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arquious

from Australia




for November

Written 2022-11-02

It is the beginning of another month and it marks the wind down for this calendar year, 2022. At least it does for me. I am wondering at this juncture where the conversation and dialogue has gone here at the Bay.

On other sites there is much more chatter around and about the posts. It also has come to my attention that in the early days of the Bay a whole lot of younger folk made this their go to for poetry.

And with the changing of Seasons they gradually moved on with their lives and this type of poetry interaction eclipsed. Then came the era of silver haired wisdom and then lockdowns and restrictions.

There is also a lethargy these days, that of communication and interaction. Perhaps it shall again change. Because the days are shorter and the nights getting longer, and activity from the southern hemisphere is not what it used to be (it's Spring there at this writing).

For now I shall continue to write, post, and respond to other poems and hope for the best.


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from a conversation with our urban duck here at the bay.

café poetics

Written 2022-10-13

I see a beauty in the capacity and experience of carrying on a conversation with a complete stranger, eyeing the erosion of alienation and the taming of suspicion and the rather slow but fulfilling process building bridges of trust and faith which the world has so little of to start with. And what an awesome place to begin, at a café.

I also imagine the shop keeper to not be mindful of a néophyte or a connoisseur when it comes to coffee or conversation. Literature is lived and learned first outside of educational institutions. Again a bridge can and is being built by a team of language users from varied backgrounds from the remotest habitations to the most sublime of ivory towers.


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Happy Birthday Grandar

Written 2022-10-11

Had you been with us still it would have been your 111th birthday. Unthinkable theses days but in another time and place, even in the Scriptures, that was a typical enough age to be.
Many memories linger here even after 31 years of your passing. Perhaps deep inside I still feel that warmth and confidence when I was by your side. You picked us up when the sheriff came, like Robin Hood to Nottingham and took us to your Sherwood and gave us a whole forest in which to grow up in.
In many ways, too, you were the dad, the only one that we would ever get to feel and be acquainted with. Familiar still are the scent of Old Spice and the pipe tobacco that you allowed us to pack into that still warm wooden pipe or the froth topping your pint which we sheered off like marshmallows.
We loved motoring along in your trusty Vauxhall when you dropped us off at the pool and picked us up for an ice-cream later on.
Had you been with us still we would have been driving you around and spending sunsets and picnics between good days and hospital visits and other things that fill days when that age comes along.


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about the "third wheel" syndrome

Written 2022-10-05

That proverbial “third wheel” syndrome is almost a life companion.
And many, thought not all poets have had a brush with this.
It is a feeling that cannot be shaken off.
It appears to be a shamanic aspect of personality
and that is why the poet steps out of scene
and speaks to temporarily alleviate or mark
the unsuccessful attempt at eradicating this alienated feeling.


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a secondary entry on the same day, I remember that happening on occasion on very thought filled days.

Later that day

Written 2022-10-03

Many things can be read about a poet's world

and so much more lived through its creation

Many things can be said with a poet's pen

and so much more felt through its speaking

Maybe a time shall come when all of poetry

shall unfurl in a world that is lived poetically


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Journal entry at 02 October 2022

to be or not to be

Written 2022-10-03

Three years have now passed, well almost, we are just at the beginning of the month here in October 2022, when the new Emperor was installed. But a new king has come to the throne in England, the Queen having passed away.

Ms K is starting her first week of the last term of this school year. All around us people are busy and overly focused on normalising their lives after the last couple of years of restrictions and lockdowns. It feels like everyone is voluntarily pulling the wool down over their heads, having had enough of the ceaseless pounding in hopes and dreams.

Perhaps a return to this journal at another day this month would result in a more upbeat tone and mindset. For now, it's too early to even bother to get up when Autumn has not fully decided to be or not to be.



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between states

Written 2022-09-30

The state one finds themselves in, say at the end of a month and at the beginning of a new one is much like that transitory state between the weekend and that first hour of the incoming work week.

Las night was meant to be journalled and somehow well thought out. But is it turns out, things have changed and the nightly routine was waylaid by unforeseen circumstances involving getting out of the house more than the usual for a Friday night and a midnight meal which hardly ever is the case.

So here it is, the last day of September, if we move along with another time zone that still bears that time stamp. And clicking away at the dawn hours in the dark. Welcome October, welcome Autumn. Welcome that limbo of the colder months. And work toward that self directing that only the blossoming of Spring brings.


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the year is 2022

last week of September

Written 2022-09-26

it takes a little bit of getting used to
and finally learn and admit that in
this set of life circumstances there
will be so much more reading done
than there is for one to be read.


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September 15, 2022

Written 2022-09-15

Today is Mum's 83rd birthday and most of my thoughts drifted toward my father, her late estranged husband, who had gone on ahead of us earlier this year. It was with great thanksgiving that I look back at these two important personages in my journey of life. The passing of our monarch and the accession of the new is also a current that runs in the background. We await my mother in law's full body scans as they have found cancerous tumors in her thyroid gland. Much of our days since the lockdowns have been a waiting game. And here we are again.

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September 2022

Written 2022-09-14

The borders may be fully open soon thus offering unlimited travel. That reading and writing would ring true of such liberty shall likewise be a pleasant possibility that is much looked forward to. The changing of the guard is also another aspect that would play out in the immediate succeeding years. And while there is much left of this year, 2022, perhaps its achievement and contours have already been pretty much set.

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Diary

2022

November (1)
October (5)
September (4)

2021

November (1)

2020

July (1)

2019

October (1)
September (3)