In Search of the Swan

 

Welcome to my blog

 

Here you can add some text to explain what your blog is about and a bit about you.

By thecockneybard, Nov 9 2020 09:31AM

Praying for this day to end as death surrounds me.

As scared as any man, yet I no more than a child.

Suffering each friend’s demise as in horror I reel.

Sacrificing my sanity and all I once knew, little as that was.

Cold bodies, charred bodies, faceless bodies abound.

Hearing the screams of fallen mates and those I know not.

Every sound I hear magnified in hell’s tortured mind.

Nearing death oneself as shells descend. Good God!

Dreams optimism, youth’s filled hope, banished to nothing!

As pity rolls down my face in misshaped tears, pray for me won’t you.

Every Soldier dreams a victorious end. If only!

Layed in mud, sacrificial lambs, butchered and slain.

Etched in some memory in years to come, me and my fallen chums!



By thecockneybard, Nov 2 2020 03:32PM


All perfectly normal to me. There are those who hear voices and it is claimed as madness by those who don't really know, but think they do. Yes, they really are there. Can those voices drive people to kill? For sure! Luckily mine give me the future, give me profound insight, wonderful philosophy, poetry and muse. The Cockney Bard is far from being mad! Being able to separate the wheat from the chaff and being able to control those voices is incredibly tough, but that is the third great step of spiritual enlightenment or Hamsa the Swan


By thecockneybard, Oct 7 2020 01:03PM


Sheila with whom I am pictured with my young son in 2002 lived on the 16th floor, flat 132 at Grenfell Tower. She was a beautiful person with a beautiful soul. She perished on one awful night on 14th June 2017. Believe it or not I predicted she would die by fire more than 16 years before it actually happened. How could I know such things? Sometimes the sixth sense is the most beautiful thing and sometimes it is a terrible curse.


Sheila had no second name. She was a prolific writer, had a passion for yoga and loved the Isle of Ischia. We would sit for hours sometimes, drinking coffee and talk about many things of which we shared a great interest. Shortly after her death I wrote ‘a fleeting moment’ and reminisced those happier times. We shared some truly special days and for that I thank her.


Picture 1 Starbucks, Holland Park and the empty seats. A place we would often sit. Picture 2 Sheila with me in Norwich with my beautiful son in 2002


A FLEETING MOMENT


I sit staring at a photograph of Starbucks in Holland Park.

A place we would often frequent.

I see Sheila and myself sitting on the chairs outside, coffee in hand, talking Politics, Shakespeare, the Knights Templar.

I look again and we are gone.




By thecockneybard, Oct 6 2020 12:39PM

When people showed me envy, I showed them beauty. When people ridiculed me, I showed them truth. When I showed them truth, they showed me anger. When they showed me anger, I saw a great weakness in them.

By thecockneybard, Oct 6 2020 12:29PM

"Not much call for a Philosopher these days! " "Ah, but I am so much more than a Philosopher and besides Philosophy is for people who think and if you can think, then a Philosopher will always have a considerable place in society."

By thecockneybard, Oct 6 2020 09:46AM

The skies so clear and blue, the brook it winds along the dale. The subtle breeze blows gently and passion fills my heart, but I am given my first lesson of sweet and tender love. How the skies seem far away as I lay and gaze aghast. My fair lady I dream like you of the days to come for us. Frightened rabbits scurry as movement comes from afar, but peace and calm do return as I hold you in my arms. Leave me never my fair maiden, for I do love you so. I am to lay my head right down, and drift into a flow of thoughts and images stretching my mind, how joyous my life is just at this time.

By thecockneybard, Oct 6 2020 09:21AM

Did ever more beauty speak words than eyes touched by heavenly spheres, where beauties eyes did gaze their most important deeds. Were ever more beauty to descend from creative imagery, where pictures of mind do cast a visionary sight, enfolding dreams of night. Stars and moon, sun and air do share your beauty. And if perchance thy vision end, thy mind forever its beauty send.