Mind the mind

Mind is a representative tool inside my head
bring her to dark places, racing thoughts,
over pray and one fragments –
the road to breakdown can be swift,
a schism with the psyche

mind can represent me, I, my, her, hers, him, his
mind can represent our, ours, you, yours
represent with your mind what you need
there are dangerous places, keep your mind
and stay away from unsustainable states

social censure, calamitous lapses, one sided views
communication is what you hear back
issue a few missives for when you get stuck
help yourself, curate the relationships you mind needs
keep them afloat – formulaic responses are no good
to keep the ship going through opinion differences
and resist all those vile ways of corruption

each mind can get to impossible states
frustration, review, narcissism injured, thwarted,
criticism wounds, poisonous misrepresentation,
careful negotiation, mediated for a good outcome
we share with words
for all we have is words
gentle, respectful words

(c) Howard Fox

Read at Charleville Castle at the ‘the night before christmas eve’ concert – Wednesday 23 December 2015

 

 

 

Ardgillan Writers Group Blog II

Peeing on Seaweeds – an open apology to persons unknown.

Not far from where we are now sitting in the Brick Room, I invite you to imagine the Lifeboat House and the views to the Mournes from our walks around the coastal paths of Red Island. Looking nearer, we can see the rocky shore north and east of the Lifeboat House here, is an exposed, slippery, slithery shore with a brown kelp forest exposed at low tide with bladder wrack in rocks above. Walking here among seaweeds and rocks is for the sure footed, for those who can cope with an occasional fall.

Seaweeds detached from the rocky coastline of Red Island in the littoral, the sub-littoral to sub-tidal zones can drift in the sea water, past hardy frosty swimmers, and wash up in cast lines along the South Beach, when the high tide turns. Twice daily, this line of seaweed is fresh gift from the sea for scrutiny by dogs, walkers and storytellers.

Oberon, a three and a half legged, black and white border collie, loves going for his walk on the South Strand, once or twice a week, on the weekday evenings after work, or on a Saturday before or after lunch in Skerries, we all have the opportunity to walk a section of the one or two lines of cast up seaweed.

Seaweeds on the strand line of the beach are green, brown or red – green like the sea lettuce Ulva or the green tassles of Enteromorpha; or brown, like channelled wrack or Pelvetia from the rocks, knotted wrack or Ascophyllum, serrated wrack and bladder wrack or Fucus, fluted oar weed or Saccharina, northern kelp or Laminaria, or sea spaghetti Himanthoria. The red ones are special like the dilisc flaps of Pepper Dulse, or the tiny red epiphytic ones that colonise the stems of old brown feaminagh, like the red Polysiphonia on the batons of kelp or old stems of wrack.

Released from his responsibilities of driving a white van along the windy shore road under the bridge from down the hill from Ardgillan, Oberon arrives in Skerries harnessed and restrained on a 7m retractable lead, ready for his Saturday Walk.

Sure footed, leaps three and a half legged from the cabin to the pavement and up onto the grass. We cross the path, through a gap in the oak baton slatted fence, onto the dunes and down onto the sand. When Oberon arrives bladder full, the seaweed line is quickly targeted. A three second pee, and a splash here and there, after sniffing the seaweed’s potential. The browns of Fucus serratus and Ascophyllum nodosum are the prime targets.

The long batons of the Kelp are a suitable beach toy and plaything of this Ballyanne, New Ross dog. Hurled lead length away, Oberon scurries to retrieve. The more ramified clusters of Ascophyllum are brown bubbly floor mops, when hurled wet land slap on the sand. They are soon behind his canines, in a premolar 1 and 2 grip, as he rat-tossles them hydra-like, shaking the seaweed to within an inch of its rat-tailed life. ‘Those imaginary rats must be really terrified of you, Oberon’

Oberon’s walks on South Beach have passed off without incident, a meeting with Harley, a stop, chat and parley about dogs and peeing on seaweeds, or whether you have more than two dog poop bags, when Oberon goes thrice.

In conversation, peeing on seaweeds is an ideal theme for opening caint with dog owners. Imagine yourself saying ‘Does your dog pee on seaweeds too. I have just noticed that he did. How interesting.’

This day a man in grey trousers fell into conversation on the South Beach. We were so engrossed in the caint about peeing on seeweeds that Oberon took an unbidden liberty. He wet him through to the leg. So, what do you do. Offer to have his trousers taken to the cleaners, or be taken to the cleaners over his trousers? I must say caint about ‘peeing on seaweeds’ worked, and we negotiated for an exemption on the grounds that they were grey work trousers.

When the man got home to his wife, we can imagine the conversation.

‘How was your walk?’

‘I saw you talking.’

‘Did you meet anyone interesting.’

As she continued her Saturday morning house chores, she said.

‘Do you have anything for the washing machine?’

What happens in Skerries, stays in the Brick Room.

© Howard Fox, 26 July 2014, 766 Words

Read at an Ardgillan Writers Group function at the Brick Room – Saturday 26 July 2014

Ardgillan Writers Group Blog I

Kuki-cha Monologue

Sipping kuki-cha from a glazed mug.

Wafts tempt a Tineidaean flying

with hot draughts of elixir;

an organoleptic inhalation of …

petiole liquor steam,

equally sensed by antennae and noses.

Roast hazelnut skins of an aroma

tasting of young hairy edged beech leaf.

