Twenty-six Little Squiggles

Twenty-six Little Squiggles

Twenty-six little squiggly lines,
All innocent and inconspicuous,
Like a love who is unrequited,
They sit unaware of their power,

Upper and sometimes lower,
Set ready for the dart thrower,
Going from quill to keyboard,
The pen is mightier than the sword

Rosetta Stone to Tweeting
Hieroglyphics to "OMG",
Continually evolving?,
Definitely, maybe,

W.H. Auden to W.H. Smiths,
Both places for squiggles to enlighten,
Shakespeare and Wordsworth,
Inspired by authors unknown,

Causing smiles and tears, happiness and despair,
In the right hands, beautiful, in the wrong, hell,
Eight squiggles to tell someone they're special,
Yeah, those are my favourite of all the squiggles,

Twenty-six little squiggles.
Explanation
Twenty-six little squiggly lines,
Should be obvious, but in case it's not, it's the letter of the alphabet
All innocent and inconspicuous, Like a love who is unrequited,
They sit unaware of their power,
On their own, they just sit there, waiting to be used. It's when they're put together that their power begins to emerge
Upper and sometimes lower,
As in cases...
Set ready for the dart thrower,
The person who holds the pen, keyboard, ready to be used and create pleasure, humour, joy, even distress.
Going from quill to keyboard,
The evolution of writing instruments
The pen is mightier than the sword
A well known quote and very true I think

Rosetta Stone to Tweeting Hieroglyphics to "OMG",
Continually evolving?,
The evolution of how sending written messages has evolved, and will continue to do so
Definitely, maybe,
Basically saying that it is, but is also the title of the an album by British rock band Oasis - another form of writing
W.H. Auden to W.H. Smiths, Both places for squiggles to enlighten,
The famous poet, W.H. Auden, author of one of my favourite poems, "Funeral Blues" to a the shop W.H. Smiths which sells books, magazines and all other kinds of written material
Shakespeare and Wordsworth,
Inspired by authors unknown,
That this famous authors of great works of art have inspired people to write, but they themselves will have been inspired to put pen to paper and realise it's an amazing process to involve oneself in

Causing smiles and tears, happiness and despair,
Basically all the different situations that the written word (or words) can create and trigger
In the right hands, beautiful, in the wrong, hell,
Think about your favourite musician, poet, playwrite whoever you admire. It's beautiful. But many of us have been in situation where someone has written something so so mean which makes us angry and upset. It's these little letters that create this.
Eight squiggles to tell someone they're special,
Yeah, those are my favourite of all the squiggles,
I L O V E Y O U

Twenty-six little squiggles.

This Is The Way We Play The Caixa

This Is The Way We Play The Caixa

Brigadier General Fred takes his place,
Standing high above his troops,

"Today soldiers, we go forth to face our enemy,
Be ferocious in battle, but magnanimous in victory,

Tame the beast, make friends with it,
Its name - The Samba. Now let us commence",

Our army's name: The Bateria,
Our weapons are cleaned and ready for use,

The command to move is issued by our commander,
"Standby, standby, GO!",

The engines of the Surdos roar into action,
As intimidating as any tank should be,

Following on in their masses - the Caixas,
The ever-present loyal and skilled infantrymen,

Bolstering the Caixas are the Repiniques,
Specialised in both weapon and hand-to-hand combat,

Supporting these forces, the Tamborims,
Diligent and competent engineers,

Combining their strengths are the Agogos and Chocalhos,
This signals corp defines our regimental march,

Our strengths are numerous,
We hold the ground,

Chanting the spirit of,
Dagga dagga da boom bang!
Explanation
If you play in a Bateria, this'll make sense to you. If not, it's hard to explain. The solution is to join a samba band. The basic analogy though is that of the director being the commander of a military unit and taking his forces into battle

An Ode to Londinium

An Ode to Londinium

Awight mate, ar you dooin?
Where we goin' tonight then guvna'?

Flashbulbs a flickerin' in the London Eye,
The tourists fill the pods,

O Lord, keep safe our Queen Victoria the First,
He keeps time on millions of schedules,

A lonesome bobby protects the door to Number 10,
Four lions on patrol roaming freely in the square,

Laughter spills out from the comedy store,
Mamma Mia, Wicked and Billy Eillot,

Sanyo, TDK and Coca-cola in neon,
Lighting the way for lovers below Anteros

Ever faithful to Her Royal Highness,
The bearskin hats stand ever vigilant,

Black and white, rich and poor,
The herds pack themselves into watering holes,

Buses and boats and tubes and trains,
Carrying the ants along paths well worn,

Returning home up the apples and pears,
To do it all over again tomorrow.

