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Born Under A Storm

Ruth Weal — Tue, 24 May 2011 23:20:29 +0000

For She Is The Storm - Copyright R.Weal 2011

One of my family’s favourite stories about me (of which there
are many), is how I was born under a raging summer storm.
In fact, that August in the year of my birth was a very stormy one and apparently even as a babe, I was never frightened of the storms – mainly I slept peacefully through them.

As I grew I became increasingly fascinated by storms and I’ve always been able to tell when a storm is coming, even before the clouds roll in and the ozone coats the air about us. Every so often in my life there has been a special storm, one that feels familiar and right. A deep gravitational pull exists between us, pulling us into each other’s sphere of being, speaking deeply of home and belonging. She is the elemental force from which an unknowable part of me was sprung the night I was born, my mother storm.

As I sense mother storm I feel the need to go out and meet her; (for I cannot think of her as an ‘it’), to commune with her essence. I can only describe it as a perfect feeling of being welcomed home. She always comes when I need guidance or support, when my reserves are low and my spirit ebbing. She infuses my being, filling me up with her rejuvenating power, firing my creativity with her lightning, warming my heart with her raucous thunder. And as for her blessed rain? Oh, to be kissed by her tears – for a moment to be washed clean of all my earthly bonds and pains is a truly indescribable experience. For when her essence whips about me I am not of this earth – I am the wind, I am the rain and I dance to the thunder beneath the lancing lightning that binds my spirit to her.

Storm Swept - Copyright R.Weal 2011

Whilst I commune with her time stands still and yet moves faster than anything I have ever known. The exceptional bond between us defies all reason. When she leaves me I am bereft, for a moment so heartbroken I wonder how I will even find my next breath. But then the world reasserts itself, my heart beats and I find that I am once again whole, infused with a new lustre and will to go on. Her gift to me is the elemental sorcery that always resides within me, keeping me safe in the light until she can find me again.

She visited me earlier this month and brought forth a torrent of poetry and art (which you can see here in this post), stoking the fire into life from the dying embers of my creativity. Below you will find the video I captured of my mother storm and the piece of poetic prose I wrote for her. I hope maybe some of her power leaps out from them into you.

Thank you mother storm, ‘till we commune again I will ever be your earthbound daughter.

Tread safely in the light.

Wealie x

Reunited

She felt the presence long before she consciously understood. Something called up from deep within her – dormant electricity brought forth into being with only a thought, brightening the very blood within her veins to sing in anticipation.

Alive with power, glowing with effervescence and a pure spark of life, she stepped out into the world no longer entirely a part of it. The wind’s whispers grew into a loving caress, promising the birth of magic to come. Brooding clouds crowded about her, transforming her into an ethereal form. The very weather itself courted her like an attentive lover – framing her like an ancient goddess among men.

And then she knew; knew her storm was calling her home. So long since last they communed, too long since she was filled with the ancient power in her veins and blessed with the mighty kiss of the storm’s tears. So long since she had been absolved of all earthly bounds and shame.

Original Sketch of Storm Goddess - Copyright R.Weal 2011

“Come,” she plaintively called
“Come to me,” she breathlessly heaved
“Breathe new life into my tired soul.
Imbue these wizened veins with the elixir of your simple truth.
Release my true self and I will be your earthly emissary.”

And so her storm came, rushing over, under, around and through her – flooding her system with cleansing power, covering her with tears of joy as it sung her thunderous praises, ecstatically lighting up the sky with the excitement of their reunion. Woman and storm converged in sorcerous communion, her earth bound spirit set free, birthed anew in the tender love of her mighty Mother Storm.

With regretful motion the two were parted, neither knowing when next they would converge as one. But always within they carry a vital element of the other, so that they might always find each other across the long oceans of time and the lost, lonely valleys of each day and night. For in truth they can never truly be parted.