Leaves wrapped in manilla origami,

strung from a beechwood chest,

unctuous tea, to rival Paraguayan holly infusions.

Lukewarm, nut cream truffle flavours

perfect for an evening in, of reflection,

as the light caustics guide tea drinking,

cooler, thirst quenching, too,

to the last tongue-tooth slosh.

© Howard Fox, 2014

 

Read at Charleville Castle at the ‘the night before christmas eve’ concert – Wednesday 23 December 2015

 

 

Caribbean Literary Salon Blog II

What (unfinished)

Relax, take it easy, calm your mind, not so fast.

Time is a healer, on your day off.

Isolation is unneccessary, censure is intolerable.

Talk in friendliness about anything,

compose something, talk it out loud,

for your sanity demands it,

connect with other souls, talk about modernity.

Listless in the heat, brain fry complete

deep breath, take it easy,

calm down, not so fast.

Take a walk to a tree,

use your eyes for an exercise

to see what is a twig,

develop the vocabulary to communicate

about an entity external to me,

keep going, screening with your eyes

until you have seen something you did

not know exists, now

take your time, really take it easy,

look at nature, calm, with your mind.

Recreation in nature is an inquisitive enqiry,

what is it like ?

Use your mind to describe this entity,

maybe do a dissection, or a drawing, or a painting,

or a photo, if you are impatient.

Make an image in your mind to communicate with the future

so that we can speak of the same entity,

in the same language, in the same words,

to some other soul, for we are all kindred.

Minister some spiritual kinship, by mentoring

this exercise in clarity, calm from the anxieties

of a distressed mind, a bit of visual yoga.

All you need is a tree, standing nose to a low branch,

shortsighteness helps, and tropical sunlight, to give good acuity,

for to see what is this entity, before me.

I am not the first to need something external,

to drive my tortured concerns away, but perhaps

with the spark of curiosity, looking is something my eyes can do

mindlessly, contribute kinship with that entity,

that needs a bit of dew, and respect too.

Calm the mind from its anxieties

is the exercise here, a diversion perhaps

if it works perhaps, perhaps, perhaps

the scales on the eyes of your perception,

will need a gentle rub, why torture your mind,

with intolerable situations, take a deep breath

and let it all go, keep your eyes open, and

release yourself from the tyrrany of why.

Why, for you have now delved

into the torture of what !

(c) Howard Fox, June 2013

Views: 43

Tags: poetry, tree, visual, yoga

Comment by Howard Fox on June 7, 2013 at 9:16am

In composing this piece as a reaction to Roger Carter’s Why (unfinished), I am conscious of writing the same poem, again and again, on the Caribbean Literary Salon site, with different words. Such a preoccupation it has been warned against, and is common among those who express ideas in lyrical and poetic forms. My concern with the cognitive method of botany is pervasive and a difficult theme to escape from and a lot more needs to be written on this theme. I am also drawing on a conversation with a retired bryologist, Donal Synnott, over the use of the words tyrrany and torture – in botany, the need to provide polite society with scientific names for plants could be considered a tyranny or torture, formalised in binomial nomenclature by Carl Linnaeus, over 250 years ago. The predictive nature of the species and generic hypotheses of science is profound and a pleasure to use. Now we are in the midst of a phase of accommodating genetic information in the botanical synthesis to the detriment of a classical botanical education in morphology or form. In providing this stimulus to Caribbean botany, I trust this Salon will appreciate how to assimilate plants into their national cultures, and this will encourage a few who on the fringes of a botanical enlightement, might take cognitive steps in their observation methods to improve their perception for and respect for plants, that possess a subversive lack of an obvious utilitarian role in the society we live.

Caribbean Literary Salon Blog I

The ways are clear for us to walk

up the vales of L’Ivrogne

to tarry by a fencepost

while tethered cattle look on

the heat, the flies, the brilliance

of the white Ochrolechia thallus

sorediate in places, something quite routine

a form from the Caribik, is what we have seen

Carefully collected, numbered 29185

preserved in East Lansing for everyone

A particular piece of Soufriere that catches the noonday sun

the fencepost crumbled fifty years along

by the Cacao orchard on the way to Fond Doux.

The forms that surround us, we do really see,

we have to set a syllabus to educate us in them

the form is just once off, not another thallus within arms reach

a white mysterious crustose Ochrolechia of the Caribik

for our curiosity. The concept is mid century and was Lecanora before.

Context is supplied in Cuba by Wright or Guadeloupe by Duss

that is what Vainio wrote in 1915 I hope, but this hypothesis

must be read again, revise up on the history his worry said

Looking back, maybe someone in future will see how to group this,

another, maybe three, in a logic framework that we can all use

if we can perceive the soufrieriness of thee

For hail Brodo, it is a white sorediate crust, only one can you be

that a whiff of creativity is appropriate to solve the mystery.

Comment by Althea Romeo-Mark on March 25, 2013 at 6:35am

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Interesting poem. I do feel like I am on a journey with you, a little exploration of the natural environment to see what it has to offer us and tell us.  It takes us on a botanical and historical journey, and yet manages to have some rhythm and rhyme. I think it could be edited to give it more shape and form.  Break some of the longer lines, but do not break the rhythm.

Comment by Anthony RICHARDS on December 28, 2012 at 7:35pm
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Ok. I admit that you made me look!

I “googled” Okrolechia.

Regards, and thanks for all the assistance, this year.

Have a great New Year

Tony