Journey of Words

Tag: Poetry

  • On Playing xiii

    If I say “Jump” you… “Jump?” No you must clap, ok? When I say “Clap” jump. ~ n.b. Just a bit of fun. Isn’t it? ~ CLP 26/01/2021 →

  • On Playing (12)

    Being substitute is not a problem when you get the chance to shine ~ n.b. As a boy being picked for the school team, even as a substitute, was to be part of something exciting. All I have ever wanted was to have an opportunity to have a go. That is what we all want →

  • Lockdown 3 (Day 20) Thorpe Saint Andrew

    Trip trap, trip trap over the bridge I went to explore the more urban side of the river. Crossing the bridge was the easy bit. After that the carefully salted pavements and cycle tracks had iced over again and reset as black ice. The sapphire blue sky and dazzling sunlight was the cue for blue →

  • On Playing (xi)

    Why is it that teams comprise eleven players? Perfect for cricket. ~ n.b. I had a look on-line and the answers are pretty dumb given the fact that it was a rural game codified in 1744 and the story that Edward VIII had only eleven courtiers is a complete red herring. Cricket teams of eleven →

  • Lockdown 3 (Day 19) In Tune

    It would be ridiculous to file all the recorded music I have in alphabetical order until I have a settled home. I don’t know how long I will be living here, (no one knows how long Lockdown 3 will even last), but I know that I can’t put up any shelves in this rented property. →

  • On Playing x

    Can you still call up that glee in the pit of your guts when wind picked up leaves and dust devils spun the whole playground into a delirious flock of crows performing flips and twists free-falling then swooping up to hang on the vacuum formed in the lee of a Scots Pine clump? . Arms →

  • Lockdown 3 (Day 18) On the Streets

    By the time I was ready to get out all light had gone from the sky, bar a faint patch to the south-west above the trees on Carrow Hill. My brisk march lasted ninety minutes, during which I discovered some of the poshest streets of Norwich. They lie beyond the medieval walls, strung out on →

  • On Playing ix

    She asked him who he played as Knowing every boy pretends To be someone else when playing They dream they can be better He wanted to be Best ~ n.b. As a boy playing football I clearly had a failure of ambition. I pretended to be a Welsh international centre forward, not George Best. Who →

  • Lockdown 3 (Day 17) In Sunshine

    My apartment faces south, but is overshadowed by the flats built over the atrium at the front and on its east side. This means no morning light reaches me directly and I have to pull the curtain across to assess the weather. Today the sunlight was blasting down King Street. I just had to leap →

  • On Playing viii

    As children we played It, British Bulldog and Kiss Chase until told not to. ~ n.b. See the power of words? ~ CLP 22/01/2021 →