Over the last couple of weekends I have been under taking in clearing out some of my files, tearing up and throwing away old papers, documents, receipts, completed manuscripts – books now published and others that have been typed and saved onto memory sticks waiting to be published. Plus going through the mountains of books that have been read and just gathering dust. The ones I no longer want to keep will be taken to a charity shop to hopefully find a new home and at the same time benefit the charity.
So too are some of my clothes; things I haven’t worn in a long time, others that no longer fit.
All is going out of here one way or another.
Today, as I was sorting out some stuff I stumbled upon a few minor writings scribbled on note paper and possibly never seen or read by anyone but me… until now.
I was about to tear them up and throw away, but instead here they are saved on my blog… now I can throw out the scribbling:
There are no dates when these were written so I have no idea which came first. Therefore I am presenting them in alphabetical order:
All writings below are Copyright© Robert L J Borg 2015
I’m lying down in a comfortable place. The sky above is an azure blue. It’s not cloudless though. There are clouds, big white fluffy ones – like balls of cotton wool which have been pulled apart so they become stretched; thin in parts, bulky in others.
The sun breaks through them occasionally and bathes me in its warmth; when it disappears behind the clouds their shadows dance across my body.
Then a round face, bright, brown-eyed appears before me; lustrous hair in pig-tails. Then it speaks in a high-pitched voice: “MUM! A baby’s been abandoned on our front step!”
Like a pestilence they rush upon us
From the outer reaches of the sea;
Unstoppable forces of nature
They bound over every hill and valley
A deep-throated rumble is heard
Carried on the breeze;
A dazzling flash of lightning
Dissects the sky, incinerating trees
The sun fights to dominate
Its place amongst the heavens;
But the wind drives the clouds on
Blocking out the sun’s radiance.
Cloud shadows race quickly
Across a fragile land they assemble;
Storm clouds show their mastery
In fear man and beast tremble.
Pushing against the wind I trudge on. Collar up, scarf wrapped around my neck in a failed attempt to keep warm. Hands gloved, one deep in my pocket; the other gripping the brolly in a strained attempt to keep dry.
Rains slants at an angle; sheets of it bucketing down. Wrestling with the brolly as it bends, twists and finally snaps, exposing my fragile body to winter’s bitterly cold front.
In Too Deep
It was hard to sleep
Amongst the constant chatter,
I tried counting sheep
Though it could hardly matter.
I knew the hotel was cheap
Even the curtains were a tatters,
The room was a shit heap
I should have known better.
Hiding out from some creep
To avoid a promised batter,
Each sound made me leap
Thinking how my bones would shatter.
Wondering if my safety would keep
Concentrating through the noisy clatter,
I knew I was in too deep
And my head would soon be on a platter.
I am in a remote place, restrained by wilderness; without persons or beasts about me. I feel my senses tested.
At night the cold is so intense my mind feels numb. By day as the warmth of the sun bathes my body I become so alive.
There is no fear amidst the loneliness, only happiness in the knowledge that I am alert to my surroundings.
I do not weep, but permit tears of joy to flow freely at the grace of being utterly in full control.
Third Time Lucky
What’s that old saying of try, and try again? But how often must one “try” to get it right? Or should the saying be: How many times are we allowed to get it wrong? Whichever way you look at it, whether you get it right or wrong there are times we should ask ourselves: Should we try it at all?
Worse, if we have tried it and failed, why would we want to even try it again? Let alone more than once!
So what fool came up with the remark of “Third Time Lucky”?
Obviously someone with unshakeable optimism………… stupid sod!!
He glanced up slightly bewildered. A light streamed in through a crack in the curtains. Surely it wasn’t morning already?
He pulled at the bedclothes trying to block out the intrusion; burying his face into the pillow.
It was no good. Curiosity at what the light was got the better of him. He rose from the bed and padded to the window. Drawing the curtains back revealed a sight he would never had imagined.
In a floodlit street a kneeling dwarf seemed to be offering a huge diamond ring to an Amazonian woman.
It was the most unusual engagement he had ever witnessed.
That’s the end of my diversion for the day… getting back to clearing out more rubbish!!
RLB – Tomewriter