Beauty, beauty everywhere ...
 

About Me







I am nothing


without my poetry -- Deus est in nobis -- and my creativity,  and my partner, Clare, who makes it all happen ...


Where we are now


Here, there, and everywhere ...

looking, thinking, seeing, seeking, exploring, examining, enjoying, recording, remembering ...


What would Socrates really have said?


“Get a life!”


2 “Join the army! There’s no life like it!”


3 “The unlived life is most definitely not worth examining.’”


4 “The sun is pulled by horses and moves round the earth.”


5 “The earth is flat. Somewhere, just past the Pillars of Hercules, you will fall off the edge.”


6 “Justice is justice. It is absolute and always the same, for both the king and his swineherd.”


7 “I believe that!” said the king.


8 “I’m not so sure!” said the swineherd.


9 Amicus Plato sed magis amicus veritas.


10 “Things ain’t what they used to be!”


11 “Cultiver chacun son jardin.”


12 “Caminante: no hay camino; solo hay estela sobre el mar.”


13 “¿Dónde vas, morena, dime, a las dos de la mañana?” 


14 “Somos de Santander, y aquí no hay más que hablar.”


15 “J’achète, donc je suis.”


16 “Paisajes tan tristes que tienen alma.”


17 “No la toques más: así es la rosa.”


18 “Quen ha vist Paris et non Cassis, ha ren vist.”


19 “Tú que hueles la flor de la bella palabra acaso no comprendas las mías sin aroma.”


20 “Yo, Roger Moore, un hombre como hay muchos, sentado esta tarde frente a mi ordenador, volví a soñar.”


21 “Soy un fue, un será, y un es cansado.”


22 “Dudosos pies por ciega noche llevo.”


23 “Vencida de la edad sentí mi espada, y no hallé

cosa en que poner los ojos que no fuese recuerdo de la mu2rte.”


24 “También anda Dios en la cocina entre los pucheros.”

































 
 

“All things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small ...” and that is how I rethink my life: the sweep of the sun over rock and sand, low tide at Wolfe Point in Fundy National Park on the Bay of Fundy, an early bee on the chives in the garden, sunset over my neighbour’s woodlot ... there is just so much to see and do ... I wonder sometimes how I survived in that earlier life, clad in my grey concrete suits, embalmed behind my desk, entombed in my office, far from woods and waves, from the sea-spray on my face, from the wind in my hair ... and it is the small things that come back to haunt me ... light falling on a flower, storks in Avila jumping as they catch the wind and learn to fly, lilies on a beaver pond, a woodpecker on the Mountain Ash,  a cormorant leaving the water, so many tiny snippets of memory clutching and clinging ....

 

Bright and beautiful