Cast Adrift

This is not my personal experience but I watched my mother go through deep depression on a number of occasions. You can only love and be with them, reason and life advice is worthless.

Cast adrift
Far from the shore
A rift in the Star Trek thing
My time line's not in sync anymore
Some days it seems I've lost my way
Some days, I don't know, it's hard to say 
I'm played like a ball in 
A restless sea 
Pushed by the fates enveloping me 
Laughed at by those little gremlins 
Whose job makes ours tougher 
Shadows on the edge of your mind 
That thrive while we suffer 
Don't tell me tomorrow's another day 
And when the sun shines we'll go 
Back out to play 
Don't tell me life's a blast 
And to savour each parsec while it lasts 
I see the black cloud 
That billows and flaps 
And wraps us up 
Tight as a shroud 
I see the end
I see the deep 
I see the release found in unsettled sleep
I know what it is to wither 
To be afraid and alone 
To stand there and dither
I know what it is to embrace the abyss
To step in the dark and not to resist 
To close my eyes and swallow the draught 
To enter the dream where those gremlins laughed 
I know you know 
That the end's down below 
In a fathomless pit
Where the nightmares grow. 
SE

Sweet Bird Of Paradise

With the recent announcement of our daughters engagement and her wish for a beach wedding in a warm place and separately a gift of a blown glass exotic bird sitting on a little glass perch, I wrote this:

Sweet Bird Of Paradise

Sweet bird of paradise
Such dreams you entice
Perched on your coloured glass roost
High over those you've seduced
Rocking gently in summer's breeze
Your long tail feathers tailored to please 
With freedom in the skies to play 
You prey upon our minds today 
A shock of colour on a swaying perch 
These are the people this is the church
Let bells ring out across the land 
Standing barefoot in the sand 
A fragile beauty scattered with rice 
Visions of vivacity, oh sweet bird in paradise.

SE

A Little Candle's Tale

I lit a little candle today
I said a little prayer
And where mind's thoughts did stray
They took me gently to her

Through rose scented parks we stepped out
Strolled along hewn stone paths
Moist hands clasped to dispel all doubt
Eyes sparkled as her smiles crystallised into tinkling laughs

Hearts cradled in each others care
Fragile as time does allow
Sweet passion in the mingling breathe that we share
Happily trading all the tomorrows for right now

For The Souls I've Loved And Lost

The busy years tick away
And my fragile skin gets thicker by the day.
The many pains life asks me to endure
Accumulate and habitate my very core
Those once vibrant people who etched the laughter on my face
Who warmed my bones and stirred my heart 
In the grip of their embrace
Now they occupy the echoing corridors of my mind
And make the faith in our Father so very difficult to find
Each pain a link to all the pain
Each hurt a fresh hurt hurting all the other hurts
And my thickening skin no protection in this storm
Tis those enduring memories that help to keep me warm
Those smiling faces, those silent whispers nodding their assent
Reminding me in every second 
To savor these precious minutes as they’re spent.

A bit neglected the old blog. I suppose it was inevitable, I got all that stuff out of my system or at least learned how to manage it and this blog was part of the how that happened.

Losing people in your life is part of the process, a terrible part of the process and it doesn't get any easier each time it happens. I wonder if it helps you prepare for your own demise. I saw in my dad his acceptance of what was about to happen to him, he'd done what he could to save himself but when presented with the inevitable he was able to stare into the abyss. I remember offering him the religious route, he was never religious and never really anti religious either but he took no comfort in the thoughts i offered him and remained cynical to the end but largely unafraid.

I turned 60 in the interim and being the dweller that I am, I'm always wondering what where and how.

I'll show you...

Life In A Nutshell

Do you still come here?

Have I still got your ear?

Do those fleeting tweeting moments play upon your mind?

Do you ever wonder, ‘if I look what might I find?’

Life in a nutshell in the flash of a thigh

Life in the fast lane, in a tabby cats eye

What was is past and what is is cast

Tomorrow supposes today won’t last.

The Day My Son Was Born

My first son was born on 30th May 1986 at 8:04pm . For some reason the cherry blossom was very late flowering that year and was in full bloom on Jaw Bone Walk as I walked back across the Meadows in Edinburgh to Simpsons Memorial Maternity Hospital where my wife was in labour. I picked a blossom from one of the trees lining the path and took it back to her.

It was a very long day from early morning when I awoke to hear her on the phone to the midwife telling her her waters had broken. Bleary eyed and ever so slightly startled I jumped up trying to snap into action. I was quickly reassured and told we had "plenty of time". Taking a breath and considering the options I asked if there was enough of it to wash my hair before we left.

In those days I had a little blue van and it took us to the hospital. The labour had started but it never really got anywhere. We were asked if we wouldn't mind if a group of student doctors followed the birth and we agreed. The day moved slowly but tensely. At one point I went to get a coffee and when I got back, slightly more relaxed and self aware, I looked at the scene before me, my wife lying in the delivery room, her ankles in metal stands either side of the bed. There were wires attached to the babies head which was becoming visible but most odd of all, there was a line of student doctors, male, female, black, white and yellow, like some extraordinary meeting of the United Nations all stood in a line against the wall opposite in various crouching stances peering into the birth.

