Aerial

Just received the new Kate Bush album Aerial the other day. Die-hard fans have had to wait twelve years for this double album but I can honestly say that some of the songs are stunning. Uplifting and stimulating, this album has a sparse, clean feel to it. Tracks like Pi and Sunset are lyrically amazing and leave the listener in awe of such musical mastery. The record also feels a lot more personal with a song dedicated to Kate's son Bertie and another dealing with the passing of her mother. As always it will take many more plays to fully grasp all the nuances and shades on this wonderful disc but so far this fan is delighted.

Rain

This autumn seems to bring an abundance of rain. My better half and I were at a friend's bonfire party for Guy Fawkes last Saturday (and me a Papist as well!) and in-between the rain drops falling we managed to send quite a few rockets and screaming banshee fireworks into the dark Bristolian sky. As our friends' house is located on the ridge of a high hill we had a fine view over the whole of the south of the city and were able to take in the many colourful puffs of fireworks exploding in a silent flurry in the distance.
On the writing front I can say that I for one like the new look of the magazine. AHM has come home and in its new location I have more control over the lay-out and content. Which is nice. I am working on a number of articles, some of which will end up in the magazine and some others will be submitted to other publications. Also, work on the print anthology (the collection of poems published in AHM in 2005) is progressing nicely. It will appear in due time on the Lionpress site on Lulu.com.
On a personal note I am eagerly awaiting the arrival in the post of Kate Bush's latest and well-anticipated album Aerial. Kate being my erstwhile muse, I can hardly wait..

New Dawn for Ancient Heart Magazine?

As we speak I am putting the final touches to the new site where Ancient Heart Magazine will be hosted in future. From the next issue on the new URL will be:
http://www.ancientheartmagazine.pwp.blueyonder.co.uk/
You can have a look at it already because I've put a mirror copy of the current issue up. I hope to be able to add more pages to the mag and in general to have more control over the layout and appearance. See what you think..

Warm September

It's still quite warm and sticky, even though we're halfway through September. Spent a lovely weekend away in the Forest of Dean. Camped on a tiny campsite surrounded by woods. Filled my lungs with fresh wild air. Forests always inspire me in a very deep and ancient way. There's something about the interplay of light and dark, the ominous prescient presence of tall trees, the ivy and the undergrowth that just gets me going. Must be my Celtic blood, I suppose. It's no wonder that for the Celtic peoples green was the colour of magic and mystery. Whilst driving through Wales on Sunday, we saw some of the brightest greenery that I've ever laid eyes on. The grass in the fields and the trees' foliage was so intensely green that it seemed luminescent. Bring on Eire next!

Words

Eagerly and with intent I tried to find a proper Australian dictionary online. I soon found that the Macquarie Dictionary of Australian English is the standard but unfortunately it is only available from certain universities to their own students and staff. It would be good if my own university were to add this reference work to their resources but I doubt that will.
If you look online for Australian English you'll find some slang web sites which are good fun but I want to find something more substantial. Apparently, Australian English is closer to British English than American English, which has deviated more seriously. Even so, Australian English is notorious for an idiosyncratic vocabulary; they've made up some cracking new words along the way. Knowing that in Queensland 'a pot' is a measure of a beer glass, 'a two pot screamer' is someone who can't hold their drink. A friend of mine from Cairns recently said of a certain business outlet that they were 'a bit shonky'.
I feel an urge to accommodate the Australian element in my heritage more fully and what better way to start doing this than by focusing on the lingo? Ripper!

Vogon Verse

Tried the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy Vogon Poem generator with the following result:

See, see the vivacious sky
Marvel at its big brown depths.
Tell me, David do you
Wonder why the hippopotamus ignores you?
Why its foobly stare
makes you feel drowsy.
I can tell you, it is
Worried by your zontagio facial growth
That looks like
A a light bulb.
What's more, it knows
Your plinker potting shed
Smells of pea.
Everything under the big vivacious sky
Asks why, why do you even bother?
You only charm a small ponds.

Give it a try at:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/cult/hitchhikers/vogonpoetry/lettergen.shtml

Summer's Day

It's a beautiful warm day here in Bristol. Every year I enjoy the blossoming of Spring, the abundance of Summer and all the fresh fragrances of nature rejoicing. I don't think I would like to live somewhere where the seasons don't occur with such variety.
Meanwhile, on the poetry front, I hear that Lulu.com, the US based Print-On-Demand facility, might be preparing to launch a UK outlet. That would be very good news for yours truly as Lulu, unlike almost all other POD companies, don't charge for services in order to set up books as the author does all of the formatting and preparation of the manuscript. I did enjoy learning how to do all this with my two books on Lulu.com. It's a real community with forum-based tips and suggestions from authors to other authors and the whole thing has a good feel to it. So, I think I will wait and see what happens with their UK plans and think again about proceeding with any other projects in the mean time.
My books on Lulu.com so far:

Remembering Dreams





En de Nacht Verwacht de Dageraad

Londinium

Today, four weeks after the first bomb attacks on London, a huge police presence is on show, protecting tube and buss passengers. When the bombs went off on 7/7 I was at work, receiving BBC emailed news updates. A friend of mine who was due to visit us here in England (I do not live in London) has postponed her trip until further notice. I was intending to visit London for the day over the coming weeks but I've decided against it for now. How different must it be if you live in the capital and need to use public transport to get to work on a daily basis. Londoners are resilient and will bounce back but it comes to something when you have to feel unsafe just getting on a train.

