Betrayal

Autumn leaves

Dear Reader, 

During autumn the leaves of many trees turn red, yellow, orange or even purple.  This happens because the green chlorophyllin in leaves breaks down, revealing the other colours that were hiding all along.  It is like the trees are showing off their hidden rainbow before winter arrives.

Autumn leaves symbolize the flow of energy, change, transition and renewal in forests and in people.  

The metaphor of autumn leaves on the wind illustrates the transient nature of time, emphasizing how moments pass and are carried away, prompting reflection on life's changes. 

                                                                                 *

From William Cobbett   September 1st  1823    in Kent

'From Tenterden, I set off at five o'clock and got to Appledore after a most delightful ride, the high land upon my right, and the low upon my left.  The fog was so thick and white along some of the low land, that I should have taken it for water, if little hills and trees had not risen up through it here and there.'

 From Gilbert White  September 7th  1775 in Hampshire

'In the dusk of the evening when beetles begin to buzz, partridges begin to call; these two circumstances are exactly coincident.'

From Francis Kilvert    September 8th   1871   in Radnorshire

'Peacock butterflies flitting over the sea of blue scabious, swinging, opening and shutting their broad wings and spreading their peacock eyes on the slope to the morning sun.  Light fleecy clouds drifted along half way down the great slopes of the dim blue misty mountains.'

                                                                           *

Betrayal

 

 

You were always there

for me, as I for you.

You read to me

you laughed with me

you told me stories

of magic and imagination.

 

We travelled north and south

to Scotland and the Western Isles

enjoyed Dorset, Devon, Cornwall.

Went to see the Lakes

peeped into Beatrix Potter’s house

felt cold in Dove Cottage where

you put my hand in your pocket.

 

We were one heart beat.

 

But you have gone.

Now I have to try to live

another life

with you not there,

with someone else perhaps,

someone to fill the empty gap

you left me with.

 

 Please forgive me darling.

 

 

                                                                       * 

With very best wishes, Patricia

Praise

                                                                                  Blackberries

 

Dear reader,

Blackberries have a long history, consumed by humans since the Iron Age and potentially earlier, with evidence found in Neolithic burials.  They spread from temperate Northern Hemisphere regions and were used by ancient Romans, Native Americans and Medieval Europeans for food, medicine and dyes.

Modern cultivation began in the late 19th century in the US, leading to the development of new cultures like the t hornless varieties that improved commercial viability.

The Romans mixed blackberries with honey and wine and also used them for medicinal purposes.  The indigenous  people in North America used blackberries as a food source, a medicinal ingredient and for dying animal skins and fabrics.

In British folklore there is a belief that blackberries should not be picked after Old Michaelmas Day (October).  By October the fruits are deemed food for the devil, so plant new plants in October, but don't pick the fruits.

                                                                          **

From Gilbert White  August 26th  1787 in Hampshire

'Timothy the tortoise, who has spent the last two months amidst the umbrageous forests of the asparagus-beds begins now to be sensible of the chilly autumnal mornings; and therefore suns himself under the laurel-hedge, into which he retires at night.  He is become sluggish, and does not seem to take any food.'

From William Cobbett  August 28th  1826 in Wiltshire

'(Five a.m.) A very fine morning .....My horse is ready; and the rooks have just gone off to the stubble fields.  These rooks rob the pigs; but they have a right to do it.   I wonder (upon my soul I do) that there is no lawyer, Scotchman, or Parson-Judge, to propose a law to punish the rooks for trespass.'

                                                                                *

Praise

 

She always tried to be good

did her best in everything she did

but her best wasn’t

good enough

 

her mother was too busy

meeting drinking friends

her father didn’t notice

he was too busy making films

 

and they didn’t seem

to know about praise

 

but praise is so easy to give

and so difficult to get

why can’t people see that

a word of two can change

a whole life view

 

can turn a bad black day

into a day to remember

when your heart fills

with love and thanks

 

                                                                                  ^*

^{With very best wishes, Patricia}

Katie's Angels

 Dear Reader 

Doves have held symbolic significance throughout history, primarily representing peace, love and the divine.  Their association with peace stems from biblical stories like Noah's dove returning with an olive branch, and their symbolism as the Holy Spirit in Christianity.  Doves have also been linked to love, fidelity, and even good luck in some cultures.

