Through the quiet air of a family evening the songs from Rough and Rowdy Ways float from the stereo. We sit gathered together in the absence of our son who has departed for London Town.
All tagged article
In Memoriam
Casting my mind back, one of my favourite early memories of Joe Ruggiero is from England in 2012. We were already seasoned US residents at that point, or so we thought.
A Slow Train
I’m on the beach again with the ocean roaring in my ears. Today I hear darker voices calling through the sinew and muscle of the waves; I shiver as the cold water curls around my toes.
Voices of Love and Theft
I’m teaching Virgil again. It‘s hard to believe that it’s been ten years since I last taught this greatest of poets. Although the school room has turned into a kitchen table and the student is my fifteen year old son rather than a group of girls from London,
Looking At Time
We took that trip to see more of America. Early one morning we bundled into my husband’s car, children, bags, dog and all, leaving home in the rear view mirror, at least for a while.
Slivers Of A Singing Moon
In the current time of loss and shrinkage of our humanity, the song of the eternal poet has been stalking my thoughts. What does he make of our intrusive silence I often wonder.
A Long Road
I’ve been thinking about disillusionment recently.
This past week happened to mark the passage of ten years since my husband, son and I made our bold move across the Atlantic from London to New York.
Solid Rock
As I sit in my chair and gaze outwards, night gradually spreads her primordial fingers across the sky. There are noises outside; tonight the neighbourhood crows have arrived, en masse it would seem.
Calling Voices
In these long dog days of confinement, with life before a distant memory and life after an unknown, it is only when sitting beside the ocean that any clarity of thought returns to me. As I sit gazing silently through the waves I hear voices calling.
Remembering Rainbows
It’s been one of the strangest weeks that I can remember. One by one various aspects of our daily life have simply floated away on the breeze until we are left as we are now, amidst a shrunken landscape which seemed to have closed its shutters around us all.
Searching for Phrases
‘Rage: Sing, Goddess, Achilles’ rage,
Black and murderous, that cost the Greeks
Incalculable pain, pitched countless souls
Of heroes into Hades’ dark,
And left their bodies to rot as feasts
For dogs and birds, as Zeus’ will was done.’
Solitude
I love the word solitude. It’s pure Latin of course, as many of the best English words are. A good Latin dictionary will give you a thought provoking array of possibilities to translate the noun solitudo-solitudinis (third declension feminine) ‘a being alone, loneliness, solitariness, solitude, lonely place, desert, wilderness, desolation, want, destitution, deprivation, orphanage, bereavement.’