The road ends, but the journey continues...

Tag: poetry (Page 3 of 5)

Poetry Shoutout: “In Brigantia” by Andrew James Murray

In Brigantia by Andrew James MurrayGood poetry meets you wherever you are then draws you into its world. Seamlessly weaving place, perception; revelation, inspiration. Touching both the mind and soul.

The poetry of Andrew James Murray does just that and his second published poetry collection, In Brigantia does not disappoint.

~~~

I prefer reading poetry in the deep of night, the early recesses of morning. I like to take my time and linger, savoring each line and nuanced word choice within the context of the whole of the poem.
Yes, I flip through a new volume upon first receipt, even skim a few lines, but ultimately, the hunkering down with a new collection of poetry is an anticipated event – date – I make with myself for some dark day, quiet evening or womb-like twilight.

~~ Phrases to savor ~~

“From this soil,
seeded with the dead,
beautiful things will grow” (from: In Brigantia)

“Our country is too small
for road trips.

There is nothing epic
about these squeezed shores.
Where are we to go
to find ourselves?” (from: Motorway)

“A dog barks itself
into tomorrow,
clawing back the shade.” (from: Nocturnes)

~~Regarding process~~

“Some lines come to me when travelling, such as with Railway Platform.
We passed through a station (without stopping) which, due to rain sweeping in, appeared abandoned, except for a guitar case no doubt left by its owner who was seeking shelter while waiting for his/her train.
I was thinking about how platforms are normally busy places of greetings and farewells, and maybe some of those could, somehow, be held in the atmosphere and tapped into to work as inspiration to creative people. Like the owner of that guitar case.
Like seeds growing in darkness.
That’s how my mind works! And that’s how that poem was born before we’d reached the next station.” – Andrew James Murray

~~~

In Brigantia can be found at Amazon and Amazon UK

~~~

Andrew James Murray, Manchester UKAndrew James Murray is a writer and poet who is still firmly rooted in his childhood town in Manchester, England.
He has a wife who keeps him grounded, and four children who keep him young.
Among other things, he loves history and roots, books and writing, spirituality, landscape, music and the outdoors-all of which he can become a tad obsessive about.
He also tracks Great White sharks throughout the world over the internet, much to his wife’s consternation.
He can be found writing about anything and nothing over at City Jackdaw and at Coronets for Ghosts for all things poetry related.
Andrew is currently working on his first novel.

April 20 (Poem snippet)

April 20

Columbine
20 years ago
On a Tuesday
For 20 minutes
Terror Reigned
In
Once a Safe Place

~~~

(30 minutes away, all 3 of our brood were also at school, presumably safe; learning, or not. Never to assume that again – Laura Bruno Lilly)

Notes on the Page (Poem)

Notes on the page wrestle out feelings
deep inside – a
flesh and blood yearning for home.

Notes on the page travel through these fingers
dancing the strings
finding spoken out loud music words.

Notes on the page SpeakSing this singular woman’s (he)art.

The Prisloe, Mo Giolla Mear, the ZOOM H4n & Pillow

For all the children who will not know – collaborative poem

For all the children who will not know

Laura Bruno Lilly, Andrew James Murray

 ~ 5/22/2017 ~

For all the children who will not know

the warmth of sunshine upon their cheeks;
the cold of dug snow-forts and candy-land  castles.

For all the children who will not know

the slurpy free love of an old faithful mutt;
the drooly mouth kisses from kids of their own.

For all the children who will not know

the joy of youthful wanderings;
the joys of returning home.

Laura Bruno Lilly

 

~ 22/5/2017 ~

The flowers bloomed early
and were cut down by a cruel frost.
We all came together
– but at what cost?
For what was gained can’t be measured
against what was lost,
and those children will never know.