As the sun sets over London
Explanation

In my view, this is the worst one I've done, so be gentle.

Awight mate, ar you dooin?
Where we goin' tonight then guvna'?

The typical sort of thing you might hear from a London cabbie when you get in a black cab.

Flashbulbs a flickerin' in the London Eye,
The tourists fill the pods,

Often, if you're walk around London at dusk or any time after before the London eye closes, if you can see the London Eye and look closely, you can see camera flashbulbs going off from groups of tourists in the pods that go round.

O Lord, keep safe our Queen Victoria the First,
He keeps time on millions of schedules,

Inscribed just below the clock on Big Ben are the words "DOMINE SALVAM FAC REGINAM NOSTRAM VICTORIAM PRIMAM", which is the Latin translation for "O Lord, keep safe our Queen Victoria the First"

A lonesome bobby protects the door to Number 10,

Bobby is a (nice) slang name for a policeman here. You'll pretty much always see a single policeman standing outside the famous black door to Number 10 Downing Street

Four lions on patrol roaming freely in the square,

At the centre of Trafalgat square is Nelson's Column, guarded by four lions.

Laughter spills out from the comedy store,
Mamma Mia, Wicked and Billy Eillot,

Describing the theatre/entertainment area of London

Sanyo, TDK and Coca-cola in neon,

The famous advertisement boards in Piccadilly circus

Lighting the way for lovers below Anteros

The statue in the centre of Piccadilly circus is that of Anteros, the Greek god of requited love

Ever faithful to Her Royal Highness,
The bearskin hats stand ever vigilant,

The foot guards, usually from the British Army on patrol outside Buckingham Palace and St James's Palace. Their well known bearskin hats are featured in many a tourist's holiday photos

Black and white, rich and poor,

This refers to two things. Firstly the vast cosmopolitan and different ethnicites that you'll find in London. It also refers to a line from the theme tune to a British comedy TV show, which was huge in the 80's and 90's "Only Fools and Horses"

The herds pack themselves into watering holes,

Usually after a day at work, you'll see hundreds of people in suits gathered outside pubs having a drink after work.

Buses and boats and tubes and trains,
Carrying the ants along paths well worn,

The many forms of public transportation on offer in London. Around big stations, there number of people look like a colony of ants moving.

Returning home up the apples and pears,

Apples and pears is Cockney rhyming slang for stairs as all the workers arrive home and go up the stairs to bed.

To do it all over again tomorrow.
As the sun sets over London

As the sun sets of London is an album by London born and based musician Jools Holland, who has been a big musical influence to London, and the rest of the UK

Life In An "Open" Prison

Imprisoned in a room with no locks
The sun is shining outside. It's cloudy today,
It's a lovely warm day,
Yet I'm cold, A garden in full bloom
All the plants and flowers, dead,

My favourite film is on TV today,
It's a shame there's nothing on,
My beloved music collection,
Not one song I like,

My own mind,
Mine,
Turning on itself,
Scaring its owner,

Victim, or criminal,
Who am I?

I'm one very scared little boy.
Explanation
I'm not putting an explanation here. However, I will say that this poem is about depression and each person needs to take whatever they need to from these words. I don't want to influence anything here.

How Short Can A Poem Be?

Well, I dunno, but I wanted to note this moment with one.

Today, the weather is warm and sunny here in the UK. Just now, whilst writing something else on my computer, a lovely cool gust of wind entered my room through the open window.

Gust

A visitor who need never knock,
Welcome always with open arms,
Carrying the notes of a thousand tunes,
Gently she surrounds me,
Hairs stand on end,
Eyelashes flicker,
A concoction of smells fill my nose,
Ahh, lovely.