Ruth Weal

For Mother Storm, until we meet again I am ever your earthbound daughter
x

Written during a beautiful Summer Storm

Copyright R.Weal © 7 May 2011 1.10 am

Pinned by Jane Austen

Ruth Weal — Tue, 07 Dec 2010 00:09:11 +0000

Jane Austen Portrait

I just read an interesting article by ladaisi called I’m a Jane Austen, Jane Eyre kind of Girl talking about the female characters that she loved as a teenager. Jane Austen has definitely been one of my favourite authors for many years now. I first read Emma when I was about 14, but perhaps was too young to fully appreciate the artistry of Jane’s writing and depth of the character Emma at the time. It wasn’t until I was in my late teens when I watched the seminal BBC mini series adaptation of Pride & Prejudice that I came to love Jane’s work. From the moment the end credits of the first of the six episodes were rolling I was digging out my old copy of Emma for a refresh. The very next day I had bought a copy of every book she had ever written and my second hand copy of Persuasion is probably my most prized book on the shelves!

As much as I loved the feminist sass and independence of Elizabeth Bennett in Pride & Prejudice it was the stoical resolve and unswerving devotion of Anne Elliot in Persuasion that spoke to the deeper recesses of my psyche. Besieged by her tactless family, written off as a lost cause by friends and family alike, pursued by a roguish and unwanted admirer, persuaded by a friend to give up the man she loved and then shunned by the object of her affection, Captain Wentworth upon first being re-acquainted. It is Anne’s poise and equanimity that speared right to my core as a young woman struggling to understand who she was and where she fitted into the world. For so much of the book Anne suffers, never showing how much it hurts or burdening others with her pain. A selfless character who puts the feelings of those she loves and cares for above her own, resigning herself to a cold and lonely existence. Of course, Jane was too kind a writer to leave Anne’s selflessness unrewarded, but I shan’t spoil it too much for those who have not read the novel.

It is not an overstatement to say that Anne was a revelation to me, proof that I wasn’t all that strange, that someone like me – a self possessed, introverted and deeply passionate individual who kept her heart a closely guarded secret could exist, if only in fiction. I found something in all of Austen’s characters though, the feminine determination and independence of spirit in Elizabeth Bennett and also in the youthful innocence of Marianne Dashwood in Sense & Sensibility and her sister Elinor Dashwood’s constancy and selflessness, so reminiscent of Anne Eliott and the sense of purpose, morality and conscience of Fanny Price in Mansfield Park.

I could go on and on, but rather than continue to wax lyrical about the characters and the books and how much they mean to me I want to share with you a poem. The poem demonstrates how throughout my life I have not only been supported, comforted and befriended by Austen’s work, but also inspired.

So cinch in your corsets and put on your bonnets, watch out Wentworth and Darcy, it’s time to get Pinned by Jane Austen!

Wealie x

P.S. if I’ve inspired you to go out and read a bit or even watch a bit of Jane Austen then here’s a woo hoo! If you need inspiration or help with choosing click here to see all things Jane Austen that you can buy on Amazon!

PINNED BY JANE AUSTEN

I’m confused, this morning I was so sure, the look in your eyes, the lingering of our touch…God I want you too much. And now the insipid doubt returns and I feel my heart, it burns. My mind is reeling; I don’t know where to turn. This morning my smile could not be swayed, yet now I sit alone a bundle of nerves each one broken, each one frayed. How do you do this to me? Why do I continue to let this be? What the fuck happened to my wonder woman gene and who the hell let Jane Austen in?

My confidence escapes me and the mask of my dominance melts away. Struggling with my inner demons, how do I get the courage to tell you how I feel? My corseted emotions locked sickeningly deep, stood in the corner in my dunce’s cap, someone hand me a shovel, I need to dig my way out of all this emotional crap.

Give me back my tiara and cape, let me spin around and find the courage to do what must be done. Give me back my wonder woman and someone please show Ms Austen the door. Give me leave to pick my fractured dignity up off the floor. I’m so confused; do you feel this way too, how do you feel when I’m with you?

Are you to be my Mr Darcy with your stoic resolve? Are you struggling as much as I to articulate these emotions, or am I alone in my ardour for you? Why can’t you be my superman, you look equally good in red or blue? Why are you not entwined within my arms and legs, tucked up safe with me in my warm bed?

But in the corner I still stand, pinned down by Jane Austen’s hand and yet still I wish to say:

“I like you,
Like you more than I should,
I like you
Like you more than friends,
Like you like no other
And I would like for nothing more than you to like me too.”

