Saturday, 31 January 2015

Flies, a tatooed man, dog with a thousand legs, 'Royal' thoughts and - who was Jenkin Evans ?

Dear Monty,

I have lost count of these ramblings now - I just write them for my own benefit, a kind of therapy I suppose. They may have become too ego-centric to mean anything much. They are just genuine thoughts and reflections on living here - watching TV, reading books and visiting various people and places in between dealing with other peoples health issues.

27/1/15 I watched a beautiful film on BBC4 of a Scottish lady who tied salmon fishing flies in her small cottage by the sea. She became famous but remained humble. The tumbling peat stained rivers and the rolling Atlantic were stunningly portrayed in this visual poem. Her cottage now a ruin - all that is left of her are memories.

Today I lopped the branches of a sycamore - there are so many sycamore saplings here that quickly grow up faster than the oaks - but not as fast as the willows.I will have to clamber down the steep sided gully in order to take down another straggly sycamore to open up the view to the hill beyond and reveal the curves and intersections.


Toff the whippet running up the stairs
Sounds as though he has a thousand legs.


The tattooed man

He told me of an evening clear
When he climbed this welsh hill to his wooded home
After the drinking of too much beer
To meet with foxes eyeing his cockerel, geese and hens
All within their flimsy pens

He whispered to them - that he wished to thank them kindly for leaving his birds alone
(this he assured me is no drunken tome)

And so since then they live in peace
Along with all his haughty geese
They have not visited since
You see - if respect is given
It returns to you free.


31/1/15  A confusion of 'royal' thoughts - (only because of watching Mantel's Woolf Hall on BBC iplayer) Ah Tyndale - The Reformation - the Dissolution of the Monasteries ! Were the monks hated or loved by the people ? History is presented according to which side of the divide you stand; either Catholic or Protestant both of which are corrupted by politics - much like the 'church' of today - whatever flavor. We are always bound up by politics and religion and ways of doing what we think is faith.

Waldemar Januszczak favours the Catholic viewpoint and sees The Reformation as the destruction of High Art. I accept that this is true, it involved the dismantling of a system based on structured hierarchy and material wealth mixed with social and ethical values. It was to be replaced by a similar system- only it was the black and white version - Cathedrals lost their painted icons - but time allows even reforms to become corrupted.

There is no pure church organisation save that of : Christ in us the HOPE of glory - not one based on riches, achievements or politics - they have nothing to do with this hope, it truly is accessible to all.


Who was Jenkin Evans  1877 - 1966 ?

Sculptor of heads - even his own
He has a suitably melancholic countenance
As pudgy as Dylan Thomas
With wild hair
And thoughtful eyes
"I am a Welshman" he seems to say
His bust now hidden on an Ystalyfera windowsill
On this grey winter's day


Here endeth another post with apologies to all


Sunday, 25 January 2015

Another visitation

Dear Monty,

Three male bullfinch
Pink breasted John Bulls
Scissoring early buds off honeysuckle stems
Like the visitation of an idea.

Weakness is strength
Let us not be wholly reliant on our own capabilities

The fields are closed in by rail and road
The sheep penned
The cattle slaughtered

Where will I meet my end?
I am a child
Eyes reflecting the sky brightly

The hills are dumb
The car an intrusion
Field, track and trees cut through with roads

The birds eke out a living
The church stands impotent now in its flat lands

Where is the Kingdom -
Is it in the remnants of a past life
A slower pace
Where we may glimpse it ?

No - it lives in the child I am
'Let us encourage one another; all the more as we see the day approaching.'


Sunday, 18 January 2015

It wasn't the hills this time

Dear Monty,

The robin becomes the story and song.

He has no fear of men
He accepts crumbs - but sees a feast

He sits next to us
He sings a spiritual song

Not one falls to the ground

He is fed and cared for
Lives and dies
A life full of riches.

Tracy Emin - Bird

So having a garden wherein he visits is like owning a field - a hidden pearl within it.


Sunday, 4 January 2015

Loaded clouds and imminent kingdoms

Dear Montague,

Our days, festivals, vows and resolutions are rarely life changing - but perhaps life affirming.

Loaded leaden clouds over the mountain
Suddenly bright hills
Cold cold rain at the head of the valley being chased by clear sky from the South West.

The imminent Kingdom of God
That was the fearful message of John

Fear brought a turning back to God
And confession

Fear of God is now politically incorrect in this generation
Unlike the fear of being insignificant
And fear of poverty and death

But I see God in the storms
In the post industrial hills
In political manoeuvrings

Is the Kingdom a place of acceptance ?
The winnowing of chaff in me is necessary to get to the potent seed
Wherein is love.