No plea for sympathy but the reason for absence of creative thought

Soon I shall on the table lie
Beneath a bright light’s staring eye
As those behind the masks peer down
At one who sinks but not to drown

‘It must come out,’ the doctor said
‘and maybe more if it has spread.’
What could I say? My tongue was tied
With thoughts of those who may have died

But now resigned to what must be
I try to see objectively
And face whatever may befall
With strength I muster to the call


Cloudy outlook

“How cold it’s been,” the papers say,
“and it looks like the same for May.”
How wonderful the trends to know
machines churn out so apropos.

The summer could be cold or warm
as stray percents far from the norm
to change the future for those who
believe that science can come through.

The one is wet the other dry
and faces stare up to the sky
with smiles or grimaces no doubt
as Nature works within, without.

Pallet of dreams


Image courtesy kanshutters

Grey days politically so drab
Merge with weather inclement
Falling rain and moisture rising
See the share price, not surprising

Mood swings colour life’s intent
Rainbows form as showers pass by
Clouds break once upon a time
Clocks, remorseless, ever chime

Marching on with banners flying
Singing songs from days gone by
Onward to the known tomorrows
Built of memory’s joys and sorrows

Floral gathering


Photo courtesy John Walker

Nature’s pallet here to see,
well part of anyway,
reveals of flowers freshly grown
a story that is not their own,
but of those now just memories
that flutter in some inner breeze.



Credit: NASA, ESA, and L. Lamy (Observatory of Paris, CNRS, CNES)

Mysterious planet
Ever blue
Signs of sentience
For the few

So near and yet
So far apart
You hide from eyes
Your distant heart

Rolling onward
At a pace
Rings and moons
Adorn your space

The Sun for me
One shining bright
For you a star
In the night

Two together
Joined somehow
By the light
Here and now



1. Uranus auroras glimpsed from Earth
2. Hubble Spots Aurorae on the Planet Uranus

No idea

If you’ve been wondering why I haven’t blogged lately, well so have I

Silent rain


Photo courtesy John Walker

Thoughts after a day or two of rainy weather

Who can count the raindrops?
Somewhere a sum might be
Held in those icy regions
Up high within that sea
A formula of Nature
Not tuned to man’s desire
That at some prescribed moment
Directs what must transpire
Irrational, oft seeming,
But of some plan no doubt
There hidden in the silence
Thought must needs do without

Galactic joining


Object Name: Arp 194 – Three interacting galaxies
Credit: NASA, ESA, and the Hubble Heritage Team (STScI/AURA)

Three spirals interacting
Creating worlds anew
Blue stars in congregations
Provide the future view

Of suns with moons and planets
Amidst the dusty lanes
And sentience abundant
That memories retains

I look in awe and wonder
Imagination wild
Upon this stilled resurgence
As one galactic child

Natural limits

April’s arrived but then what’s in a name?
Nature is playing still its waiting game.
Springtime on tiptoes trips first here then there,
urging to action all those that might dare.

A planet moves so very far away
and eyes look up to see its rising suns
with scorching breath ignite another day.
Those of the night descend without delay.

Capricious One

Another day that’s cold and grey,
the warmth of late a memory
and winter coats and scarves appeal
those parts then bared again to seal.

“Ne’er cast a clout till May be out”.
How true is still this proverb old
that warns how fickle is the spring
whose weather mirrors moods that swing.

A drizzle falls from thickening clouds
now drifting in on northwest winds
to sprinkle all that thirst for more
before revealing what’s in store.

In focus

High pressure keeps the rain away.
The morning dew from nights still long
relieves the thirst of those so small
while roots search deeper of those tall.

The afternoons are warm a time,
enough to tempt some to repair
while lightly dressed outside to be
the first to show an arm or knee.

I watch the busyness around
as Nature stirs something inside.
A force that surges, needs to meet,
in all that hearken to the beat.

Demands of life are few it seems
when future dreams no longer haunt;
all energy is focussed clear
upon each task, no doubt or fear.

Early spring

The vernal equinox — the first day of spring — arrived on March 20 at 05:14 Universal Time. This is its earliest arrival since the year 1896.

A sunny day, quite warm for March,
with little wind calls one to stray
outdoors to face the springtime chores
while bent, on knees, or on all fours.