Don, The Carpenter

The Carpenter's Operation

All scrubbed up and ready to go,
The surgeon's instruments get into character,
Now is the time for the procedure to begin,
As I watch this master's story unfold,

Laid out the patient awaits his treatment,
Your passion making an inspiring statement,
Commencing the forging of grain and knot,
Your taming of the wood delicately forethought,

The floor sits covered in a fresh snowfall covered landscape,
Each gentle manoeuvre making ready an avalanche of sawdust,
Your friends in the chisels, saws, hammers and nails,
Call for your attention as you mold your next masterpiece.
Explanation
During my pre-teen/early teen years, I was having some problems at school - not settling in or adjusting to my new school etc. One of the activities I did to take my mind off things was to spend some time with a friend of my parents who was a carpenter. Together we would make bits and bobs out of wood. The "masterpiece" being a big rabbit hutch for the two rabbits my sister and I had recently been given.

Although old enough to be my grandad, I enjoyed spending time with Don who was aware that at the time I needed a break from the difficulties I was having at school.

I still remember admiring his skills as a craftsman. His attention to detail and passion for doing a good job, meritorious. I actually found out a while ago that Don had passed away. I was quite sad about that as he was a good man. But this poem lives on in his memory.
This poem takes uses the analogy of a hospital procedure as the craftsmanship taking place.
All scrubbed up and ready to go,
Getting ready to do some woodwork, getting the safety goggles on, clearing space etc
The surgeon's instruments get into character,
Each tool has its own role, sometimes multi-roles to play in crafting the masterpiece
Now is the time for the procedure to begin, As I watch this master's story unfold,
Getting ready to watch, in this case Don begin to do his work. Held in much admiration the same way that a keen medical intern would watch a top surgeon perform his skills to save a patient.
Laid out the patient awaits his treatment,
Basically to start with, it's a block of wood, laid out on the workbench, ready to receive it's new limbs and appearance
Your passion making an inspiring statement,
The work of Don becoming something was really quite inspiring
Commencing the forging of grain and knot,
The masterpiece would begin to take shape and really start to look something
Your taming of the wood delicately forethought,
All masters of their work first have to the understand and tame the beast

The floor sits covered in a fresh snowfall covered landscape,
All the wood chippings that would fall to the floor during all the cutting, sawing etc
Each gentle manoeuvre making ready an avalanche of sawdust,
Continuing the shaping, little piles of sawdust would grow and become bigger ones
Your friends in the chisels, saws, hammers and nails,
Call for your attention as you mold your next masterpiece.
A skilled craftsman has to develop a health, almost interacting relationship with his tools. They need to understand each other's strengths and weaknesses. When not working, a true craftsman, whether that be a carpenter or musician will often say that his tools/instruments call to him/her to make more.

This Green and Pleasant Land

This Green and Pleasant Land

Sitting high above this checkered quilt of many shades,
A amazing technicolour dreamcoat surrounds my entire gaze,
Stretching as far as the eye can see, a moment belonging to me,

The march of a thousand delicate buds of cotton wool,
Each one casting a shadow across this enchanting landscape,
Dancing in tandem with the waves of warmth on my back,

A gentle breeze moves through the air, turning a lonely windmill,
An army ten billion strong, waits for it command to charge,
Each soldier saluting the gusts which come before him,

Dotted like ants along this vista,
A herds of cows innocently chews the cud,
A newly born lamb takes its first steps,

Off in the distance, a polished church bell reflects the sunlight,
Rising chimney smoke guides my eyes towards contrails,
Unrehearsed yet perfectly harmonised, birds tweet the chorus,

In this unconditionally beautiful landscape sitting before me, serenity exists.

When I wrote this poem, I had an image in my head. When browsing some photographs that a colleague had taken, I came across an image that was exactly the one I had imagined. It was quite a moment for me to see the words as a picture! He has very kindly given me permission to use his photograph in this post. 
Image credit: Bobiko on Flickr

Explanation

Sitting high above this checkered quilt of many shades,
A amazing technicolour dreamcoat surrounds my entire gaze,
Stretching as far as the eye can see, a moment belonging to me,

Like placed high up on a hill overlooking lots of fields, each one with its own colour tone just like Joseph's technicolour dreamcoat.

The march of a thousand delicate buds of cotton wool,
Each one casting a shadow across this enchanting landscape,

Nice, white, puffy, patchy clouds moving slowly across the sky, with matching shadow on the ground

Dancing in tandem with the waves of warmth on my back,

Along with the sun oozing through between the clouds leaving a lovely feeling of warmth on the skin

A gentle breeze moves through the air, turning a lonely windmill,

Self explanatory right?