Oh God I hope you do!

Ruth Weal
02 September 2005, 3.30 pm
Copyright R.Weal 2005 ©

Sky Dancing

Ruth Weal — Thu, 18 Nov 2010 01:02:39 +0000

It’s been a strange evening, feeling ever so slightly not quite here, which is definitely reflected in the short piece I wrote earlier this evening. It’s almost as if a part of my spirit has wandered off without me!

I mustn’t complain though as it has left me feeling quite creative and I’ve been having fun editing the pictures from last weekend’s trip to Portsmouth’s Historic Dockyard, which I will hopefully be posting to flickr very soon and of course writing a blog post. In the meantime here’s a picture of a beautiful sunset over the Cancun Lagoon in the Yucatan Peninsular, Mexico. It seemed only right to have a beautiful sky picture to go with my new piece “Sky Dancing”, and what better sky than this lovely Mexican sunset?

I hope you enjoy your little sky dance with me!

Wealie x

SKY DANCING

Tonight I am sky dancing, a weight lifting, a part of me reaching out and touching air, rising up to come back down Released of all disapproval, worries and frowns, caring not for material wealth and worldly renown.

More real than imagined, more imagined than real, once more in the arms of those that went before me, released to truly feel.

Unshackled and relieved, disconnected, but free, I am everything and nothing that I ever was and ever meant to be.

The muses court me and words assault me, dark poetry twists within me, feeding the fire of desire for creation, birth and artistic redemption.

And through it all my spirit’s sky dancing, foot lose and fancy free!

Ruth Weal
17 November 2010 10.37 pm
Copyright R.Weal 2010

Setting Sun over Cancun Lagoon - Copyright R.Weal 2007

Ghost of Me

Ruth Weal — Thu, 28 Oct 2010 00:01:08 +0000

Well this isn’t really a Halloween post, but the title does have a Ghost in it

Ghost of Me is the self portrait below that I tripped out in Photoshop to get a very different feel. It was one of the first times that I played with selective re-colouring and I purposefully chose larger than life colours to convey a sense of unreality to the picture. It’s me, but it’s not me, almost only an echo, or ghost if you will, hence the title. I used the same base self portrait for another photo, “Fade Me Not“, which has an altogether more challenging attitude about it. It’s amazing what a little tinkering can do to change the mood of a picture, if only life were as simple!

The poem “As My Destiny Wends” started to take shape in my mind as I was editing the picture. For some time I’d been toying with the idea of having a poem that was just made up of a series of seemingly unanswerable and self referencing questions. The look in my eyes in Ghost of Me seemed to have an imploring, questing sense to them once I’d added the blue re-colour. The eyes invited that sort of poem to work with them and who was I to argue. So the questions just poured forth and a rather esoteric little introspection of the workings of the Wealie mind at that time was born!

Here’s hoping we all find our feet on the path where our destinies wend!

Wealie x

Ghost of Me - Copyright R.Weal 2007

AS MY DESTINY WENDS

How do we find truth when light obscures the door?
Where do we find answers when the questions are never more?
Who then will be my guide when the path is never set?
Why then should I trust the word of those I have not met?
Wherein lies the truth if the lie is at my feet?
How then will you recognise which face of mine to greet?
Who then can tell me how this calamity will end?
Will I ever know where my destiny will wend?

Ruth Weal
5.50 pm 20 March 2008
Copyright R.Weal 2008 ©

Dark Goddess

Ruth Weal — Sat, 23 Oct 2010 23:00:38 +0000

Lady Luna Faces - Copyright R.Weal 2007

I’ve been fascinated by mythology
since I was a young girl, lapping up
any stories of King Arthur, Robin Hood, Sinbad the Sailor and anything Egyptian, Norse and Arabian. I distinctly remember the first time I saw Ray Harryhausen’s depictions of Jason and the Argonauts and Clash of the Titans, which created a passion for any Roman and Greek mythology.

In the 1990s a series of 99p mythology books graced my bookshelves in pride of place, which opened me up to a whole new world of mythology that I had previously only touched upon lightly in my Religious Education classes back at school. Suddenly my mind was alive with Hinduism and the Maya.

