Tag Archives: philosophy

Awake

The sun-lines splice me,
Casting light into my mind.
I can see you now.

©Davey Northcott December 2014

If you enjoyed this, check out my ebook: ‘The Path Through the Eye of Another’

Advertisements

Memories lost

A pastel smudge of colour
Paints a watered iris-eye,
An echo
Of a something almost lost;
Half remembered.
What do you remember, eye?
What have you seen,
Eye?
A pupil of a life
Arduous and long, now
Lies in forgotten recesses
Of a dusty mind’s shelf.
And when I speak to you
You hear me; do you listen,
Though?
And when you speak to me,
I hear you, too.
But am I listening?
A cyclical repetition
To enrage a saddened shrine to
Age and Me; I am saddened too.
And My memories are all that remain now.
For yours, I cannot find anymore.
A sudden flash illuminates your
Loch-like expanse
What are you recalling now,
Eye?
Excitement flushes through
Me, a chance of you,
And we smile for a while
Before the vinyl scratch
Screams out its domination
Once more.
And the eye is again
As a pastel, a dim-washed
Colour, nothing more
Again.

 

Written as a memory for someone who lost theirs …

©Davey Northcott March 2014

If you enjoyed this, check out my ebook: ‘The Path Through the Eye of Another’

Dragons, Me & You

She hadn’t believed him when he told her what he’d seen; it seemed stupid then. Why would you believe a thing like that, no matter how much you loved him?

‘A dragon, up there on the hill last night,’ he told her, a new light sparkling in his eyes, the low sun reflecting from his hair, blond from the still recent summer.

She’d smiled then, and stroked his blond hair that spread sprawled out over her knee as he lay and she sat on the sofa in the shared flat. Stroked his hair and wished he’d stop talking.

But he didn’t

‘It was a big one today.’

She’d said nothing.

‘It was bigger than the ones before. I told you the other day it was a big one but today’s was bigger.’ His words were faster now, excited.

She stopped her stroking and made to stand up.

He must have felt the movement. ‘Where are you going?’ he’d asked, the light illuminating the innocence in his child-voice. He wasn’t a child.

‘Just to get some water,’ she’d said. She remembered it had seemed forced at the time. She hadn’t wanted water — but they only had water; he couldn’t have anything else, apparently.

His head made a dull pumpf as it hit the softness of the sofa cushion; she was standing, swaying slightly. She went to the kitchen. Maybe water would make her better.

But her mouth stayed dry.

And the next day his eyes were dry too.

And the rest of him.

There were no hills near the shared flat. Just other flats; and a rubbish tip in the distance where the gulls circled.

She looked out towards the gulls now, their faint cries carrying on the dirt-scented breeze through the window. She closed the window. She didn’t want to hear the gulls anymore; their crying made her sad.

And she thought, how would she face a future without him?

‘We’ll take Mr. Wills away now,’ they’d said, the men with the dark clothes. They told her to stay in the flat. They’d call her. She wasn’t strictly family; but she was and the dark uniforms didn’t understand that.

She knew where he’d hidden the phone number so she pulled it out and dialled. It rang. Someone picked up; a rough voice, though his words didn’t sound old.

After the boy had left she picked up what he’d left. She wanted to see the dragon too. She wanted to know it hadn’t been a lie.

And so she in-streamed what the boy with the rough voice who’d known her love had left, into her deepest self. And then she knew he hadn’t lied.

There was the dragon and there was the hill. And there he was, blond hair streaked behind floating graceful in the clean breeze. And she ran to him then. And he took her up. And she knew he hadn’t lied.

 

©Davey Northcott September 2014

If you enjoyed this, check out my ebook: ‘The Path Through the Eye of Another’

Down the Cliffs and Along the Beach – Robin Hood’s Bay, East Yorkshire

SONY DSC

The salty sea air rushes up your nostrils at the same time as your legs encounter the burning sensation synonymous with a steep descent. You feel liberated with the wild, rushing wind in your eyes and the crashing of waves in your ears. Then, beneath your feet, you feel the sticky gelatinous mass of the wet sand, conjuring up images of rainy childhood holidays spent shivering under an umbrella or hood, eating gritty hard-boiled eggs.

Venturing further along the meeting point of land and sea, you find yourself amid a mass of shiny, squelching rocks. It takes every available element of concentration not to fall while travelling over their treacherous forms.

            Occasionally, the cold water of the ocean rushes upon your reddened feet, sucking at your heels as it tries to first push you from its path before endeavouring to force you further into its mysterious realm.

A sense of longing takes hold with the waves and an urge to run-swim for the far off horizon creeps over you. All you can think is: ‘I want what is out there. I want to see what’s beyond that never ending line. I want to be there, astride it and behind it.’

But you don’t move. You stay, with your cold white calves deep in the mushy kelp and think about what could be.

 

©Davey Northcott 2014

If you enjoyed this, check out my new release, ‘The Path Through the Eye of Another’

‘The Path Through the Eye of Another’ – The Five Key Elements of Being

What are the 5 essential elements of our being?

‘The Path Through the Eye of Another’: A Spanish revolutionary, wounded in battle and disillusioned, rediscovers these key pillars on which all of our lives depend. His journey takes him through the minds of 5 animal hosts, who show him his true path and help him to recover his will to live once more.

What are the five most important elements of your life?

What would you do if you were to lose these five things and have to start all over again … from scratch?

Let me know, I’d be interested to find out.

Memories Lost

A pastel smudge of colour
Paints a watered iris-eye,
An echo
Of a something almost lost;
Half remembered.
What do you remember, eye?
What have you seen,
Eye?
A pupil of a life
Arduous and long, now
Lies in forgotten recesses
Of a dusty mind’s shelf.
And when I speak to you
You hear me; do you listen,
Though?
And when you speak to me,
I hear you, too.
But am I listening?
A cyclical repetition
To enrage a saddened shrine to
Age and Me; I am saddened too.
And My memories are all that remain now.
For yours, I cannot find anymore.
A sudden flash illuminates your
Loch-like expanse
What are you recalling now,
Eye?
Excitement flushes through
Me, a chance of you,
And we smile for a while
Before the vinyl scratch
Screams out its domination
Once more.
And the eye is again
As a pastel, a dim-washed
Colour, nothing more
Again.

 

©Davey Northcott March 2014

Written as a memory for someone who had lost theirs …