Machine? Our Machine
My dream confirms to me that I am a part of a team, a small part but a significant part nonetheless. Occasionally I may step forwards to lead the team, but I always do remain as a part of the team.
I recognised this as we, as a team, watched the machine which, we had designed and built, being put through its paces. I was congratulated on some of my personal contributions, especially the control of the acceleration and deceleration of the machine, as it went about its tasks.
Last night we had watched the film about Freud and Jung. A Dangerous Method portrayed the conflict between the two men, but also gave me insights into Jung's life which I had either overlooked or not had revealed to me. His need for mistresses in his life came as quite a surprise, I know it was a film but surely there is a grain of truth in the story isn't there?
Yesterday I produced the outline for February's Poetry Workshop. It struck me that at the end we should reserve time for the poets to introduce and read one of their poems. I am of the mind that presenting a good introduction is of almost equal importance to reading the poem well. Whether we can work on this area or not waits to be seen, and heard.
Yet, to show how old habits die hard, here, with no more ado, is today's poem:
Lost on a scrap of paper
It blossoms across the warm garden
If this had been a holiday romance
Loss, or sense of it, would already be upon us
Warm winds of the wet Atlantic
Thrashing storms of Regis seas
Sixpence in the bubble gum machine
A parachute, slow-hanging from the citrus tree
In joy we seek out shadows
In sorrow we search for somewhere light
It is why we ride the roller coaster
And why we catch the magic bus at night
In my deckchair, by meadow grass and mistletoe
Passionate poetry is aglow within the embers
Rapture, it is read slowly, then more slowly still
That we might mend our valentine's notes
