The moon petals the sea. Rose petals the sea. Stone sea. Stone petals. Rose petals of stone. Stone rising before me. Sea moves. How moves...
Hello everyone who follows David King (My Father). On behalf of the family this post is to let you know that Dad sadly passed away, peacefu...
It all depends, you see, how you go about it. And that I cannot tell you, for that will be dictated by you and by you knowing your friends...
extract from the poem Koi by John Burnside All afternoon we've wandered from the pool to alpine beds and roses ...
What makes us suppose that only the living grieve? Now all but lost in this new and familiar world of tall, leaning-together buildings...
Thursday, 21 April 2011
Signs of the Arcane
Eat up your eggs and toast, my dear,
to celebrate the dead.
It's hardly proper fare, my dear,
but if you'll wipe your platter bare
the essence of our lore is there.
Remember we are Hung, my dear,
not those Manchu who rule,
who've banned us from our rightful ways,
who take no thought for China, dear,
nor Buddha or his school.
You need to wipe the platter bare
to see the broad design.
Our culture's there in every line
and every detail is a sign
of secrets that we share.
A bit late in the day, but only just got round to The Magpie Tales Monday prompt.