All the places I dreamed of travelling to were rich with sources of mythology and colourful cultures that still celebrated them.

I remember watching documentaries on different cultures and histories with my Dad, dreaming of climbing Mayan temples, entering darkened Egyptian tombs and attending colourful Hindu festivities in India at the mouth of the Ganges.

However it is the concept of the “Goddess“, the idea of the sacred feminine and the triple goddess, the maiden, mother and crone that has always drawn me the most.

Triple Goddess Symbol waxing, full and waning

More specifically I’ve been drawn to those goddesses that are associated with independence, strength, fertility, sexuality, love, creation and the moon. The Egyptian mother goddesses Isis and Hathor, the Sumerian goddess of creation Innana and her Babylonian and Assyrian incarnation Ishtar, the Greek moon goddesses Hecate and Selene, who is also known as Luna and the Roman goddess of the moon and hunt - Diana. I’ve also been drawn to Kali, the Hindu goddess of eternal energy, a dark and terrifying force.

The moon itself has always had a strange and mystical pull for me, stripping away the bonds of social constraint and freeing me to find the darker realities within myself, which is where I reach out and find my creativity. My art comes from a dark place, it isn’t pretty and it isn’t always easy for me to birth it, but the process is cathartic, taking the darkness out of me and leaving me able to function in a society that I often feel disconnected and removed from.

The poem Dark Goddess is about that dark place within me, which almost seems to have it’s own feminine personality, which commands and demands me to create, whether it be poetry, paintings or photography like the picture above “Lady Luna Faces”, which is a combination of self portraits overlaid upon a full moon capture. Both the poem and the picture were created at the bidding of the Dark Goddess within me, my dark muse, my alter ego, sometimes she calls me to oblivion and depression, other times she lifts me to great heights of passion and creativity. She is a double edged sword a powerful force and perhaps at times scarily redolent of the goddess Kali incarnate within me.

May the dark goddess bless you this night and the force of all creation burst forth within you.

Wealie x

DARK GODDESS

Goddess I am yours, come channel your night within me
My darkness calls out to thee
I feel your silken breath upon my skin
I taste your power sublime within
Let me be your vessel this night
Le me show them how darkness can be bright
Enfold me in your dark embrace
Paint your visage across my face
Birth me from your darkened womb
Free me from my daylight tomb
Let the day be gone
Let me voice your siren song
Seduce them through my darkened eyes
Dispel from me all society’s lies
Dance away my every duress
Peace and solitude in my hands do press
Bless me with your righteous kiss
Dissolve me in the night’s true mist
Goddess I am yours to command
You have only to guide my hand
Dark Goddess your daughter calls to you
What would you have her do?

Ruth Weal
28 July 2005 12.40 am
Copyright R.Weal 2005 ©

Dusk’s Women

Ruth Weal — Tue, 19 Oct 2010 22:16:32 +0000

I may have mentioned before that I’m more likely to witness dusk than dawn. I feel a strange affinity with that time of the day, maybe it’s because I love the night so much and the dusk is always the herald of night’s arrival. However, I do feel there is a very mystical and visceral quality to the dusk that always draws me to capture it in images and try to convey some of the emotions it engenders in words.

Tonight I want to share with you two Photoshop creations using the same sunset shot in the background. The original sunset shot was heavily manipulated and then overlaid with stylised self portraits. The finished creations were called Lady Dusk and Dusk’s Daughter respectively and each had a short poem written to accompany the picture, to give a full artistic creation.

Of the two I think Lady Dusk is my favourite, it’s altogether darker in both the visual and poetic compositions, with the poetry exploring the mystical element of the dusk, the quickening between night and day. Dusk’s daughter is a much lighter, brighter and optimistic visual style, with a very short verse that is all about rebirth. Both the pictures and their verses are below, be sure to let me know which one’s your favourite!

Tread safely in the light and find me in the newborn night.

