There comes a point in every life online
When laughter dies. We sense the biting storm
That others feel beyond our virtual home.
The dispossessed cry O for such a voice
But we fall silent, waiting for their word.
The question, my friend, is trembling on their lips –
Our answer still blowing in the wind.
(with apologies to Bob Dylan and the multitudes even he failed)
Dave Kingsbury
A moment of calm … my grandchild asleep in her pushchair, sunlight pouring through the back windows, Gregorian Chant low in the background … what more could I want?
When I was teaching, a favourite lesson was to ask the class to sit in silence and write down anything that came into their heads – observations, stray thoughts, whatever – and then to turn the notes into a poem called Now. I would work alongside them on my own poem, which gave a valid reason for silence – teacher at work, do not disturb! I would encourage them to read their own poems by reading mine, first or last depending on their response. Private reading in the library only worked when I was reading too and could glare balefully at them over my glasses for disturbing me …
a nomad in cyberspace 