Some people believe that the sight of a mourning dove is a message from God, angels or other spiritual guides.   In the Old testament of the Bible, a dove is a symbol of reconciliation, forgiveness and peace.   Many dove species ae known to be monogamous and mate for life.   Once a pair is formed they typically remain together to nest and raise young.  

For Christians the dove is a powerful symbol of the Holy Spirit and God's love for us such as the one that landed o Jesus as he was baptized.

Doves capacity to find their way home over hundreds even thousands of miles is unrivalled in the animal kingdom.  This  uncanny ability has seen them used for centuries to deliver messages for royalty, military leaders and other notable figures.

                                                                                 *

 

From Gilbert White  August 23rd   1785  in Hampshire

'Martins and swallows congregate by hundreds on the church tower.  These birds never cluster in this manner, but on sunny days.  They are chiefly the first broods, rejected by their dams, who are busyed with a second family.

 From Alfred Tennyson   August 25th 1860 in Cornwall

'Tintagel.   Black cliffs and caves and storm and wind, but I weather it out and take my ten miles a day walks in  my weather-proofs.'

                                                                                    *

Katie's Angels

At dawn, driving eastwards,
mist still covering the fields,
trees ribboned in cobwebs,
sky blue and white,

she saw a rabbit, a pigeon,
and two hen pheasants,
but no cherubs, no bright light.

Much later, lost, tired,
rounding a corner she saw
gathered in the road
twenty white, white doves.

They flew up,
a breath of sunshine tipping their wings.
Ecstatic, she recognised the sign;
recognised her angels.

                                                                            *

With best wishes, Patricia

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Universal Truth

 Dear Reader,

I thought this monarch butterfly would please you.  St. Petersburg obviously doesn't, I am sorry that it is such a bad picture.  But did you like the story about Ivan? I loved it and would love to go back to St. Petesburg and find him.

                                                                         *

Universal Truth

 

 

 

 

 

Everyone knows

that Philip Larkin wrote:

 

 

 

“They fuck you up,

your mum and dad,

they may not mean to,

but they do”.

 

 

 

And what Philip Larkin knew,

I know to be true.

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                                                          *

With best wishes, Patricia

St. Petersburg

St. Petersburg

 Dear reader,

My partner, Francis, lived and worked in St. Petersburg for several months in 2004 with the British Council.  He lived, not in an hotel, but with a Russian family in a very small flat in a tenement building. 

Within his stay he gave lectures on Scotland and visited various children's homes where he played the bagpipe.  Today's poem was conjured up from a story Francis told me about one of his visits there.

                                                                                  *

St. Petersburg's history is one of rapid growth, political significance, and cultural influence marked by its founder, Peter the Great, as a new capital to modernize Russia.   

It became the heart of the Russian Empire a role it held for over two centuries.  The city also experienced periods of violence and revolution, most notably during the Russian revolution and Siege of Leningrad in World War II.

During World War II St. Petersburg (then known as Leningrad) endured a brutal 900 day siege by Nazi forces resulting in immense suffering and loss of life.  After the war the city was rebuilt and eventually voted to restore its original name, St. Petersburg, in1991.

St. Petersburg is renowned for the grand architecture, palaces, canals and museums, including the world famous HERMITAGE museum.  It remains a major cultural and tourist destination.

                                                                        *

From Gilbert White   August 3rd  1791 in Hampshire

'Somewhat of a chilly feel begins to prevail in the mornings and evenings....Men house hay as black as old thatch.'

From Dorothy Wordsworth  August 4th 1800 in Hampshire

'Rain in the night.  I tied up scarlet beans, nailed the honeysuckles, etc. etc. ...I pulled a large basket of peas....A very cold evening.'

