Reading a few of my poems at an arts festival this weekend … excited, nervous, unsure … first time I will be reading my poems in a public domain, exposing my thoughts, emotions and journey to strangers, in person. Totally different feeling from posting them online or reading to a friend now and again. Possibly the next step in me moving into a more “serious” position on my writings. 😱📖🤔
Selected 5 poems to read (doing some practice readings) , will gauge the audience a see how many they can handle.
at the centre of his imagination
all is blurred or veiled
this continual tussle between
reveal or shadow
inevitably creating a journey of suspense
allowing for at times,
no resolution or closure
retreating into these lost shadows
this private reticence
of an untold, nay oft told story
out of sight, off camera
might become an annoyance
but is it not the journey
rather than that, never reached destination
that casts the longer shadow
and matters more?
There are no words to describe the beauty, power and wonder that the music and poetry of Bob Dylan continues to bring to this world. Happy Birthday 80th birthday the the one and only Bob Dylan. An icon who towers over all, for the last 60 years.
Thanks for all the great music, memories and reflections that your music continues to deliver. In refection, on those memories, I am posting a link to an article I penned a few years back after the release of Tempest – “Bob Dylan and His Many Muses”
In Paul Zollo’s book “Song Writers on Song Writing”, the expanded 4th edition, in teh interview he held with Bob Dylan; Dylan makes an interesting comment, in how often songs “come to him”. That’s how he could write “Blowing in the Wind” in 10 minutes, which he says came right out of that well spring of creativity.
Does Dylan think he can do it again today? No, says Dylan. “You can’t do something forever,” he says. “I did it once, and I can do other things now. But, I can’t do that.” when speaking to Ed Bradley on 60 minutes in 2004. he also goes onto to say: “I don’t know how I got to write those songs. Those early songs were almost magically written,”
Dylan seems to be saying that his muse, that wellspring of creativity he so magnificently tapped in that golden era of the early…
The Winter Edition for 2020, has hit the shelves, it’s live now on Ambulance Today.
This Africa Quarterly (written whilst resting up at home in South Africa, after 380 days working on the road) explores the challenges of companies failing to interact with front-line staff at so many levels – as “Editor Joe” says:
“You cannot see this year through without ranting at something. Be realistic. Regular contributor, Mike Emmerich, has picked a very deserving target in corporate companies who have promoted support to their frontline workers during this year’s pandemic, but seemingly without input from those very same people who have actually lived through those difficulties first-hand. An extremely important conversation, which may be easily overlooked!”
Click on the link below to download and read the entire magazine (you’re welcome) and of course my article on page 32 & 33
From the Africa Desk of Ambulance Today – The Banality of Corporate Arrogance
To all the followers of this page, if you want to see an article written about any specific aspect of Emergency Care on the African continent, or get me to interview a key role player, drop me a mail. Equally, if you have any news items you would like us to run either in our magazine or on our daily updated global ambulance news website please make contact.
For the readers from Africa, if you wish to advertise or have a free advertorial written up in the magazine, make contact and lets see how I can assist …
To my fellow passionate EMS friends across the world, I trust you are enjoying this journey, as we continue to explore this fascinating continent. Till then be safe out there and stay passionate – Enjoy!
On this day when we remember the fallen, lets gave pause for thought, to the boys forced to become men, to become killers. In silent contemplation, I at times shout out to my silence; why do we discard our best and brightest to senseless conflicts. The hopes and disappointments of generations of young (mostly) men/boys are always dashed at the altar of political expedience and greed. Young men fighting old men’s wars. The First World War poets have always stuck a deep chord on my soul and I reread the poems and contemplate deeply on the what, why, how and the loss. The poetry of Owen, Rosenberg, Blunden, Gurney and Sassoon are those that I turn to when I need to pause and think, why is this world so fucked up?
Consequently, I have put my pen to writing about war, and the effect it has had on me; as who served, and on our youth and the broader society. Here are some of the poems I have written with a precise of what inspired/motivated me to to put pen to paper. Not in the same league as Owen and Sassoon, but hopefully it will cause you dear reader, to pause, and reflect as to where we are going in this crazy world.
Upon reflecting on my time in the military/war as an Ops Medic, my mind flitted around the war, in which I was involved, and its unpopularity (in my opinion) and the baggage that one carries after the fact. The PTSD that soldiers carry with them for life, but that society has long forgotten, especially if the war was unpopular. Sting said: “History will teach us nothing” in some respects he is true.
The passing of Muhammad Ali gave me pause for reflection on the issues of war, forcible conscription and all that goes with it, he went to prison rather than be drafted to serve in Vietnam. I then reflected back on my time when I was forcibly conscripted in 1981 and my battle with the process of all that is war.
This arose from a dream I had, which then made me think back to a Wilfred Owen poem I read, “Strange Meeting”. Upon further reflection I cast my mind back to when I was an Ops Medic in the bush war in 1981/82 and the time I spent treating patients at the main POW camp in the now Namibia. My thought process then meandered through a montage of past present and future. It was a difficult poem to write but the words just spilled out once I began.
