Saturday, 31 January 2015

Finding me






It has been a while since my last post so thought I would share what I have been up to. I suddenly realized that I haven't done any drawing since I have known my husband, some 18 years. Where did the time go? I always use to enjoy drawing as a child but going to an academic school I was advised not to study art for a couple of years and to pick it up again at A' Level. I never did. The above is a self portrait and my latest drawing. It isn't perfect, but it is me. I'm not perfect either so a fair reflection I think.

It is strange drawing yourself. I think I may have given myself slight more wrinkles than I have. I am blessed with my mum's skin, as it were, so tend to look more youthful than I am. Not a bad thing most of the time. Blogging like drawing causes for some introspection. I like to think I am very self aware. I don't miss much that goes on around me, but I don't always comment. Maybe that's why I have been quieter on the blogging of late. Honesty is always the best policy but speaking out is not always the most prudent thing to do.

As I think of where I have been in recent years and where I am now I can see a change in myself. I have, it seems, found myself again. I have even picked up my guitar of late. I have also realized how much of a 'Stroudie' I am. Stroud is a rather quirky Coteswold town. It was famous for its cloth (used for military uniformes and snooker tables) that would be made in the mills and hung out to dry on the hillsides. It was also a brewing town but alas Stroud Brewery no longer exists. It is now well known for its farmers market that brings many folk to come and taste and see the local wears. Stroud district is full of artists and writers. Damian Hurts is based here as are Jilly Cooper, Katie Fforde and Joanna Trollop. Other famous writers were Laurie Lee and W. H. Davies and let's not forget Revd W. V. Awdry who wrote the Thomas the Tank Engine books. The sculptor Lynn Chadwick also had a studio here. Keith Allen the actor and musician lives in Stroud and his daughter Lilly was born here and lives near by. Stroud and its five valleys is a beautiful place and perhaps evokes the creative in people. Stroudies tend to be a bit bohemien and eccentric. Being different is celebrated. Maybe you need to be born here or have lived here a while to understand exactly what I mean.

God tends to peel back our layers as we draw closer to him. In my walk with him of late it seems I have lost a few layers, or at least examined them more carefully. I am a bit quirky and like to express myself creatively in worship but this is me and this is how God made me.

Thursday, 13 November 2014

Stroud

A poem about the unique place where I grew up...


Searching they came 
Tramping the hills
Roaming the valleys 
Observing it all
Utterly transfixed in
Delight and wonder

Stoping to gaze
The travellers see
Round-about and Ecotricity
Obscurity and eccentricity 
Unusual may be
Dull it is not

Seeking the country
Tractors and Wellies
Roaring log fires
Overeaten bellies 
Unseen big cats
Dandelion meadows

Standing in awe
Tasting the beer
Rugby and football
Oh we have it all 'ere
Unique mills and
Derelict mansions 

Surveying the cows
The ice-cream factory
Rambling footpaths
Over common land
Untold history and
Delights to be found

This is the place that we call STROUD.

©revdjo 13/11/14

Sunday, 19 October 2014

Dawn chorus cries


Dawn chorus cries,
'Wake up!'
a new day beckons
full of surprise
of untold mysteries
yet to unfold
the light breaks through
a vision to behold
of love and beauty
truth and joy
waiting,
unraveling, 
moment by moment
time unwinds. 

©revdjo 19/10/14









Friday, 10 October 2014

I hear the sound of footsteps

  

I hear the sound of footsteps
echo far and near
as people search in anguish
lives lived out in fear.

Round and round in circles
over hill and dale
they wander through the countryside
and through the market square.

Aimlessly they travel
shoes worn out by tread
weighed down by their own burdens
some completely off their head.

Minds restless from life's worries
bodies tired out from pain
they look like they're contented
but heads bow down in shame.

©revdjo 3/10/14 

Sunday, 31 August 2014

My Old Friend, Laughter


Laughter
I remember her
somewhere inside 
in the corner 
of my mind
tucked away 
in an envelope
marked,
'Do not open until...'

Laughter
I remember her
her sound
bubbling up
making me smile
eyes twinkle
in a time
gone by,
Christmas maybe?

Laughter
I remember her
she knocks
once more
an old friend
returning
sharing
merriment 
and glee.

Laughter
I remember her
she's here,
with me.

©revdjo 31/8/14


Monday, 11 August 2014

A poem came tip-tapping

Tip-tapping on the window 
     the softly falling 
               rain 
running down the glass
     weaving a merry
               dance 
filling up the bucket
     with a resounding
               plop
the tip-tapping starts
     once more
               again

you think you 
              understand her
                   ways
                         but really you do
               not.


©revdjo 11/8/14