have a note pad. All I need
is an idea!
Nothing If It Wasn't For Us
The country ground to a halt
yet another rail strike had been called
not involving the train guards nor the drivers
...they were both equally appalled
The rolling stock had a disagreement
it turned into quite a fight
they all thought they were most important
so they argued deep into the night
The wagons said the carriages were lazy
but the carriages said they'd so much to do
"We wagons carry lots of dirty cargo
you carriages simply haven't got a clue!"
A snooty locomotive then chipped in
with a fact that the group had sadly missed
"if we locomotives didn't pull any trains - then
all of this would simply not exist!"
Then a little voice was heard
a voice whose anger grew and grew
it was the metal rails and the concrete sleepers
both keen to deliver their point of view
"There'd be nothing for anyone to run upon
if it wasn't for us here on the ground
you would all be sinking in mud
how on earth would anybody get around?"
It was then somebody heard a distant shouting
and everybody turned their heads and found
it was coming from the station and getting louder
there were many angry passengers stood around
"You are here to get us to our destinations
to get us to our friends and to our work - thus
if we didn't buy the tickets
you would all be nothing...
nothing if it wasn't for all of us!
In The Graveyard
After our deaths - when we're laid to rest
...no-one in the graveyard will care.
No-one will care that we thought ourselves 'the big cheese' of something - there's no power to wield in a graveyard.
No-one will care about the grandeur of our tombs
the family mausoleums in which we lay - leave that to the living!
No-one will care about the words carved onto our headstones - as touching as they are!
No-one will care about fresh flowers
regularly placed on a tidied grave.
No-one will care that you've chosen to leave no mark
to have your ashes scattered...
anonymously
feeding the deep lush grass of the crematorium gardens.
No-one in the graveyard will care!
Death comes to us all
Be we black, white yellow or brown.
Who will we be in death?
No-one in the graveyard will care!
But...
who we were in life is more important.
Think about it!
Who Are We?
Who are we?
Who are we if not just the culture in which we were raised?Are we our lineage
our ancestry
are we just our DNA - maybe?
Are we the sum of our own experiences?
Are we our family's traditions?
Are we the music we were exposed to
the TV programmes they
watched - they watched them
so we did.
Did the jobs our parents had define us?
Did the wisdoms they passed onto us
their religions and their beliefs
in a kind of subliminal inherited wisdom
of rights and wrongs
how things should be done
how to carry yourself
how to be in this world...
did that define us?
Were all these elements imprinted onto us by our family
our people
our culture
our upbringing?
Growing up you may not have realised this
or - if you did
you might not have liked this
how they did things
their choices
their ways
but these ways were already instilled in us.
Growing up you might have felt the need to rebell
but you would only have been rebelling against what you were destined to become
or we're already
these standards which had been instilled in you
which you in time
will pass on to your children.
After all...
Who are we?
Who are we if not just the culture in which we were raised?We, We Two, One, Us
I am - 'me'
the personal pronoun - 'I"
I've always been - 'me'
'myself'
I thought I didn't know how to be anyone else - but I found a way
when I became - 'us'
when I met - 'her'
when I asked - 'her'
the big question
and she said - "yes!"
so she and I became - 'we'
'we two'
'one'
'us'
and we've been - 'we'
'we two'
'one'
'us'
for so many years
so much so that
being - 'we'
'we two'
'one'
'us'
is all I know - now
who would I be if there were no 'we''we two'
'one'
'us'
for - at some point in time
one of us is going to loose the other
what we have
now
can all be swept away so very quickly!
But...
have I forgotten who I am
what the personal pronoun 'I' means anymore
what 'being me' - is or was?
Who I am?
Who would I be?
And...
could I ever be 'me' again?
Looe
Low cloud hangs over the steep valley sides above what was one of Cornwall's busiest ports.
Separating the twin towns of Looe - 'The River Looe'
nearly at it's end
is spanned by a small grade II
listed bridge
built replacing an ancient 15th century structure.
Once both angry and fast
tributaries,
the two main rivers
with identical names to the two towns - are joined as one
in a confluence north of the towns
they become a calm
tidal harbour
where for many centuries
shipwrights made the ships which set sail
to fish
and to sell
exporting all that Cornwall could produce.
Nowadays it's quays produce
beds for the night
and lunches
coffees and teas for tourists
who
in the summer months
flood in; in their thousands
by train
by boat
or by car
down the narrow winding lanes that feed the two towns.
The single river having become a slow
calm
harbour
provdes shelter for a small fishing fleet
a mere fraction of what it was -
the pleasure crafts and weekend sailors making up the numbers
then
finally
the river becomes an estuary
and passes 'Banjo Pier'
when this former gateway to a wider
waiting world
...becomes the sea.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)