Dear reader,
Some of you know I am writer a published poet. I often take words out with me when I walk . Also walking gives me time to practise my poetry from memory. At the moment I am recovering from a chest infection and I am feeling very frustrated and Instead of accepting my illness I am fighting it.
This years colours of autumn are spectacular truly breath-taking due to the dry weather.
While walking to work yesterday. The view from above Hengoed viaduct
(Hengoed viaduct is now a walk way, part of the Sirhowy Valley walk way)
view from below
The river Rhymney sang a lament to me.
I stood and allowed my creative side to take a ride on my imagination.
I followed the thin blue line and danced among the moon and stars and was brought back on a rainbow of autumn colours.
Saturday 5th November
Acceptance
This morning at 3am I got up and nursed myself (no I have not been to see a doctor) I have no need I like to nurse myself and take control. I ate a whole clove of garlic made a ginger and lemon drink. The muck from my chest gone from green to clear and I am pleased. A tip for you. If you feel a tingle in your throat gargle with dispensable aspirin do not swallow but gargle it works.
I decided to walk the long way round to my library in Bargoed town. I walked down towards Carradogs bridge and along and above the Cwm Darran trail. I spied Pen Y Fan enshrouded in cloud the weather was bracingly cold my favourite weather. I walked through a rain of leaves.
I noticed the bear mountain ash stark white against other trees.
Breathed in the fresh mulching leaves what a cure for all ills.
Mystical path where I thought about the two poetry readings I could not go to and I accepted my health must come first.
Golden glow of delight bronzed bracken, shine in the rays of the sunlight.
I think on the word acceptance and its meaning sometimes we have to accept our past in honour to go forward and accept things we cannot change. Acceptance can be part of forgiving but not to the extend that you become a door mat. Accept and move on but never forget what the experience taught you.
My mother is 75 she still wants to paddle in rivers she often wants to let her inner child out. She fell last week while walking her dog she could not get up because of her knees. She sat and waited while her fingers bled, waited for someone to pick her up luckily her husband came home early and found her. (My father died in 1978 my mother remarried) Because of the way my mother thinks I never look at her as being old, even her voice is like a young women’s her enthusiasm to still want live in the moment is great. But she has to accept her body now does not work like her mind. While out walking I phoned my mother she asked what the noise was I replied I am kicking leaves she said she used love kicking leaves. I said that it was still good for her to think childlike but just be a bit more cautious and only go as far as her body would allow not her mind.
Poems and thoughts from the walking poet 