An army ten billion strong, waits for it command to charge,

Millions (well billions!) of blades of grass all standing straight up with a light gust of wind about to hit them

Each soldier saluting the gusts which come before him,

As the wind moves through, the move slightly all together as if saluting a commanding officer as he walks onto the parade ground

Dotted like ants along this vista, 

With a huge vista in view, being able to see hundreds of cows (and other farm animals) far away

A herds of cows innocently chews the cud,
A newly born lamb takes its first steps, 

Self explanatory right? Just describing some things you might see basically

Off in the distance, a polished church bell reflects the sunlight,

Self explanatory

Rising chimney smoke guides my eyes towards contrails,

Plane contrails...

Unrehearsed yet perfectly harmonised, birds tweet the chorus, 

Birds tweeting (not as in retweeting)

In this unconditionally beautiful landscape sitting before me, serenity exists.

Just a nice peaceful moment :)

Unrequited Love

Four Words

Sprite or Tango with a butterfly bun please,
Tuesday nights, grapvine, lemon and lime,

Three beautiful stars, south east sky,
There for my gaze when you are not nigh,

Paramount pantomime, you're all dolled up,
Your beauty so bright, can't help but fill up,

Curry nights with laughter, great night out,
Every time we say goodbye, emotionally washed-out,

You smile so innocently, you've really no idea,
Tonight when I go to bed, I'll shed many tears,

I've thought so many times if I should tell you,
But always at that last minute, the fear ensues,

You tell me four words, I'll never forget,
My emotional state, off guard and beset,

My life in that moment has comes to an end,
"Phil, guess what I have a boyfriend",

I knew that one day, without you I'll move on,
And now that day without heartache has finally dawned.

You'll always be special to me.
Explanation
I have had unrequited love twice in my life (once when I was....wait I best not reveal the ages or it'll be obvious - especially as I still know both people!). Sure, in theory if you count 'crushes' as acts of unrequited love then I've had loads.

However, when I refer to unrequited love and what it means to me, I mean something long term - a profoundly emotional experience that has shaped you and one you will not forget. One experience was more profound than the other, and was the one that truly shaped me, but there was another that was significant enough to become the 2nd.

Oh...by the way, I don't have unrequited love at the moment (a crush yes!), so any reader need not be concerned! But if you are Angelina Jolie, then you may wanna be the concerned one over that crush thing....

I very much doubt this will mean much to anyone but me - or what you think it means, it'll probably be something else (usually is with me right!)

Anyhoo....
Sprite or Tango with a butterfly bun please,
The first time I ever laid eyes on her for the first time, was in a cafe. She was with her Mum and her Sister. She either ordered a sprite or tango to drink, along with a little butterfly bun (cake) to eat.
Tuesday nights, grapvine, lemon and lime,
Often on Tuesday nights, we would go line dancing. Yes, I was a 13/14 year old boy going line dancing (grapevine I think is a dance move), that didn't matter. She went. So I had to go because I'd get to speak to her, look at her and admire her. In fact, if I was really lucky, sometimes I would buy her a drink - a lemon and line.

Three beautiful stars, south east sky, There for my gaze when you are not nigh,
One time when I would not see her for a couple of weeks because she had gone on holiday with her family, I started to really miss her. I remember one night I looked up into the sky and it was a (rare) clear night. Three stars all lined up caught my eye and I thought to myself that it might be clear where she was too and so she could look at these, so we could share that. These three stars would forever remain hers as far as I was concerned.
Paramount pantomime, you're all dolled up, Your beauty so bright, can't help but fill up,
The name of the town where we lived had a little theatre called the Paramount. Each year, the local theatre group would put on a pantomine (like an amateur performance of a famous story). Aged 14, I saw her at the pantomine and it was the first time I'd seen her all dressed up looking amazing. I was so dumbfounded at this that I felt so emotional (bloody hormones eh!), and managed to get through the evening before going home, up to my room and cried myself to sleep because I wanted her to be my girlfriend so much.
Curry nights with laughter, great night out,
Every time we say goodbye, emotionally washed-out,
Often, my family and hers would go out to a local Indian restaurant for a curry. They were a lot of fun actually! But obviously, the end of the evening would arrive, and we'd have to go our separate ways. As I did on hundreds of occasions, I'd had to hold it all together and once again go home, sad in the knowledge that she would not be my girlfriend.
You smile so innocently, you've really no idea,
She never had a clue how strongly I felt about her. Although years later I did tell her how I had once felt about her, and she said she knew I'd had a crush on her. She just never knew how much....well not until I directed her to this poem to read at a time of her choosing. She text me when she had read it and said it'd nearly made her cry and she was sorry if she'd ever upset me :)
Tonight when I go to bed, I'll shed many tears,
Yes, many a night spend crying. Hormones!