We had reached an impasse with the baby seemingly reluctant to make it's appearance. Time moved on into the early evening and then the doctors told us that the baby was in distress. They informed us that there would be an emergency cesarean operation and I was asked to be in attendance. Without any real thought of what was about to happen I agreed and was led into a changing room where two senior surgeons were already getting changed for the procedure. I was given a mask, a gown and a pair of white clogs and the surgeons offered me some words of reassurance.

The operation now seems a bit of a blur in a surreal and very detailed way, they erected a little green screen in front of my wife's belly so I couldn't see the guts of the work and each time I leaned forward to sneak a peak the anesthetist leaned over and gently pushed me back. I think things happened quite quickly, I remember looking down and seeing blood all over the floor. "I'm paddling in you" I comfortingly told my wife. "Don't listen to him" the anesthetist advised her.

All of a sudden there were squelching noises and the baby was lifted clear. It had a pointed head! Literally he (he was now a he) had a pointy head. I decided not to mention this to my wife who later told me she had made the same decision.

There were amazing feelings of elation, pride and huge emotion. I had a son. I was a father. My wife was an actual hero, she unfalteringly had gone through this day and was now a mother. Never was any woman more meant to be a mother than her and she had done it without any thought for her own discomfort but at all times was concerned only for the baby and for me.

It took much longer to put her back together than it had to open her up in the first place. The two surgeons made an excellent job of doing this which was later remarked upon by the next surgeons who carried out the same operation for our second son. By the time I had gone back into the changing rooms and washed and changed and thanked those amazingly skillful men she and the baby where in a private room that overlooked the Meadows, it had its own balcony.

In the extreme emotion of the delivery she had said to me as we both held the baby with tears in our eyes "Oh he doesn't even have a name." then like a master chess player added " I want to call him Jason." I think I would have agreed to anything in this tumultuous instant and so Jason he became.

As I walked into the room several things hit me all at once, a nurse in white uniform, (not literally) my wife in the bed looking shattered but glowing with pride, the baby in a little perspex cot next to her. Then there were the bright yellow inflatable booties she was wearing, reminiscent of Billy Connolly's banana boots. They were attached to a pump and gently inflated then deflated continuously and consecutively. I later learnt this was to aid circulation and reduce the risk of clotting but I had never seen or heard anything like them before and the sureality of it all was magnified by 10 as in the background, across the Meadows I could see the flashing multi-coloured lights of a travelling fair with their PA system blasting out the Birdie Song for all it was worth.

"Would you like a cup of tea" asked the friendly nurse. "No thanks" I replied still in a bit of a daze. "I was talking to mum" said the nurse with a little glare.

A truly incredible day. I walked back across the Meadows in the dark, it was approaching midnight and I drove home to our little flat in Maryfield. Some hours earlier my mother and father had called to announce they were driving up from Liverpool so when I got home I had to wait two more hours until they arrived. No mobile phones so I was able to tell them in person that they had a very healthy 9lb 5oz grandson named Jason and that Gail was fine too - well mostly.

The next morning I took them to meet their grandson. I can only imagine how they felt. It was a nice sunny day and the Meadows Festival was in full swing. Gail had been up through the night and had showered, she was feeding the baby and despite the major surgery that she had been through just hours before, she was carrying on with the business of being a mother like the natural she was.

Her mum and dad later arrived and her sister and her then fiance. To reduce the congestion I took my dad out to walk through the Meadows and take a look at the festival. The whole park was full of stalls as well as the fair and a stage where young would be musicians were blasting it out.

I stopped at one of the stalls to introduce my dad to a guy I had recently met at work. His name was Donald McLean Logan. He and his friend had a stall selling junk and I bought a wooden plane from them. Donald had recently fitted a little wall mounted gas fire in our unheated flat in preparation for the arrival of the little baby that was now up in the hospital room overlooking these events. Donald would soon become my working companion and close friend for the next 16 years before a sudden and massive heart attack claimed his life and wounded mine. Donald bought Jason his first car exactly one year later.

Momentous days, it's all a bit of a haze, I hardly remember it really.

The Dusty Mile

Hey Ma, now that’s a nice smile
Come into the garden and let’s talk for a while
Time’s moved on since last we spoke
Time’s the devil and that’s no joke
So what’s it like having a 60 year old son?
And what do you think of the old man I’ve become?
I can see you laughing at the very idea
You’ve not changed at all, have you my dear?
The love that we share and the things that we said
Burn like fire as they run through my head
Together let’s walk this last dusty mile
Arm locked in arm, smile locked in smile.
No thought for tomorrow or death's musty play
Truth is the moment we shared this day.

No Good Thing Ever Dies

Dreams are like the stars we see 
on a clear moonless night. 

They steer us through the darkest times 
and keep the path in sight. 

Whatever happens on the road ahead 
that may pull us to the side.

Dreams will always guide us 
as we  swim against the tide. 

