A Winters Soliloquay

Macbeth-William Shakespeare
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

Another freezing, cloudy Winters day, minus 15 c with wind-chill.. The tenth of February, so what else can I expect, definitely not sunshine and warmth. Roll on Spring. It’s going to be the first day of lent this time next week, Ash Wednesday. Still under lockdown, no church, no ashes, still unrepentant for cursing this governments Covid vaccine policies, no absolution from lock down, no family celebration for Kathy’s 70th birthday. Another day with equal weight, as every day since April last year.

What shall I do today. Play Sudoku, Woodoku or Wordscapes on the iPad or start another Preston and Child’s, Gideon Crew, mindless adventure novel, or maybe try to force something from this sterile brain and attempt to blog. Am I just marking time till 2:45 p.m. when Tottenham play Everton in the F.A. cup. Another method of self inflicted pain; Tottenham losing three games out of their last four in boring, uninspiring, unimaginative football. Wow! Winter and Covid lethargy, mixed together, form a lethal cocktail of self pity.

I should probably watch another Jordan Peterson YouTube video tonight, try to gather some inspiration. The podcast I watched last night, Jordan Peterson interviewing Matt Ridley author of ‘ The Origins of Virtue’, The Rational Optimist’ and ‘How Innovation Works’ did wonders lifting me out of my ” strutting and fretting upon life’s stage”. They agreed extolling optimism was the best policy going forward instead of reverting to a negative world view. The world is getting better, contrary to the opinions of main street news and social media. I should go on Amazon and review Dobsonian telescopes 6-8″. I really liked the Orion 8945 XT8 Classic. I need to look at the stars and put this whole world in perspective.

A Winters Introspection

“The Moth don’t care when he sees The Flame.
He might get burned, but he’s in the game.
And once he’s in, he can’t go back, he’ll
Beat his wings ’til he burns them black…
No, The Moth don’t care when he sees The Flame. . .
The Moth don’t care if The Flame is real,
‘Cause Flame and Moth got a sweetheart deal.
And nothing fuels a good flirtation,
Like Need and Anger and Desperation…
No, The Moth don’t care if The Flame is real. . . ”
― Aimee Mann
Humans consume
Never satisfied
With a gnawing hunger
Never satiated
Like a moth to a flame
Drawn in
By unending credit
Living on borrowed time
Till the day of reckoning

Where's the balance?
Between want and need
Icarus between the sun and sea
Neither soar too high
Or swoop too low
I need food and shelter
And perhaps a treat
From time to time
If there's surplus

Avarice, gluttony, greed
Three of seven deadly sins
According to belief
Unheeded or forgotten
Replaced by instant gratification
Fast food and perhaps
A little extra credit
To light our way
To the altar of consumption.


A Winter’s Petition

“Forgive me my nonsense as I also forgive the nonsense of those who think they talk sense.”
― Robert Frost

O God, Creator, First Cause, Alpha and Omega, I humbly ask you to grant my petition and in return I promise to never again swear at all those inept and crazy drivers who refuse to slow down, and spray my car with slush in the middle of a snow storm.

Can you please, bestow on me the power to hibernate during the Winter months.

If you will allow me to be more specific.

Please grant me the consolation of drifting into a Winter slumber on November 2 to awaken on Easter Sunday. You will have to allow me a degree of selfishness here. My birthday is November 1 and so I would like to celebrate with my family before going into a deep sleep. I realize that I will be missing your Son’s birthday, but will make up for this by celebrating his resurrection at Easter……..and if the truth be told, wasn’t that the whole point of your Son’s existence, to die and rise again to bring us New Life.

God, you are my inspiration. I’ve had another thought while reciting this. Can you please allow all family members gathered at my birthday party to fall into the same Winter slumber and awaken together at Easter. A bit like the tale of Sleeping Beauty without the spindle, the kiss, and the hundred years.

O Creator of the heavens and earth, I know I’m trying your patience but if you will allow me one more petition.

Can you please extend our lives, by the amount of time lost in Winter hibernation. I don’t wish to be presumptuous but I calculate this as around a 40% longer life. (I’ll be happy with one hundred and fifteen years.)Though I know of course that I cannot hold you to this, as your son recited in his parable ” therefore keep watch as you do not know the day or the hour”.

Dear God, I know I’ve tried your patience today and I am but one of 7.8 billion souls storming the heavens for favors. Ask of me what you wish in return and I will gladly carry out your command. I will now enter into a period of contemplation while I await your word.

Thank you Lord for entering into my soul and telling me what I have to do.

I’ve decided to scrap this petition and just move to Florida.

