Oh books, you tomes of wisdom,
your cracked pages full of age,
paperback and hardback,
album and autobiography.
You change my mind, change my thoughts,
help me to learn, help me to see.
Books hold knowledge, and deceit.
Not all knowledge is truth,
Sometimes it’s misinformed,
But I’d rather have a book than a computer……
Books are analogue.
Do you find yourself thinking of a word that just pops into your mind? I thought of a few today. Gestalt, Normality and Defunct all jumped into my head today.
Another day it could be crumble, grunge or fanciful, which is probably what this is.
I think I need sleep when I can dream of words chasing each other through the sky and over hills. Trundling into the sunset where they burst into brilliant petals.
Words are fun, they need using or abusing, but they definitely can make life interesting, exuberant and startling!
Slither, slink, shuffle, slip, slide, glide, gliding, snaking along the ground, writhing, side to side. Your scales patterned like strange jewels. You sniff with your tongue, viper split, sensing the air.
A tube of muscle, constrictor or viper with poison bite. Fangs deep in my flesh pierce my heart. Cobra or mamba, rattler or adder. Bringer of fear to some.
The world is full of words
Talk is cheap
Grey green gold gossip
Muddy, murky muttering
Sharp staccato shouting.
Pink pretty pouting purring,
Cracked cramped cackles.
Light lilting, laughing lullabies…
Singing or sonorous sound scapes
Quiet qualities of queen’s English.
Yes words are cheap and cheerful or cheerless.
A friend just requested words ending in ‘age’ and I thought it could be an interesting thought poem…
Stage you are at or on?
Beverage, tea or coffee?
Tonnage, now that’s heavy
Last ice age?
But not gauge!
I sometimes start a blog on one theme and for some reason meander off in a completely different direction. Like a river meanders randomly, curving one way then the other.
Curving frequently, tributaries joining,
Increasing the flow, sinuous,
Like a snake, swallowing its own tail,
In places becoming, forming through sediment,
A famed oxbow lake, a tiny part of the whole, trapped and landlocked.
When it reaches the sea all its strength is dissipated.
Numerous streams wander a delta down to the water.
Seagulls trim their wings
And fly fiercely overhead.
My story meanders again,
As a gull steals my chips ……
I started at point A, wove around and ended at point B. Strange how like a journey we can be transported by words, drift along into a story or a song… .