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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.

 

 

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    « Going barefoot | Main | Fly fishing »
    Friday
    17Apr2009

    Absorbing Dad

    An angel stirred up the pool at noon

    one bleak brown day in winter.

    We dragged ourselves up,

    on haunches, on crutches,

    on brittle bones, on pressed pills and radium rays,

    not racing any more these days,

    preferring this half-dead unhealing so old we can finger only scars.

    And no luck again today, nor soon.

     

    Dad's spirit gathers from the lucid lime-bright water,

    rises like steam, coalesces towards me,

    drags over the waters,

    commands ordered columns from the shapeless vapour,

    arms flung extravagantly wide,

    forgives my sin,

    softly seeping through my broken skin.

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