to have and to hold

Small fragile fear, like the wing of a bird…

gently fluttering overhead. 

then the vast storm that sweeps in

and seals the room in its fury

blowing about until nothing is

left but meaningless words

and timeworn stories.

Sometimes you are drowning

in the darkness

hoping to find something
to hold on to...            

But other times you are waiting 

for the giraffe...the one
you've always wished to have...
a lion comes but you send
him away knowing it is not
what you need.

For a moment you follow

the sweet fragrance 

of freedom and escape.

It is an illusive aroma
that leads you to the edge
of the abyss
and suddenly you are spinning,

your feet planted firmly

yet sensing the turn of the earth

until someone takes

your hand and the twirling stops

The startling silence is broken

by the voice

that will navigate you through

the strong current that threatens

to send you adrift  in the river,

lost forever

under the sky so clear

it holds no clues

to finding your way back.

A Mother's Love

TO WASH A CHILD
by Pablo Neruda

Only the most ancient love on earth
will wash and comb the statue of the children,
straighten the feet and knees.
The water rises, the soap slithers,
and the pure body comes up to breathe
the air of flowers and motherhood.

Oh, the sharp watchfulness,
the sweet deception,
the lukewarm struggle!

Now the hair is a tangled
pelt crisscrossed by charcoal,
by sawdust and oil,
soot, wiring, crabs,
until love, in its patience,
sets up buckets and sponges,
combs and towels,
and, out of scrubbing and combing, amber,
primal scrupulousness, jasmines,
has emerged the child, newer still,
running from the mother's arms
to clamber again on its cyclone,
go looking for mud, oil, urine and ink,
hurt itself, roll about on the stones.
Thus, newly washed, the child springs into life,
for later, it will have time for nothing more
than keeping clean, but with the life lacking.

MoDA Photography Setup by Paul Boocock

 

MoDA: MoDA Photography Setup: Lights in working position The new photography equipment is finally in place and working, it has taken a little longer than expected due to...

Tears by Tiny Dancer

photo©Rhonda Prince

I’ve always wondered
Why tears should only come out of your eyes
And if there’s a secret supply of tears
Hidden away in the back of your head

But if
If tears were stored away in the back of your head
like storage, but with water
A water tower in your head
your brain
And when you cried
the tears would pour out of your
Nose
and your
Mouth
and your ears, too

So I guess it’s a good thing you have tearducts
because if tears came from your
Nose,
and your
Mouth
and your ears, too
you would drown
in your tears

And there would be a whole new meaning to the saying
“Drowning in your sorrow”

text©Sadie Gren 2011

Than Paper and a Pen by Mervyn Peake

Than paper and a pen

What is there, then

Needed besides

To make the cold ink burn?

Only a leaping brain;

Only the heart's hot tides;

Only the frond of a fern.

In the skull for a feeler,

Touching on pain-

(Neither hurter nor healer)

Touching on joy -

(Nor for love nor for gain)

Touching on all

for its singular stain.

Summer Holiday - Day 13 and departure

Day 13: Cambridge-   a university town filled with students and their bicycles, Gothic architecture alongside modern buildings, churches and colleges, wide open parks and public spaces, open markets, street performers and punt boats on the River Cam.  Beautiful and exciting, yet with a peaceful charm that made me want to stay longer...or visit again...

Catholic Church of Our Lady and English Martyrs

Jesus College

 

The Church of the Holy Sepulchre (aka The Round Church)

                             

Left Cambridge by train to Audley End where Paul's sister, Sue drove us to Saffron Walden for an excellent dinner of Turkish food. Train back to Enfield. And for one last time the familiar walk down Ordnance Road past the shops, restaurants and houses to the flat. 

photo©Paul Boocock

Day 14: packed clothes, souvenirs, tea, oatcakes, ginger nuts and a bag full of memories for the trip home.

Day 15: back to Heathrow airport... farewell to London with heartfelt promises to visit again... thank you for the days...

Summer Holiday Days 10 - 12

 Day 10: A train to Liverpool Station then the tube to St. Pancras. There was a small street photography exhibition there. But mostly I loved the statues by Paul Day and the poetry of John Betjeman and the beauty and history of St. Pancras Station.

 

After St. Pancras we spent a few lovely hours in the British Library followed by a picnic lunch in the courtyard of the library

Traveled on to Waterloo Station. Visited the Silverprint photo shop. Then the south bank of the Thames.  Had tea near the Royal Festival Hall.  Then crossed Hungerford Bridge and walked to 84 Charing Cross Road, stopping to shop for Derwent art supplies near Trafalgar Square. Back to Paul's flat via tube and bus.

 Day 11:  No pictures of this day yet because they were film that hasn't been processed yet. Bus to Waltham Cross to shop at Sainsbury.  Tea and muffin in the store cafe.  Saw Eleanor's Cross then walked to Waltham Abbey: saw the lock, the church at Waltham Abby where Harold's Tomb is located as well as the ruins of the Abbey.  Tea and scones at Philpotts with a stop later at the Welsh Harp.  Walked back to Waltham's Cross - bus to Enfield with a stop at the Coop. (Pictures to follow later I hope!)

Day 12: Returned to Central London to cross the Wobbly bridge to the Tate Modern.  Viewed the Diane Arbus exhibit.  Then to the Royal Academy and the National Gallery.  Exciting, inspring art...