I've thought so many times if I should tell you,
But always at that last minute, the fear ensues,
I actually tried to tell her many times how I felt, but I never did. Even one time, when both our Mums had to work and we had the day of school, I went up to her house with the intention of telling her, but couldn't go through with it. I suppose I knew deep down it wasn't reciprocated and it wouldn't be fair to put her in that position.

You tell me four words, I'll never forget, My emotional state, off guard and beset,
I think we were out for one of the Indian meals, and I found something out in the middle of a fun evening (well as much fun as you can have when you're madly in love with someone)
My life in that moment has comes to an end,
"Phil, guess what I have a boyfriend",
Not only that, but the boyfriend was my best friend since I had been a child. Don't think badly of him though. I never told him. Man, kicked, when down...!

I knew that one day, without you I'll move on,
And now that day without heartache has finally dawned. 

You'll always be special to me.
Thankfully this happened and I did move on. In fact, that moment when she told me she was with my friend made me realise I had to somehow get over her. Took some time, but I did, and although it was so painful during the time, I am so so glad I had those experiences, because I know for a fact that I can love. That's a very comforting things to know each morning.

Goodbye in Wootton Bassett

After reading this Daily Telegraph article "Wootton Bassett: A very British way of mourning", I knocked this up. Yeah OK, so it's not going to win any prize, but here goes....

Goodbye in Wootton Bassett

Wide white top and broad side up,
Draped oe'r polished grains of wood,
Peaceful now in a carriage,
On your way to your final home,

The bells of St Bartholomew's toll out a sombre mood,
An eerie silence fills the air for a friend now absent,
Antonymous to the whistling of bullets in your final moment,

The command "Up" is heard,
Friends, family and colleagues salute their hero,
Sunlight rippling across their gleaming medals,
Sixty seconds later, and "Down",

The unknown people of this Wiltshire town,
Out in their thousands, shedding their tears,
To say goodbye to an admired figure,
Now gone forever, but never forgotten.

Explanation

This poem is about the down of Wootton Basset which for many years was the nearest down to the RAF base where British causalities of war who had not survived were repatriated. This poem is about the procession through the town, where hundreds, sometimes thousands of members of the public came out to pay their last respects to the fallen.

Wide white top and broad side up

From Wikpedia "To fly the flag (the Union Jack) correctly, the white of St Andrew is above the red of St Patrick in the upper hoist canton (the quarter at the top nearest to the flag-pole). This is expressed by the phrases wide white top and broad side up."

Draped oe'r polished grains of wood,
Peaceful now in a carriage

Wrapped around a coffin. Often the last act a Mum can do to send her child off clean and ready.

On your way to your final home,

Being laid to rest in a graveyard

The bells of St Bartholomew's toll out a sombre mood,

An eerie silence fills the air for a friend now absent,

St Bartholomew's is the church in the centre of town that would rings its bells as the procession passed through. Probably the only sound to be heard.

Antonymous to the whistling of bullets in your final moment,

That the silence that has filled the air was probably the complete opposite of how their final moments were lived, among the hail of bullets surrounding them, whishing past their ears.

The command "Up" is heard,
Friends, family and colleagues salute their hero,
Sunlight rippling across their gleaming medals,
Sixty seconds later, and "Down",

From the news article that inspired the writing of this "When the cortege reaches the war memorial, the president of the British Legion says a single word – "Up" – to mark the moment when ex- and serving members of the forces should begin their salute. "Down," he says 60 seconds later, as the hearses move on."

The unknown people of this Wiltshire town,
Out in their thousands, shedding their tears,
To say goodbye to an admired figure,
Now gone forever, but never forgotten.

I think this is self explanatory?

A Poem For A Haitian Child

I have agonized over whether to hit 'Publish' on this, partly as I know it does not do justice to the complete horror people in Haiti are experiencing, and partly because I never know whether those not directly involved in the actual disaster (victim and responder) should do any more than make their donation and keep out of it.

