Rosy Cole

Follow author Add as friend Message author Subscribe to updates from author Subscribe via RSS
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 Springador, Jack, who keeps a firm paw on the work-and-walkies schedule!

Changing The Shape Of The Universe

 


A response to Stephen Evan's post, The Jesus of Silver Spring



English has two great forgotten words, namely 'helpmeet' which is much greater than 'lover' and 'loving-kindness' which is so much greater than even 'passion'.  Lawrence Durrell

I thought how unpleasant it is to be locked out; and I thought how it is worse, perhaps, to be locked in. Virginia Woolf. (Without hesitation, I would remove the 'perhaps'.)

A good poem helps to change the shape of the universe, helps to extend everyone's knowledge of himself and the world around him. Dylan Thomas (What he says of the powers of poetry, I would extend to all authentic writing and every random act of kindness.)

Who do you say that I am? Jesus Christ to St Peter.



Perhaps the last quote seems a strange inclusion in the light of Stephen's post. For me, it does sum up his musings.

Any response to the question is generally unvoiced, shadowy, hardly or never considered, but is implicit and inescapable in our attitude to being. In this mirror, we see our reflection. Through our own lens, we measure others, forever searching for an image we recognise, though we're scarcely aware of it. Meanwhile the quest for joy, for a life of fulfilment and meaning goes on.

Jesus says: I am come that they might have Life, and that they might have it more abundantly.

Abundant life! A blossoming tenderness for the whole of Creation and a compulsion to care for it.

Then all may become as it should be, by miraculous consolation, even in the dark times. Keats' 'negatitive capability' is a cosmic phenomenon and a scandal equally to logicians and doomsayers as to those who seek shelter in a shiny fools' paradise.

This is the most precious gift. This is Living. This is Love. Enjoy!

Hearts do matter!

 

Heartsease courtesy of Matthew Drollinger

Recent Comments
Stephen Evans
Durrell was right - two great and and forgotten words.
Saturday, 02 February 2019 23:34
Katherine Gregor
Helpmeet. What a beautiful word.
Sunday, 03 February 2019 17:32
Monika Schott
I love the word too. I'll have to find somewhere to use it!
Monday, 04 February 2019 03:29
603 Hits
3 Comments

Silver And Gold Have I None...

 

 Harking back to 2012...a lifetime ago!

 

 

Febrile kindled flame
gathering energy on

deluged thoroughfares

banishing our ruined dreams

fresh vision broadcast

 

the nation focused
reminiscent spectacle

of our heritage

gone the touchstone of its soul

the flint and tinder

 

struck by our forebears
tillers of the untamed earth

servants and soldiers

merchants, miners and martyrs

bringers of quick light

 

vicarious now
the hope of saving glory

coffers overdrawn

no securities gilt-edged

faint hearts overwrought

 

seams, today seamless
our lottery's tarnished coin

spent and spent again

the lure of medals hinting

new Jerusalem

 

Seize the pick, the pen, the spade
the simple plough and harrow

bind up wounds, support the sick

life's not fair's true sportsmanship

our children's gold tomorrow!

 


 

from Mysteries of Light (collection in preparation)

975 Hits
0 Comments

Sharing The Voyage

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It's getting on for five years since most of us said our hasty farewells on the sudden closure of Red Room, surely the grandest literary salon there has ever been. It was a forum for stimulating debate and the time of day, where writers could post blogs and advertise books in respectful company which was representative of many nations and backgrounds and levels of achievement. A truly cosmopolitan place.

This is what I wrote back in 2014:


Okay, I'm trying to smile...

I just wanted to say goodbye in this forum and to thank Ivory, dear Hunti, and all the team for their part in making RR such a fantastic experience and an astronomical learning curve in the best possible sense. Little did I expect', when, having returned to authorship in the 'noughties' and was seeking showcases for work, that I'd stumble upon such a warm, vibrant, cross-cultural, wise, inspiring, dynamic community. You know - I have to say this - it never really was about fame and selling books...for any of us. It was about recharging, sharing and discussing what there was no occasion to discuss in the busy context of 'real time' and the obligations of our daily relationships. It was about examining what really made us writers in the first place and affirming who we are as individuals.

Make no mistake, the warmth, friendship and appreciation I have received in this wonderful cyber salon have been life-changing. And no way would I have thought of producing a book of poetry (with two more in the pipeline!) without it. Like the old pioneers, I have crossed many frontiers in the New World!

