Wordless Wednesday.

© willowdot21

One-Liner Wednesday. 30th March 2021.

This is part of LindaGHill’s One-Liner Wednesday.

Sue Vincent, friend and co-creator

More beautiful thoughts from Steve.

Sun in Gemini

Sue Vincent passed from this organic life into the world of Being, early this morning. Her partner, Stuart France, was with her, as was her family.

(Above: Sue about to have lunch outside one of her favourite places on the moors at Ilkley – her ‘spiritual home’.

She leaves two fine sons and two delightful grandchildren, Hollie and Imogen… and a famous dog named Ani, whose books have outsold anything the rest of us have ever written.

Sue was one of the founding Directors of the Silent Eye, planned through the winter of 2012, and established in the spring of 2013. She described it as one of the most important things she ever did.

I will be writing a little about the history of our Mystical School on Thursday’s Silent Eye blog, and copied, here.

(Above: Sue and Stuart on Ilkley Moor (with hat) after one of our preparatory walks…

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#TANKA TUESDAY WEEKLY #POETRY CHALLENGE NO. 219, #SpecificForm.

This is part of Colleen’s Tuesday Tanka. This week I chose a traditional Senryu.

SENRYU IN ENGLISH: Traditional 5/7/5. A Senryu is written about love, humor, a personal event, and should have irony present.

Sue & Ani ©Alethea Kehas.

A beacon of light
You touched my heart and my soul.
You left way too soon

The above photo was taken by Alethea Kehas.

There are some things a poet cannot accept

Thank you Jim for these beautiful honest thoughts.

Tallis Steelyard

There are times when a poet must make a stand and say, “This has happened without my cognisance and I will not accept it!” Today has not been the best of days. Today I got a note from a patron. Common enough, especially from her, as she was always quick to praise, swift to encourage. But today the note had a bitter flavour. She was sitting awaiting death. A week? Longer?

And what can a poet do? A poet can protest, a poet can stand tall and say firmly that this will not do. A poet can bang the table with his wine glass obvious of the fact it has shattered and the pieces lie glistening but incoherent, shards of dreams never now to be dreamt.

Others have known Sue for longer than I, others will doubtless feel the grief more keenly, will mourn longer, but my job as a…

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Farewell to Sue.

© willowdot21

“I like you” Sue said when we met for the second time, “your even shorter than me.” Sue always spoke her mind.

Like everyone who knew her I will miss Sue dearly. It was not as this day was not expected but still it was a heart stopper when I actually saw the words in print.

Sue was many things, Mother, Grandmother, loving partner, carer, teacher, friend, author and a supporter and light to us all.

We have lost a beautiful light, a beacon from our lives. Sue touched us all. I can’t believe it’s only six months since September when Sue got the news that she was terminally ill. Like many, family and friends I baulked at the inevitable selfishly I could not accept what Sue not only accepted but also embraced . She was angry, as we all would be. Amazingly she said she had too much work to finish. Too much life to live.

© SueVincent.

Sue had visits to Oxford, days out with Ducks and Grandchildren and she worked, boy she worked so hard, books written and published, books reworked and republished. Christmas Dinner prepared and eaten, cakes and mince pies prepared. If minded Sue was an unstoppable force.

I emailed Sue daily, she probably got fed up with me but I just wanted her to know I was there for her. The last email , that I sent was last night and simply said , “Dear Sue sleep well” and I put Peace as the subject. I really mean that Dear Sue sleep well. Where ever you are now in your new realm be at peace.

Sue, I don’t want to but it is time to say goodbye as you spread your wings and move to the next part of your journey. You will live forever in my heart …not only mine but many others too. You will be immortal in our memories.

With love to Stuart, Nick Alex and the girls not forgotting The Small Dog Ani.

Another feather flutters
A candle is lighted
A soul with with loved ones united.
At last there is no pain
You are free to soar again.

© willowdot21

© willowdot21

Never forgotten.💜🦋

Sue’s blog is here.

Into Spirit…

Born high on angel wings.

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

Sue Vincent

14th September 1958 – 29th March 2021

R.I.P

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Ronovan Writes #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge 351 COMFORT and Erupt.

This is part of Ronovanwrite’s Weekly Haiku Challenge.

