Autumn Leaves

Nature in her wisdom

makes way for another season;

Summer acquiesces –

makes us muse upon the reason.

Now Autumn’s inspired paint-brush

has burnished Summer’s trees:

has stippled, veined and spotted

and prettied up her leaves.

Amber, ochre, scarlet leaves,

drift down as light as whispers,

to kiss this Mother Earth of ours

like hushed and soft-sung vespers.

The light is muted, delicate –

sky quilted grey and blue,

as Zephyr’s cheeks, extended, blow

awry the multi-coloured carpet,

oh so new.

 

© Copyright Joy Lennick 2022

Photo by Jeremy Thomas on Unsplash

 

 

 

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An interview with Seumas Gallacher

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!

I pondered long and hard on the best way to introduce renowned author Seumas Gallacher, and the first word which came to mind was Charismatic (full of charisma and charm) and – as he calls me ‘m’Lady’ – thought it entirely apt and fitting.

Like most inhabitants of the planet, we can only fervently hope that 2021 is hugely improved on last year. Surely, from many viewpoints, there has never been a more tumultuous twelve months since World War II!

So, we can do no better than respect the obvious and kick-start the year with someone as interesting, capable, talented and entertaining as Seumas, who is known to many users of the internet and a myriad other souls scattered all over the planet, more especially those who read! Naturally, some folk know more about our author than others, so I’ll now switch to first person and ask Seumas some direct questions.

Me. Hi m’Lord. First off, the warmest welcome to my home in sunny Spain. Please make yourself comfortable. May I offer you a tipple, or would you prefer tea or coffee?

S. Diet Coke is my poison of choice, thanks, with ice – lemon not necessary…

Me. What is the most enduring memory you have of childhood, and where was it spent?

S. So many, good, and some not so terrific… my infant school days, as a totality, I think, where I was completely comfortable…

Me. Is there anyone or anything special that lingers in your mind from those days?

S. The teaching staff, all of whom were ladies, Miss Knox who taught us all how to knit and do crochet, even the boys … Miss MacLeod, who gave every child as much time as she felt necessary to help them, and Mrs Burnside, who ruled her class with a siren voice, but a gentle giantess in her own way, and an absolute hero of a headmaster, Carl Caplan (you will read about him in my memoir).

Me. Were you born brainy, or did you have to work hard to reach your goal/s?

S. It seems I was supposedly a bright child, and have always had a fascination for learning things… I have SO MUCH trivia in my head from through the years… I have a capacity for remembering detail from years ago…

Me. Does writing fulfil you? And have you hankered after any other role in life?

S. Writing certainly has fulfilled much of my desire of being able to express myself… to unload a lot of things from my inner being, especially in my poetry… I believe that real poetry is a highly selfish, personal thing, a matter of taking emotions and wrapping words around them… and I have no qualms about that… as for other career ambitions, I would dearly love to have been allowed to sing on stage for a living.

Me. If you could grant just one wish for the betterment of the world, what would it be?

S. Let all Mankind take note of the second part of their description…’kind’… and ease all manner of anxieties and sufferings anywhere it exists around the planet.

Me. If you were invisible, what mischief would you get up to?

S. If somehow it were possible to get invisibly into political lawmakers’ offices and rewrite all the laws to equalise pay and conditions for all of the front line and support services people who sustain our hospitals and other areas of public service.

Me. Describe your favourite way of relaxing.

S. Watching professional English Premier League football on television… in Bahrain, we get every match televised live… I also get therapeutic pleasure from being active on the few social network channels that I indulge.

Me. Do you have a bucket list, and if so, what’s on it?

S. Not a bucket list as such, as that almost accepts an ‘end’ to everything… I would like to be financially well off enough to spend a lot of my life travelling the world meeting fellow writers.

Me. What do you feel the most passionate about?

S. Depends what day you ask me that question, as there are so many things… but I am big on ‘giving back’ in many small ways on a daily basis if I can, and not letting people know about it…

Me. Pet hate?

S. Bullies in any form or station in life, in business or in private life… I generally meet them head on, for better or worse.

Me. Which two people would you like to have dinner with? (Dead or alive.)

S. Peter Ustinov and Billy Connolly… but again, ask me on other days and there will be plenty of different pairings…

Me. Name two favourite pieces of music.

S. Anything haunting from the Celtic genre, and the past concerts of The Highwaymen (Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings, Johnny Cash, and the magnificent Kris Kristofferson).

Me. Name two favourite authors.

S. So many again to choose, but Charles Dickens and John Steinbeck are always high on my list of favourite literary giants.

Me. Name a Favourite holiday destination.

S. The small township of Tobermory on the beautiful Isle of Mull in the Scottish Inner Hebrides, where I lived and worked as a young man in my late teens.

Me. What is your favourite genre, Seumas?

S. Anything by the old authors from a century and more ago, as they had a command of the English language which I adore and rejoice in reading.

Me. Why do you enjoy writing so much? And which one of your books means the most to you?

S. Exercising my mind has always been something I have been conscious of… use it or lose it! My favourite among all my writing is the autobiography… I like reading about the guy I became.

Me. How would you like to be remembered?

S. As someone who would rather do right by people than otherwise…

Me. That wasn’t too painful, was it, Seumas! It’s been great having you here and learning so much more about you. Live long and be happy. Cheers!

S. Thanks for allowing me space on your pages, m’Lady!

© Copyright Joy Lennick 2021

Seumas’ website is here and you can purchase his books here on Amazon.

 

 

Nature’s Pen

Nature has written a worthy essay

on the barren face of the soil.