The winter left its mark this time
with frost-browned stems, leaves, buds exposed,
but there’s a buzz of life around
that fills the heart without a sound.

A sunny day, quite warm for March,
green shoots and nodding daffodils
bring colour to this early spring
as those above cheep, tweet, and sing.


Sitting here, a muttering below
Rises up ears to offend
Below the threshold of understanding
Most irritating and commanding

Experts gather to respond
To ideas floating in the pond
Of life that man has filled with thought
But empty of what’s really sought
A silence never quite achieved
By one so easily deceived

Cosmic reflections

“Modern cosmology, and indeed, much of modern physical science, is self-serving. It is not designed to make fundamentally new discoveries, merely to explore the current knowledge base. Even worse, where the assumptions cannot be tested independently of the model (and most of cosmology falls into this category), the assumption becomes law and forms the base for further assumptions.
Here’s the thing—if a scientific enquiry is conducted on the basis of an assumed model, and moves towards a result or outcome of that enquiry in a series of progressive logical steps, then clearly, the final result is assumed. The whole process is anchored in an assumed model; therefore the outcome is a subset of that initial assumption. Furthermore, the system reinforces itself.”

Quote from Hilton Ratcliffe’s editorial in the Feb. 2012 newsletter of the
Alternative Cosmology Group


One model acceptable
“Big Bang” so called
A truth everlasting
Oft overhauled

Expanding space carrying
All there within
Since that great explosion
Without a din

The universe when quite young
Sports those mature
Some think far too much for
Time to ensure

Dark matter, dark energy
Black holes galore
Space curvature guiding
Waves to the shore

The fingers of gravity
Reach to the night
At greater than light speed
Worrisome plight

New wonders of make-believe
No doubt will shine
Born out in those heavens
Of Thought’s design

Into the light

Confusion reigned where certainty once ruled
But now man’s world, of which I’m still a part,
Unwittingly has cast me on a path
Directed by the compass in my heart

A clarity grows with each passing day
As truths and lies of old seen in new light
Merge and disperse to leave no doubts or fears
But revelations born of new insight

I see beyond the walls that culture builds
And ties break that still bind to words grown cold
I breathe a freshness that all overwhelms
When Nature wills her true face to unfold

Inner tide

A personal observation, no doubt shared by others

Tiredness lies beneath the eyes
Behind the zygomatic rise
In pools that fill with sleep denied
That rises as some inner tide
But bring the focus there to bear
Of that somehow always aware
And oft those waters will recede
For slumber then there is no need

The return

Yes, I’m back.
With thanks to those who wished me well
In silent thoughts or words to tell

The fingers poised once more descend
To spread the thoughts so long withheld
That rise now clear and undisturbed
By those it seemed would never end

The Break

From a friend:

Jan very much regrets not being around lately but a sudden debilitating illness is keeping him from the keyboard. He wishes you all well and hopes to be back among you before long.

Ice sculpture

Air surges freezing from the east
Its chill enhanced by raging wind
Still powdered white these leaves, not those
And feeling pinched are fingers, toes
Bare branches wild thrash toe and fro
Of those that sleep but somehow know
That winter has us in its grip
Allowing not a drop to drip

‘Now wrap up warm,’ I hear her say
‘Before you go outside to play.’
In far off days of carefree joy
When Nature watched a little boy
While slipping, sliding, compressed white
Snow crystals from gloved hands took flight
And he of coal eyes, mouth and nose
Stood somewhere near in easy pose

I look into the cold blue sky
With sculpted smile of times gone by

Lost horizons

Personal thoughts during a visit to a museum in Leiden, the Netherlands, primarily to view its Etruscan exhibition


Looking at pots, trinkets, wares left behind
By those lost in time but the same human kind
Living their lives in the way they knew how
Much still mysterious to us here now

Where did they come from? No one is quite sure
Perhaps from the north to that Italian shore
Ancient Greek influence, gods that abound
No written texts but one have yet been found

Much that we know of them comes from their tombs
That we have the right to rob now one assumes
Personal items fill halls of renown
Next to the statues whose eyes look not down


Romans next-door and Egyptians nearby
Both telling their stories whose bones are quite dry
To eyes and ears of those distant in years
Advanced in some ways but with much the same fears