5030603-moravian-poppyseed-curd-and-jam-cakes-and-a-cup-of-coffee-stock-photo

When the blues attack
Don’t eat too much comfort food.
As spots will erupt!

Jim Webster’s A Fear of Heights Blog Tour and A Cat Will Play.

Jim Webster, a good friend of mine and correspondent on all matters Tallis Steelyard and Port Naain is visiting today with news of great importance.

©Jim Webster.

And now a brief note from Jim Webster.

“It’s really just to inform you that
I’ve just published a full Tallis Steelyard novel. Yes the rumours are true.
Tallis Steelyard, the man who considered jotting down a couple of anecdotes
to be ridiculously hard work, and considered the novella form to be the very
pinnacle of literary labour, has been cozened into producing a novel.”

It is, ‘Tallis Steelyard. A Fear of Heights.’

In this novel, recounted by Tallis Steelyard in his own inimitable manner,
we discover what happens when the hierarchy plots to take control of the
Shrine to Aea in her Aspect as the Personification of Tempered Enthusiasm.
Will the incumbent be exiled to a minor fane in the far north? Will Tallis
end up having to do a proper job? Does ordination and elevation beckon for
Maljie?
This story includes the Idiosyncratic Diaconate, night soil carts,
Partannese bandit chieftains, a stylite, a large dog and some over-spiced
food. On top of this we have not one but two Autocephalous Patriarchs and a
theologically sanctioned beggar.

Available both for kindle and in Paperback.

