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.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009 at 03:56AM The leaden, weed-draped mooring rope
drips into rutted, stinking mud
in the harbour’s pewter silence.
Dead, and bled of blessing,
dirty sand and bladderwrack.
My dry sagging hulk wants a lick of paint
but craves the turning of the sea
with unscrambled purity
that even the scrapping gulls lament.
But this is a waiting older than sponge,
A lusting known
deep in the cells of wood and stone.
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Reader Comments (2)
Marvellous.
You're very kind, Doug.
Any time you need a poet on a project.. :)