Posts Tagged ‘thoughts’


Perceptions – Poem

December 13, 2013

What are eyes

but organs adjusted for light?

They see me

in one dimensions.

I see myself

with myriad thoughts and senses.

Together and against each other

we reflect

falling and floating in flux.

I feel like my toes

are inches from a ground

that ever recedes.

The world pushes in and out

all around me.

Invisible pressures press upon me.

Their great inhales and exhales

never touch

but warp none the less

sucking in this vacuum.

Life around me stretches and contracts

I can do naught but go along.

From the outside

how now must I look?

From the inside

how now have I changed?

I land on wobbly feet

vision hazy

ears ringing

all senses and thoughts


from the lengthen and shorten

until they relax, recede and settle.

Your eyes still see me

never the same as before.

I find myself

from this mere moment

ever different once more.






An Ending + Lazy Posts

December 3, 2013

This is a lazy post. Or perhaps its a rational one. I think its both. The below poem was a fragment to a poem. The start of a poem that was meant to end, but was left. I like it however. As although it is small and was the start to a poem, it is also an ending. It is both. Going back and trying to change it would alter what I felt before. It would add the me of now to the me of then, and, although we are the same people, we are in different times and places. So in that way, it is rational to leave it as it is. And it is also lazy to leave it as it is.


An Ending

A peach sunset falls slowly over the bay.

The beach cools, the tourists shake their towels and stroll,

the shadows on the green hills darken.

I sway in my seat, sip my beer, and mull.


Isles Poetry – “Out of Place” – Routines, Breaks, Resistance Training!

October 24, 2013

This is another poem in my collection, “Isles”.

Now about habits, routines, taking breaks from these routines, and fighting through resistance. What are your routines? Sometimes they are hard fought. Waking up early and getting to work on something. Sometimes they are such a habit, that they happen naturally. Often times we have had these routines but they have been broken.

This has happened often to me, and it is sometimes hard to get back into it.  Though a routine for me is the best for quantity…sometimes not for quality. My routine is usually to write in the morning after exercise and breakfast and during tea time…but after days of this routine under threat, what can I do? I become frustrated and it becomes harder to start again with a different routine. For me I try (try) to look at the change as a good thing. A holiday to improve the quality of my writing and focus on another aspect of writing, such as editing my writing, writing down ideas, putting physical copies to digital, and reading more. Also thinking positively that, although I am not writing, I am supporting that writing.

Those are a few points from me, though if you are really struggling two books, “The War of Art” by Steven Pressfield and “The Power of Habit” by Charles Duhigg are great books to help kick start you and give you lasting change.

Finally, I would love to hear how you mix up your routines…how do you break through resistance…how do you make the best of a bad situation?

Cheers and enjoy the poem!!


Out Of Place

The seasons have different names here:

Low and High, Wet and Dry.

Clean and Dirty. Easterly, Westerly.

The wind berates the island

pushing debris in from the sea.

‘How could you do this?’ Tourists scold.

How can the locals explain

that it’s not their trash

but others out of place?

The “big clean up” must happen anyway

as the High and Easterly approach.

They scour the shore

clearing refuse of every shape and sort.

Stacking it and burning it all

so that a pernicious cloud

stalks the brush and thicket.

This is where I exercise

another thing out of place

amongst the palms.

Picking a stretch of beach

to sprint, push and squat.

On every length I spot

some bottle brown glass and

fill a cup with the shards.

I face the sun reflected waves

breathing the heat,

feeling the sand beneath me

once tiny parts of something else

wondering about all the pieces of everything

from every corner of the world

that have washed up here

forever and before

out of place.


Wednesday – 2nd of October – Just East of the Andaman Sea

October 2, 2013

I have been a little quiet lately. Just a little. To save my self from tiredness and headaches, I have created a digital switch off in the mornings.  The old notepad is out and the pen and all the glory of sitting outside in the sun drinking tea. This has led to a lot more writing, though it has led to a lot less blogging which includes reading all-a-y’all’s words, too :-(. You know how it is, though? Enough!

Here is another poem for my project called ‘Isles’ called ‘Underwater’. The poem is, well, read it and find out. The compilation is of poetry inspired by my 3 months of chosen isolation living on Phi Phi Island, Thailand. I have pictures, too, that may or may not accompany and relate to the writings on my Photo Feed on the right of my Blog. If you would like to read more, select the category called ‘Isles’ to see them all. Or not. It is your internet time and I know how precious it is!

I would like to share something profound with you. Something pithy…but I can’t…so a little random list.

Bands of the moment. Tyr and Evile.

Food of the hour. Poached Eggs.

Creature of the day. Those tiny little moth like things that just seem to go around in circles.

Book of the moment. The Paleo Solution. 

TV show of the minute. Hell on Wheels.


Hoped you enjoyed my randomness.



Isles Poetry Project – Underwater

October 2, 2013



Alone in the canteen fluorescence riding the bow of a white row of tables.

A pack of smokes sits like flotsam on them, Captain-less.

The chef emerges from the kitchen. He makes a bee-line for his booty and

once restored takes his plunder back to work.

I float again alone on the plastic blue chair. The fridge hums like a gentle tide

along with the thousand rustlings of distant palm leaves.

Not even the clock ticks but glides its hand around silently smooth

only the streak of an albatross high up in the firmament.

If I stare hard enough I could stop its flight. I breathe.

The breath leaves me and I dip into the underwater of the moment.

Creating silence and stillness. Starving for air but letting

the signals for oxygen drown along with everything else.

Feeling for my beating heart. Searching for my treasure.

At times like these I cannot feel my heart at all.




Thailand – 21st August

September 19, 2013

 A weekend away in Tonsai. My first over-nighter with a mate and his girl and my first night out drinking in a month. Curry to start, beers, ice-cream, black Russians, cocktails, Jenga, fire shows, tales on the beach, and drunken low-tide wanders. Morning smokes and beers, omelettes, coffee with rum, and treks over to the North side for coral swimming in the bays and puffs in the cave. Not all’s well that starts well, though. Van Damme and Blood Sport on TV was ominous for food poisoning and the next three days were spent in bright green bathroom visits. An easy week at work makes up for all.


Saturday Poetry Prompt Fragments

September 15, 2013

I had my little challenge I gave myself to write a few poems about the day and the happenings that was Saturday. I did pretty well writing about 6 poems in their rough and rugged state. I won’t put them all up now as it will take up a lot of space and they are sketches of final products, so I’ll put up some parts of three and hopefully together they will make a picture of my day, thoughts and activities.

Later on I will post up the complete poems individually and they’ll be added to my poetry project called ‘Isles’, which is a compilation of poems reflecting my experiences, thoughts, actions in Thailand.

Enjoy the fragments if only a fragment.

Peace and regards,




It’s a massive cliché to say

that a day brings new possibilities.

Though I’ll say it because it’s obvious;

Appropriate to any day and especially

this one. Justified beyond creativity.

Specifically defined for this moment.

The hours of waking and the eager

excitement of a new awakening.

Seize the day is another cliché

but I’ll grab it as intended

and just like the phrase says.


Centipedes curl in fighting on the ground.

Lizards awaking from their pathway slumbers

scatter into the brush. Butterflies

chase each other through the vines

with one thing on their minds.

A constant whir hidden close in the trees

singing the song of the tropical heat.


A peach sunset falls slowly over the bay.

The beach cools, the tourists shake their towels and stroll,

the shadows on the green hills darken.

I sway in my seat, sip my Singha, and mull.

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I.J. Keddie

Poet (of sorts). I'm hiding behind your curtains.