The cat will play
There is a lot to be said for having a pet. If you are in the happy position
of being able to feed your family adequately then adding another mouth has
merit. I confess to being fond of dogs, but I know some find their
exuberance wearing. Others look to the cat for companionship. I know the
feral cats who stalk our wharf, warily avoiding unheeding heavy boots as
they hunt for their lunch. A disregarded fish head or a rat, responses
leaden through overeating, both make a good lunch for our stalking feline.
As I pass them I will give them the time of day and occasionally one of them
might even rub against my leg.
I have been told that pets take on the character of their owner, whilst
others say that owners are drawn to pets who share their natural
characteristics. I trust that the latter is untrue, otherwise I would be
forced to regard many of my cat owning patrons as somnolent potential
murderers, prevented only from rending and devouring their prey by a happy
lethargy. I personally subscribe to the theory that, in reality, the pet and
the owner retain their own characters. This I state very firmly before
mentioning that Maljie is the proud owner of a cat.
Some have claimed you can no more claim ownership of a cat that I can claim
possession of those felines prowling along Fellmonger’s Wharf. They hold
that you merely share a house with them. This may indeed be true, I am not
qualified to comment. But I would point out that Maljie’s cat will wander
into meetings, following an agenda entirely of its own. There it will survey
the company, assess their worth and then curl up and go to sleep.
Now have you noticed how you can infuriate some people purely by sitting
quietly and reading? Imagine the passion you can arouse them to by merely
sleeping. Personally I think the problem lies in the unbalanced nature of
those who feel that nothing is ever achieved without frantic and largely
unfocused activity. How many of these folk realise that some of the finest
poetry is produced behind closed eyes? I confess in these matters my
sympathies lie entirely with the cat. Yet busy people insist that the cat
must ‘do something.’ Yet these folk are the first to complain if the cat
deposits half a rat on their bed for them.
In the case of Maljie’s cat, Maljie and Margarita felt that their cat might
benefit from intellectual stimulation. So it would be provided with toys. At
the same time, Laxey discovered that there was a fashion for building
castles for cats. He pointed out that this gave the cat exercise as it
climbed through the castle before sprawling and sleeping at a higher level.
I confess that I couldn’t see why the cat would bother. After all it could
do that now. It merely had to climb the stairs and sprawl on one of them. It
had all the advantages of the castle plus the chance than it might witness
somebody tripping amusingly and plunging past it.
Now it might have remained as a discussion topic if I hadn’t mentioned the
concept of the cat castle to Lancet Foredecks who was quite taken with the
idea. To him it was an essay in performance art, rich in symbolism and
redolent with metaphor. Not only that but he might have a legitimate reason
to purchase some toy soldiers to go with it.
Lancet bearded Laxey and importuned him for funding. Laxey merely pointed to
a large tree that had been felled (and Maljie had requisitioned for
firewood). “That will keep her in firewood for a decade or more, so feel
free to take some of that.”
A lesser artist would have regarded this as a ‘brush off’ but not Lancet. It
was all part of the performance. That very evening a troupe of mimes cut the
fallen tree into lengths and stole away with it. Two days later, Mottam
Wheel, owner of one of the city’s largest wood yards, arrived at his yard to
discover his great saw was working. A beast of a thing, a spinning blade
taller than a man, was powered through complex gearing by a large wheel in
which people normally walked. As he watched, he realised the wheel was being
powered by capering demons and sylphs. Closer inspection indicated that they
might be people dressed in appropriate (or in the case of the sylphs,
inappropriate) costumes. Lancet himself, dressed as a demon prince was
planking the wood. Mottam, one of the most easy-going men I’ve ever met,
checked that Lancet was doing the job properly, then opened his gates and
charged folk admission to see the performance. Two hours later, Lancet and
his ensemble left with their planks and half the takings.
Now came the construction of the castle. Lancet spent a day just sketching.
He did some research, mainly looking at the illustrations in ‘Castles of the
Demon Realms,’ by Silvan Hart. This was initially sold as a guide book,
profusely illustrated. It was later denounced as a confidence trick, a
creation of the author’s imagination. Since then various mages have
commented that it seems to have been widely read in some demon realms and
has provided a template for demon lords considering refurbishment.
Eventually Lancet started work. Wisely he backed a dray into his workshop
and started creating the castle on the dray. A week later, learning that
Maljie and her sister Margarita would be out, he had the castle drawn round
to the house. Here he made his first unfortunate discovery, the damned thing
wouldn’t fit through the door. To be honest, given that it hung over both
sides of the dray I could have pointed this out as a potential problem at
the start.
Still he was not defeated. Learning from Laxey that the two ladies intended
to go on a short retreat at the Shrine of Aea the Blessed on the coast not
far from Candleman’s Cove. Lancet measured the doorway and worked out how to
cut up his castle so he could pass it through the doorway and reassemble it
in one piece once inside.
Maljie and her sister set off for their retreat, with Laxey tasked with
‘looking after the cat.’ Lancet and his artistic comrades arrived and
swiftly carried the castle inside and started to build it. They then came up
against another problem. The castle was too large to assemble in any one
room. Lesser minds would have given up at this point but not Lancet. Rather
than just knock a wall out so that the castle would fit, instead he
assembled the castle in three different rooms but put holes through the
walls so that the three sections still communicated. Admittedly this meant
that there had to be a considerable shifting and rearranging of furniture,
but they didn’t have to discard any. On the other hand, Maljie’s bedroom now
contained more armchairs that was perhaps considered normal. Laxey then
tentatively introduced the cat to his new home. Rather to everybody’s
surprise, he appeared to like it.
Unfortunately Lancet and I had to be in Avitas when Maljie returned to
discover what had been done so I’m not entirely sure how she took it.

*******

Personally I am not sure I would employ Lancelot and his crew to build a ferret cage let alone a cat’s castle! What Maljie thought remains to be seen.

*******

Where can we find Jim?

At wordpress.com

Amazon

My Sunrise

Ivor’s new book “Tullawalla”, is due to be released on 30th March.

Ivor.Plumber/Poet

My new book“Tullawalla”, is due to be released on 30th March, and for preorder, here are the links

Barnes and Noble.. Tullawalla by Ivor Steven, Kerri Costello, Hardcover | Barnes & Noble® (barnesandnoble.com)

Amazon.. Amazon.com: Tullawalla eBook: Steven, Ivor, Costello, Kerri, Harris, patricia: Books

www.books2read.com/Tullawalla

Tomorrow is “Book Launch Day” and today I’m presenting afavourite poem of mine that just missed out on making the cut for my Book.. This nostalgic piece speaks for itself as to why the words stay close to my heart…

My Sunrise

I have walked a thousand lonely miles

Looking for her everlasting smile

Gradually scaling Ararat’s steepest cliff

There, sipping from the grail’s cup of youth

I have travelled to the edge of time

To find the final word of rhyme

Where my sunrise soared into the sky

To recapture her last goodbye

Then I crawled on my hands

Searching…

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