Category: My Prose
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Palimpsest? *
I have derived a number of meanings for Palimpsest. The Romans adapted the word from the Greek where its meaning was “to rub out” or “to rework”. At that time the medium used for writing was vellum or papyrus. Vellum was animal membrane that was scraped, smoothed and dried. It was both scarce and expensive.…
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Bedlam *
Bedlam * Joseph Merrick 1862 – 1890. was never put on display at Bedlam, but I take his case as the basis for this piece entitled “Bedlam.” Ravening through the night, Screams tearing bloody tracks Deep into minds and darkened dreams Carving lines across face and breast That mark the flesh of the inflicted Leaving…
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The Wardens of Skellig
The Wardens of Skellig * Communing with gannets, puffins and skuas, Amid ghostly ranks of long-departed monks And temptress selkies rising from the sea, The Wardens of Skellig Have much to talk about and ponder But only to themselves. Muttering for want of an ear to listen, Listening for want of a voice to hear.…
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In The Beginning *
In The Beginning * I hadn’t been writing much lately and was confronted with the desperate, frightening reality that maybe the well had run dry. I was in an existential crisis. I revisited some of the things I was putting out 6 months, or maybe a year ago. I went through a really productive cycle…
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Generations *
Generations Judge Not My parents were among those labelled the “Greatest Generation”. They were born into a world of mind-boggling change. What had long been a static landscape was undergoing a whirlwind of innovation; motor cars, flying machines, the electrification of cities, communications and medicine. They were young but old enough to be aware of…
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Whittling
Whittling Some people sit in a rocking chair and whittle on a piece of wood. I whittle away too, at ideas that get under my skin usually with a maddening itch that demands to be scratched. I call it my Writer’s Itch. Fortunately, I keep my nails short so I don’t break the skin, on most occasions. I tap…
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Black History
Celebrating Black History David Black married Isabel Paterson and had a son, John Black on May 29, 1757 in Wemyss, Fife, Scotland. John Black married Ann Balmain and had a son, James Black on Sep 02, 1786 in Wemyss, Fife, Scotland. James Black married Janet Chambers and had a son, David Black on Feb 18,…
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Mary, Mary
Mary, Mary, How does your garden grow? I’ve tried to analyze what it is that I do when I begin a piece. Of course, they all start with some amorphous stirring between my ears. But what happens in there? How does any particular piece develop and grow? The workings of my mind are like a…
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Things *
Things I admit I have many things, more things than I need and certainly more than I deserve. But they tend to be small, inconsequential things. They occupy little space and require little to no maintenance. I have an emotional attachment to them, but to lose them would cause me just a brief sigh. But…
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Over The Swords
Over The Swords I watch her from a distance, out of sight so she doesn’t feel the weight of my concern. She has enough to worry about. She needs to be light as thistledown, precise as a machine, graceful as billowing silk and as strong as the swords at her feet. She doesn’t need to…
Palimpsest 