It’s all about –
POETRY – I have a collection of poems written during the last decade or so and plan to start publishing them, one or two at a time, every couple of weeks or so (or a little more often than that, if the mood takes me and the wind is in the right direction!)
PHOTOGRAPHY – I want to share images , from day to day life, work (and other) travels, sometimes landscapes, sometimes people or animals, and also quirky little things, odd angles, that catch my eye, and might please yours? More of these can be found on our website at http://www.thestudioatpenrallt.co.uk
PERCEPTIONS OF AGEING – I want to use this as an occasional platform to write and think about ageing. Having worked for a homelessness charity, in mental health services within the NHS, and as a freelancer, my working life gravitates more and more towards thinking about and hoping to influence the care, support and respect we offer to our elders. More about my work experience and CV can be found on http://www.marcmordey.co.uk
HELEN CAREY’S BOOKS – And finally, I want to direct you towards the work of my favourite writer, my wife Helen Carey, because, if you like what I write – you’ll LOVE what she writes! see Helen’s page here on this blog.
So, here it is, The Marcist Agenda – please read on, hope you will enjoy and be stimulated by what you see and I would very much like to hear back from you on what you read.
Faster than a herd of turtles! Cheers! Marc
Finding Inspiration – author Helen Carey recalls the inspiration behind her bestselling wartime LAVENDER ROAD series.Posted: November 11, 2013
What would you have had us remember
As you mustered in the trenches,
Around the gun emplacements?
As you hopped into the cockpit
And flung yourself skywards,
Or plumbed the depths
Submerged and submarined?
Should we remember your bravery?
Your mockery? Your cynicism in the face of duty?
Your gut wrenching anxiety,
Your fear, your mortal pain,
As you were killed and wounded,
Again and again and again?
Do the flags, the parades,
The preachers, the cavalcades,
Act as sufficient homage?
Or would peace, justice, equality
Be more deserving of your patronage?
It is true.
We must continue
To remember you.
My contribution to Poetry Week : A poem conceived in the quiet of a church service, anticipating “shock and awe” ahead.Posted: October 11, 2013
A confirmation service in middle England – on the eve of war.
The sun streams through stained glass
Whilst the United Nations
Remains at impasse.
The saints gazed sympathetically
Upon the massed ranks
Of the well to do
Whilst in the Azores
Various – mostly closing – diplomatic doors
Were slamming, presidentially.
The Bishop’s deputy gave a pleasant homily
About joining the Bread of Life dining club
Whilst many a distracted family
Were eagerly awaiting
Sunday lunch in a riverside pub.
The fashion sense at this august gathering
Left little to the imagination
I was not aware that mink draped over the shoulder
Remained in style
Only serving confirmation
That God, perhaps,
Maybe for a little while
Had popped out of the building.
And amidst the prayers for peace and justice
The threat and tumour
Of impending war
Is ever now.
A sunny September day
The train has whisked me away
To do my duty
In search of booty
Already the summer
Seems a ghost
A whispered sunlit kiss
A glimpse of bliss
Now beached, becalmed and boat house stowed
A friend died
The oyster catchers cried
Sandcastles were constructed
Surfboards, golf clubs, wet suits were duly dusted
And winters sullen cough was
By sunlightened lungs
Other friends came and stayed
House martins roosted
Rabbit numbers were flagrantly boosted
As swallows caroused and played
And wrens gave way to bullfinch
And fruit, flower and grumbling vegetables
Were seeded, weeded
And pies and sauces made.
The side swiped fields are fat with harvest promise now
School, work and other such tyranny
Reels us in
Some such aspects might drain me
But ultimately the song of summer
Remains, a snapshot in the mind
A storehouse of gold, albeit in kind
To warm, feed, sustain me.
September song #2 ( for you)
> Harvest gold fields fractured by
> The cloud greyed green trees
> A small posse of piebald ponies
> Forlorn in the autumn mist and rain
> The train fleeing westward
> And me?
> I am gladly
> homeward bound
Crowns the bay
As I stare hard
On this perfect summer’s day
At the blue-green world
Yawning beneath me.
Gasping to the top
I clasp at stone
And lay a new gift –
A blessing, ordered to complement
My bent –pin wishing well thoughts –
Atop the gathering cairn.
My legs construed
To return me to you
And your melon scented kisses.
You – the jewel
In my Carningli crown.
We got married, 7 years ago today, at Elk View Lodge in Fernie, Canada, with Mary Jane Leppard officiating and John, Min, Katryn and Gwyn to cheer us on! And then our great friends, Donna and Murray, who were there in Calgary, alongside my mum, to greet us and toast our good fortune.
This is by way of a thank you to them – but most of all, to my lovely Helen.
If you want to stay in a beautiful place in Canada we recommend http://www.elkviewlodge.com
It was our wedding day and
in the moon capped, early morning light,
the one I love the best,
I watched you sleep,
your blue bandana streaking your rest.
Pretty in pink
and pillowed breathing.
Wedding day dreaming?
No stags, nor hens, the night preceding,
but two humming birds milked the late night scents.
Later, great horned owls, two again,
ghost winged past us,
a stately proceeding through the pines.
It all made sense,
these avian blessings.
You and I, entwined.
The sunlight cracked the morning mountains,
and on the day, the view
emboldened us once more.
The jagged, lizard spine bowled us over,
bouldered beauty abounded.
Under oath, you took me,
and I you.
And we were proud,
to be so
Overhead, two eagles soared,
Promises, destinies, futures,
tried, tested, assured.
Later that day,
waxwings flashed across an emerald coloured lake,
a woodpecker belted out a treetop drumbeat.
We paddled gently, made no mistake
and made a wedding breakfast
in British Colombian heat.
Driving back, Calgary bound,
a pick up truck split the prairie side
streaming a dust dirt cloud.
Bluebird boxes decorated our journey.
We revelled in the wedding day drive,
Time moved on,
birds, holidays, all took flight.
We are in a different place
but find ourselves
fat and full
wedding day delight.