tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61611392460653415532011-09-24T10:00:56.540-07:00JoAnna77noreply@blogger.comBlogger91100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6161139246065341553.post-65678222123014187002011-08-29T00:33:00.000-07:002011-08-29T00:36:39.134-07:00I no longer use this blog - It would help me very much if you would visit my new website: <br /><a href="http://joanna77.vpweb.co.uk/">http://joanna77.vpweb.co.uk</a> and follow me on the link at the bottom of the home page! <br />Thankyou so much! <br />JoAnna (also known as Juliet or Helen) <br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6161139246065341553-6567822212301418700?l=juliet77.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>JoAnna77noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6161139246065341553.post-31242372727181290272011-08-06T07:10:00.000-07:002011-08-06T07:12:51.149-07:00I have now created a new website - <a href="http://joanna77.vpweb.co.uk/">http://joanna77.vpweb.co.uk</a> I would love you to visit me there! Please let me know that you have visited by replying to my blog on the new website, or completing the contact form.<br />Thankyou!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6161139246065341553-3124237272718129027?l=juliet77.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>JoAnna77noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6161139246065341553.post-48451700517739204322010-07-02T05:12:00.000-07:002010-07-02T05:13:06.399-07:00No choice - but to trust now<br />A reluctant choice…<br />But one that enlarges, strengthens<br />Changes me<br /><br />The controls … out of my reach<br />Nothing I can do…<br />Will alter things…<br />I must just walk, faithfully<br />Choosing your peace<br />When anxiety would overwhelm<br /><br />Every desire, every instinct<br />Is to sort things out<br />Change things for the better<br /><br />But … I can’t reach the controls<br />That shape my life<br />Forced…<br />To live … one day at a time<br />Not knowing what tomorrow will bring<br /><br />Can’t plan for the future<br />Too many unknowns<br /><br />No security in jobs, finance<br />Or planning.<br /><br />I dreamt I was going somewhere<br />Peaceful to think things through<br />Plan … find a solution<br /><br />But that was just a dream<br /><br />Instead - I must learn to live with<br />Uncertainty, the unknown<br />To trust …<br />Hold on to your word<br />That when one source of supply<br />Runs dry<br />There will be a new supply…<br /><br />My attempts<br />To sort things out<br />Has left me worse off …<br />Than before.<br /><br />No choice…<br />All I can do is trust<br />Put my future…and harder<br />than that …<br />the future of those that I love …<br />in Your strong hands<br />and simply trust<br />You…<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6161139246065341553-4845170051773920432?l=juliet77.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>JoAnna77noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6161139246065341553.post-60793006431550722002009-03-23T08:24:00.001-07:002009-03-23T08:24:03.708-07:00This is a poem which is based on an experience I had - when we had to sell our home, due to the failure of my husband's business, when his business partner was diagnosed with terminal cancer. The 'story' is partially fictionalised, but inspired by our true story. <br /> <br />Memorable Meal <br /> <br /> <br />They sit amongst cardboard boxes and rubbish sacks, <br />dirty crockery stacked on granite work-tops, <br />take-away containers, half-eaten plates of Sri-Lankan food. <br />One final meal in the home they have taken twenty years <br />to create, hastily eaten with friends… come to help <br />dismantle their life: take it apart piece by piece, like the <br />old wardrobe, now lying with hinges unscrewed and bolts undone, <br />dishevelled, displaced, in a heap on the kitchen floor. <br /> <br />She clenches her eyelids in a futile attempt to stop the tears <br />as she sorts through her children’s toys, throws her <br />daughter’s drawings away, her son’s first pair of shoes, <br />trying not to tear his favourite posters as she removes <br />them from the room where he was born, their lives <br />destroyed by the words: ‘six months to live’… <br />Future plans discarded, memories and treasures <br />hurriedly packed away, perhaps to be resurrected one day. <br /> <br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6161139246065341553-6079300643155072200?l=juliet77.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>JoAnna77noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6161139246065341553.post-25817642187656273972009-03-18T13:30:00.001-07:002009-03-18T13:30:28.566-07:00 I wrote this poem, when holiday near Lochinver in NW Scotland in 2007 - an attempt to describe the beautiful and peaceful location, which inspired the poet Norman MacCaig, to write many of his poems! <br />I hope to go back there again soon! <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />Inverkirkaig Bay <br /> <br /> <br />A clock ticks away the solitary hours <br />the occasional cry of a bird <br />wind sighs through blue-green firs <br />a single car makes its way <br />slowly... <br />along the shore road <br />The sleepy sound of water <br />swaying against the stones in the bay <br />the hushed chattering of crickets <br />a bee buzzes past my window <br />meandering on its way <br />collecting nectar <br />from purple flowers on the hillside. <br /> <br />Lazy sunshine peers through white mist <br />silver-sparkling patterns on grey wrinked waters <br /> <br />So far away from the busy-ness <br />of London life <br />this wild, remote countryside <br />where poets are born. <br /> <br /> <br />Note: Inverkirkaig Bay (North West Scotland) was a favourite haunt of the poet Norman MacCaig.