LazyModernTraveler

Tag: poetry

  • Where is my time

    It’s not that I seek to undo the years that live on my face, but you have to admit when all is said and done there and more options with the young.

    The young at heart, the young of mind, the young of spirit, with them there is more life. And often times these traits live with those younger than ourselves in years. But nature is full of exceptions to the rules, so damnit if I look a fool I will try to find my inner youthful mind.

    I will wake each day and try and step back a notional decade, year,month, week or day and live that way until I fit and it feels right, where I am finally aligned with the world outside.

  • Overheard : Why can’t we do takeaway

    Overheard : Why can’t we do takeaway

    “Why can’t we do takeaway” said the voice to my left, before staring out the window wistfully at yet another day prime for play and puddle jumping in what the rains had left.

    It left me thinking, a grown man of thirty-four, when had I last desired to be muddy by the door? To strip off boots and socks and step onto a towel, still a little mud around, a smile. Before feeling cosy and safe, knowing I had made the most of the day.

    When, had I last not cared about the state of my hair, about the state of my clothes or the looks I might get for being a mess. The looks, from huffing and puffing, from running and jumping, just making the most of movement, I guess.

    Why can’t we do takeaway away, it could be the start of a joyful day.

  • A Bookshop Encounter: Tidying Religion in Thought

    A Bookshop Encounter: Tidying Religion in Thought

    At the end of August I was walking with my family in Winchester, we cut through the back of the cathedral, wound round through the gates and under the arch way. Hidden in a back road there, a fantastic little bookshop, the sort where a 100 years of patina blesses the shelves.

    I went in for a scan, and after perusing a few books I couldn’t help but overhear the two shopkeepers talking, one was asking the other about the plan for today. As I read the back of a book I un-intentionally overheard a fantastic line, as the small slight woman, dressed embracing the start of autumn behind the counter said not loudly but crisp in reply “I want to tidy religion”.

    I had to hold back my smiles as my mind chewed over this line, and after purchasing a book and continuing on our travels, some 45 minutes of walking later through St Cross we stopped at a Pub and I had to note the line:

    ” I want to tidy religion”

    The initial visual I had to go with this had bounced around and over the last few weeks the below poem has formed…

    Shopkeeper vs Deities

    I want to tidy religion. Said one shopkeeper to another. To me sculking in the pages I couldn’t help but let my mind wander.

    I want to tidy religion. Such a statement, said so proud. But did she mean as an idea or the shelved section I had found.

    I want to tidy religion. It echo’d round my mind, passing quickly through several thoughts, some entertaining, some serious of sorts.

    I want to tidy religion. I thought I am sure you are not alone, but where do you begin? Which religions do you call home?

    I want to tidy religion. It continued to echo, as I questioned alphabetising by deities or group be theme. Do you prioritise on similarity or level of mainstream.

    I want to tidy religion.

    There it rang, as the thought of this woman, Jesus by the ear, and Brahma by the hand, with all the other deities and beliefs across the land, holding council and demanding like a mother so profound, we need to get this mess in order before the inlaws come round!