Wealie x

Lady Dusk - Copyright R.Weal 2008

LADY DUSK

Born of the twilight
Between the light & the dark
The bridge between the worlds
A sacred piece of ancient art
Daughter to one
Mother to the other
In the waxing & waning
A lady born wild and free
Everything you wish and wish not to be

Ruth Weal
11 Aug 2008 3.26 am
Copyright R.Weal 2008 ©

Dusk's Daughter - Copyright R.Weal 2008

DUSK’S DAUGHTER

As the sun fades my blood kindles
As the warmth wanes my soul awakens
As the dusk dawns I am reborn

Ruth Weal
01 Aug 2008 3.24 am
Copyright R.Weal 2008

How did you mark 10/10/10?

Ruth Weal — Sun, 10 Oct 2010 17:44:21 +0000

Multicoloured - Copyright R.Weal 2010

Today is the 10th of October 2010, or as it appears in the two digit date format 10/10/10! As humans we are always looking for special meaning and significance in dates like these. Many people are drawn to mark these dates in some way, assigning significance and meaning where perhaps there would not have been any.

For me though, today was a pretty normal Sunday. I slept in, took a nice hot leisurely bath, finished the book I’d been reading, did a very little bit of tidying up, sorted a bit of washing and then decided to sit down and watch a classic flick from my childhood whilst Ben was out.

The film was Bedknobs and Broomsticks, which Disney has just released an Enchanted Musical Edition, which I bought a few weeks back whilst shopping. It was lovely to hear my favourite songs “The Age of not believing”, “Portobello Road”, “The Beautiful Briny Sea” and “Substitutiary Locomotion” and to see the film restored to it’s deserved glory!

Glowingly Colourful Vine - Copyright R.Weal 2010

After the film finished, I settled down to think of today’s blog topic and soon realised that it was 10/10/10 whilst checking out some flickr buddies latest photographic uploads.

There are a few flickr groups that have been set up dedicated to pictures and videos taken today on 10/10/10. The pictures are of a wide variety of subjects and it’s interesting to take a look through the group photo pools to see what inspired other people all over the world on 10/10/10.

For me I decided this was a good opportunity to go out an photograph the vine on the front wall of the alley that leads down to my house. Luckily it’s been a lovely sunny autumn afternoon and the vine is now a lovely mixture of reds, golds and green.

I noticed how the vine had changed from it’s verdant green to a rainbow of red, gold yellow and green yesterday and thought then that I really should get out and photograph it before the spectacular display was over.

I’ve edited the pics and named the set The 10/10/10 Autumnal Collection and a couple of my favourites are here in the blog post. The set also includes a couple of snail and blossom shots along with a shot of the miniature Japanese Maple Leaf tree, which is just starting to turn. Hopefully the weather will hold for me to get some nice shots of the Maple Leaf when it turns fully.

If you have taken a picture or video today why not upload it to one or all of the flickr groups?

If you’ve never seen it or want to remember, below is a clip of my favourite song -”The Beautiful Briny Sea”, from the film Bedknobs and Broomsticks. I hope you enjoy it and that it brings the same smile to your lips today that it did mine.

Here’s hoping you had a great 10/10/10. This is Wealie signing off, just “bobbing along, singing a song, on the bottom of the beautiful briny, shimmery shiny, beautiful briny sea!”

Here is a rose, or two, one for me and one for you x

Ruth Weal — Fri, 08 Oct 2010 22:59:36 +0000

Heaven Scent - Copyright R.Weal 2007

I’ve always loved roses since I was a little girl and my Nan had a wonderful set of rose bushes outside the front of her house that she was always proud of. Nan’s pride is not surprising as her roses were much admired! She would always let me pick one to take home with me because I loved the scents.

This yellow tea rose is called “Heaven Scent” and I photographed it at the 2007 Bath & West Show which is an annual agricultural show that has become a bit of a tradition to visit with my Dad and when she’s free my sister Shelley! The show always has lots of lovely plants, a beautiful flower tent, oodles of lovely fresh food, loads of animals, competitions and lots of interesting country and craft stalls.

It’s always held at the end of May/beginning of June and there is always at least one stall with the finest Cotswold Strawberries, which are the best in the world and alone are worth the entry fee!!