I wanted it to go on for ever.

So thank you team and Red Room friends from the bottom of my heart. I wish you all the very best. We shall meet elsewhere, I am sure.

Now it is time to look to new horizons, braced by having known... This may be my last post, but it's not the past lost.

 

That was then.

A few days later, some of us boarded the Green Room barque and set sail on a voyage of our own. Sometimes the waves roll and sometimes there is a tempering breeze. It matters not. Several of you have called this vessel 'a refuge', 'a haven of peace', and have been brave enough to embrace a different technology. So I want to say thank you to the loyal bloggers who value this space and to tell you how much you are appreciated. It would be lovely if a few of those other writers who, at the outset, signed up with us to comment only, would share a post or two of their own. It's a great way to keep in touch!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Recent Comments
Ken Hartke
As the Red Room went under the waves, I was happy that I scrambled into what I thought was a lifeboat along with a group of voyage... Read More
Thursday, 20 December 2018 17:31
Stephen Evans
Hear Hear Ken! - thank you Rosy for your patience with your quirky colleagues, and constant support for this unique literary vent... Read More
Friday, 21 December 2018 00:34
Nicholas Mackey
I second the comments of Ken and Stephen as Green Room is a most venerable successor to Red Room and I thank Rosy very much for he... Read More
Friday, 21 December 2018 15:54
530 Hits
5 Comments

Lord Nelson's Hat

Image courtesy of 123rf (modified)

 

 

Diamonds dazzle Lord Nelson’s hat,
that vintage oak wind-sculpted on the hill.
Light-pierced from a bold, all-seeing sun,
it nobly ponders summer's embers.

Bronzed acorns slip their leather cups,
reverberant upon the ground and proud
their forebears made those 'wooden walls'
on crescent tides that drove invaders back.

Sheep browse a hoof-worn treadmill,
eschewing thorn and thistle where random seed
may take no root, no quarter gained by rising
verdure in the evening blaze of history's days.

Wind burns its timeless song into the soul,
clouds flee to brood and congregate elsewhere,
earth braces for a remnant harvest home.
Another spring, another life, another year...

But Michaelmas is bright with angel mist,
the ether wired with energies of beating wings.
The blinding circle inches westward, a whirling
cursor poised to link to otherworldly scenes...

 


 The tree in winter which was the poem's inspiration

from Mysteries of Light (collection in preparation)

 

Recent Comments
Katherine Gregor
Truly beautiful and evocative.
Friday, 12 October 2018 14:25
Rosy Cole
Thanks for reading and commenting, Katia. I'm so glad you enjoyed it. For me, posting poems is essential to the refining process a... Read More
Thursday, 18 October 2018 15:48
1652 Hits
2 Comments

Writing For Life

We are a small, friendly community who value writing as a tool for developing a brighter understanding of the world and humanity. We share our passions and experiences with one another and with a public readership. ‘Guest’ comments are welcome. No login is required. In Social Media we are happy to include interesting articles by other writers on any of the themes below. Enjoy!


Latest Blogs

Laying bricks is honest work. Hard, straight forward work. It is repetitive. You do one thing and then the next and so on. It can almost rely on muscl...
Night is slowly permeating the evening sky in Place André Malraux.  The rain has eased into a steady drizzle and the yellow street lamps have come on....
Kintsugi (金継ぎ) is the Japanese art of repairing broken items with gold. The gold highlights the area of the breakage, with the idea that the history ...
So there’s this cricket. He comes to visit every August, and he stays in the wall of my bedroom.  His living room seems to be the window frame by my ...
Yes!  I am ready. Finally cut the cord. Made that leap of faith.   When it’s right it will feel right. No explanation necessary. Walk away from...

Latest Comments

Ken Hartke Brickwork
05 November 2019
It caught me by surprise the first time I noticed it. After the trolley man, the house was owned by...
Katherine Gregor Queuing Outside la Comédie Française
03 November 2019
I wish British mothers did, too. Although I suspect that in Paris, too, this is a relatively rare o...
Katherine Gregor Queuing Outside la Comédie Française
03 November 2019
I don't know Congreve well enough to compare. I'm afraid Restauration theatre somewhat escapes me. ...
Stephen Evans Brickwork
03 November 2019
The trolley man’s cigar - wonderful image.
Stephen Evans Queuing Outside la Comédie Française
03 November 2019
So evocative - I wish American mothers would take their children to Moliere.