What is this all about?
Posted: April 21, 2012 Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: Helen Carey, Marcism Today, Pembrokeshire, Photography, poems, Poetry, themarcistagenda, Wales 10 Comments
Welcome to the Marcist Agenda.
It’s all about –
POETRY – My latest poetry collection, Marcism Today, is available at Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk 
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
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
To err is human, to Arr is pirate
Posted: September 19, 2018 Filed under: Uncategorized Leave a commentMy last post was a sad one…but there will (I hope and trust) always be room for happiness too.
It’s International Talk Like A Pirate day…what other reason do I need?! Greetings me hearties!
Maisie, always there.
Posted: September 19, 2018 Filed under: Uncategorized 2 CommentsMaisie was the last dog to be owned by my parents in law, Derek and Rosemary. She became ours following the death of Derek, as ‘Bloss’ was unable to care for her (though Maisie remained a faithful friend and source of pleasure to Bloss ,until the latter’s death)
Maisie was a rescue dog, from Morfa Head. Part collie, maybe some corgi, definitely something speedy in the genes. She strove to be good (except when sneaking on to the forbidden sofa). She loved to bark (though fell silent towards the end) to chase flies, to chase Phoebe! She was almost obsessed with chasing ‘the squeaky’ and hard to get off the chase, until Helen invented “Maisie, 1, 2, 3 ” upon which she would retreat to the bed, or her sofa.
She was brave, faithful and true. There is , for us at least, no shame in mourning the passing of a dog as much as we would a person, for she (they) are truly : Family.
We will miss her.
Maisie – always there
Then…
The walks are getting shorter
The nights longer
(Sometimes I feel like baying at the moon)
A sense of impending separation
Ever stronger.
Swallows and house martins bombarding the September skies
Apples, thickening, ripening
Blackberries bursting
Sloe berries sumptuous
Carningli
Silvered seas
Mountain ash blood berried red
It was, desperately beautiful
This autumn day
She was…
Obsessed with catching flies
A jumper of style
And stiles
White socked
Tanks in the distance trembling
Great Bedwyn bed jumping
(“Get down Maisie”
Bloss’ morning cry)
Ireland swimming
Nearly dying
Whilst we were in Utah
Ever pleasing
And eager to do so
Plucky
Lucky
Running free
1-2-3
And now…
The house is hushed
Stilled
Morfa Head muffled, mourning
The sea silenced,
Jackdaws screaming an unintended lament
A buzzard dips its wings in sun seasoned tribute
The wind whips and stuns the air.
Meet us on the rainbow bridge?
Let’s hope, suppose…
Meantime, ours to cry,
Memories may be the way to cope.
Ours the loss
Count the cost
The severing of the last link perhaps
To Derek, to Bloss
Oh, the heart hammering
The emotions bludgeoned
Battered
“Our little soldier”
…off she goes.
Alcohol Concern | Blog | It’s not about the alcohol! Helping communities to drink more healthily
Posted: September 3, 2018 Filed under: Uncategorized Leave a commentHow do you get ‘ordinary’ social drinkers thinking and talking about alcohol? Probably not by talking to them about alcohol… Andrew Misell looks at the legacy of the Communities Together project.
— Read on www.alcoholconcern.org.uk/blog/its-not-about-the-alcohol
This is neither poetry, nor photography, but it’s a piece about the work I was privileged to be involved with for some three years or so, and I want to share the learning as widely as possible.
A red kite, but no osprey (dedicated to Catrin Finch and Seckou Keita…and the Dyfi Osprey Project)
Posted: August 2, 2018 Filed under: Photo, Poem | Tags: Catrin Finch, Dinas Osprey Project, flowers, Harp, Kora, music, Pembrokeshire, Photography, Poetry, Seckou Keita, Senegal, Wales 2 Comments
(PHOTOS by Marc Mordey – the Penrallt Eagle, created by the blacksmiths
at Dinas, Pembrokeshire)
(The music, like the bird itself
Soars
Above the Dyfi Estuary,
and over the mangroves
fumbling their way to the
Isle de Palétuviere
as the pirogues drift down glassy water
and a pelican dominates the jetty)
In Pembrokeshire,
a red kite
eddying the cloudless sky
imperious above our crop dusted fields
might spy
siskin, finch, wood pigeon
a thrush, jack hammering a snail
between two stone dogs
keeping their green mossed vigil
A young jackdaw
striking a cormorant pose
bewitched by the chimney
beating time on the ridge tiles
(It’s hot, this year)
There are swallows skimming
and Amazons at sail in the bay
muted blue below
(and the harp still swoons
and the kora
flying fingered fishing line
rocks a gentle rhythm
whilst I am at sea
in a pyjama striped hammock)
Blue tits, dipping for water
in the stone bird bath
that celebrates a golden grand-parented wedding
of 50 years ago
There are lilies blooming
amidst the dying embers of foxglove
and jasmine perfume teasing
romping in a green gaged balloon of bush
St John’s Wort in full throttle
And pink flushed, sunset resplendent
oliander, a whisper of Greece
and the road to Milapotamos
that we took
so long ago
(and the opsrey, Dinas, fledges
takes fleeting, freewheeling flight
and feels Wales on its wings
maybe anticipates
instinct, deep chested and hidden
Senegal sunshine
fat flowing river
sea hawk’s delight)
The honeysuckle is draped
and honeyed
whilst the weather vane is stilled
the umbrella stifled with gaffer tape mends
no breeze
no sirocco
blowing the wind southerly
from Africa
to lighten the atmosphere.
(but, no fear
for the music still plays,
swaying, stirring, evoking
the sea,
Carningli
Dinas Head
Morfa Head
and the Land of Song beyond
still here
still here)
Four questions – an insight into a writer’s thinking.
Posted: July 26, 2018 Filed under: Uncategorized Leave a commentvia Four questions
Remembering Derek.
Posted: July 16, 2018 Filed under: Uncategorized 1 CommentThis poem was written a few years ago now. But today is the 14th anniversary of the death of Derek Beazley. A lovely man. Cherished and honoured. Derek, this is for you.
(Photo of Carningli by MM)
Ten years on
You are remembered,
Cherished memories.
Perhaps ethereal ?
Substance, somehow , immaterial.
Yet,
Your cairn still stands solid,
The view sweeping Nevern,Newport Bay
and into the great blue yonder.
The gorse whispering,
Catapulting
Honey dripping scents
Across mudded marsh,
Rocks streaked and grey,
And heather
Impervious to grazing
Imperious with weather.
Ever the day,
The green backed mountain
Bowling skywards away.
The sea stumbling over Cat Rock
Cat calling gulls
Wind wards sailing.
Larks rising in harmony,
Carningli too,
Cloud ridden and proud.
The ghosts
Iron aged
Must have gazed in wonder
When you emerged
Uphill riding
November misted
Your dogs, ponies
Unerring horse sense,
Picking your way along the paths
The bridle way swarthed and steep.
And now?
No more miles for you
” Before you sleep, before you sleep.”
Sometime farmer, gardener
Mountain man and guide,
Hotelier, meeter, greeter
So much more beside.
Husband, companion,
Fond father with the
Laconic film star drawl.
Startling grandchildren by
Jumping
Wolf like
From behind the wall.
You were Everyman
Welcome friend
And
“Speed the parting guest”
Now departed, yes
But ever shining steady
Amidst
The brightest
And
Amongst the very best.