I had actually bought the same variety of this rose plant for my Nan and helped to plant it in her garden the year before, along with a red rose similar to my second rose picture “Passion” below. These pictures were also one of the first times I took out the Pentax K10D digital SLR camera and started taking my photography seriously.

So, the pictures of “Heaven Scent” and “Passion” therefore evoke happy memories of exploring my skills in photography, spending time with my Dad and sister Shelley and of the fond times gardening with the my beloved grandmother, who I had sadly lost the year previously.

Passion - Copyright R.Weal 2007

Red roses were always my Nan’s favourite and “Passion” had a deep heady scent to it that brought to mind the conversations my Nan and I often had about roses and red ones in particular.

Nan said red roses always reminded her of the ones she had carried in her wedding bouquet. That they were a beautiful symbol of her enduring love that she shared with my Granddad. Nan was admittedly a bit of a romantic, but when you spend over 60 yrs with the same person in your life and still feel in love with them to the end I think you’re entitled to be a romantic!

I decided to buy the rose bush “Passion” that was the subject of this picture and I planted it in my own garden in her memory.

My “Passion” bush is still there today, though sadly a bit overshadowed by a climbing plant that has decided to take over my back yard! Every time I see any rose I always smile at the memories it evokes and the scent transports me back to times when my life seemed simpler and one the most truly inspirational and selflessly loving people graced my life.

Shortly after uploading the picture I added a poem in the flickr description for the picture “Passion”. I was inspired to write the poem after attending Paco Peña’s - A Compás Flamenco show at the Salisbury City Hall as part of the Salisbury International Arts Festival . A Compás was a veritable feast of music, dance, colour and spell binding rhythms that kept me so completely enthralled that it seemed like it had hardly begun before it had ended!

I remember clearly the poem bursting forth in my mind to be written the moment the show was over. The title had exploded into my consciousness as I had watched the commanding performances of the lead male Flamenco dancer and I knew if I didn’t capture the energy and spirit of the moment in the poem I’d always regret it. Unfortunately it was one of the rare occasions when I didn’t have a pen and paper in my handbag. Luckily my good friend Deborah came to the rescue and was quickly on hand ensuring that the poem lived and the energy and passion of the moment was not lost. Hopefully if you read the poem out loud to yourselves you’ll hear the rhythm of the flamenco that drove the words from men that heady evening.

As Flamenco is such a passionate art form, it seemed only right that it should have a passionate picture to compliment it and so another melding of my art forms was born. At the bottom of the post there’s a video clip of Paco Peña and his team performing the A Compás show, maybe you’ll get swept up in the passion just like I did!

May your passions warm you all your days and complacency never darken your way.

Wealie x

IF I MARRY, LET HIM BE A FLAMENCO DANCER

“If I marry”
she said
“Let him be a flamenco dancer
With lithe feet
And graceful passion
I will fall into his embrace
In the gypsy fashion”

“If I marry”
She said
“Let him be a flamenco dancer
For he stole my breath
With the fire in his feet
And my heart’s true rhythm
Is forever linked to a flamenco beat”

“If I marry”
She said
“Let him be a flamenco dancer
For he tore from me my passion in the blink of an eye
And gave me elation on an exhaled sigh
For I gave him my heart, my essence, my soul
And without his flamenco
I will never be whole

“If I marry”
She softly sighed
“Please, let him be a flamenco dancer”

The first two verses were written after watching the breathtakingly beautiful Paco Peña’s A Compás Flamenco show from the Salisbury International Arts Festival on 01 June 2007.

Home – My National Poetry Day Inspiration

Ruth Weal — Thu, 07 Oct 2010 22:55:00 +0000

If you read my previous post then you’ll be aware that it’s National Poetry Day in the UK today and that I didn’t have a poem in my collection that was specifically “Home” inspired, which was the theme for this year.

I thought that maybe, just maybe, if the muses were smiling down upon me I might just be able to come up with something – and what do you know, the muses were bountiful in bestowing their inspiration and the poem below is my homage to the day. I hope you enjoy it, I certainly enjoyed writing it and I’m pretty pleased with how it turned out. I’ve entered it into the Waterstones Facebook Page competition along with my poem from my earlier post Vacant Heart to Rent, so we’ll see how I do!

