Snippet

The Candle

A candle in the window burns

to show by its uncertain light

that here dwells one who knows what fears

may plague a traveller through the night.

If he or she, or known or not

will not much signify -

this candle shed its kindly light

on lonely souls that pass close by.

For though the hearth of home’s behind,

or burns still many miles ahead,

a traveller sighs relief to find

a simple meal, a makeshift bed.

So there he’ll rest; but long before

the sun smiles on the road again,

he’ll take his boots and close the door.

Then, will this candle burn again?

A Cold Wind in August

I have been at home most of the day. In fact, I have been tidying up the confusion of folders on my laptop in readiness for A363. As a result, I have finally admitted defeat and have switched on the central heating. Even in winter, it is my custom to deploy my heating with care: it is an oil system that is never cheap to run. Today, though, I have been feeling so cold and so utterly damp and cheerless that I have abandoned thrift in favour of an unseasonal cosiness. To make matters worse, my brother has just telephoned from his house in Spain: there, he tells me, laughing, the weather is, if anything, too warm.
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I received the course materials for A363 yesterday. They have brought with them great excitement and some trepidation. No more fannying around: it is time to get down to some serious writing. I am encouraged in this intention by the fact that 'Long Story Short' have accepted two of my poems which are to appear in the January and March editions. I feel that it is only proper that I should mention here the very prompt and very friendly response of the editor, Marie Travis, who had confirmed my acceptance within just a few hours of submission. The magazine is still open to submissions for 2110 so, if you are interested, follow the link at the that appears above.

On mists and mellow fruitfulness...

So, the Bank Holiday weekend draws to a close and autumn is almost upon us. It is hard not to feel cheated when, here in Cornwall, we have enjoyed so little sun. Nevertheless, it has been a good year for delicious blackberry jam. I have several jars in my store cupboard and more fruit waiting in the fridge. Sadie, my dog, has developed a taste for blackberries that stands in some danger of becoming a full-blown addiction.

All in all, it has been a quiet but productive weekend. Not only have I turned my attention to some long-neglected household chores but I have also restored order to the chaos of desk and sorted and filed all my paperwork in readiness for the challenge of a new academic year. The course (OU A363) is scheduled to begin in October; however, is is rumoured that the course materials are already on their way. This has spooked me into laying aside my poetry in favour of some (frantic) prose. It is my firm intention to have at least three pieces from which to select my first assignment since it seems that the thing must be turned into a screenplay for TMA2. I am apprehensive: I have never attempted such a thing before...