Nature

 Just sitting in silence

Remembering when

To fight

When to stop

When to meditate

Leave it in prayer

For when

I don’t understand

I get mad

And anger

Is an emotion

That leaves

Me in disarray

I’m coming undone

Knowing what worked

Years ago

Doesn’t cut it now

I still see injustice

But I can’t let others pain

Destroy my peace

I’m to pray

Do what I can

And leave it

In hands

More capable

Than my own

My mental state

On a razor’s edge

On a wave

On the shores

Of Oahu

Riding atop

The white caps

Basking on the highs

Of nature’s beauty

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When You Believe…let’s move on

Let’s move on 

I’m a sucker for a big finish ….

Ohhh err missus 

Mave and flis say nothing 

This song  is the best thing from the rather dire musical Prince Of Egypt 

The girl singing in Hebrew is delightful 

I’d love to sing it in choir ….

It would give us shivers 

I play it loud in the kitchen often , especially when next door’s Charlie is yapping

I’ve had to cancel choir for tomorrow night 😥 …I have to re swab on Thursday 

Today  was an odd day because I spent most of it at home. 

I’ve not spent much time alongside CBM but he has spent his working day working hard and singing hits from the 1980s which I found rather endearing.

I spent the day keeping out of his way.

I cleaned bluebell, cut the lawn, locked myself in my bedroom and cleaned every inch of it, before rearranging the inside of kitchen cabinets.fridge and attic store.

Mrs Trellis stopped and we had a long distanced chat about the church. She has been a lady of letters recently and has been complaining bitterly at its closure. 

She wants to know what the Church is going to do with the historic and village centric items from inside the building, especially the war memorial and the famous I am painting .

She also told me that she had voted for me in the community council elections and was surprised that I wasn’t successful 

I informed her out of the six new entrant nominees three had managed to get onto the council thus balancing it out nicely. It was never our expectation that all six would get in over the old guard.

Mrs Trellis’ eyes went wide

Suddenly understanding the extent of our attempted “coup”

The gang of six has been the centre of much village gossip for a few weeks now

Tee hee.

Oh btw Chic Eleanor ( right) and her sister are in Peru doing a sponsored bike ride for the Alzheimer’s association ….chic by name, chi by nature x

Ps the bathroom looks LOVELY 

It may be finished by Friday 

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Footpaths

Statue of Ebenezer Elliott in Weston Park, Sheffield

- Funded by public subscription after his death -

I have been interested in Yorkshire poet Ebenezer Elliott for quite a while now. He lived in a time of great social upheaval between 1781 and 1849. Whereas many poets of his era lived remote lives of leisure crafting their words like potters at wheels, Elliott was a champion of the poor and downtrodden. He was angered by social injustice and spoke up for change and the betterment of ordinary people's lives.

In the 1830's his fame grew  - spreading to continental Europe and North America.  I suspect he was seen by authorities as a dangerous man who had the ability to stir up social unrest. His most famous collected work is "Corn Law Rhymes" . The very title suggests his mission - to challenge unfairness and the suppression of the poor by the landed gentry. Ultimately, he was put out to grass on Hargate Hill near Great Houghton.

In "Footpaths",  the poem I have chosen to share with you this evening, Elliott appears to be referring to the curtailment of historic freedoms.  A man might work like a dog  in the past but at least he could find solace in walking. His way was never blocked. 

Throughout his life, Elliott himself found pleasure in walking and I understand there is a rock by a stream just west of Sheffield where he used to ponder and write after walking out of the city with its belching industrial chimneys and beehive-like activity. I have never seen that rock with the name "ELLIOTT" carved upon it but before too many days have passed I hope to find it. Maybe I will sit there and write a poem of my own. We'll  see. Through the mists of time, here's "Footpaths:-

________________________________

Footpaths

 The poor man’s walk they take away, 
 The solace of his only day, 
 Where now, unseen, the flowers are blowing, 
 And, all unheard, the stream is flowing! 

 In solitude unbroken, 
 Where rill and river glide, 
 The lover’s elm, itself a grove, 
 Laments the absent voice of love; 
 How bless’d I oft sat there with Fanny, 
 When tiny Jem and little Annie 
 Were fairies at my side! 

 O dew-dropp’d rose! O woodbine! 
 They close the bowery way, 
 Where oft my father’s father stray’d, 
 And with the leaves and sunbeams play’d, 
 Or, like the river by the wild wood, 
 Ran with that river, in his childhood, 
 The gayest child of May! 

 Where little feet o’er bluebells, 
 Pursued the sun-bless’d bee, 
 No more the child-loved daisy hears 
 The voice of childhood’s hopes and fears; 
 Thrush! never more, by thy lone dwelling, 
 Where fountain’d vales thy tale are telling, 
 Will childhood startle thee? 

 The poor man’s path they take away, 
 His solace on the Sabbath day; 
 The sick heart’s dewy path of roses, 
 Where day’s eye lingers ere it closes!

by Ebenezer Elliott

from "Corn Law Rhymes" (1834)

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Grateful

What are you grateful for today 

My mom

Jesus

A cozy bed

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A Note From The Editor

 

Last night’s blogging was a rather unpleasant experience.

And generally blogging shouldn’t be.

Life is hard enough sometimes without snide asides, finger pointing and bad tempers.

I’ve been accused  of being everything from an unfair blog host and a bad friend, to being Walter Mitty crossed with Vladimir Putin. 

One commentator even called me promiscuous 

An epithet I never managed to live up to even when I had a 34 inch waist and underpants to die for.

Now can I make a few things clear. 

I am a poor blogger in some ways, I will admit that.

I don’t always read every comment 

I will sometimes miss a thread or an insult but unlike most of you out there I do work full time and so I don’t have the time to forensically review every one of my words, let alone the comments of others.

Going Gently is my journal and my company. It’s my go to place and is a bit of a sanctuary 

I don’t invite people to insult me in my own home, so I except the same courtesy here. 

I may disagree with other blog writers on their home turf , and

Contrary to some’s belief , I never mind being disagreed with here on Going Gently 

But there’s always a polite way to do it without it being a mission in life.

It’s a fucking blog for God’s Sake

Nothing more. 

So there you have it. 

I’m not perfect but I will always endeavour to be fair where comments are involved. 

If I fail and anger you , all I can say is  I’m sorry you are angry, I don’t go out of my way to upset anyone.

I don’t live my life like that so why would I knowingly live my blogging life the same way.

I am almost 60 years old,

I am reasonably emotionally intelligent when understanding my own motivations , foibles and prejudices 

And when I want advice, I am rather good at asking for it.

Anyhow If you don’t like the way I blog….

Tough titty, it’s how I do it, warts and all, mistakes and all, inconsistencies and all

If you don’t like it. Just don’t read it .

Ps comments have been disabled for 24 hours 

If anyone would like to discuss anything I’ve written further please do so privately on jgsheffield@hotmail.com

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