Andrew James Murray

The Manchester Bee

My Manc Bee Badge on my Proud2Bee block

My Manc Bee Badge on my Proud2Bee block


By now, my Manc Bee Badge is becoming a familiar sight to readers of this blog. I’ve alluded to the history and significance of the symbol, but never really wrote about it other than to link readers to its historical background.
In short, the worker bee is an emblem for Manchester, England symbolizing the city’s hard-working past. It was a hive of activity during the Industrial Revolution and workers were soon dubbed “busy bees”.
After the Manchester Arena bombing last year, it took on further significance as a public symbol of unity against terrorism.
northern manchester bee art russell meeham

Manchester Bee Mural, Koffee Pot Cafe – Russell Meeham, artist


 
 
The insects are an integral part of the city’s psyche: in representing its citizens’ character; in innumerable themed artworks scribbled and commissioned throughout its buildings and streets; and in a literal sense as a city devoted to urban beekeeping.
These bees are the gritty epitome of a warm, creative, yet down-to-earth community of over 2.5 million. Their history is not my history, but I strongly relate to this place. I’m not sure exactly why, but that fateful day’s event last year drew me in to this city and its people. And I can’t escape the connection I feel.
noma manc bee closeup

Manchester Bee, NOMA – A.Murray, photo (click on photo for related blog post)

“And this is the place where our folks came to work, where they struggled in puddles, they hurt in the dirt and they built us a city, they built us these towns…
And they left us a spirit. They left us a vibe. That Mancunian way to survive and to thrive and to work and to build, to connect, and create…
from: ‘This is the Place’ poem by Tony Walsh


words to the poem, “This is the Place” by Tony Walsh, as read in the video above

Totality: South Carolina 2017 (poem)

note: In light of unresolved disaster needs in Puerto Rico and the devastating shootings in Las Vegas, I have no words to write on those subjects…too overwhelming. I tend to express myself through musical phrases rather than sentences; poetry rather than prose.
Heartfelt condolences to all affected in both places.

And
RIP to both Tom Petty (fav rocker) & Red Miller (creator of the Broncos Orange Crush that took us to our first Super Bowl with quarterback Craig Morton – remembered with fondness)

Seems like 2017 has a backlog of compositions in various stages of emergence; here is a recent poem on the beauty felt during a more glorious occasion, as promised.

Totality: South Carolina 2017

poem by Laura Bruno Lilly

Coronet spills

fire cream

Crown

~

 Daytime bathed

in Twilight

Moonglow

~

 Air embraced

standstill sun

Conversion

~


Shout Out: "Just a Rose" by Colin Chappell

Orange Rose from Ma & Dad's Garden 2016

Orange Rose from Ma & Dad’s Garden 2016


When I first heard this poem, my mind immediately flashed on a photo I took during my Summer of Dad – that of a lone rose thriving in the midst of Ma & Dad’s overgrown and neglected garden.

“…for my blooms have served a purpose…”

 
From Just Thinking a collection of “little writings which may produce some little thoughts” here is Colin Chappell reading his poem, Just a Rose.

Note: All proceeds from book sales will be directed to Colin’s daughter who was diagnosed with a brain tumor in 2007. She is still fighting, but the treatment programs have taken their toll and she is unable to hold down a paying job for a variety of reasons. She is therefore dependent on benefits from her disability provider…She uses her time to volunteer for non-profit organizations, and has been involved in giving some dignity to the women who are living on the streets in Vancouver’s downtown East-side…She has also written a number of poems, two of which are included in the book!

Happy Okay-Mom’s Day Musing

 “World’s Okayest Mom”

I saw that phrase at a blog I follow – she has the t-shirt and everything – I really related; albeit I’m not in the trenches of hands-on childrearing anymore, it still rings true. At least for me – an older gen Mom. Yeah, I’m a GrandMom, too, but not hands-on due to circumstances way beyond my control (sigh – it is what it is) so that’s why maybe memories of being a younger Mom still resonate loud and clear.  Here’s the poetic part of her blog post (be sure to visit it for the rest of the story)

World’s Okayest Mom, by Angelica Battista Bonin of Comically Quirky  Continue reading

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