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 Springador, Jack, who keeps a firm paw on the work-and-walkies schedule!

Long Expected

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Between the Horizon and the Foreground
lies the focus of perspective.

Between the Idea and the Vision
lies undaunted faith and a steady eye.

Between the lamp and the flame
lies the replenished oil.

Between the Servant and the Master
lies humility and undying trust.

Between the Crisis and Deliverance
lies providence and disguised blessing.

Between the Winter and the Spring
lies the Epiphany.

Between Paradise Lost and New Jerusalem
lies perpetual Renewal.

Between the Messenger and the Nativity
lies incarnation within a human frame.

Between the Father and the Son
lies an earthly Mother's love.

Between the Desire and the Arrival
lies the fusion of the spheres.

 

 

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from The Twain, Poems of Earth and Ether

Copyright

© © Rosy Cole 2009, 2012 & 2013

Recent Comments
Anonymous
This is an engaging poem full of symbolism that would send me to the library for research. But the lines invite pondering and dall... Read More
Sunday, 30 November 2014 22:10
Anonymous
Rosy, I went over your poem again this morning and it reminded me of an argument I've had for years, especially with professionals... Read More
Monday, 01 December 2014 15:19
Rosy Cole
Thank you for reading the poem and commenting so appreciatively. It's not really one you can take in all at once and it invites th... Read More
Monday, 01 December 2014 17:15
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Odyssey


 


On Thanksgiving Day we acknowledge our dependence. William Jennings Bryan

Give thanks for unknown blessings already on their way. Native American saying

What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us. R W Emerson



Thanksgiving
Hope springing
Ocean defying
Nations singing


Keel unshaken
Stem to stern
Grit well proven
In the storm


Victuals supplied
Ingenuity tried
New acres betide
God's blessing

 

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Wishing all American friends and colleagues a Joyful Thanksgiving!

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright

© ©Rosy Cole 2012 & 2014

Recent Comments
Virginia M Macasaet
Amen, amen, AMEN!!!
Thursday, 27 November 2014 21:50
Anonymous
Before I get to the poem, which I did enjoy, I have to comment on the Native American saying. It comes surprisingly close to a lin... Read More
Saturday, 29 November 2014 04:53
Anonymous
As you can see my machine still scrambles the lines after I submit. Sorry. I guess I have to bring in outside help.
Saturday, 29 November 2014 04:56
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Swan Song

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On the Feast of St Cecilia, November 22


The days are sweet with lavender,
rosemary, hibiscus and lilies,
bees suck petal-satin throats,
thrum a hum of multiverse,
melting veils, imparting honey
to chaste Cecilia's song.
Emollient the olive groves and tart the lemon.
The vines are drenched in peridot
and geckoes dart among the leaves.
Night crickets throb their notes in sward
and moonstruck pines whisper of the sea,
a soothing, plangent litany.

Footfalls upon the tessarae:
wafted air strums kithara strings,
proposing chords celestial
and plucking nerves.
He is come out of the Alban Hills,
a patrician youth whose profile scythes,
keen and lean; relief of chiselled limbs,
taut with harnessed power,
a pagan son whose object deities
beguile, confuse and disappoint.
He is a god himself, Valerian,
rooted in rock like the plant.

Now the string bends to the arrow
and nature reins her mettled team.
How can fidelity to Christ,
the Son of Man, be reconciled
with obedience to parents
and to unreplenished earth?
Dashed promises, like amphorae
shattered upon ferrous earth,
let spill the Water and the Wine
of heavenly banquets.
This marriage of uneven yoke
must stake or break Cecilia!

The song dies in her breast.
What manner of having and not having
is the truth of it? But vows!
The dilemma has her seraph mute.
Speak, Guardian! she cries,
bending the knee in heart-wrung prayer.
Fear not, the Angel says, be wedlocked,
explain the plight, bid thy spouse
meet me in the Appian Way,
trust, and he shall change his tune,
in honour bound and shared virginity
to bear the Cross of Christ in melody.

Noble Valerian, yet a heathen,
so loves his wife, he dreams her dream
of flesh dilute in ecstasy of being,
no ebbing passion, no turgid clay,
and strikes out on the flinted road
only to meet the Blessed Pope himself.
Urban's eloquence spurs bold revision,
points out a bearing strange but close at hand.
Polyphony enchants Valerian's return,
the bridal bower, thronged with lark and thrush,
rings with blended harmonies
of mortal and immortal themes.

A chaplet of roses, barbed with Thorns,
adorns Valerian's brow. The Angel smiles.
Cecilia's braid of lilies honours
an ever-bountiful Madonna,
but no sword has pierced her soul as yet.
The golden couple tread the Narrow Way,
and strive and sow in grief and gladness
under a jealous Emperor's rule,
their simple faith and sunlit vista obscure,
a threat to pride and overweening power.
Be sure that buckling reason will hold sway
and rob the life that yields eternity.

They fell the bridegroom where he stands,
neither do his convert kin escape.
Three times the axe is laid on sweet Cecilia's neck
and three times is repelled. 


Her songs of praise they cannot sever,
even as God's Mercy claims her.
So Love released induces this world's tears,
till every sound becomes the Music of the Spheres.

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Copyright

© © Rosy Cole 2009, 2012 & 2013

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The Grit Under The Shell

As it's October, Breast Cancer Awareness month, I'm revisiting a post which first appeared on pilgrimrose.com two years ago. I hope it will give courage to any reader going through a similar experience just now. 

