Thanks for your kind response Sally. Of course, the word 'inspiration 'is
interesting in itself. meaning 'to breath in' or 'to have breathed into one'
now what it is that one breathes in is interesting, smoke, the odours of
Autumn, spliffs or the fumes of warm lemon drink.............. whatever
turns you on I guess. Regards Arthur. How are you, by the way??

----- Original Message -----
From: "Sally James" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Saturday, October 26, 2002 2:40 PM
Subject: Re: Inspirational resources other than Lemsip


I love this poem Arthur, I find it very evocative. Besides deep emotions and
illness. I find a walk in the countryside always stimulates the poetry
centre of my mind especially the rich deep colours of autumn. Sally J.







>From: arthur seeley <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: Inspirational resources other than Lemsip
>Date: Fri, 25 Oct 2002 16:53:54 +0100
>
>I have written poetry of a sort all of my life since I was 12. Not with any
>serious intent and far from the mainstream of what was going on in the
>world of poetry. An isolate, but not necessarily of my own choosing.
>I was persuaded by my grandson ..... he's four, or was at the time, to stop
>smoking.
>I began to spend more time on my computer to divert my attention from the
>need for a cigarette.Out of the agony of that time came my current poetry.
>I am grateful to my grandson for my health and contentment.
>The druids burned oak and inhaled the smoke to give their muses power so I
>understand. Robert Graves refers to the Beth-Luis-Neon Calendar and quotes
>"Duir( the Oak) 'I am the god that sets the head afire with
>smoke.'".........suggests that 'the painful smoke of green oak gives
>inspiration to those who dance between the twin sacrificial fires on
>Midsummer Eve'.
>
>which inspires me to write this:
>
>You bewilder me with birdsong
>called from the livid folds of thunderclouds,
>showed me poetry in the rack and throng of words,
>when all I knew was silence.
>I watch as you explain
>knelt waist deep in humming realms
>of summer grass, slender, pale and rare,
>you take the fallen petal from the ground
>return it to its placing on the flower.
>
>Breezes shake the oak
>the clash of thin cymbals above us.
>Green boughs blaze
>acrid fumes.
>My head burns.
>
>I lift my streaming eyes
>under a day that melts to stars
>watch a petal drift
>across the emerald sky
>spiral down through star-seethed air
>to rest upon the grass.
>
>Regards Arthur.
>


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