With just one word you have said so much and yet so little…. Wrapped up in those four letters is everything I wanted to hear and yet nothing at all.

You toss it out like throwing pennies to the performer on the street, knowing it’s not all I’m worth but giving you a way out in the immediate.

That one word does not suffice me. It does not tell me what oceans you swim in now. It does not tell me what mountains you have climbed or how far you have yet to go. It does not tell me of your heartache or of your joy. It tells me nothing.

Still, those four letters have told me everything. They have told me that you are sailing the oceans and not drowning. That you have survived the mountain and continue to climb. They have told me that your heartaches are your own and your joy is shared with others. They have told me everything.

But I haven’t stood by your side all these years only to be given the same fleeting smile and handshake you would give a total stranger. I haven’t been the friend that held you when you cried only to now be given the same scraps from your table that you would give to your dog.

And so the next time I stand beside you and see joy dancing in your eyes, the next time I hold your hand and feel the pain trembling therein, the next time we hug and you linger that little bit too long, the next time I ask how are you, please, I beg, allow me the honour of being a friend and give me more than just:

(Taken from a young friend’s writings.)

There at conception.



Born today amid the wild, ferocious growth of spring, it’s friendly notes heard above the soft lap of water. Conception blossomed, a new idea, explored, fulfilled.

A weekly meeting, walking, sharing, learning, exploring each others worlds and knowledge. Again I wonder at the intricate complexity of each human life, the ripples formed by this single event.

It was not only us three, (the first to initiate), but others who added their sparkle as we passed on our tour, like the bird lover who told were the egrets nest, the kingfishers hunt, of the odd wading bird those name I have already forgotten.

What a delightful feast for a writer is a new walking group.

(The photo is from one of the many idyllic spots we passed.)



from June 2014

Song Bird Songs


Life within its essence is found within the heart,

The playing of a symphony in which we have our part.

The thrilling of the fiddle, the sax’s sexy ring

The heart feel of the violin, that moves most anything,

Triumphant peel of trumpets, the bass’s steady beat

That rings within our senses and drives us to our feet.

The rhythm of percussion that keep us dancing on

When zeal has left our bodies yet we’re still amidst the throng.

Now will you play the cello or will you strum the bass

Will you choose to be discordant or your music interlace?

Oh life can be a melody of music quite divine

If you just tune up your instrument before you step in line.

If you listen to the rhythm, if you step into the style

Or even stand in silence and just listen for a while.

If you learn to…

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31 day challenge day 9


What is your best physical feature?

That’s got to be my eyes.

They’re big, (with long lashes) without looking buggie, The colour is a greenish, grayish, blue in the center with a dark band of deep ultramarine around the outside.  All my kids inherited them though in varying hues (even my son who is not so keen on some aspects) and have been much complimented on them especially when living in S E Asia..

Now in age my lashes are not as thick and there are lines at the corners but I still get compliments from time to time. Once, while in China I had to take part in a TV show for the English club I attended (they had to drag me screaming and shouting on that one – I hate even being photographed!) But just as we were about to start filming the chatty, young, Korean presenter suddenly stopped in mid sentence, stared at me, and said, “You have the most incredible eyes!”

That not only made my year but gave me the confidence to do the show.

I don’t have any other outstanding features but if I had to choose one  it would be still be eyes. Why? Because more than any part of us they communicate with others.

The Urge.



A shadow of the creator, this constant urge, the fire that kindles spirits, a spark set in the heart of man from birth. I have been many things in my life to many people and I have learnt many things not taught in books. Now is a time of creation. Once I had many hours in which to create, the materials and the facilities, but as an artist I had little to say. Now my heart is full and longs for expression. I left my “creations” to travel, to learn, to search for truths, a road long and sometimes arduous, deep with sorrow and soaring with intense joy. I experienced life in its many facets, many peoples, many lands, soaking in experiences, drinking the cup till its end and tasting both bitter and sweet. I feel a need to pass it on, the sounds, the sights, the feelings, to communicate them to others. Life is as a swift flowing river that slows as it reaches the delta dropping its cargo of soil and minerals before entering the vast ocean of eternity. I won’t need these things there, let me leave them behind, soil in which plants can grow and flourish in the gardens of others.