 

The turn of events this summer has caused me to reflect on the nature of fear and how it distorts perspective. The chimera takes on a palpable form, prompting actions that aren't contained in an imagined world, but have negative consequences, even fatal consequences, in the human arena when released into the ether. What is war but fear of another's capability to destroy us, or to sequester those resources we deem essential to wealth and happiness?

Fear is the first and last enemy.

Behind every fear lurks the shadow of death. Death is many things and 'death' as transition from the mortal state may be the least of them. Death is what happens when we can no longer see those we love. But death assumes other guises, always vanishing from the corner of our vision whilst remaining unnervingly present in the wings. Fear of losing power, possession and control over circumstances, when a desired and seemingly philanthropic end justifies dubious and destructive means, isn't that the real death?

On November 1 (All Saints Day) I'll be undergoing surgery for breast cancer. Yes, it's the Big C word, but I'm lucky. It's not far advanced and is not the most dangerous form. But there are complications as regards the actual site. It's just possible that it wouldn't have given any trouble. I had no symptoms, so no inkling that anything was wrong. It was picked up by a routine check which is ironic because I feel healthier than for years. Since then, a series of scans and biopsies seems to indicate that, so far, it hasn't spread. I'm hoping and praying that lab tests after surgery will confirm that. Chemo and radiotherapy are likely to be on the agenda but need a careful 'balance of risks' assessment for those approaching the 'season of mists and mellow fruitfulness'. I'm not at all sure I'll opt for routine treatments. There's no right or wrong. There are choices.

As a vegetarian, almost a vegan, dietary strategy has needed only a little tweaking. It's been interesting how I've experienced cravings for those ingredients which will best fight off the disease (this, before I knew why!) Honey, lemon, cayenne*, pak choi, parsley, turmeric, green green leaves, apricots, almonds, brazils, black pepper, olives, berries, ginger, green tea, black tea, red and black grapes, Mediterranean herbs...organic foods, and goats' cheese which hides no harmful bovine growth hormone. These things not only strengthen the immune system, but some contain specific substances that actively target cancer cells and the way oestrogen acts upon them. There's a lot of academic research out there about natural aromatase inhibitors which has excited and intrigued biochemists. Dramatic results have been obtained on some quite advanced cancers. I guess it won't be long before pharmaceutical companies are patenting our hedgerows and vegetable patches as Monsanto has done with broccoli! This, aside from what can be achieved through professional homoeopathic treatment for individual constitution.

But I'd be lying if I pretended this blow hasn't been a rollercoaster, especially in the early stages. We have to remember, though,that nothing is a guarantee of life or death. We naturally look for securities, but to expect a settled life on this fluctuating planet is to be prepared to live with illusion. The only thing to do is to get on with living and look over this hurdle into the wide blue yonder. I can't do as some are able to do, deny the diagnosis – though, strangely, there is evidence that it may work - but I can, through the strengthening grace of God, deny it's power to instill fear and to prejudice the future.

I am not a victim. I am not a statistic. Statistics may illustrate broad trends. What is factored in, what is left out, who construes the results, all call for penetrating analysis. I am, quite simply, in the hands of God and grateful beyond words for the kind thoughts and prayers of friends, especially as family is small. Prayer keeps us afloat and prevents us from being pulled down into the undertow, no matter that the circumstances themselves may appear unaltered.

Two things I've learnt from the past. One, that some of the most joyful and enriching experiences arrive in the midst of trauma and crisis – how is that possible? Two, that there needs to be irritating grit under the shell for the oyster to weep its precious tears of pearl.

If you happen to be facing the enemy just now, I hope that some of this, and the quotes that follow, will encourage you.

God bless!


The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek. Joseph Campbell


All is well, tho' faith and form/ Be sunder'd in the night of fear. Alfred Lord Tennyson


When we fear things I think that we wish for them... every fear hides a wish. David Mamet


Fear is the parent of cruelty. James Anthony Froude


No passion so effectually robs the mind of all its powers of acting and reasoning as fear. Edmund Burke


I will show you fear in a handful of dust. T S Eliot


Fear has many eyes and can see things underground. Miguel de Cervantes


Oh, we can populate the dark with horrors, even we who think ourselves informed and sure, believing nothing we cannot measure or weigh. I know beyond all doubt that the dark things crowding in on me either did not exist or were not dangerous to me, and still I was afraid. John Steinbeck


The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear. Nelson Mandela


That's all it takes, one drop of fear to curdle love into hate. James M Cain


A man that flies from his fear may find that he has only taken a short cut to meet it. J R R Tolkien


Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. John 14:27

 

*My blog about cayenne

Copyright

© © Rosy Cole 2014 & 2012

Recent Comments
Katherine Gregor
Very beautiful, and very touching, Rosy. Thank you.
Thursday, 30 October 2014 09:24
Rosy Cole
Thank you for stopping by and commenting so kindly, Katia. I live in Hope... ... Read More
Thursday, 30 October 2014 15:32
Anonymous
Deeply moving and beautifully written. Also enlightening, brave, strong, and incredibly generous. Thank you, Rosy.
Thursday, 30 October 2014 17:42
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4 Comments

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Latest Comments

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I intend to try with the cap locks on, but in a quiet, subtle kind of way :-)
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It's true, you can see more of them, and if paintings, details at closer and clearer quarters, at yo...
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I agree, Stephen. It's the simple things.
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