imagination – Page 2 – three good words

September 8, 2021September 8, 2021

Moment

And there is a moment
And for a second it all makes sense
And then it slips
And you end up chasing that something-or-other all your life

August 13, 2017August 13, 2017

hot water

late night, past midnight
and there is yet work to be done

so I top up the bottle
with more hot water
like some comfy hen
wrapping herself up in warm feathers
cluck cluck cluck

except I stopped pretending long ago:

sudden, unpredictable cold
shivering down the spine like
a branch of flashing leaves
in an invisible breeze:
I don’t brave that anymore
like some brazen teen
infatuated with designs of cool
of “what if anyone did see?”

but cuddle up to the hot water
bottled
snug close like a young cat
curled in the crook of my lap
fast asleep, purring
while my eyes droop over keys
fingers slipping, dipping into darkness
those invisible fountain pens
flashing glossy black
on bright white screens.

January 12, 2016January 12, 2016

overflow

lay me down
accept this offering
two to the one beyond
what is thought to be known

where grace is given
where light is hidden
amongst stars
legion
dusted on the endless black

lay me down
let the only sound
ring beyond all
that is known to one
and another

where time is no more
than the essence
flowing over
lapping on the shore
of all our senses, one

giving, living
knowing
one to all, all to one
like water flowing
glowing, bright
curved against the diamond black
breaking the rays
of the brightest sun
our morning star.

March 12, 2015March 16, 2015

true genius

I wrote this some time ago, during one of those bad moments when the realisation that I just was really truly absolutely ohmygoodness definitely not there yet was very real. Ah, but the great thing about great writers is that, never mind how they make you feel like last week’s left overs, writing-wise, they also help you know that it is possible to do better, be better, try your best. Reading their writing is, next to the great story, also this lovely gift: somewhere, somehow, someone was able to touch that thing that is divine and turn it into perfect word-gold. Terry Pratchett was one of them. Dear Sir (he was knighted), you’ll be sorely, sorely missed. You made so many people laugh and think and feel and laugh again so many times, the world has really lost a true genius today. Rest in Peace. Or as the Librarian would say:
Ook!

…

Gosh, if I could only come up with something like Überwald, Bess Pelargic, The Agatean Empire, 71-hour Achmed or the Octarine Grass Country. Or simply the Anthropomorphic Personification of the Ultimate Certainty, the Grim Reaper a.k.a. Mr. Door. Terry Pratchett is a genius, a real and true genius, though I still think Rincewind is complete and utter twerp. The Night Watch with Commander Vimes and Carrot Ironfoundersson + rag-tag band of misfits and miscreants, the Witches of Lancre + kingdoms and villages, Ms Aching and the Nac Mac Feegles, the University faculty + Librarian, and all the city Guilds + C.M.O.T. Dibbler, Mr Lipwig, Ms Dearheart and whatever new Scheme Moist von is up to, and then, of course, the Patrician with ever resourceful and loyal Drumknott, they’re all breathtakingly, mind-bendingly, side-splittingly fabulous – but Rincewind just puts me off. He really really really annoys me. The only great thing about Rincewind is The Luggage (Sapient Pearwood! Imagine! The madness! The magnificence!). Barely managed The Colour of Magic, and only because I sat through that ghastly mash-up of a movie. Afterwards I had to read it. Rincewind is that character who just makes you want to reach into the book and slap people, meaning him. Though some of the scenes with him in it are utter hilarity.

…

Oh and one more thing: Really, the Luggage. The Luggage. I dare you to come up with something as hilariously insane as the Luggage. Go on. Try it. I shall sink my reading teeth into it, promise.
j.d.

February 10, 2015