Posts Tagged ‘Poem’



I sit by the river and see

Dark waters unfolding around around me

Wondering why it all went wrong

When in the distance I hear the sad old song

Of a nightingale in the whispering willows

And I wonder….here I sit on the banks of the river

The wind lifting the sweat from my brows

Feeling the cold fingers of autumn, the shiver

It has not been a wonderful life

The pain was immense, the quiet my strife

The whisper I hear in the darkness tonight

My end ever near now over the fight

I lift my gaze to the stars above

And wonder at them, those sparkles of love

Why was it never so easy for me

Good person I am, setting all free

Where’s the forgiveness, the caring and love

Why was there always so little for me, not a tear, not a smile

Never missed, always judged, always the pain

The scoldings I hear, know now all’s in vain

Now over the struggle, at last I lie down

Here by the river, with dew on my gown

I turn my face to the heavens above

And see a beam of light and….at last the love



Starry Night Over the Rhone (September 1888) by Vincent van Gogh

Dreaming of van Gogh on squarefocus.com


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Via Camargue

Horses of the Carmargue

a poem by

Roy Campbell

In the grey wastes of the dread,
The haunt of shattered gulls where nothing moves
But in a shroud of silence like the dead,
I heard a sudden harmony of hooves,

And, turning, saw afar
A hundred snowy horses unconfined,
The silver runaways of Neptune’s car
Racing, spray-curled, like waves before the wind.

Sons of the Mistral, fleet,
As him with whose strong gusts they love to flee,
Who shod the flying thunders on their feet
And plumed them with the snortings of the sea;

Theirs in no earthly breed
Who only haunt the verges of the earth
And only on the sea’s salt herbage feed –
Surely the great white breakers gave them birth.

For when for years a slave,
A horse of the Camargue, in alien lands,
Should catch some far-off fragrance of the wave
Carried far inland from his native sands,

Many have told the tale
Of how in fury, foaming at the rein,
He hurled his rider; and with lifted tail,
With coal-red eyes and cataracting mane,

Though sixty foreign leagues before him sweep,
Will never rest until he breathes the foam
And hears the native thunder of the deep.

But when the great gusts rise
And lash their anger on these and coasts,
When the scared gulls career with mournful cries
And whirl across the waste like driven ghosts:

When hail and fire converge,
The only souls to which they strike no pain
Are the white-crested fillies of the surge
And the white horses of the windy plain.

Then in their strength and pride
The stallions of the wilderness rejoice;
They feel their Master’s trident in their side,
And high and shrill they answer to his voice.

With white tails smoking free,
Long streaming manes, and arching necks, they show
Their kinship to their sisters of the sea –
And forward hurl their thunderbolts of snow.

Still out of hardship bred,
Spirits of power and beauty and delight
Have ever on such frugal pastures fed
And loved to course with tempests through the night.

I’ve always wanted to make sense of life. I’ve always wanted to organize my shattered thought processes. Many of you know me, I’m a familiar face (or font, if you will) on social media. This only proves my point….I’m not only ‘’scatterbrained’’, I’m ‘’shatterbrained’’.

Once, long time ago, I read a book that, for the first time in my life proved I’m not totally crazy, neither am I the only one. ‘’An unquiet mind’’ by dr Kay Redfield Jamison showed me that there are other people out there that simply NEVER have, what one would call, ‘’peace of mind’’.  Dr Jamison, of course, had Bipolar Disorder, but the similarities between how she felt, what she did and how she described her life, was simply too close to my own reality to ignore. As a matter of fact, I did take a test to find out if I’m Bipolar and the score, well, needless to say…according to the score I’m wavering somewhere between ADHD, Bipolarity and total insanity!

My thoughts run through my head faster than a freight train sometimes….and it NEVER lets go. If (and only IF) I manage to sleep, my dreams are filled with strange images, of marathon-like action…it feels like I’m in a bloody Robert Ludlum novel! I rarely wake up rested and have enormous difficulty to meditate, to quiet down….much to my yoga instructor’s horror, of course. (See, I do try to calm down, hence the yoga!)

