Welcome to this jumble sale of writings, musings, observations and inspirations: I hope you find something to help you on your journey home. It's all storytelling, in the end. That's how we understand things; the stories of who we are, where we came from, where we're headed. The stories of other people, how they came to be who they are, which stories shaped them, why our stories sometimes run parallel, and sometimes clash.
When we're motivated enough, we can change our stories, write new outcomes for ourselves and our people, our planet. All it takes is imagination, where there are, genuinely, no limits.
Warmest regards
Peter Neary-Chaplin
Writer. Poet.
Friday, February 5, 2010 at 09:30AM I rest under no roof.
I am the dusty traveller,
the journey, the road,
the pothole and the hoof.
I am Balaam and the voice I hear
is my breathing creature
plodding on,
eating straw,
seeing angels.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010 at 12:37PM I guess I'm coming home today
“I’m sorry Father” I want to say
Forgive me that I ran away.
My belly shrank, I nearly died
And still I drag behind my soul
Heavy with pride.
And you, watching from afar
To see if I’d return again
From this old self-inflicted war.
Let your Kingdom come
Put rings upon these fingers
Let your Kingdom come
In feast and finery
Let your Kingdom come
And let me still remember
How you kiss my neck
How I fly free
Where every songbird bursts its cage
Every mustang roams the range
Stands wild upon a mustang’s stage
And eats no husk
But fresh green herb
Under the blanket of dusk.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009 at 07:26AM I buried yesterday
beneath a grieving loam,
sat pondering its epitaph,
how to mark its passing,
how to make it feel like home.
Tomorrow I'll dig again,
and do the same thing with today
if God grants me my spade and strength.
And tomorrow will become just another place where I used to live.
Today, though, is like a small shy bird,
a fluttering sparrow
that might just come to me,
if I can learn to ask well.
And the question is,
What is the question?