Rosy Cole

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Rosy Cole was born and educated in the Shires of England. Her writing career started in her teens. Four apprentice works eventually led to publication of two novels. Life intervened, but she returned to authorship in 2004. She has worked as a Press Officer and Publisher's Reader. Among widespread interests, she lists history, opera, musicals, jazz, the arts, drawing and painting, gemmology, homoeopathy and alternative therapies. Theology also is an abiding interest. As a singer, she's performed alongside many renowned musicians and has run a music agency which specialised in themed 'words-and-music' programmes, bringing her two greatest passions together. Rosy's first book of poetry, THE TWAIN, Poems of Earth and Ether, was published in April 2012, National Poetry Month, and two other collections are in preparation. As well as the First and Second Books in the Berkeley Series, she has written several other historical titles and one of literary fiction. She is currently working on the Third Book in the Berkeley Series. All her books are now published under the New Eve imprint. Rosy lives in West Sussex with her son, Chris, and her Labrador cross, Poppy, who keeps a firm paw on the work-and-walkies schedule!

The Bright Field






 

















On St David's Day, a poem by R S Thomas

 

I have seen the sun break through
to illuminate a small field
for a while, and gone my way
and forgotten it. But that was the pearl
of great price, the one field that had
the treasure in it. I realize now
that I must give all that I have
to possess it. Life is not hurrying
on to a receding future, nor hankering after
an imagined past. It is the turning
aside like Moses to the miracle
of the lit bush, to a brightness
that seemed as transitory as your youth
once, but is the eternity that awaits you.

 

Collected Poems 1945-1990 (Phoenix Press, £14.99)

 

 

 

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Simeon's Farewell






Sacred rite
of pure intention
joy and grief
a sword between them
promise Land

oblation
for the wayward world
lamb's blood is
what wise elders know
of heaven

On this day
two chaste turtle doves
sacrificed
their feathered future
for Love's Light



©RosyCole2022





Recent Comments
Stephen Evans
Lovely
Thursday, 03 February 2022 21:55
Rosy Cole
Thank you! :-)
Friday, 04 February 2022 21:44
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Laodicea...in the waning light

 






You're neither cold nor hot, he said
You're somewhere in between
You're sitting on the pale, he said
Surveying pastures green

You wander in the wilderness
And ask for stones made bread
How can my leaven rise to Life
When feet are made of lead?

The mirage of the Kingdom
So captivates your soul
But the journey to oasis
Is too arduous a goal

I'd rather you were hot, he said
Or either you were cold
But lukewarm's neither good, he said
For fool's nor princely gold!

©RosyCole2022  #LetTheLightShine






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Is There Another Way?

 

The Magi - Henry Siddons Mowbray



Epiphany, the Light for the Way, falls just over the threshold of each new year.

As the fatherly advice at the opening of the main story of A House Not Made With Hands goes: "Plough a straight furrow, lad. Fix your eye on the far side and never look back."

Here, Muir's poem is complemented by the work of figurative artist, Daniel Gerhartz. The scenes are quiescent, yet inspiring, charged with an optimism that verges on the sacred and captures the extraordinary in the everyday. His dreamy luminism has the clarity of a vision and becomes almost an experience of life in a timeless parenthesis. Some of his paintings echo those of Joaquin Sorolla.





Friend, I have lost the way.
The way leads on.
Is there another way?
The way is one.
I must retrace the track.
It’s lost and gone.
Back, I must travel back!
None goes there, none.
Then I’ll make here my place,
(The road leads on),
Stand still and set my face,
(The road leaps on),
Stay here, for ever stay.
None stays here, none.
I cannot find the way.
The way leads on.
Oh places I have passed!
That journey’s done.
And what will come at last?
The road leads on.

Edwin Muir, courtesy of the Scottish Poetry Library

first published in The Labyrinth (Faber, 1949) and included in Collected Poems (Faber, 1984)



 

Recent Comments
Stephen Evans
Beautiful. Stunning pictures, as usual.
Wednesday, 05 January 2022 23:32
Rosy Cole
Thank you, Steve :-) I feel we need such images and reflections more than ever at this point in history. There's the icon, and the... Read More
Thursday, 06 January 2022 09:38
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Writing For Life

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Latest Comments

Stephen Evans Something Unearthly
23 June 2022
I think what I want more than to be remembered is to have made a difference in something that contin...
Rosy Cole Something Unearthly
22 June 2022
An epitaph is a convention of respect. It marks a spot. How much it says depends on estate and fame ...
Stephen Evans Something Unearthly
21 June 2022
A comforting thought, and similar to the epitaph that closes Gray's poem. But then isn't an epitaph ...
Rosy Cole Something Unearthly
21 June 2022
Perhaps I should have added that, nevertheless, I do feel this is a limpid piece of poetry you have...
Rosy Cole Something Unearthly
20 June 2022
On this theme, I have difficulty with Thomas Gray: Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And w...