Battles rage and wars are lost, 
heads are bowed as they count the cost

But whilst star light shines from a blackened sky 
and hope be born of a butterfly

Dreams above it all will rise
And no good thing ever dies.

Alba gu bràth

The Road To Rome

THE ROAD TO ROME

A lot
A little
No more than most
And here we are
With ours to boast

Millions to billions

Trillions to zillions

All the stars in the sky

All the tears that ever were cried

Enough

Not enough

More or less

Carbon plays chess

Never satisfied

Never gratified

Water wears dress

Time out

Time over

Time to go home

Time to play poets

On the road to Rome

Love

Soft love in the shadows of your heart
Soft gentle love In the folds of your smile
Soft, gentle, inviting love In the promise of your embrace. 
Deep love in the depths of your eyes
Deep, warm love in the heat of your touch
Deep, warm, ageless love across all time. 


Rest now my love
In peace we entwine.

© 2014 S Evans All Rights Reserved

The Journey

Each journey is the same
A to B spelt out in name
From giant's stride
To pounding leap
Deserts dry
Oceans deep 
The baby steps of kismet's game
Silent voices
Talk of shame. 

New stories told
As the roads unfold
Old yarns unwind
On the path behind
Yet we search for truth
Where light may blind
When darkness is its own comfort
The solace there for all to find. 

If there is a rule
It may just be
There are no rules

If there is a way
It may just be
The first step you take today

If there is a path
It may just be
The joys in life that make you laugh

If there is a final destination
It may just be
The guard's flag dropped
At the previous busy bustling station.

© 2014 S Evans All Rights Reserved

What?

What need to cry
When angel breath 
Can dry an eye
What need to pray
When soothes do say
Your God is good
And saints hold sway
What need to toil
Or burst a boil
When God is there
And heaven's loyal
What need to aim
In zealots pain
When heaven's gates
Absolve all shame
What?

© 2014 S Evans All Rights Reserved

Time

If time was an island
Would you swim from the shore
If time was a lock
Would you open the door
If time stood still
Like the fool on the hill
And the wings of a dove
Would do as you will
Would you fly through the sky
Like a bat out of hell
Would you head for the past
With great tidings to tell
Would you aim far ahead
For the future to see
Or would you stand your ground
And stay here with me?


 © 2014 S Evans All Rights Reserved

Pip Pip

Pip Pip

Close your eyes and listen there where you reside
Look around and let the boundless walls confide
Feel your beating heart
Walk upon your soul
Pull in a breath
And use your self control
Face to face in your head
You become something else instead
Now open your eyes and see where your breath comes from
Don’t separate the two till Kingdom come.

© 2014 S Evans All Rights Reserved

The Prudish Gaze

The prudish gaze
That graven stance
The profusive feelings
Sucumb and entrance.

Inept fervour of the working man
Living and breathing on the master's land.

You touch your hat
And bury your face
You shuffle away
But knowing your place

The princely gait
That gracious nose
The crowning glory
In its dying throes

Inane pleasure of the working man
He ends his life on the master's land.

He bowed and scraped
And licked its boots
Instead of death
He feeds the roots.

'79/'80


© 2013 S Evans All Rights Reserved

In The Blink Of An Eye

It seems like only a minute ago mum tucked me up in bed.
Spooned in the medicine and lightly kissed me on the head.

It seems like only a minute ago I took the bus to school.

Filled my pockets with acorns, behaving like a fool.

And was it just a minute ago I was standing in the church?

Making all my promises, preening on my perch.

Then just one minute later I hold three children in my arms.

Applauding their achievements extolling all their charms.

The minutes ticking by hardly make a sound.

My Mother and my Father safely wrapped up in the ground.

Just one minute more, a single minute left.

Only the blink of an eye is witness to the theft.

© 2013 S Evans All Rights Reserved

On Dampened Grass

A frantic embrace

On a misty hill

On dampened grass

The wind stood still

Imprints pressed on her slippy sides

On dampened grass

A teardrop hides.

© 2013 S Evans All Rights Reserved

Miracle Gro

The prudish gaze
That graven stance
The profusive feelings
Sucumb and entrance.

Inept fervour of the working man
Living and breathing on the master's land.

Touch your hat
Bury your face
Shuffle away
Knowing your place

The princely gait
That gracious nose
The crowning glory
In its dying throes

Inane pleasure of the working man
He ends his life on the master's land.

Bowed and scraped
Licked its boots
Instead of death
He feeds the roots.

'79/'80/'13

Our Father's Song

At peace beside the banks of a swollen stream
We see the life below the water
Turning to our father's song
Never give in and you'll never go wrong
And never believe in the space beyond your vision
A simple decision.
Melting faces they depart
Putting permanent splaces in your heart
And all the people you must have seen
Swirling in the stream
Now it's bursting at the seams
With the weight to all those dreams
It's running away so fast
And we just don't know
If the time to go
Can open up their minds
That's why we care for the past
The only thing that will last.



4.8.77
© 2013 S Evans All Rights Reserved