Sunday, 26 April 2020

Realization and The Mind Cupboard

World War II Mosquitos

Dear Reader,

I have been reading such an interesting book about the young women who joined the services at the beginning of the Second World War.

I thought this small piece about the Mosquito, a wooden aircraft,  I would share with you, hoping you too will find it interesting.  One of the furniture industries in north-east London changed tack and instead of making chairs and tables started making the Mosquito. Sheets of paper-thin plywood and balsa-wood were glued together, heat-strengthened and then sawn, shaved and shaped into the plane's components. The result was a very light, fast, highly versatile fighter-bomber, and the Mosquito built a fearsome reputation not just as a fast unarmed and light bomber, but also as a U boat night fighter, as well as a path finder on large scale bomb attacks.


This week and last I have found literally thousands of people looking at the poem : The Mind Cupboard" and I can't quite work out why this is.  Most of these readers come from Turkmenistan and I wonder, if you are one of them, could you write and tell me what it is about this poem that you like so much?  I do know it is difficult to write on the comments box in my blog but I would be so grateful if you could try.    I have put it on again this week.



I am
part of the whole.

I am
in the first light,
the bird's first song,
the sun's first dart
through the curtain crack,
in the music of summer trees.

I am
part of the alpha,
the birth,
the awakening,
the growing and spreading,
the throbbing of life.

I am part of all suffering
hands blood-stained.
Part of the love
humanity shares and
of all good things.

I am
part of the omega,
the closing, the last light,
the call back from the dark
to the bright, eternal night.


The Mind Cupboard

My mind cupboard overflows
with unwanted debris.
It needs a spring clean.

I will brush away the cobwebs
of cheerless thoughts.
Scrub out the stains of childhood.

I will replace the brass hooks
corroded with salt tears,
empty all the screams
hoarded through the years.

I will replace the accumulated ashes
from the worn shelf-paper,
with virgin tissue.

I will chase and catch the wasps,
relieve them of their stings.
I will refill this cupboard
with love, and learnt, brighter things.


With blessings and best wishes, Patricia                                                                

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