Poetry – I write letters

I write letters

I write letters.

I push the key and they appear

By magic on my screen.

I arrange them

In my thoughts,

In patterns I have learned;

In words.

And those words appear

Like magic

In my mind.

Each one a thought, an idea

A meaning.

Somewhere in my head

I find the feelings, dreams and thoughts

And reduce them into words.

I put the words on my screen

For you to read

In the hopes

That they explode

Inside your head

Into the same feelings, dreams and thoughts

That were in mine.

It is a vain hope.

So I spend my time


Writing letters.

Opher 18.4.2016

I write letters

There are wondrous processes at work that are so complex.


I often wonder what my thoughts would be if nobody had invented language, if they were left to be more abstract?

I wonder what a mind can think if it was cut off from the world?

I wonder if I think in words?

What are my thoughts, feelings and ideas?

I take a thought and reduce it into words. Each one of those words has a different meaning, nuance, feel and picture to you.

We communicate.

But how good is our communication?

I write letters into words and words into sentences and paragraphs. Each word is merely a symbol we have learnt. But can I really communicate the extent of what is in my head no matter how hard I try, how good I am with words?

Perhaps I am really only writing letters?

Poetry – I Hold My Breath

I Hold My Breath

I find it amazing that I can have ideas, thoughts and images in my head that I transform into solid words. I can write those words as symbols using letters. Someone else who I have never seen can come along and scan those symbols, fused in ink upon a page, and translate them back into thoughts, ideas and images. They can communicate the same visions and feelings I was having at the time.

My visions are frozen into concrete meaning forever.

Long after I am gone people will be able to scan those symbols and understand what was going on in my head.

Isn’t that astounding?

From the universe within my head I speak to the universe within your head via coded messages.

I hope we see the same pictures!

I  Hold my Breath

I hold my breath

And exhale it into these words

Trapped in ink upon a page.

I scan my thoughts

And pour them out

To be imprisoned in symbols.

I snare the moments

In my mind and freeze them

Forever into this ice.

I sense my feelings

And express them in inadequate

Markings on paper.

I speak from here

Inside the depths of my head

To you who might be reading.

Somehow against all the odds

You see the black and white

And recreate the colour pictures

That I envisaged.

Communication is the wonder of life!

Opher 23.8.2015

Poetry – A Writer

A Writer

I chase dreams

Through the worlds of my mind.

I pluck stories

From the vines that I find.

I paint pictures

On the fabric of the air.

Thoughts are my brushes,

Paper is my outlet.

Words are my paint,

Ideas are my palette.

The visions I produce are real.

They live and breathe and play.

I set them in motion

Each and every day.

I arrange the words like puzzles;

Each where it should be.

I bring them to life

And then I set them free.

Opher 16.7.2015

A Writer

I sit in front of a blank screen and allow my mind to work. Sometimes sparked by a story, a newsflash or a thought the emotions, feelings, tales and pictures flow. Out of the void the ideas rush and coalesce into substance.

Holding an idea in my head I craft it into shape – a short piece? A novel? It will grow and form and takes its form. I merely pluck it from the void and breathe fire into its veins. It takes over and directs me.

My task is to find the words to paint the scenes, tell the story, find the characters that inhabit it and bring it to life.

Who can tell?

Sometimes it is merely describing something we all have seen. At other times it is creating the impossible and imbuing it with belief.

I am a writer.

I paint another reality with words so that you can experience it too.

The Corona Diaries – Day 191

It’s Autumn, the sun is weaker, the light weaker, the grass is dying back and leaves are beginning to change colour. My eye is still troubling me with this painful photophobia. I work up in the night, looked at the time and the light from my watch sent stabbing pains in my eye. Not good.

But my thigh strain is almost better!

I stayed in all morning waiting for the BT engineer who never came. Couldn’t watch the football last night – TV won’t stream. Internet is on-off and slow and the phone cut out. That’s 4 engineer visits that have not materialised, along with 4 promised ring backs. This is a saga that’s been going on since March. Is this a record? Is it just BT?

I do need my internet. This is pathetic.

So this afternoon I took a very pleasant walk up my hill, picking blackberries on the way (brambles up here). The sun shined and it cheered me up.

Back in Coronaland Johnson admits that all his contradictory instructions have made things so complex nobody knows what they are meant to be doing. That puts us all in the same boat as him then!

Because of the spiralling virus cases, we are going to have the joy of a weekly Downing Street conference. Simply not good enough! In this time of great national crisis, we need a leader who talks to us daily – reassuring, instructing, advising. Instead we get a buffoon who is glimpsed laying bricks or in wellingtons and is prevented from opening his mouth because he keeps putting his foot in it.

So we have another 7108 new cases and 71 deaths. We have shutdowns in the North West, Birmingham and Leicester. We have an increasing number of people with lengthy or permanent damage to heart, lungs and brain.

Scientists are predicting up to 50,000 cases a day unless the government gets a grip on things.

More and more is coming out about the appalling mess of Brexit that the clown got us into. Already more has been spent than we paid into the EU since the beginning. Nobody spoke about an army of civil servants, huge new customs posts and an army of customs officers, massive new red-tape, tariffs, the south of England being transformed into a lorry park, increased food prices, food shortages, an end to scientific collaboration, having to spend billions producing our own inferior versions of sat navs, nuclear arrangements and terrorism information, car companies fleeing to Europe, a huge exodus of other companies, job losses, firms closing and worse working conditions, wages and environmental standards.

Wasn’t this all going to be the easiest deal ever and save us £350 million a week? Lies lies lies LIES LIES LIES!!!!

The other worrying thing is that in order to get Brexit we’ve ended up with a Tory government made up of rabid right-wingers (all the sensible ones like Rory Stewart were purged). All they care about is Brexit and everything else isn’t getting done. What a mess!

Of course, they’ll let Johnson get Brexit done, blame him and dump him – hoping that we’re all stupid enough to think they are wonderful.

We’ve got three more years of these inept extreme clowns. Try to stay safe!!


Today’s Music to keep me SSaAaAaNnnnnNeEee in Isolation – Johnny Burnette Rock ‘n’ Roll Trio

Well that Rock ‘n’ Roll trio could certainly rock. They were brilliant Rockabilly. Then he went and spoilt it by becoming a Teen Idol and producing crap pop songs.

I’m going to be playing the real stuff:


The First Presidential Debate – Opher’s verdict – The Schoolyard Bully V the Gentleman

One strutted a preened – one stood proud.

One interrupted and bullied – one remained unruffled

One looked and sounded like a thug – The other looked and sounded like a President

One appealed to neo-Nazi white supremacists – one stood against fascism

One was the schoolyard bully – the other was a gentleman President


There was no doubt about it – Biden won hands down. He showed Trump up for the uncouth fascist he is.

Poetry – Militia  



Guys in masks,

With rifles,

On the streets

Subverting democracy.

Called to the polling stations

To intimidate you and me.

Called by their President

To subvert

The process of election.

Spreading fake news

About fraudulent voting

Without foundation.

Can this be happening

In the 21st Century?

That a President

Unleashes militia

In complete anarchy?


Opher – 30.9.2020

Poetry – The Biosphere.

The Biosphere.


Protecting the biosphere

Must be the key priority.

Living on this planet

With sustainability.


More hedges, more ponds,

More streams, more trees.

More swifts and swallows,

More hedgehogs please.


The time bomb of climate change

Is kicking us.

It’s time for us to change

And board

The environment bus.


Protecting the biosphere

Must be the key priority.

Living on this planet

With sustainability.


Opher – 30.9.2020