Wednesday, February 27, 2013

A Stone In The River - Eve Senn


For my dear friend Even Senn who passed away from Leukemia just days ago. A daughter of Colonial Kenya, born of European parents in a time and place that has vanished. She loved a flowing river, and named her daughters after two great rivers in Kenya, the Tana, and the Mara. For many years Eve and her family celebrated our mutual East African connection by having gatherings we called the Wajinga.  A group enthusiasts used to get together the share memories, sing songs and show movies and pictures. Her parents Lisa and Imre and Eve's bother and sister  Johnny and Julia were also firm friends.

A stone fell in the river           
Piercing the smooth dark glassy mirror
Plunging deep into its heart
Visible at first, then sinking
Absorbed down into the matted bed.
The water erupting at the point of entry
Rising out and up above the reflection
The reactionary spurt of excitement peaks,
Pauses and falls into ripples
Circling outward to the banks and grasses
Reverberating back in an eternity of entropy
Softening and never ending.

Eve is that stone,
Piercing our protective shells
Of awareness with exuberant enthusiasm,
Plunging into our hearts with warmth and affection,
Sinking into our psyches unnoticed
Lying there embedded,
Stirring reactions within us all
As her influence ripples out and around us forever,
Never ending, vibrating in all she touched

http://poetry.com/poems/688349-A-Stone-In-The-River

The Buffalo is the emblem of the Wajinga, a Swahili word for mad people.  We are mad about East Africa. The Swahili word for Buffalo is Niati

WAJINGA

 

Sunday, February 24, 2013

Uffington Remembrance

At Uffington a white horse can be seen carved into the hillside above which once stood and ancient castle. It is an easy climb up the hill, and when the wind is stiff it make a perfect spot to fly kites, if you have the time.

Upon my back beneath clear sky
At Uffington I lay,
The wind was fresh and kites would fly
For many an hour that day.
The people came to see the mound
Where the castle used to be,
And the white horse cut out from the hill
To celebrate some victory.

While staring up into the air
I was made once more aware
Of the beauty nature brings,
Flowers and grass and wind that sings.
And how we in our city-rush
Can push and shove and make a fuss,
And miss the pleasure in our haste
Because we have no time to waste.


I visited Uffington a number of times when we lived in Oxford.  A pleasant spot to drive to, and there are some nice pubs in the area for a Sunday lunch.

Thursday, February 07, 2013

Losing My Wheels

A picture of Alan Johnson and  Ian Urquhart.
Alan's father, Ernest William Johnson - at 93, asked his son if he was coming home to Australia for Christmas.  He used an expression to convey how his body was beginning to fail, he said "the wheels are falling off Son".  Well my friend, Alan Johnson, the Australian Hotelier, told me the tale and this poem is the result!

Are you coming home for Christmas Son?
Are you flying back to Auz?
The time is going by so fast
I thought I’d ask because,
I’d really like to see you,
I’m not down or in a trough,
It’s just that, well I have to say,
My wheels are falling off.

I’ve had a darn good run my Son,
I made it through the War,
Stood up for king and country
And the family I adore.               
There are those who might considering
Such values turn and scoff,
But I hope to see you soon because,
My wheels are falling off.

The carriage is getting shaky Son,
It rattles and it groans,
It takes more time to start it up
I feel it in my bones.
When you’re home we’ll raise a glass
Not down it with a quaff,
I pace myself these days because
My wheels are falling off!

You might soon have to take my place
In the Anzac Day Parade
And wear my salad on the right,
To show a price was paid,
And when you meet the other few
Your cap you’ll smartly doff
And tell them briefly ’bout you Pa
Whose wheels have fallen off.

I had shared the recent loss of my mother with Alan Johnson.  He told me that he had to go home to see his dad who was ninety three and getting old and tired, and used the expression his father used "My wheels are falling off son". Hid Dad was a soldier and in Australia and New Zealand the old soldiers celebrate Anzac Day ( Australia, New Zealand Army Corps). You should know that on the passing of a relative it is appropriate to wear their medals on the right chest. Hence this poem
A friend of mine with whom I had shared the recent loss of my mother, told me that he had to go home to see his dad who was ninety three and getting old and tired, and used the expression his father used "My wheels are falling off son". Hid Dad was a soldier and in Australia and New Zealand the old soldiers celebrate Anzac Day ( Australia, New Zealand Army Corps). You should know that on the passing of a relative it is appropriate to wear their medals on the right chest. Hence this poem
A friend of mine with whom I had shared the recent loss of my mother, told me that he had to go home to see his dad who was ninety three and getting old and tired, and used the expression his father used "My wheels are falling off son". Hid Dad was a soldier and in Australia and New Zealand the old soldiers celebrate Anzac Day ( Australia, New Zealand Army Corps). You should know that on the passing of a relative it is appropriate to wear their medals on the right chest. Hence this poem
A friend of mine with whom I had shared the recent loss of my mother, told me that he had to go home to see his dad who was ninety three and getting old and tired, and used the expression his father used "My wheels are falling off son". Hid Dad was a soldier and in Australia and New Zealand the old soldiers celebrate Anzac Day ( Australia, New Zealand Army Corps). You should know that on the passing of a relative it is appropriate to wear their medals on the right chest. Hence this poem
The poem is getting nice reviews on poetry.com, and you can see them on this link: Losing My Wheels