During ‘’wake-time’’, which is most of my existence, my thoughts and interests jumps from one to the other. I’m an honest to God eclect, if there is such a thing. You can never ask me what I like in particular, because I like everything and everyone….music: well, Stevie Nicks, Beethoven Meatloaf, Mozart….Boney M, Jimmy Swaggart and Hillsong…..it all depends on the MOOD I’m in. Food? Another thing….I don’t particularly like meat, but am NOT a vegetarian, I love cheesecake and hate chocolate, but if I have a craving, I’ll consume ten slabs of Lindt Extra Fine without blinking an eye. Books and movies, my great loves, apart from my family; and again, I’m NOT particular, though I prefer Stephen King to Dean Koontz, I would not hesitate to sink my teeth in one of Koontz’s novels. I adore Ayn Rand, Ernest Hemingway and Henry James as much as Jane Austin, Shakespeare and Tolkien….see what I’m getting at?

Well, about ONE thing I’m VERY certain….I love the winter cold, I love snow and ice…and I worship the Scottish Highlands. Sometimes I think it’s a good thing to have so many various interests; you can talk about anything to anyone and sound, at least, semi-intelligent. (There’s a relief, huh?)

This, then, brings me to the reason for this particular post today….you are more than welcome to follow this personal blog here. Or my two ‘’business’’ blogs here and here. Feast is my ‘’recipe blog’’ and you’ll find my ‘’news blog’’ here. The links to my social media network can be found on my about.me-page. Hopefully, seeing all these goings on, you are beginning to understand the messy mind I live with. Back to the reason I’ve decided on ‘’clearing the air’’ today; and an explanation of why I headed this post with a poem about horses.

Don’t ever think I am embarrassed by this confusion of thoughts running through my mind. To me it’s been  just that, life,  existence, since forever….I’ve ALWAYS been like this and to NOT have all these ideas, images and ‘’thinks’’ going on between my ears would be akin to death. It proves to me I’m alive and that I live life in the moment and to the fullest. But….sometimes it gets to me….sometimes I wish I could be more organized in thought. Just yesterday I felt inspired to write again (yes, I’m an author, though unpublished and have written many short stories and novels….some I even finished!) and I thought…sheez, girl, you’re SO crazy! You have this brilliant idea for a story, you start writing the synopsis, diagram the ‘’stage’’, outline the characters and then, poof, the bubble bursts and I don’t feel like it again, so I put it back on ice until next time.

So, therefore, I tried to explain the thoughts I have with this poem….it is one I’ve heard back in school. It’s been more than 30 years since then and I still remember it, and, in a way, it explains the workings of my mind better than anything, because, in reading it, I can feel the pounding of the hooves (thoughts/ideas)…..I can feel the spray of the sea (familiarity), the streaming of the mane (freedom), the blissful exertion of the run….and I’m grateful for my own ‘’unquiet mind’’, I’m grateful that I have confusing thoughts; though it may irritate others or make them impatient with me, though people find it difficult to understand me…. Being boxed in, being ‘’organized in thought’’ is as alien to me as alien lands are to these creatures and I would, when confined to think within a certain, socially acceptable realm, long to be free, long to let my ideas and my mind go, to wander the shores of oceans far away.

I ask then, here, at the beginning of a new week, that you, my friends, my followers, know and understand that you can expect everything and anything from my mind; that with me you’ll find that boring doesn’t exist…..every second is fresh, alive and hurtling toward the next. In another favourite poem, Stephen Dobyns states: ‘’Everything I do, I rush through, so I can do something else…’’ (Pursuit)….and yes, this is me, this is my mind, my way of doing….do not waste a minute, use it, abuse it, live it, eat it up…..for tomorrow lies ahead with new challenges, new thoughts, new ideas…


If this is not a reason for living, people, a reason to be thankful, to feel alive….feel it, the pounding of your heart, the rushing of the blood through your veins, the bouncing of the ball of thought in your brain….life is RAPTURE! Live it, love it…..enjoy it….


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