James
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Morning Fire
The darkest of blue skies awaits the coming fire. Expectant. The Earth will turn, the Sun will soon show itself. Turning moment by moment Sun peeking. Making its presence known Making its warmth felt Making its colour radiate Fire within,… Continue reading
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Fire Finding
I grew up with a weird knowledge of bricks. Not that it helped me to create anything other than Lego houses, or follow the instructions on Technic lego, creativity beyond the lego house a rarity, I mean who didnt want… Continue reading
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Who’s telling who?
Who is it speaking? And who is it listening? Who is it hearing? and who is communicating? What happens when ‘I tell myself’ Who is the I, and who is the myself and who is the one that sees this… Continue reading
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Deckchairs.
No not these ones. You know the ones I mean. Not the beach ones, the ones that get filled with sand, or get fought over by those who’ve paid the tourist tax to hire then on a British cloudy (but… Continue reading
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Nothing new, something True
I can’t write anything new That has never been said before 130 million books before me Words by the billion reverberating on the internet What price for originality What burden does it carry? Trying to be new Yet this heart… Continue reading
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Flow
Writing words. It’s Started again. Writing. Writing. The mind goes clear, the fog lift and the words come out again. Truth. Hope. Love. Wonder. Words. Feel. Alive. Soul gives. Hope springs. Forth. Writing. Writing. Making. Shaping. Creating. Meaning. Trying. Giving.… Continue reading
James Ballantyne 