A new plan for a new book is slowly percolating as I write these lines. I'm always thinking up new projects and schemes; it must be the Gemini-factor rearing its many-faceted head..
We are now the proudish owners of a brand new computer. One that should make my writing related activities a lot easier. Meanwhile, I also have to finish a gothic novella I started on before our trip to Australia. And, as ever, the next issue of the magazine looms just over the horizon.

As I write this there is news of Al Qaida issuing more terror warnings for London. Great..

Back Home Once Again

After four glorious weeks of travelling through Australia I find myself on the shores of dear old England once again. It was funny to find that suddenly it's high summer. Less funny was noticing the enhanced security in evidence at Heathrow Airport. Londoners are a resilient lot and that's just as well. Meanwhile, a new computer is winding its way to my residence as we speak which should enable me to return to matters poetic and digital very soon. The mag's new issue is due out in September and of course I have plenty of ideas to work out, one or two new projects to outline and so on and so forth..

Oz was a dream of bliss and light. When I awoke it was still there. And so was I..

Austral Days

Never ever dared to dream
Thoughts collide in flights of fancy
Deepest joy anticipates
Nothing stirs yet awkwardly.

I feel a feather on a breeze
Gentler, gentler still
I move upon a brighter way
And face each coming day.

So many years I wished for this
To see that land, those faces
Not knowing what to fear or miss
I re-traced my own re-traces.

A world away, is where I’ll be
To find another world, anew
Want to wake up from my reverie
And soak up all its light, imbue.

Southern Cross may welcome us
Two loners on a path of glee
Our love will reinforce, and thus
Bring my soul’s own breath to me.

Travel Post

Your favourite poet will be travelling for the next coming weeks. Australia by way of Hong Kong. You might be able to follow progress on a photo site I intend to maintain while 'on the road'. You'll find it at: http://www.byphotos.com/album/1487370

Home is where I hang my coat..

Not long now..

New Poem

Wrote a new poem today:


Enigma

A siren blessed my sky-bound venture,
Eager to allay my fears.
She bound me with a magic senture,
Christened my sword with sacred tears.

She bid me farewell with a garland kiss,
Never would I see those eyes.
My heart prepared to feel amiss;
Anxiety was my lust’s disguise.

My starlight ship had sails of gold,
Crimson timber held our lives.
My voyage was one oft foretold;
Could I be he who yet survives?

We sailed upon celestial waves,
Praised the faithfulness that saves.

Summer

The last two days have been wonderfully warm and sunny, just what you want in early June. Not much news to impart, just winding down the last two weeks of this term. The odd student still comes in but mostly, things in the library are very quiet. Can't wait for my holidays. Holy days. Sacres leisure time? Sounds good to me, I must admit.

Adios for now!

New work

News today is that I've started work on a new book. The scoop is that it will be prose, not poetry. I will never turn my back on verse but thought it was time I tried to reach for a measure of glory and write a book that could in theory become succesful. For too long I have seen other writers, artists forge ahead and get themselves noticed. While it is true that in a way I take pride in doing everything myself, I find myself at a stage where I feel some recognition would be nice as well.
So, can't give you any title or other details. All I can say that so far my ideas have had a distinct gothic flavour..
I'll be scribbling away with a vengeance!

Radio Head

I just made an appearance on Keith Warmington's show on BBC Radio Bristol. The song that was playing before 'my' bit came up was Across the Universe by the Beatles. The idea was that I would make some comments on the Dutch referendum on the European constitution to be held tomorrow. Ever since I was asked to be on the radio during the World Championships of Football to talk about the Dutch team, they certainly know where to find me whenever anything happens in Holland. Mr Holland, then. Keith asked me a few questions about the Dutch attitude to Europe in his well-known dulcet tones. I think I did okay and don't think I came across too unfavourably. One day, I'd like to talk about my being a poet and editor as well rather than just things Netherlandish. There is time yet..

Warm and Mellow

A fine warm day here in the west of England. Girls are at their girliest, birds are twittering in their complementary treetops, ice-cream vans are making the most of it and all is well. The other day I tried my hand at writing a new poem and was pleasantly surprised at the result. Sometimes I do wonder whether perhaps I should be more demanding of my own perceived gift. It might be a good idea to scrutinize and agonize further, harder and longer before committing any verse to paper. I do not know what the correct approach is, if there is any. I regard what I do when writing poems purely in a rather atavistic manner. I mean I do not wish to analyse the process of writing itself too much for fear of offending or scaring off the Muse. Everything for the Muse, don't you know? It's reassuring, however, that whenever I sit down to write, the poetry keeps flowing. Where it flows I cannot comprehend. It's enough to capture it and then set it free again.