May poetry lift your heart and illuminate your soul when all around you reality is dragging us down and putting out all our lights!

Wealie x

HOME

Home is me right here, right now with you

Home is the mundane that I know through and through
Home is the knowledge that your love is true

Home is the smile that buoys me when I fear I shall sink
Home is the flush of love that stains your cheek pink

Home is the tears you cannot cry and don’t know why
Home is your secret, soft, sibilant sigh

Home is the memories I hold close through the years
Home is the way you hold me and dispel all my fears

Home is not a place, an entity or psychological concept
Home is the way you held me as I fitfully slept

Home is wherever I feel loved and remember with fondness
Home is friendship feely given that keeps away the loneliness

Home is the humdrum run of my life
Home is the way you stand between me and strife

Home is the warmth that comforts through the long winter night
Home is rounding the corner and you’re coming into sight

Home is the sweetest kiss transporting me to bliss
Home is the loved ones I’ve long lost and will ever miss

Home is the thought of the joy you bring
Home is the first ray of sun and the blossoming spring

Home is the slightest touch that conveys so much
Home is the way my hand you clutch

Home is wherever my heart feels warm
Home is where I’m always drawn

Home is where my soul can breathe
Home is where in troubled times my spirit flees

Home is me right here, right now with you
Home is knowing you feel it too

Written for the 2010 National Poetry Day – UK where the theme was “Home”.

Celebrating National Poetry Day!

Ruth Weal — Thu, 07 Oct 2010 14:21:37 +0000

It’s National Poetry Day in the UK today and the theme is “Home”. I’m sure there are a lot of people out there with a guilty love of poetry. I often see a book of poetry on people’s bookshelves, even when they claim not to be a fan. I’m a big believer that poetry doesn’t have to be flowery and always about love. It’s an excellent medium to explore your reactions and feelings towards the life within and around you. So in honour of National Poetry Day why not dust off that volume of poetry and read the one that made you buy it.

If you’re feeling a bit more adventurous then you’ll be pleased to know that there are a lot of activities happening across the country, but you can also get involved on-line too – especially good news for poetic souls across the globe! The National Poetry Day team are inviting you to share a few lines of your favourite poems in your status updates on Facebook or your Twitter Tweets. The Waterstones Facebook Page is inviting you to share your own “Home” inspired poetry on it’s wall and will be awarding a little prize for the most fun/creative/imaginative poem posted before midnight tonight. At the Inpress website they have a competition for your “Home” inspire poetic creations, the prize is an Inpress magazine subscription.

So in the spirit of the day I though I’d put a “home-ish” inspired poem, as I don’t have one about home…yet. I may well have a bit of inspiration today and will add another post with the poem should the muses feel generous.

Along with the poem is an accompanying pic that partially inspired it. Having just purchased a macro lens I decided to practise on some miscellaneous objects in my study, one of which was a rather battered looking novelty heart pen that was rocking some nice textures ripe for a macro lens.

The pic turned out very nice, even if I do say so myself and a conversation that took place with a friend together wove the seeds of inspiration into the germ of an idea that became “Vacant Heart to Rent”.

VACANT HEART TO RENT

Come in, Come in
It’s cold outside
The owner I hear
Once looked upon it with great pride

I’m told by neighbours
She’s very gracious
Look around
You’ll see
It’s very spacious

A bit weatherworn to be sure
And I’ll admit
The lock’s a little stiff
On the front door

It just needs
A little care and attention
No!
The previous tenant
was never mentioned

A little dusty and unused
Still a small echo
Of when it was abused

Take a walk
Feel that solid ground
There’s plenty of space to move around

All the pictures torn down
The walls are bare
As I said
It just needs
A little tender love and care

A few leaks and cracks
Where it was broken
No
I’m afraid the owner and I
Haven’t personally spoken

The rent’s not cheap
I certainly agree
But the potential is magnificent
Don’t you see?

A vacant heart
Is just so sad
But as a starting point
This one’s not so bad

So that’s my contribution right now, maybe more later. If you want to find out more and get involved with National Poetry Day check out these on-line portals:

May poetry spring from your lips and prose tumble to your toes.

Wealie x