Tag Archives: blogging

Equals

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In ’61 I fell in love with words;
their multiple shapes;
the way they taste as they escape from the mouth;
how different combinations calm or excite.

And I have practiced
to make small musings sound big.
I take a secret or open truth and expand it;
throw it into the sky;
this offered gift may land on your head,
bruising like heavy metal
stinging like skittery nettles in spring
or tickling like a brindled feather,
depending upon what mood I am in.

So, you are younger than me
with further to journey,
but we are equal.
Your truth is told as if to a friend,
calmly, clearly, without gimmicky bells or whistles,
in the beautiful words you were born to speak.
Your voice will be heard and some day
your ethical wisdom may prevail.

We reach across the generations;
across lonely deserts, burning wilderness, mountains, oceans;
across festive towns, weeping cities, peaceful protests, war zones;
across diverse rituals and customs,

and as two poets,
in mutual respect;
in sisterhood;
in sincerity;
we meet.

Written as a tribute and a gift, to my lovely new friend over at The Grateful Dead.  I heartily recommend  a visit.

I’ve been rhyming lately, but this couldn’t be written in rhyme as it would have lost some of its meaning.

©Jane Paterson Basil

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Shipshape

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Now that spring is neatly out of the way, It’s time to spring clean my blog. The plan is to have a routine – something like this:

  • Monday: Start off easy with a little poem for The Daily Post’s One Word Prompt.
  • Tuesday: Write an amusing little piece about the stupid things I have done lately – that shouldn’t be difficult. + The Daily Post’s One Word Prompt.
  • Wednesday: Write up and post for Calen’s challenge. The Daily Post’s One Word Prompt
  • Thursday: Pot Luck – when I don’t mistake it for Wednesday or even Sunday, Thursday tends to be busy, and I don’t always find the time to write.
  • Friday:Esther Newton’s Thursday challenge. The Daily Post’s One Word Prompt.
  • Saturday: A bit of flash fiction, probably involving blood and guts. The Daily Post’s One Word Prompt.
  • Sunday: Some sort of a thing.

Please note:

Sometimes I wake up on a Monday and think it’s Wednesday, so I could find myself writing a post for Calen’s Challenge from the previous week, and wondering why it seems so familiar, or I may think it’s Saturday, and write some gory flash fiction in addition to The Daily Post’s prompt.

Even when I know what day it is, my lifestyle is erratic – I can’t guarantee to post the correct piece on the requisite day, so I may post it the following day, or never.

I may feel inspired on a Tuesday to write a rant about the disgusting concrete eyesore which still blocks my vies of a small portion of the horizon even though it was due for demolition months ago, and that could set me up for a week of ranting – about small-minded neighbours who keep complaining about a resident who is unwell,  about the failing NHS, pollution, recycling, people who never think about prevention and then aggressively demand a cure… you get the gist

There will be times when I know what day it is, but I don’t feel like sticking to my calender, so I’ll list every length of fabric I’ve ever bought with the intention of making something, AND I’ll expect my readers to be fascinated. Then I’ll get behind, and everything will be a day late – except it won’t, because by that time I’ll have lost track of the days all over again and think it’s Sunday when in fact it’s Friday.

Other times I won’t feel like doing the Word Prompt because it doesn’t inspire me, and I’ll go off and paint the bedside cabinets which I picked up a couple of weeks ago with that optimistic plan in mind. If you’ve drawn the short straw, and turned out to be me, the idea of covering the Word Prompt every day is pretty unrealistic anyway.

I could get bored with the whole idea after three days and give up on it, but not tell anyone.

In brief:

Monday may arrive on a Friday, Thursday could be on a Tuesday, on Wednesday I may be bored with the agenda, on Saturday I could be moved to write about the role of armadillos in tree surgery, and Sunday may never come.

Although it isn’t yet finalised, I think my plan of making the blog more user-friendly is coming together well. I’ll have it shipshape in no time at all. In the unlikely event that you can see any flaws in it I’d be grateful for your advice.

©Jane Paterson Basil

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New look

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I’ve given this blog a fresh header, and as I was admiring it, it occurred to me that it would look smart if I had a matching rainbow half-frame on the left side of each post. I planned to try the idea out with a haiku. This is the haiku:

playing with new look
nervous about posting this
take a deep breath – click

When I tried to arrange it I discovered a couple of technical difficulties – the first one being that I can’t line the vertical and the horizontal one as I would like. The second problem is that as my posts are all different lengths, if I wanted both parts of my frame to be the same width I’d have to crop the rainbow a different length for each post. As you can see, this vertical line is not long enough for the whole of the post, so that’s a third problem. I think the only thing I can do on a practical level is to throw away my lengths of frame.

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©Jane Paterson Basil

 

Brave naked soldiers

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some claim that writers are liars
with gift of plausability
but shaped by truth my words reveal me
no thin or plumby voice screeches in the ear
no wringing hands or rheumy eyes plead for your belief
no added props over-reach the mark
stealing their authenticity

with no marked target
but with trust I write in virtual space
leaving you free to ignore or to read

and you may reach out through the ether
like me, sometimes in need, but never begging
oft-times planting rich seeds within the core of my being
which grow green and fat to feed me

uninitiated souls belittle internet sharing
decrying the space where we meet
with no thought for our feelings
and little knowledge of
the incidental teachings
the compassionate reachings
they tell me this place is unreal

but here you’ll find brave naked soldiers
all of us using a single, triple action tool,
a weapon of defence, a soothing balm
and a protest with no blood spent

our medals and scars are not worn with pride
but neither hidden in shame
we are many from every curve of this world
and although we are each fighting our own creeping foes
though miles apart, we stand together
and when one of us stumbles
another enfolds us
in feathersoft
ink-tipped wings

©Jane Paterson Basil

Written for Blogging U. Writing 101. Assignment 1.