Put hope in the hearts

and smiles on the lips

of those who sweat and toil.

 

Verdant exclamation marks,

paragraphs of green –

the sky a beauteous back-cloth

on which the words can lean.

 

Clustered, scented flowers,

the wonder of a rose –

all these and more combine to make

the very essence of its prose.

 

© Joy Lennick 2018

 

 

The aftermath of 9/11

No ‘Phoenix from the ashes,’

they were birds of steel,

filled with hateful intentions:

two objects aimed to kill.

 

Long after eulogies were said:

guilt, anguish, recriminations soundly put to bed…

cherished memories floated on battered minds

that lifted the spirits and a kind

 

of healing process then began,

Dry-eyed, the well was spent –

a funny limerick was found…

a loving note he meant to send.

 

A breeze-borne waft of jasmine –

and she is there –

a burnished copper leaf

reminds you of her hair

 

A favourite walk, café, a tune…

memories held so dear.

You pray that time will not prune

too much and leave the futile fear

that one day the memory of their

earthly presence will all but disappear.

 

But fear not –

for while you still live,

in your heart loved ones live on too

and will always: forever, be a part of you.

 

© Joy Lennick 2018

Picture copyright: REUTERS/Brendan McDermid/File Photo

To Skype or not to Skype, that is the question

The first message was explicit:

(I imagined him cock-sure and slick),

I giggled but quickly recovered,

got rid of him quick with a click…

 

I’m ‘spoken for’ and happily married,

and let’s face it I’m ‘over the hill…’

but it took me back decades of years,

provided an egotistical thrill.

 

‘Twas as if I’d sent out a photo,

‘doctored’ and faintly erotic,

where my boobs were in place,

and an unwrinkled face

suggested a jolly good frolic.

 

Dear reader, I’m totally innocent,

except for writing online;

don’t wear fancy drawers,

(prefer metaphors),

although the thought was sublime.

 

These days my pleasures are simple:

coffee on patio, pastry snack,

hot chocolate at night,

a book and ‘to write,’

not gymnastics in bed on my back.

 

What triggered this poem you may wonder,

I’ll tell you the truth – it’s a fact,

in twenty-four hours,

I was suddenly ‘showered’

by four ‘Generals, ‘ a ‘sir’ and a ‘hack.’

 

Of course most of ‘the others’

intentions were pure, white as snow,

but it’s safe to be wary,

and quite necessary,

for how is a woman to know?!

 

True fact: A while ago, I received no less than half a dozen requests to Skype with various gentlemen (?). Now, I’m fascinated by people, but appreciate that ‘online’ one has to be wary of who one is exchanging words with! I’m a push-over for lonely souls, so have to be ‘on guard,’ hence the above poem.

 

© Joy Lennick 2018

Picture © copyright replaceface.tumblr.com/

 

On characterisation / a poem

Being human, all writers have strengths and weaknesses and enjoy/dislike different aspects of their craft. Plots and sub plots are, of course, vital, as is the balance between action, dialogue, description, etc., but, for me, one of my favourite tasks – or I should say joys – is endowing a character with a personality and physical image through description.

Jean Wilson, a writing colleague, who has now retired to Torquay in the UK, was a favoured member of a small group I take as group leader for the University of the Third Age, in Torrevieja, Spain. Here is her take on a certain man who helped people a short, brilliant, story, she wrote.

‘Harold was a person one endeavoured to avoid if at all possible. He was an intense, blustery man of somewhat large stature, which of itself failed to hide his poorly controlled thinking ability, rather like a failed computer made in a third world country, which hadn’t yet got its act together. He was certainly low in gigabytes, and wanting in RAM. One couldn’t be certain that the keys struck would register as expected and a whole load of input seemed to have no relation to its later output. Harold’s idea of taking a short-cut was to fall down the stairs; and his confidence in himself took no account of the extent of his limitations. Any unfortunate encounter with him left many people feeling immense hopelessness in the integrity of the workings of Nature. Here was a man who told everyone he was a born again Xtian. It didn’t occur to him that he hadn’t been one in the first place, but he liked the reaction it had and tapped one of those pleasure seeking nerves which made him feel good for the day, enjoying the illusion of people’s undivided attention.’

Thanks Jean.

And now, as light relief from the really terrible happenings on this precious, be-devilled planet of ours, is a poem.

Most long-term Facebook, Twitter and Skype users, now and then get odd messages…And when I started receiving several requests from ‘Generals’ to Skype them, it struck me as amusing and didn’t quite ring true. This led to the writing of a poem, which I hope will make you giggle or grin…

TO SKYPE OR NOT TO SKYPE, THAT IS THE QUESTION

The first message was explicit:
(I imagined him cock-sure and slick),
I giggled but quickly recovered,
got rid of him quick with a click.

I’m spoken for and happily married,
and let’s face it “over the hill…”
but it took me back decades of years,
provided an egotistical thrill.

‘Twas as if I’d sent out a photo,
doctored and faintly erotic:
where my boobs were “in place,”
and an unwrinkled face
suggested a jolly good frolic.

Dear reader I’m totally innocent,
except for writing on line;
don’t wear fancy drawers
(prefer metaphors)
although the thought was sublime.

These days my pleasures are simple:
coffee on patio, pastry snack,
hot chocolate at night,
a book and “to write,”
not gymnastics in bed on my back.

What triggered this poem you may wonder,
I’ll tell you the truth – it’s a fact,
in twenty-four hours
I was suddenly showered
by four Generals, a sir and a hack.

Of course most of “the others”
intentions were pure, white as snow,
but it’s safe to be wary
and quite necessary
for how is a woman to know?!