THE TORCH I CARRY

Posted on February 6, 2023 by Roland's Ragbag

‘The Depths Of The Sea’ (The Lure Of The Sirens) … Sir Edward Coley Burne-Jones (1881

THE TORCH I CARRY

I carry a torch for the ocean
In her relentless swell I am held
My light will see me to the foreshore
Where vast wave and mild ripple meld.

For though my love’s unrequited
As I walk on the shore by the sea
The sight and the sound of her motion
Bring solace and hope back to me.

For when I watch her crescendo
Its beauty and force I admire
The sigh and the roar of her surges
Are those of a celestial choir.

My heart is in thrall to her passion
Her awesome breakers I ride
White horses call me ever forward
To meet the turn of the tide.

And when she is still as a millpond
My senses respond in repose
My life consummates in devotion
All yearning brought to a close.

Yes, the lure of the Siren defeats me
I am snared by her destructive song
I have given my all to her beauty
Now only to her I belong.

To Titillate The Tourists

Posted on April 18, 2022 by Roland's Ragbag

*Photo: WHB . . . On a Devonshire Seafront* *– 2015*

TO TITILLATE THE TOURISTS

To be beside the sea
That is our nation’s fashion;
It’s obviously the place
For promulgating passion.

But how do seaside shoppers
Decide just what to buy?
Are they tempted by advertisements?
I often wonder why.

Well, once upon a summer,
On a hot and sunny day,
On holiday in Devon,
On a stroll around the bay.

I came across this advert
Along the promenade;
I must admit initially
I thought I’d have it barred.

A touch of seaside whimsy
That’s OK and I’m all for it,
But such immodest come-ons,
Who’d have ever thought it!

‘KNICKERS FOR A NICKER;
POUCHES FOR A POUND’,
To titillate the tourists,
Well, such ads are all around.

But on a seafront shop
I didn’t think it right;
I even thought that something
Was wrong with my eyesight.

I don’t know why it was
I was so overcome,
With thoughts of indignation
I really was struck dumb.

It was just a bit of fun,
Why was I so upset?
But when little George cried ‘Look Dad’
I broke out in a sweat.

“That’s what you and mum wore
When I spied you yesterday.
Can Sue and me have one each,
Like you?”, I heard him say.

NOTE:

‘Nicker’ is Cockney Slang for One Pound. The OED says it’s origin is unknown, but suggests it could be originally horse racing slang. The term … has … London associations … and dates from the early 20th Century (it explains that terrible old joke: ‘Why can’t a one-legged woman change a pound note? Because she’s only got half a (k)nicker!’ and which nobody seems to know the origin of).

VENICE

Posted on September 17, 2021 by Roland's Ragbag

**Venetian Sunset – from Piazza San Marco … Pen & Wash – WHB … 2013**

City of Islands
City of dream
Inscribed with colour
Every line.

City of History
City of deeds
Imbued with story
Every step

City of Passion
City of pride
Engorged with fashion
Every stride

City of Clamour
City of bells
Ringing with meaning
Every knell

City of Turmoil
City of strife
Threaded with suffering
Every hurt

City of Mansions
City of graves
Instilled with ardour
Every shrine

City of Titian
City of art
Awash with beauty
Every part

City of Merchants
City of trade
Echoed by Shakespeare
Every shade

City of Conflict
City of strife
Turbulent city
Every vice

City of Water
City of flood
Sea taking over
Every surge

City of Magic
City of spells
Present in each pile
Every shell

City of Revels
City of fun
Carnivals rule life
Every fete

City of Intrigue
City of masks
Sophistry renews
Every day

City of Drama
City of sin
Would I were there now
Let new life begin.

Will you marry me?

Posted on August 16, 2021 by Roland's Ragbag

My photograph was taken from a beach in Cornwall, U.K., in 2006. I do trust things turned out better in reality than in my rather jaundiced, wholly imagined, speculations on the subject of marriage and the impulsive gestures which do often bring it about – as demonstrated in some of the ostentatious proposals which took place at the Rio Olympics. (WHB)

‘MARRY ME’ it said in the sky,
The brazenly shouted plea;
Showcasing a lover’s great passion?
A proposal she had to agree.

Was love in there somewhere I wondered?
Was that what the question implied?
A lifelong commitment on offer –
Based on whim, or desire for a bride?

“I’d love to” she whispered so gently,
Accepting his plea without question.
Her doubts were dispelled by his bluster
How could she deny his suggestion?

They married in bliss shortly after,
A lifetime of rapture to come.
With hope for a lifetime of passion?
Well, that’s how it’s meant to be done

The first happy years ran so smoothly;
The path of love seemed to be fine,
But the storm clouds were looming above them
Creating a warning fault line.

It was life intervened in their story,
A lassitude lay on their marriage,
Their ardour and pleasures defeated.
Love stalled, reduced to the humdrum,

Both felt as though they’d been cheated.
Habit had killed off their lustre;
Routine had entered their souls;
Self-regard took over from closeness;
Possessions their only goals.

So was it for this they were married,
Just to reach an acceptance of sorts?
All passion long lost from their dowry
Now littered with bile and retorts.

The end of this story I’m told?
They parted with barely a whisper;
What began with a flamboyant gesture,
Ended, ‘Not with a bang but a whimper’.

This last line echoing T.S.Eliot’s oft-quoted lines from ‘The Hollow Men’ . . .

‘This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.’

On consideration of the Nature Of TIME

Posted on September 25, 2020 by Roland's Ragbag

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

APHORISMS: On consideration of the Nature Of TIME

When Yesterday’s dream
BecomesToday’s reality
All mystery is lost.

When life’s great passion
Turns to dust
Is life still worth the living?

When tomorrow’s goal
Is reached today
How empty becomes the future.

When life and love
are intertwined
Where does pleasure end?

When age has killed
youth’s certitude
What price is placed on doubt?

When yesterday’s promise
Turns into today’s disappointment
It becomes tomorrow’s regrets.

His Life In Books

Posted on September 21, 2020 by Roland's Ragbag

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

His Life In Books

His books were loved
as he loved his life
for they and he were one
each volume held a world
within its covers
a seed already grown
a life already lived
both beginning and end
alongside the life between
where the living
the dead
and the dreamt-of
coexist
in pages of printed passion
grey words and purple passages
telling of love
adventure
the commonplace and the rare
of depression and elation
delight and despair
but always
under the bright stars
of expectancy and hope

Your World Or Mine?

Posted on August 17, 2020 by Roland's Ragbag

Photo by Porapak Apichodilok on Pexels.com

Your World Or Mine?

The world in which you live is not my world,
Close as we intermingle when we meet.
However much I try to understand,
The gap between us still is bitter-sweet.

It holds its mysteries which I cannot breach,
Try as I always do to understand.
Your loves, your passions, seem to me as strange
As some unfathomed febrile wonderland.

But when I hold you in my midnight thoughts,
When dreams replace that cold reality,
It is as though we are completely one,
How trivial, how petty, our disparity.