Lifetime

I've reached the venerable age of forty years yesterday, dear readers. Ahem. Not quite mentally ready to settle down to a pipe, paper and slipper-based existence, I decided to enjoy a quiet, pleasant day with my better half. We wandered down to a brand new Spanish tapas bar in the High Street, a genuine asset to our neigbhourhood. The place is called Bar Celona and we had a lovely few hours enjoying the atmosphere, great music and general niceness. I was suitably impressed to find that they have Castlemaine XXXX on draught; it just doesn't get any better than that. I hope they make a real go of this new venture. It's something Kingswood needs more of, that's for sure.
Last Saturday we had friends over from London and went out for a meal. I had the taxi driver (a mellow, chatty sort of bloke) drop us off near the bottom of Princess Victoria Street from where we were able to show our visitors the Clifton Suspension Bridge in all its glory. The hail-, wind- and thunderstorms had temporarily abated so the view to Isambard Kingdom Brunel's masterpiece was splendid. Nice food and wine followed and it was a night to remember if only for the fact that it was my last night out as a thirty-something. I've always wanted to have published a book in England before my fortieth. I've recently achieved this. Now I have to see about selling a few copies of Love's Own Treasure. If life begins at 40, rock on!

Aimez la femme

The feminine archetype as well as the female form itself has always inspired me enormously. There is nothing else in the world that I find equally enticing as the mystery that is woman. However, lately I have been struggling to connect with my specific poetic muse. I've been so busy with promoting and editing what I have written already that I find scarcely any time or mood to create any new poems. But, woo the Muse I must and I have no doubt that my poetry will start flowing again before long. Elusive as she proves, chase her I must..

Ode to my Foremost Muse

Rose-mist, petal-blessed,
Evensong still lingers gently,
Smile-bound secrets mass in thought,
Whispers call forth clarity.

Streams and crystal waterfalls
Trickle down the gorge at night.
I stand proud to now evoke thee,
Silent as my heart cries out.

Luna, Huntress, enticing cloud,
Vapour trails like dresses twirl,
My heart and mind and soul are yours;
My poem's quintessential girl.

Spring Day

Today, at last, feels like a genuine Spring day. The air feels fresh and comfortably warm and even the odd cloud in the sky seems thoroughly benign. I've just come back from a half hour of dental delight. Nothing very poetic there although my dentist is a nice lady who always takes good care of me. Naturally the anticipation of knowing one is due for a dentist's appoinment is always worse than the actual ordeal. But there you go.
The news today is Kylie Minogue being diagnosed with breast cancer and having to cancel her Australian tour and appearance at the Glastonbury festival. Being both an Australian in exile as well as a former teenager during the eighties, I've always liked the diminutive Aussie popstar. From naff to very naff to very cool, Kylie has survived in the fickle world of pop music and I do like an Australian doing well in the U.K. Sad news for Kylie then and of course the affliction affects many women, famous or not, but I do hope 'she'll be apples'..

Moonday

Students rush in to hand in their short loan books and make their way to one of two major exams scheduled for today. Being a poet who earns a crust as a library assistant at the Biological Sciences Library at one of the foremost English universities is never dull. Honestly, there is always something to occupy my mind and/or curiosity. At times vexing, the students on the whole are a decent lot. The academic staff are fascinating as well, as I observe them in their natural habitat. One of them has taken to bringing in fossilised dinosaur droppings for us to have a look. My colleague and I are most grateful for this recurring pleasure. Poetic? I'm not sure how poetic science is really but I suppose the mind's intoxication and a certain level of inspiration come in to play in scientific endeavour as well as artistic pursuit. Did Darwin ever enjoy a sonnet or a haiku? Possibly..

To Heed a Calling

What is it to be a poet? I have often wondered what it means to be a poet. Is it the mere act of writing a poem? Of having one's poetry published? Is it the public recognition as a more or less well-known poet? Who knows? I tend to think that it is more a case of one's outlook on life that determines whether or not one is a poet. I feel that being a poet necessarily requires a natural, almost child-like wonder at finding one's self alive in the world. To not take things for granted and to celebrate life (and death)in verse to the best of one's ability. Of course, being a succesful poet also means that the artist needs to perfect his craft. The poet needs to hone his or her skills, to perfect the trade. But is it a career path that the poet chooses or is it rather a fate, a destiny the poet can't help but accept? To heed the calling of the muses is to know that you as a poet are singular. It is to acknowledge with every fibre in your poetic being that you need to unravel the mystery in life, not to then explain that mystery or solve it; but to celebrate the fact that not everything that matters is matter. It is dealing with arcane secrets and to re-establish the link between heart and mind, body and soul; to re-connect the mundane with the ethereal, mortal men and women with their deepest ancient desires, to stir in the cauldron where the archetypes hide. Ultimately, I feel the true poet needs to guide the reader back to where we all came from, The Garden, from whence we were evicted, even if just for a fleeting transcending moment, to breathe in that purest of air and savour that clear innocence we sometimes still remember, however vaguely. But perhaps that's just me.