Write-Place

It's one of those words that stick in my mind and I keep using despite being determined not to.  Like "Glamping", I find this word cropping up in my limited vocabulary time and again over the past few weeks : Staycation - having a holiday without going "abroad ". I've reached that time in life when I can honestly say that I have been there done that and even bought the t shirts as far as holidaying abroad goes, though obviously there are thousands of places that I haven't visited but would like to. One day maybe, but not this year or next ...   It's a bit of a cliche to say that you don't realise how beautiful the place you are in is, until someone else tells you, but as much of my life tends to be a cliche, I am allowed to say it. And it is true. This photograph taken of the view from my window this morning is enough for me to never want to consider abroad ever again.  I'm not saying where my staycation is, but I might j...

solitude war,gray,black,gray a house collapses to cry a bit. borrow from neighbours  bank some money, build it again get rid of our fear it won't collapse again in the war, the repeating is rare ....... a friends death mean to look, to the sky, yell and scream, to cry my solitude, to wear black, to walk with him to a final destination I am sure, he is not going to die again one death, we all have one death losing parents, become an orphan, permission to be angry. retreat awhile for 3 days, place the gardenia on freshly dug earth, return for the living, impossible to be orphaned twice pain is waiting, unknown moments, stop at the gap at the door. fear overfills, a tear drops silently, solitude. a breath. Neveen Abou el Ola  July 2012

solitude wa, grey, black, grey a house collapses to cry a bit. , borrow from neighbours   bank some money, build it again get rid of our fear it won't collapse again   in the war , the repeating is rare ... ............................. a friend's death mean to look, to the sky , yell and scream, to cry my solitude , to wear black, to walk with him to a final destination he is not going to die  again one death, we all have one death ...................... losing the parents, become an orphan, permission to be angry , retreat awhile for 3 days place the gardenia, on fresh dug earth, return for the living, impossible to be orphaned twice ........................ pain is waiting, unknown moment stop at the gap at the door. fear overfills , a tear drops silently, solitude,  a breath. Neveen Abou El Ola...

We all have those moments, when no matter how long we plan or carefully put words together the result is not enough for what we intend to say. Sometimes this is when someone is ill or has died and we struggle to let others know that we share their grief or anxiety and despair. often we have had similar experiences ourselves so it's natural to want and to be able to give comfort. Today I am not only lost for words but also lost as to how to feel and respond to a situation. Neveen is seventeen years old, one of five daughters of my ex's sister and brother in law. She and her friends and family watch tv, movies, chat on the internet and listen to music.She has her own likes and dislikes of most things, as any teenager. She has her own views and opinions and mostly these are quite different from her parents views, also as any teenager. Neveen reads a lot - poetry, fiction, whatever - and she also writes.  Perhaps this is why I feel an affinity with her which goes beyond ...

T he last of the sunset lingers behind the hill glowing orange as the sky darkens. Sitting beside your bed, I reach out and brush my fingertips onto the paper thin skin covering your cheek bone. I will you to respond to me, just a flicker of an eyelid or a ghost of smile. But you lie still and silent and a chill creeps into my soul. My memory does a rewind to the day we climbed that hill, laughing and stumbling as we tugged at each others clothes, trying to make the other go slower. You reached the top first and stood there arms above your head, waving and smiling as I collapsed, breathless onto the ground beside you. “Look, down there ! “ My eyes followed your pointing finger to the field below us where a small child held onto the string of a coloured kite. The kite swooped and swirled pulling the string taut then loose as the child struggled to stop it escaping. We watched spellbound, willing the kite to stay aloft. Then, in an instant, it was free of it’s teth...

I've found them. The words that I can use as a get out clause for anything that I planned to do, spoke out about doing, wrote about doing - but never actually did do. Or the things that I have done that in hindsight were plainly stupid or inappropriate.         "It's a moving target - what we think that we are able to achieve"  states Nick Buckles, Chief Executive of G4S the security company who is making such a mess over fulfilling the contract for the Olympics that he accepted and signed.  Substitute the 'we' for 'I' and I reckon that many of us could put these words to effective use.  Did you plan to clear out the kitchen cupboards once and for all today but didn't quite manage it ? It's ok. As fast as you put things back neatly, someone comes along and takes  stuff out again. It's a moving target. Were you going to cut the grass but it's rained again and it's now too wet ? Not your fault. Moving target therefore ou...

Flicking through the telly channels this morning and came across this snippet of information - on the Matthew Wright  show. Someone on the show tried to buy an autograph of their hero John McEnroe from a friend who refused to sell it on the grounds that there's no point in shelling out for a moment you've never had. This then leads to the question - what are autograph hunters and memorabilia collectors doing with their lives ? Well. that got me thinking. I know I'm a hoarder desperately trying to distinguish between things that could be classed as memorabilia and general junk (or if you like, making excuses for not throwing things away) Many of us experience this situation at some time in their lives and others experience it for all or most of their life.  But I must say that when I look at my 'saved' items - photos, books, old tickets for shows, programmes, letters - I do have memories of being part of these events and occasions. Sometimes I have forgotten ...