A pearl of wisdom

Just then though the light turned down. I thought the jagged Island would give a colored mystery. A diffusion of grey, like a water color of a muted trumpet against a rhythm of blue, where thinner wings buzzed in the misty air with no intent but to be there


That sound led me out there, and as I approached, I saw a woman standing. There she stood, just off the shore, with her white arms waving slightly but her head cast down.  I went up to her in the fading of the light.

“Can I borrow a pen ?” wondering what else to ask.

She looked at me carefully and nodded slowly, but said.

“Please, just waiting one moment”

I waiting a moment continued for quite sometime, and the tide receded till eventually only the crab holes were exposed in the mud.  Waiting a moment, like in a lobby bar in a far off oriental hotel.

“How do you like the Island ?” I asked.

She looked around and then back and laughed…

“Just like an inverted martini,

kept cool by a woolen scarf and beanie”

I thought maybe she was crazy, standing out here all alone, well almost all alone, and then whatever she said came in laughter and rhymes.

Down lower goes the light, falling behind the isle, but we still stand waiting, looking for crabs or something, she doesn’t say…  Or crawling things with neon eyes and skittering sideways with lots of legs and darting minds.

“So what then are you looking for ? ” I asked quietly.

“Do you really want a pen ?” She asked me back, then said.

‘dropped my earring in the tide in the light

waiting one moment ’til time is right

when the tide runs out, it will be muddy and new

gleaming in the moonlight

a single pearl

yes, altering your view’

Estuary Island
Estuary Island :Photo by permission – Jeanmarie Shelton

Writhium Skin-Revisited

The Writhium Skin

The color of writhium is a light titanium grey  – the new new surface of the electric skin of the world. Each day more edges add to clouds of big data rumbling around in dark halls with blinking lights. The mistakes I’ve made and the memories mislaid. I know where to find them if I’m that keen. But the map of the surface is just writhium.

Could anyone care that it rains,

large grey splashes on whats remembered right

or left behind in the writhium brain.

Grey like it’s skin it is, wrinkled and stained

with the things we all desire to get

and then those

we ever want to forget…

when the writhium stretches

and the wrinkles un-hide

the electric lights blink

on the wrinkle water tide

and fills the our sea of memories

we feel sad with what we had lost

and happy with things we’ve re-found

the joys of our living create unbound


The hairy Egg of an Idea


Sometimes there comes a point when you hold it in your hand

an egg of an idea fit to fit in the can,

its all a bit rough though, still a bit hairy

so to make it work, you tie it with string and present it carefully…

…it would have been interesting of course,

had the lecture been more terse

reading my phone  quietly while the powerpoint rang loudly

you missed the essential piece of technical slang

never mind the acronyms, the instant NEW.

you pulled too hard on the string

so they’ll be gone by tomorrow, gone by tomorrow…

when the strangled egg turns blue.