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She likes partying and dri...
She likes partying and drinking, which is good, but has ended up in a bit of a spiral and perhaps it is not going up!
So, she has been given the opportunity of staying on an island off the coast of Britain and working for the tourist season. It is a huge change for her, but I think a good one.
We chatted a little about my newest song and she said I should write one about a girl on an island. I am not sure she was expecting me to write one about her. But I did.
I do not decide
I do not decideIf what I write todayWill be happy or sad or indistinctI only write my mindAs it unfoldsWith its prejudices and longingsHot and cold
I have no directionBut then sometimes I haveAnd sometimes I must tell a storyLet people cry loudlyOr laugh right on cueTell me their life tale of tragedyWith its colours and hues
I am often inspiredBy the words of anotherSomeone beautiful and thoughtful, perhapsAnd from their wordsLines quickly run freeAnd I can be informedBy the love I have for thee
So, happiness is orderedBy a smile on a messageAnd I must produce something for the girlSo in seven little linesI say yes, there is happinessIn a poem so simpleThat describes your loveliness.
Pictures on messagesWords quickly fingeredOn our instant connectivenessIn this world of the nowPoetry must always surviveFor the world it paints brightIs where we all live
Written to answer a challenge from Sophia
It pulled out all its wires
From the world where I reside
And stopped me issuing for...
It pulled out all its wiresFrom the world where I resideAnd stopped me issuing forthMy words, however tired!
I have been most distressedAs my PC sat and gloatedAnd here I frowned and cursedAnd looked and acted bloated
But to my rescue came the angelsAnd rushed right to my doorTo tell the naughty PC offFrom sunny Bangalore!
(Had a bad weekend with one of my many machines, which is now mostly fixed with the help of many lovely and interesting accents from the MS helpdesk in Bangalore. My mother lived there a while in the 1940s, and yes, I cook an amazing curry!)
and if I forgot everythingand I knew nothingand I started againand I saw the day anewand I watched the morning smileand I felt the sun open the day
Would you still be here?
The other big difference is my dragons. Although huge, they don't blow fire, they are not covered with scales (that would make them too heavy to fly), and they don't live in damp caves. Instead, they are intelligent, cultured and believe in friendship above all else. I might write an article about my dragons on here one day as in my stories, they are the ideal society.
One dragon, a large Draig yr Anialr (desert dragon) called Be-Elin, writes a poem for her rider, a young, gay woman called Silvi Farthing. Although the poem is about death, it is not a sad poem, I hope, but a gentle wish to be remembered.
Tomorrow, when I am gone,Will you remember me?Will you tell people How I danced with the clouds,Caressing their cool faces with my wings?
In the morning when the sun rises,Will you recall my song?The words I sang whenWe pledged true friendship to each other,And you wrapped yourself around my neck?
When the heat of day warms the mountains,Will you think of my passing?Will you believe I am still flyingHigh over windswept valleys,My wings wide, capturing the light?
When the cool evening chills the dayWill you cry for me?Will you stand on the highest peakAnd call out my name?For I will be listening, my dear friend.
You can find out more about my world here: http://aworldcalleddirt.com