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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!

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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2 Comments

The Guitarist's Lament

 

 

 

I’ve bought a guitar
It’s a stranger to me
I’m a stranger to it
But we’ll see what we see
I’m chorded and worded
At least in my head
But the darn thing plays up
And it fills me with dread

 

I’ve tried with a plectrum
To amplify sound
And notes interlope
Where they shouldn’t be found
It won’t cover the noise
When they gatecrash the party
It just gives them the licence
To act hale and hearty

 

I’ve seen on the YouTube
What to do with my fingers
Folks assure me it’s easy
But the dissonance lingers
They don’t say Segovia
Ever took their advice
Though they’d make you believe
He learned in a trice

 

I’ve practised for all of
Ten minutes together
I’ve tried strumming hard
And as light as a feather
I fear my performance
Won’t make youngsters swoon
The beast is high strung
And won’t play to my tune

 

Now a thousand duff notes
Have torpedoed my cause
And keys are a mystery
That won’t unlock doors
I’ve no hope of busking
Outside Trader Joe’s
With proceeds a pipedream
To add to my woes

Recent Comments
Stephen Evans
Tuesday, 07 December 2021 21:18
Stephen Evans
Always happy to inspire ... Read More
Tuesday, 07 December 2021 21:18
Rosy Cole
You are a fund of inspiration, Steve :-) Thank you. I often wonder what we have done to deserve you.
Thursday, 09 December 2021 13:16
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7 Comments

The Rumour Of Sadness And Change


Seasons came and seasons went
during months in lockdown spent,
summer took a blazing glance,
quickened the astonished plants
who had waited on the lip
of efflorescence, but a dip
in weather's fickle capering
snatched clement airs and left a sting
of stringent frost, of gale and storm
and crucified the longed-for balm,
while global horrors put a brake
on freedom's joy; the hive-mind's wake
soon clipped the wings of halcyon dreams
beside the sea and gleaming streams,
with obtuse yearning for the Fall,
the 'sere and yellow leaf', and gall
went wishing that the equinox
would ring the changes, burst the locks
so that the season might prove true
to former character and hue
and comply with valediction
and settle hackles caused by friction.

But then a miracle occurred,
the sun from slumber rose and stirred,
recalled the season's closing door
and pushed his purpose to the fore,
pierced through pollution's hellish gloom
and for a carnival made room,
the flowers danced in fine array,
rejoicing they could live their day,
to butterflies and bees play host,
thus melancholy musing lost!



Then followed that beautiful season... Summer....
Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the landscape
Lay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

One day you discover you are alive. Explosion! Concussion! Illumination! Delight! You laugh, you dance around, you shout.
But, not long after, the sun goes out. Snow falls, but no one sees it, on an August noon.
 

Ray Bradbury




 

Summer afternoon, summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language.

Henry James





Summer has filled her veins with light and her heart is washed with noon.

C Day Lewis

  

August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.

Sylvia Plath



The busy bee has no time for sorrow.

William Blake 

  

Even on the most beautiful days in the whole year - the days when summer is changing into autumn -
the crickets spread the rumour of sadness and change.

E B White





   

 As long as the earth endures,
seedtime and harvest,
cold and heat,
summer and winter,
day and night
will never cease.

Genesis 8:22



Recent Comments
Stephen Evans
Hopeful! I was just reading Frost's A Prayer in Spring, which reminds me of this.
Thursday, 16 September 2021 20:33
Rosy Cole
Thank you! I'm honoured to be compared with Frost, that's for sure! :-)
Friday, 17 September 2021 12:12
Rosy Cole
Still believe that Hope changes us dynamically and therefore the world.
Sunday, 19 September 2021 10:24
2296 Hits
3 Comments

Every Picture...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Me:  Who can this be, I wonder?

Poppy:  It's me.

Me:  No! But this is a good girl. I bet she doesn't turn the garden into an excavation site, or send puthers of cushion feathers over the picture frames.

Poppy:  I'm a good girl, I am.

Me:  So was Eliza Doolittle.

Poppy:  She wasn't up to much.

Me:  Well, she did remember to wash her face and paws. She had an admirer called Henry, just like you.

Poppy:  Oh him. I'm not marrying Henry. His legs are too short. ...Come to think of it, that's quite a handicap.

Me:  Poor Henry, he's such a handsome chap. He'll be heartbroken.

Poppy:  Listen, I'm not marrying anyone. I'm a career girl.

Me:  You mean into the side wall after that cat-shaped item?

Poppy:  I'll give her boundaries! She sashays along the top like she's puffing Vivienne Westwood!

Me:  Knows how to pose, that's for sure. Still, so does the mysterious girl in the picture.

Poppy:  It's me! It's me! It's me! It's my pawtrait! Anyways, I am a career girl. I'm writing a book of furry tails for little pups.

Me:  You don't say!

Poppy:  Yes, I do! I've got an agent and a pawtfolio and everything. And that's my avatar for the fans.

Me:  Unbelievable!

Poppy:  You just can't see me 'cos I'm not lookin' at you.

Me:  I guess you're not looking at the cat, either!

 

 

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Latest Comments

Rosy Cole Same as it Ever Was
16 January 2023
...only, now, with added devalue. 'The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spendin...
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Frisby-on-the-Wreake is a great name for a town.
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I can neither confirm nor deny any such activity occurred.I think I may have lived in Washington DC ...
Rosy Cole The Chipped Bowl
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We can only conclude that the aspirant user had a subliminal hand in it :-)
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Yes, Monika's interesting posts from the other hemisphere can sometimes have that effect. The light ...