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.

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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.

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Realization

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.

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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.

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With blessings and best wishes, Patricia                                                                

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