                                                                         *

St. Petersburg  

 

The piper played

The Sky Boat Song

"Over the Sea to Sky'.

The children hummed

and beautiful music

filled the air,

haunting and mystical.

 

Suddenly the silent Russian boy

calipers binding his legs,

limped his way over

the wooden floor,

standing by the Piper

as the song ended.

 

Looking up, he said

 

My name is Ivan.

 

                                                                           *

Very best wishes, Patricia

Realization

 Dear Reader,

I am not quite sure which of my poems you like and which you don't.  Obviously memories of my childhood were not to your liking so I am putting this one 'Realization' up to see if that fares better.

 

                                                             *

 

 

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 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.

 

                                                       *

 

 

With best wishes, Patricia

Memories of a six year old and a little later

 Dear Reader,

 

I remember so well in the long dark winter evenings sitting with Nanny having our tea, listening to tales of Uncle Remus.

Uncle Remus is the fictional title character and narrator of a collection of African American folktales complied and adapted by Joel Chandler Harris.  Uncle Remus is a compilation of Br'er Rabbit storytellers whom Harris encountered during his time at the Turnwold Plantation. 

Harris said that the use of Black dialect was an effort to add to the effect of the stories and to allow the stories to retain their authenticity.  

The character of Uncle Remus serves as a storyteller using animal fables to impart moral lessons while also reflecting the lived experience of African Americans during and after slavery.

The Uncle Remus tales are African American trickster stories about the exploits of Brer Rabbit, Brer Fox and other 'creeturs' that were created in Black regional dialect by Harris.

Uncle Remus is portrayed as a wise and dignified figure, often using humor and moral lessons to convey the complexities of human behaviour, particularly the folly of pride and self importance.

                                                                                    *

From Gerard Manley Hopkins    August 5th   1873  Isle of Man

'Up Snae Fell......You can see from it three kingdoms.   The day was bright; pied skies.  On the way back we saw eight or perhaps ten hawks together.'

From John Ruskin  August 7th 1847  in Warwickshire

'It rained hard while I staid in the cottage, but had ceased when I went over and out, and presently appeared such a bright far off streaky sky in the west seen over glistening hedges as made my heart leap again....And the sun came out presently and every shake of the trees shoke down more light upon the grass; and so I came to the village, and stood leaning on the churchyard gate, looking at the sheep, nibbling and resting among the graves (newly watered they lay, like a field of precious seed)....

                                                                        *

Memories of a six year old and a little later

 

A pale blue dress with pretty lace collar

threading conkers with green string

Mrs. Mason making sponge cakes

eating the filling with a wooden spoon

 

silver dance slippers with gold bows

Daddy's girlfriend pulling my hair

Mr. Holt forgetting to pick

me up from school, again

 

yellow lino in the nursery

listening to Uncle Remus on

the radio at teatime when

Nanny made me eat the crusts.

 

I remember stroking a black -nosed

cow called Bushka,

my friend Catherine and I

playing hopscotch.

 

Having impetigo and not being able

to breathe in the winter,

going down to the drawing room

filled with grown ups

 

where I was teased.

I cried and Nanny took me back

to the nursery and gave me a chocolate bear.

I remember making a raffeta mat

 

which took me ages.  My mother put it in a draw,

once I remember her getting drunk

stumbling upstairs

falling in the bathroom.

 

I remember Daddy borrowing

ten shillings from me and then

asking for it back the next day.

Grizzie came to stay with her two guinea pigs.

 

I remember my sister writing

a ghostly story about the ancient

manor house, hearing footsteps

on the path at midnight.

 

                                                  *

My mother was largely absent

from all these memories.

Nanny lived with us

she was 'my mother'.

 

She wrote to me at boarding school.

She was knitting a woolly hat

for my wedding day but she

died three weeks before it took place.

 

Nanny was my childhood security,

safety and friend and I loved her

absolutely with all my small heart.

And still do.

 

                                                                    *

 

With very best wishes, Patricia