O God, Creator, First Cause, Alpha and Omega, I humbly ask you to grant my petition and grant me a Green Card for permanent residence in the U.S.A.

A Winter’s Tale

It was bleak mid-winter and Jack Frost had completed his rounds enclosing the tiny village in snow and ice. At the northern end of the village Toby pressed his nose against the window, of his grandfather’s tiny house, happy the blizzard was passing. With all the excitement and pent up energy of a ten year old he turned to his grandfather,

” The snow has finally stopped, can I go out and play”

“Don’t forget your snow shoes, dress warm and stay close to the house” his grandfather replied as he continued turning the page of the book he was reading.

After dressing appropriately for the snowy conditions, Toby charged out the front door, throwing himself head first into the deepest snow bank. He arose, shook himself clear of snow, and exhaled slowly after breathing in the magical air of his village. Bathing in the warm rays of the sun beaming from a cloudless blue sky, he closed his eyes, raised both arms to his side and floated backward into the snow. He lazily moved both his arms and legs sideways in a synchronized motion making a perfect snow angel.

He was working on his seventh snow angel when a tiny black object, appeared in his vision, appearing larger and larger as it flew towards him. He watched curiously as the object took shape and a large black raven landed on a rock close to him. The raven shimmered and grew, changing shape, until a wizard appeared before him. Jumping quickly to his feet Toby retreated a few steps and stared silently at the wizard.

“ Hello young man” said the wizard “ having fun I see, and why not on such a beautiful day”.

“ Are you lost” said Toby “ can I help you”.

“ As a matter of fact you can” replied the wizard “I’m looking for an apprentice. Mine recently died due to a miscast spell. Very sloppy work on his part I must say.”

“Well, good luck in finding your apprentice”, said Toby “ I have to go in now, my grandfathers expecting me. Nice to have met you”.

Toby not letting the wizard out of his sight, started walking rapidly backwards towards his grandfathers house.

“ Not so fast young man. I do believe I have found my apprentice. Yes, you will do very well“ proclaimed the wizard as he began to reassume the raven’s shape growing larger and larger, till he was hovering over Toby.

Toby raised his hand towards the seven snow angels, he had created such a short while ago, muttering, ” surgam defendere “, in a low voice. The snow angels took shape, rising from the ground, battering the raven with snow, till he was completely enclosed in an icy tomb. Toby ran for the cottage and entering safely made his way to the window. He was just in time to see the raven break free from his icy tomb, ascend to the sky and slowly disappear from view.

Toby’s grandfather closed his book, yawned, turned to Toby and asked if he had fun outside.

“Yes I did” said Toby ” If your not too busy, perhaps we can work on some more defensive spell for the rest of the day”.

New Beginnings

I’m a big fan of the American poet Emily Dickinson (1830-1886). She lived in relative solitude and wrote 1,800 poems, which were discovered and published after her death. I often wonder how she would have reacted to todays social media. Would she have changed her style of poetry and catered to adoring crowds and thousands of online followers. Would her observations of life be tarnished by the constant negativity of social media. I would like to think she would view our modern day taste for chasing celebrity status and followers with wry wit and observation and stay well above the frenzied crowd.

We are all searching to find our own voice, our true self. “Leading a life of quiet desperation” as Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862) observed in his book ‘Walden’? Concerned with material possessions, continually searching for status, comparing ourselves to others? On this 1st day of January, 2021, I am spending the day in reflection and discernment trying to reevaluate my values and plans for the coming year. I am one of 7.8 billion souls trying to find a way to survive and thrive on this planet. This is one of 70 million new posts blogged daily on WordPress. All of us throwing words out into the nether sphere waiting to be read.

John Milton (1608-1674), most famous for writing ‘Paradise Lost’, asked the question ” Does God exact day labor, light denied?” He was going blind at the time and yet continued to write. He never blamed God for his trials, which was a common practice in those days, but accepted whatever came his way and got on with life the best he knew how. So today, January 1, 2021, I am starting this blog and will be doing the best I know how. However, I do not have a poetic soul and will stick mainly with prose. Happy New Year to one and all.


I'll talk you'll talk we'll talk

Chel Owens

A Wife, My Verse, and Every Little Thing


TheCertifiablyTRUERavingsOfASectionedPhilosopher: Don't be afraid to think you might be a little 'crazy'. Who isn't? Check out some of my visualized poems here: https://www.instagram.com/maxismaddened/

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I'm nobody! who are you? Are you nobody too, then there's a pair of us. Don't tell! they'd advertise you know. How dreary-to be somebody. How public-like a frog. To tell one's name-the livelong June, to an admiring bog. Poem by Emily Dickinson.


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