On 9 May 2017, I wrote “Echo”, https://newauthoronline.com/2017/05/09/echo/. There is a pronounced tendency for we humans to consort with like-minded people and to seek out media which affirms those views we already hold.
Many live in “echo chambers” where their own views are reassuringly echoed back to them. It’s not always easy to stand back and (so far as is humanly possible) to view the whole picture.
Yet we must do so if we are to be wise and avoid the “echo chamber”.
There was a young man named Paul
Who lived in a rather grand hall.
His sister named Linn
Sat on a pin.
You should have heard that young lady bawl!
—
There was a literary critic named Paul
Who wrote a review on a wall.
The book’s author, who was named Howl
Took a large damp towel
And scrubbed the review off that wall!
—
There was a young man named Mitch
Who was extremely rich.
He attended a grand ball
In a fine old hall
And duelled with a Count in a ditch.
Many a life is undone
In the pursuit of fun.
We may turn and run
From the fact
Of an act
And the sun
Will continue to shine.
But, in the dark
The truth stark
Reveals that every fine
Day
Passes away
For delight
Must end in night.
I am pleased to announce that my collection of poetry, “My Old Clock I Wind and Other Poems” is now available, as an audio download from audible.co.uk and audible.com.
“My Old Clock I Wind” derives its title from the clock which sits, in pride of place, on the bookcase in my living room. The title poem reads as follows:
“My old clock I wind
And much philosophy therein find.
I can bring
The pendulum’s swing
To a stop with my hand;
Yet I can not command
Time to default
On his duty and halt
The passing of the years.
He has no ears
For our laughter and tears
And his sickle will swing on
Long after we are gone”.
About The Author
I was born in Liverpool in 1969, a year best known of course for my birth. Well no, actually it is better known for the moon landings which certain peculiar conspiracy theorists still maintain never took place (the moon landings that is, not my birth!).
It was from my grandfather that I derived my first love of literature and I have many happy memories of him reading to me. As I grew older I learned to read Braille which opened up the world of independent reading and I still remember how amazing it was to me, as a young boy, to be able to sit with a book on my knee reading for myself.
I attended school in Liverpool and later went on to read history and politics at university. Having obtained my BA, I went on to gain an MA in political theory.
Since 1994 I have lived and worked in London. I find that I cannot write with background noise, other than the singing of birds, and am lucky that my home overlooks a large garden and an historic park in Crystal Palace, famed for it’s steep hills and fresh air.
Where to buy “My Old Clock I Wind”
Audible (UK) – https://www.audible.co.uk/pd/Arts-Entertainment/My-Old-Clock-I-Wind-and-Other-Poems-Audiobook/B077VYT3X6/ref=a_search_c4_1_1_srTtl?qid=1512505394&sr=1-1
Audible.com – https://www.audible.com/pd/Drama-Poetry/My-Old-Clock-I-Wind-and-Other-Poems-Audiobook/B077VS5CTN/ref=a_search_c4_1_1_srTtl?qid=1512505653&sr=1-1
Amazon (US) – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0735JBVBG
Amazon (UK) – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0735JBVBG
Moyhill Publishing – http://moyhill.com/clock/
The royal National Institute of Blind People (braille edition) – http://shop.rnib.org.uk/ or call 0303 123 9999, quoting order number 25870603.
When the blood
Is warm
We go with the flood
And think not of the swarm
That may hide
Inside.
For in the midst of pleasure’s sigh
We think not that we may die.
You are content
For the nurse
May prevent
The worst
For a while.
The smile
Of an unknown friend
Under the white sheet
Is passing sweet.
Yet in the end
The nurse
On swift feet
Can not stay the dread traverse
Of yonder hearse.
Should a man repent
Of unmentionable scent
When others were long ago acquainted
With the flower he has tainted?
Is a moral debate
Worth a candle
When the vandal
Has stormed the gate?
The hill she must climb
Time after time,
And look over the top
To see what is not.
“Good morning stranger, I know you well”.
They greet
Under well worn sheet.
“There is no spell
To hold you here
Tis simply the sprinkle,
The familiar tinkle
Of worldly dust
That has thrust
We two together.
In stormy weather
Ships seek any port.
On a wave of need caught
They chance their luck
And sometimes buck”.
A burned child dreads the fire,
They say,
But, as day follows day,
We see that he
Grasps the hot coal
To his soul,
Again and again,
Despite the pain.
The coal burns
And the child turns
Away,
(Perhaps for a day)
Or so.
Yet back he will go,
To that place I know,
Truth to tell,
All too well.