My simple aim is just to publish some of the feelings that I've had on my personal space. Thoughts in particular for the children who can unlikely make sense of it, may even now be orphaned.

Seriously, people should not be made to suffer like this and if you have chosen to read this, I hope you will forgive my hitting publish.

A Poem For A Haitian Child

One magnitude for each year of your life,
Your look of the world rearranged in a moment,

The night sky is filled with stars,
But to you, like your heart looks empty,
As tears speed down your face like racing cars,
Your grief is all too a plenty,

You didn't ask for this,
Nor did you deserve this,
Your face now filled with sorrow,
Showing a heart feeling hollow,

Beyond the fences you see the military might,
Stocking supplies, one mile high,
Yet why is the only water you see in sight,
The mist of the tears filling your eyes?,

Right now explanations are bare,
What are we supposed to tell you child?,
If only you knew how much we care,

I hope one day you can laugh and smile,
If you can, then our effort will be all worthwhile.
Sleep tight dear child.
Explanation

One magnitude for each year of your life,

Your look of the world rearranged in a moment,

A lot of the people affected by the earthquake were young children. This is just matching that the 7 magnitude could just equal 7 years of life that they had when their lives were affected forever.

The night sky is filled with stars, 

But to you, like your heart looks empty,

With nothing to show to their names, no home, no roof over their head, just the empty expanse of the universe, all they had to see were the stars up in the sky. As the electricity will have been cut off, the night sky would have appear fill, but their lives now empty.

As tears speed down your face like racing cars, 

Your grief is all too a plenty,

You didn't ask for this, 

Nor did you deserve this,

Your face now filled with sorrow, 

Showing a heart feeling hollow,

The sadness and sorrow on their faces. Unable to process everything, they respond with the basic human emotion of sadness leading to crying.

Beyond the fences you see the military might,

Stocking supplies, one mile high,

After the earthquake, there was a massive international response to send aid to Haiti.

Yet why is the only water you see in sight,

The mist of the tears filling your eyes?,

But so much of this aid was left at the airport, not going anywhere. Desperate for water (liquid), all they would have been aware of was their own tears running down their faces, as their dry mouths gasped for the very bottles of water they could see over the fence.

Right now explanations are bare,

What are we supposed to tell you child?,

If only you knew how much we care,

How the hell you can explain this to an child....I don't know. Adults were having a hard enough time. OK, so the supplies were not getting through, but I felt that the human sentiment around the world was one of caring. International disputes did not matter as much, we just saw our fellow humans in need and wanted to help them.

I hope one day you can laugh and smile,

If you can, then our effort will be all worthwhile.

Sleep tight dear child.

I wanted to offer up my own note of thought to these children affected. I hope your future, one day will be OK, and everything will just work out so that you reach a point in time where you can say that "I'm happy"

Thoughts At Level Three Five Zero

Thoughts At Level Three Five Zero

Engines to full throttle,
Time to depart,
Where do we go today,
Now's just the start,

O'er mountains, o'er forests,
O'er valleys and lakes,
Variety finds us,
Through routes that we take,

Though t'destination is always the same,
Who knows what's waiting in the baggage claim,
For flying each day is all that we do,
What do you see, that's up to you.

Explanation

Each day without realising it, we think so many thoughts - sadly many of which we are unaware of. If for love, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, then a large number of thoughts, regrettably I feel seem invisible to their viewer.

So, here is just the day in the life of our thoughts. We get up, we think, eventually the day stops and we end up in our beds, and ultimately six feet under (hence the unknown of baggage claim), though lets not go getting ourselves worked up about that eh - we have thoughts to have amigos!

In the meantime I wonder what you see when you look out of the plane window.

Engines to full throttle

Our bodies wake up from sleep. Our muscles begin to move, our mind becomes more active, our heart rate increases. The mind and the body prepare for a new day.

Time to depart,

Time to get out of bed basically.

Where do we go today,
Now's just the start,

That you never really know how the day will pan out. You have an idea, but you don't know.

O'er mountains, o'er forests,
O'er valleys and lakes,

Variety finds us,
Through routes that we take,

All the different things we'll see that day. Different people on the street, funny Facebook status updates, people we'll talk to, sensations we'll have in our minds and bodies. There's so much to notice if we actually takes some moments to notice all that is happening.

Though t'destination is always the same,

We're all going to die basically (nice and cheery isn't it)

Who knows what's waiting in the baggage claim,

No-one actually knows what happens when you move on.

