The Tangled Branch Discussion Forums

I'm not going to analyse this one at all.  It just speaks to me at a deep elemental level.

I can hear the clan storyteller, reciting it in measured tones around a campfire, to an audience of quietly nodding heads, silently acknowledging the shared memories. 

Gyppo

Indar, Thanks for the memories.  Deeply evocative of the way my Dad used to come home from work, smelling of 'outdoors', Old Holborn Golden Virginia hand-rolling tobacco, and his jeans stiffening with half dried cement.  Red and roughened hands.  It was only years later that I wondered at the contra...

Cheers, Matty and Colm. I'm glad it 'worked' for you. Over the years I've become increasingly aware of how our perceptions, of others and our surroundings, change with our viewpoint and our own mental stance. Sometimes this helps me see things from another's viewpoint, and sometimes not at all. I'm ...

Transport and Perception Choose wisely the transport you take for it shapes your whole perception. It's the same world, the same you, the same eyes watching.  But... Large aircraft isolate, despite the fat man sharing your armrest, dripping with nerves and making you think... "Is his sick bag reall...

Cheers, Folks. Suggestions have been taken on board.  This is one of those things I will probably juggle around a bit more over the next few weeks  There's already a few squiggles on my scratch pad ;-)  If I make a noticeable revision I'll post it here when it happens. I'm know I'm guilty of not wan...

Cats We'll never really be friends, we have too much in common. Both comfortable in our own skins. But we acknowledge each other, as free spirits.  Each true to himself, to his inner nature. You never beg food at my door,  and no longer casually stroll in. We both respect unspoken boundaries. Some ...

Gyppo, I believe I just hijacked your very fine poem to get on a soapbox and preach, probably to the choir.  If it got you back to the keyboard I'll consider it a fair trade.  My good deed for the day. Online groceries...  Until a lot of the shops were closed, and people had to queue to get in I wa...

Colm. It comes with the turning of the year, but never stays long.  Or when a younger friend or relative 'leaves early'.  This year, with lockdowns, there have been fewer positive distractions. I'm reminded of the old comedian, Frank Burns.  (A man who had appearances booked with his agent up to and...

Colm, That last verse is a poem in its own right.  Both cryptic and explicit.  As soon as I read  it I felt its claws locking into my memory. Maybe all poets are cats.  Chasing the flickering everyday interests of life, or sat in a quiet sunlit corner pondering the deeper mysteries.  Slipping betwee...

The whole world's a stage, and we are but players... One day we all have to leave the stage. Maybe with a thunderous riff, a crashing flourishing chord, A ringing last line, or with a plaintive haunting note. A whispered farewell, or with no warning at all.  Selfishly, I find the last option quite ...