice.

My desperate quip somehow brings you a laugh,
Your pretty face smiling on our homeward path,
It unlocks the door and removes every bar;
At last we can find out who we really are.

You tell of your interest in old history books,
Not fashions that come and go, pop singers' looks,
In planets above and why oceans are blue
In what the world means, not in who's dating who.

The last to get picked for heroic sports teams,
Like me you spend half the term lost in daydreams,
Preferring things quiet, avoiding the fuss,
The chatter and babble that's heard on the bus.

The others enjoy fun nights out and new trends,
An instinctive need for adventure and friends,
Unable to understand how our kind feel
Who spend time alone because shyness is real.

Should some of the rude ones appear on our route
To scoff at us, plying their favourite pursuit
We'd simply ignore them, by now they're a bore
For you and I Louise have gained so much more.

We pass by the meadows on our lovely walk,
Quite unaware as we excitedly talk
With happiness finally starting to show
The friendship we've found may eventually grow.

As you look around at October Louise,
Absorbing the wonder of autumnal trees
You'll be unaware of me noticing too
How closely their leaves match the beauty of you.


©

If only you'd really met your Louise. It doesn't seem fair. Life really is a lottery isn't it? Still maybe it's not too late - what about that nice neighbour?

That nice neighbour's married Biz I did actually meet Louise, but at work - she was 'the one that got away'. I made her younger in the poem. It's an oldie, but one I really like because it's an uplifting tale. As with many older poems I made a few changes, which will make life easier when volume 3 needs to be assembled.

It is lovely, but very sad at the same time. I wasn't sure if I'd met Louise before because there have been so many poems fleeting past over a long period.

Pity about the neighbour.

I snuck her into The Crow as well That was a poem in the Gothic style I posted recently. In it I re-named her Louisa to fit the nineteenth century mood.

Did she ever know how you felt about her? I wonder how she'd feel if she knew you'd immortalized her in verse.

The Steal

He came in the night
and took it away.
Still,
never mind,
it’ll find its way home.
It always does.

But no sound at the door.

Sometimes I think it’s there,
a movement caught at the turn of the stair,
an unexpected shadow,
a sense of something around.

But still no sound at the door.

Hello Musty, have you heard of Chauncey Bradley Ives, he was an American sculptor. I came across a lovely sculpture called Undine Rising From The Waters. If I ever had a chance, I would love to see it as it looks so interesting.

I found out the feeling was mutual, but I messed everything up - it's a long story Biz. I guess she's a kind of muse now. Whenever the name Louise crops up I think of her.


Great write Scottie I didn't fully understand this but it certainly gave me the creeps!


Hi Sandy I've never heard of him, so I'm off to look him up on Google.

I knew of a Louise also, she had the curliest hair and you never knew what she was going to do next but she was so lovely to talk to.

Maybe all Louises are nice I looked up your sculptor Sandy - what a genius. Undine Rising From The Waters is superb

Touching, but very, very sad.

The main thing is, I'm happy now Biz I'm working on a few bits and pieces but none of them have come together yet. Hopefully tomorrow I'll have something new to post

It's impossible to go through life without some unhappy phases, but I'm pleased to hear you're happy now.

Even a long and happy marriage is no guarantee that we'll not end up alone.............but life goes on and it's wise to adapt to the inevitable.

The Rise of the Gnomes

On every lawn tempers grow hotter,
Dead statues designed by some potter,
For freedom we’ll battle,
Pipes smoke and feet rattle
In massed ranks of hard terracotta.

Let’s march, no more fishing and sitting,
We hate every pose you deem fitting;
In hats that are pointed
We’re so disappointed,
White-bearded on toadstools just sitting.

We're sick of the grass and long hours
Spent bored when the world could be ours,
Without any pardon
We're leaving each garden,
Good riddance to ponds, shrubs and flowers.

While lacking gnome girls never hung us
The loneliness certainly stung us,
In time we’ll have lovers
And under the covers
Have fun like the gay ones among us.

Those seven runts Snow White looked after
Were idiots, what could be dafter
Than Bashful and Sneezy,
To change isn’t easy,
It’s time for rebellion, not laughter.

The Rise of the Gnomes, devolution
From mankind’s the only solution,
Although we are little
Suburbia’s brittle,
Come gnomes, join our great revolution!


©
 

Indeed Biz - as long as you're content, that's the main thing

Hahahaha! Awww, it never occurred to me that gnomes could be lonely. Watch out gnome girls, the bearded ones are on the rampage.

Mistake alert Biz - repetition of the word 'sitting' in verse two

EDIT: Here's the solution -

Let’s march to ban what you deem fitting,
Drop fishing rods and start admitting
In hats that are pointed
We’re so disappointed,
White-bearded on toadstools just sitting.