For flying each day is all that we do,

Each day we have all these moments. Perhaps a lot of the time it's same ol', same ol', but watch more, notice more, "be" more.

What do you see, that's up to you.

Take this opportunity to start noticing :)

Last Call For Flight 94043

Last Call For Flight 94043

The hustle and the bustle,
Different people everywhere,
Each with their own story,
Their love is their glory,

Husband, Wife, Son, Daughter,
Their presence shall be missed,

An electric atmosphere fills the air,
Yet for now, I am calm,

But now the screen changes,
I see what I have been dreading,
Flight 94043 - proceed to gate,

So, now is the time for my body to depart,
And leave with home a piece of my heart,

I won't turn around now,
I can't risk seeing your face,
And you shouldn't see mine,

For this is now for me to do,
Knowing I'll always love you,

Goodbye for now best friend,
I shall see you soon.

Explanation....

2009 was for me a very significant year. I moved from the UK to California - a distance door to door (as the crow flies and measured on Google Earth) of 5238 miles (I'm now back in England).

I am very close to my family and love them unconditionally - without boring you with the details, we have been through a lot and together faced many challenges. Naturally, these distances present challenges for interaction and goodbyes (which I really don't do...not well anyway!). And those goodbyes are experienced in a much more different and profound way than 'See ya, back in an hour'.

The hustle and the bustle,
Different people everywhere,
Each with their own story,

This is basically in reference to an airport departure lounge. All those people, all going somewhere, each with their own stories to tell.

Their love is their glory,

This is actually in reference to a song by Mark Knopfler called "If this is goodbye", which he wrote in memory of the 9/11 attacks and about the phone calls from the people from the planes. All of them were messages of love, and that although they were essentially murdered, the one glory that they had over the evil was the love they had.

Husband, Wife, Son, Daughter,
Their presence shall be missed,

Again, this is to add to each person's story. Everyone is important to someone, and whilst they're gone, for however long, they will be missed.

An electric atmosphere fills the air,
Yet for now, I am calm,

In airports, there really is an atmosphere. In this case, I felt calm, but I knew that I was about to become upset as I said goodbye to my Mum.

But now the screen changes,
I see what I have been dreading,

The information screens spread all over the airport, which are always the opening chapter in traveling. They comments the movement away/towards your loved ones. The dreading isn't because I don't want to go. I chose this, but it's dreading the goodbye.

Flight 94043 - proceed to gate,

There is no flight 94043 to my knowledge, but in fact this is is the zip code in America of where I would be staying. Nice place by the way if you ever get chance to visit.

So, now is the time for my body to depart,
And leave with home a piece of my heart,

Kinda self explanatory right?

I won't turn around now,
I can't risk seeing your face,
And you shouldn't see mine,

Knowing that this is something grown up that you just have to do. Head up right, eyes forward. Look forward both figuratively and literally. Everyone knows it's upset enough, the departing and "dropper off" both know the image that is on each other's face, so why confirm it and make it harder than it already is.

For this is now for me to do,
Knowing I'll always love you,

I have to take this opportunity, and I hope that you know that whatever happens, I always love you for letting me do this.

Goodbye for now best friend,
I shall see you soon.

This is a message for my Mum (my whole family really), but my Mum who bought me into this world, and is now letting me go off and explore it.

Friendship

I pride myself on trying to be considerate to others, a notion given to me by my wonderful parents. My mantra is never to say that you are a good person, as believing you already are does in my view fuel arrogance. Instead, I always say that I always try to be a good person - because yes, sometimes I will get it wrong and cock it up like everyone does - but I will at least be making the effort to do right.

Recently, a very close friend of mine has been going through some tough times. This is a poem I knocked up for her. I don't expect it to win any prizes, but hey it's my bloooog!

Ma Petite Grenouille

As I gaze outside, I feel so alone,
Sadness and sorrow fill my heart,
The winter has come, the trees look dead,
The emotions feel too strong inside my head.

Looking around me, I see little light,
But part of the sky is now filled with might,
I see my friend, I see my allie,
I know I am loved, more than money can buy,

Now, my friend is with me, I will someday be OK,
When and how, well I cannot yet say,
But what I can know, What I should know,
Is true loneliness need never be felt, wherever I go,

My friend is here, I will be OK.