New Blog – Subscribe

Dear All – This is just to say again that since the new year I have taken up writing a new daily blog, that encompasses creative writing, life lessons, momentary thoughts, comedy, politics and anything else that takes my fancy. If you’d like to watch me grow as a writer and see how I’m learning to  interact and view the world around me, then I’d really encourage you to subscribe. Here is a link to the first post so you can see what’s in store. Subscribe, read up, enjoy and comment

Look forward to seeing you around on Death of the Writer 365

All the best

Kehinde

#42 ~ Time is a Clock

The realisation: Time is a constant. It neither speeds up nor does it slow down, but goes at exactly the same pace each and every second of everyday of every other unit of Time. The only difference is when we recognise that it is a force that we are subject to, not that we can dictate. When that happens, and we intertwine ourselves with its steady tick tock, you find – peace.

This morning I had the pleasure of listening to beautiful acoustic music and slam poetry, sitting by a wide south-facing window reading Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. The sun ricocheted off the snow that coated the court three floors below me and turned my room into a sauna of literary appeal.

Funnily enough, when I closed on the last page, drained the dregs of my tea, and removed my legs from the table top, Time was waiting for me. It had allowed me to enjoy reading instead of chasing after it, to remind myself why I love and find my subject intriguing, and it had given me a deep sense of a peaceful mind.

Tick Tock, Tick Tock, just relax and read your book.

You have enough, Time.

2011 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2011 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 2,600 times in 2011. If it were a cable car, it would take about 43 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

New Blog!!!!

Hey. So I’ve been challenged to write a blog everyday throughout 2012 about…well go see it to find out. Hope you enjoy the challenge and wishing you the best for 2012

K

http://deathofthewriter.wordpress.com/

Forgetting

Previously I did a Post on Feeling Lonely in a Crowded Room. Although to some degree those feelings have intensified, as has the feeling of having a close distance which i experimented with in the Poem – The Reunion, something that recently struck me whilst talking with a friend at a party was the idea of Forgetting. We spoke about a very talented young person whom i admire, yet could easily be forgotten in time.It struck me, the ease with which people who shine so brightly in so many ways can be blanketed by time. So here’s something off the cuff, hasn’t been rehearsed but we’ll see where it take us. Enjoy x

—-

It’s a beat that rocks the pulse

It’s a groove that fills the room with a smooth measure

Time

At times He’s your friend, dishing out the seconds so the body can move with rhythm

The flick of a wrist, complete command

A slight biting of the lips, He’s moving too fast

Gradually yet suddenly – who can tell for sure – the colours start to blur

Synaesthesia as we enter into a misty purple whirl

Out of focus, no beat keeps the rhythm as pupils swivel in dizzying sockets

And then

Clarity

But the seat is empty,

The kit is silent

Those measured seconds still pulsing in this ocean of

Pure Silence

Where did you go again?

Was there ever a drummer who sat in that seat

Measured out the time

Kept us in line with the beat?

Or is he a figment of my imagination

A misty purple blur, the outline unsure

Time came and stole you away

…

I’ll try and remember that flick of your wrist,

The talent that

Once Upon A Time

I couldn’t miss

The Mountain of Independence

It’s the end of formal education. That’s alright. You’ve been locked up on the daily 9-3.30 grind for the last 13 years. Looking back on the yearly school photos, you see how time has subtly then abruptly aged you, moving from chubby primary school smiling face, to spotted, frowning teenage years, with the brace-wire still unfixed, until 6th form knocks on your door and makeup is allowed. Now reaching the foot of Independence Mountain and stringing up your wires and clips, back pack at the ready, you have decided you’re ready enough to launch into the abyss of Adulthood.

It is a lie.

Unzip. Take off the rucksack that is still too big for you. Turn around and ask your teacher for another essay. You are not ready.

The Reunion

Theme of Reunion

We were stranded at a distance

The sand beneath our feet impaled forming bejewelled soles

[ We danced as though we had diamonds on the soles of our feet]

—

The years had ebbed like fraying thread unwinding, falling

Slithering to private corners of lonely bars,

The cacophony of seductive whispers a shackle that restricted our throats -

Your apple struggling with clipped wings to break the roaring silence

as we stared across the minute distance.

—

The muted flame a changeling: from violet to indigo

to Michael’s blue

It burnt, heatless, lifeless, scorching my fingers in its dying embers

Scorching our sweat lined palms as my charred hand slid through yours

meeting in a clasp.

—

Childhood was grooved in your hand, our hands

locking in familiar, intimate positions of the past