I can hear the wind laughing outside
At our human pride.
The tide
Of time moves on
And we are gone,
With the wind
That will rescind
All
These scribbles on the wall.
Tag Archives: newauthoronline
There Was A Young Man Called Stone
There was a young man called Stone
Who stole his dog’s bone.
The dog did howl,
Then, with a growl,
He ate his master’s phone!
And the winner is … Print!
Prior to the birth of the internet, the only options open to aspiring writers (other than being published by a traditional publisher) where to pay what was often a small fortune to a self-publishing company or (if they happened to get lucky) find a magazine/journal who would publish their work.
The web now allows anyone with an internet connection to publish online or via ebook platforms such as Amazon’s Kindle Direct Publishing (KDP). All this technological development is to be welcomed but …
Ebook publishers can decide (at any time) to remove your book. There have even been instances where Amazon has removed ebooks (remotely) from the devices of readers. Now you see your book on an ebook retailer’s website, now you don’t!
You always have your own site to rely on (assuming your writing or parts thereof are published there). That is true, but websites get hacked and even big blogging platforms/web hosting companies may go out of business leaving you high and dry or, to mix metaphors up the creek without a paddle.
Well at least some of your guest posts will survive on the sites/blogs of those who have been kind enough to host your content, won’t they?
Quite possibly.
I am extremely grateful to everyone who has kindly allowed me to guest post on their site. No one is obliged to post anything by me or anyone else so, when they do so it is a mark of generosity on their part.
However, you are not in control of other people’s sites. They may, at any time decide to delete content (including yours) or, indeed their blog in it’s entirety thereby removing your post and those of others.
So if you want your work to survive permanently what is the answer? In my view, good old-fashioned print. Even if a publishing company (self-publisher or traditional concern) goes out of business your books will remain in the hands of those who have purchased them and, of course you may, yourself hold unsold stock.
Again, if your books are in libraries they will remain available to borrow.
There is, of course nothing to prevent you from retaining electronic copies of your works and the overwhelming majority of writers do so. However hard discs get corrupted beyond salvage, cloud storage systems can be hacked etc.
In short the only failsafe way to preserve your works is to produce print editions.
I am not against electronic media. It is, as I say above, a wonderful way of bringing your writing to the attention of a wider audience but, when the chips are down print is, in my view the hardiest of the plants in the garden.
A fire may destroy a warehouse full of print books but (assuming your book is in bookshops and proofs survive), your work will remain available for today’s (and future) generations.
Print is, in any case wonderful. I have happy memories of visiting W H Smiths with my grandfather and drinking in the scent of all those books as we browsed the store.
To this day happy memories come flooding back whenever I pass by a branch of Smiths.
Shall I Sit Out This Dance?
Shall I sit out this dance
As the dancers prance
Heedlessly by.
Why
On occasions Can I not join in
With my companions and grin?
The song
Of the throng
Helps me forget
And yet
I am not as other men,
For when
I smile
There is, all the while
Within
The knowledge of this temporary din.
Others see it to
But construe
Me speaking of such a thing
As bad form and bring
The conversation around
To matters less profound.
But, when they are alone
Do they not think on skin and bone?
I can reduce my companions to laughter
With my jokes, but after
Our fun
Is done
Closing time will come.
A Scammer Came Acalling
“Mr Morris?”
“Whose calling?”
“Your internet provider”.
“And who is my internet provider?”
“I’m calling from” (the caller proceeds to mention an internet service provider (ISP), but not the company who provide me with both my web connection and telephone line, and, not surprisingly, I hang up without another word)!
Given that my home telephone number (landline) is unlisted in the telephone directory, heaven only knows how these scammers obtained my number! My ISP has been hacked, several times which may, perhaps explain the number of such calls received by me. Whatever the cause, it is extremely annoying and the things which I would like to do to these cold callers/scammers are, quite literally unprintable!
Rise in the number of children calling a helpline as parents are TOO DRUNK . . .
“CHILDREN as young as five are calling a helpline to be read bedtime stories because their alcoholic parents are too drunk to tuck them in at night”,
http://www.express.co.uk/news/uk/769135/Children-call-helplines-for-bedtimes-stories.
This is just so incredibly sad.
Do you judge writers?
Christopher Slater raises an interesting issue in this article entitled “Do you judge writers?” (https://ryanlanz.com/2017/02/16/do-you-judge-writers/)
My own view is that while it is difficult not to judge writers (their morals or lack of them), one should, so far as is humanly possible avoid doing so. A great writer remains so even if he (or she) was/is a terrible parent to their children or held/holds views with which most liberal (with a small l) individuals would disagree.
In this article for the Telegraph A N Wilson mentions the poet, Philip Larkin’s wish (expressed in his correspondence) to join the far-right National Front and Eliot’s anti-Semitism (http://www.telegraph.co.uk/comment/personal-view/3588935/World-of-books.html)
Wilson argues that we need to separate the author’s artistic creations from their views. This is a perspective with which I concur absolutely. We don’t have to share an author’s views to admire their work and if we only read those who concur with our perspectives our lives and the world in general would be a very arid place.
Count Dracula Went Out To Dine
Count Dracula went out to dine.
“Red wine?”
The waitress said.
Dracula shook his head.
“No thank you my dear. Your neck is most fine
And the glint of that necklace against your skin
Temps me into sin.
Come near
And let me whisper in your dainty ear
Words of desire
From a vampire
To you,
My love most true”.
“Sir,
That gentleman over there
He with the coat of fur,
Who howls at the moon,
Will require my attention soon.
The Werewolf has his need
And must also feed”.
“Oh waitress most divine
I shall make do with wine.
But please, just one kiss from those lips so red”
The count said.
“I can recommend the steak.
Would you care to partake?
The chef (though a ghoul
And a bit of a fool
Can make
A rare old stake.
Why Count, must you really go?
And just when I was enjoying our conversation so …”.
I Saw A Great Tent
I saw a great tent.
In I went
And found therein
Every man’s particular sin.
There I met
A girl called regret
Who did smile
And for a while
Invited men to forget
All pain.
Returning again and again
They Forged their own chain.
I shook my head
As the gambler said
“This time I shall win”,
For I saw the bookie grin
Drinkers from far and near
Revelled in wine and beer.
They drank and drank
As the sun rose and sank.
“Cheers.
More beers
Here, barmaid for we are soon dead”.
Someone said.
As he spoke
That tent disappeared in sulphur and smoke.
Ivory Tower
The poet in his ivory tower
Has not the power
To change
This deranged
Place
Where the lunatic’s face
Flushed with belief
Brings the world to grief.
Those who think themselves sane
Cudgel their brain
And impose dreams
(which they call schemes)
For the improvement of man.
When dreams fail
The believers wail
“We will get it right next time”.
Or, for shame
They blame
The poor
Gardener who asks nothing more
Than to be left alone to cultivate his garden.
The poet begs pardon
To be excused,
With an amused smile,
For there can be no denial
That time spent in rhyme
Keeps him safe from humanity’s grime.