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6161139246065341553-2581764218765627397?l=juliet77.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>JoAnna77noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6161139246065341553.post-43007331339528937892009-03-01T01:12:00.000-08:002009-03-01T01:22:30.460-08:00*<br /><strong>Aberystwyth Beach</strong><br /><br /><br />Walk along a pebbled beach<br /><br />on a bright spring's morning<br /><br />Sea-birds floating<br /><br /> beneath scattered<br /><br /> tumbling clouds<br /><br />White-crested waves<br /><br /> dancing<br /><br /> laughing<br /><br /> chasing<br /><br />Hear my whisper<br /><br /> in the cool salt-laden breeze<br /><br />Delight in My presence as I delight in yours<br /><br /><br /><br />Watch, a little later<br /><br />the sun in golden fury<br /><br />Paints the sky<br /><br />with pink and crimson flames<br /><br />Angry waves battle<br /><br />against unyeilding rocks<br /><br />Darkness creeps silently<br /><br />a blanket spreading from the east<br /><br />Through the storm<br /><br />hear My voice of peace<br /><br /><br /><br />Return when night has filled the air<br /><br />the sea lies calm at last<br /><br />Restless waves now murmuring<br /><br />rocking gently<br /><br />Be comforted by the stillness<br /><br />As stars watch over the slumbering world<br /><br />know My love for you.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6161139246065341553-4300733133952893789?l=juliet77.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>JoAnna77noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6161139246065341553.post-45021260519162586502009-02-28T04:33:00.000-08:002009-02-28T04:59:18.720-08:00<strong>*</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>Midnight on Lewis</strong><br /><br /><br />Endless sky, translucent blue<br /><br />fading to white where it touches<br /><br />staccato blackness -<br /><br />gorse, heather and broom.<br /><br />The steady pounding of a hammer<br /><br />breaks the silence<br /><br />a lone crofter repairs his fence<br /><br />in the dusk-light.<br /><br />A yellow orange glow<br /><br />gleams, square from the croft-house windows<br /><br />Blue-grey clouds hover like dragons<br /><br />motionless in the bright midnight sky.<br /><br /><br />------------------------------------<br /><br /><strong>Sollas Cottage</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><br /><br />Across windswept moors,<br /><br />barren rocks flung carelessly<br /><br />by a giant hand<br /><br />fierce-looking highland cattle<br /><br />block the road.<br /><br /><br />Over the crest of the hill<br /><br />an old croft-house,<br /><br />white-washed walls, red tin roof.<br /><br />A spiral of smoke rising from the chimney.<br /><br />The aroma of peat pervades the air.<br /><br /><br />Our car bumps along the grassy track<br /><br />across dung-sprinkled fields<br /><br />Through the rusty metal gate,<br /><br />we enter the acre of rough scrub-land<br /><br />that makes up the croft.<br /><br /><br />Through a cobwebbed window<br /><br />in the thick stone wall<br /><br />we peer into a tiny bedroom.<br /><br />Flowery curtains,<br /><br />age-stained wallpaper,<br /><br />iron bedstead, dark oak wardrobe,<br /><br />a fire burning in the grate,<br /><br />vainly attempting to disperse<br /><br />the all-pervading damp.<br /><br /><br />Deep within my pocket<br /><br />I find a rusty key,<br /><br />unlock the heavy front door, enter<br /><br />the sparsely furnished kitchen.<br /><br /><br />Later I walk into the garden,<br /><br />wade through unkempt grass<br /><br />peer over the dry-stone wall<br /><br />at the vast expanse of silver sand<br /><br />Stretching for miles<br /><br />across a tidal strand to a deserted island<br /><br />and ruined mansion.<br /><br />*<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6161139246065341553-4502126051916258650?l=juliet77.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>JoAnna77noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6161139246065341553.post-27510040123764302162009-02-28T04:16:00.000-08:002009-02-28T04:49:53.848-08:00The first poem I posted was inspired by one of my favourite places - a tiny house in the Western Isles of Scotland. Here are some other poems based on the Outer Hebrides (where my husband's family come from).<br /><br />This poem is based on the same cottage!<br /><br /><br />Holm:<br /><br />Fragrant warmth - peat fire<br />steaming onion soup<br /><br />Isolated croft-house<br />Pine table laid - dinner for four<br /><br />Whistling kettle, cat purrs noisily<br />deep in fur rug - by orange fire<br /><br />Rain pounded window-panes<br />outside - wild waves, purple sky<br /><br />Groaning wind - vast green spaces<br />owned by ragged sheep<br /><br /> *<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6161139246065341553-2751004012376430216?l=juliet77.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>JoAnna77noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6161139246065341553.post-54536427936810078982009-02-28T00:46:00.000-08:002009-02-28T04:25:59.184-08:00*<br /><br />I walk down a rocky path<br />to the shore<br />stones crunching<br />stand where<br />waves<br />cover my feet<br />gaze out<br />into swirling grey sea<br />where the Hebrides<br />and Atlantic meet<br />wind blows wild<br />tide roams free<br />my spirits like shooting stars<br />flames of joyful emotion<br />home again<br />the house on the edge of the ocean<br /><br />*<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6161139246065341553-5453642793681007898?l=juliet77.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>JoAnna77noreply@blogger.com0