Theories are like toothbrushes. Everyone has one but doesn't want to share anyone else's (Campbell)
When I was a student, several lifetimes ago, one of my favourite times was when we'd been out for a drink and a gang of us would sit in a common room in the halls of residence and theorise. We didn't know that was what we a were doing but in fact we were exercising our cerebrum in a totally creative way. We would often begin quite seriously but then sometimes degenerated in the 'What if...' game. You know the sort of thing.
'What if everyone stopped eating chocolate for a month?'
'What if public transport was free?'
"What if education was taken out of the hands of the government?'
There were all sorts of things discussed from the serious to the seriously unlikely. The point is that we were exercising our creative muscle. Amazing what thoughts hit you at 05.30am! It led me on to thinking about poetry and its nature and while I was lying there several phrases and ideas sprang to mind.
when the soul bleeds.
Poetry is emotion
While we were touring Canada and Alaska senses were continually assaulted by dramatic views like that of Lake Moraine above. You would think that someone who'd written as much poetry as I have would wax long and lyrical but I think I have sensory overload. A number of people have asked what was my favourite part, place or experience and it is difficult to answer. I have had a go at expressing how I feel about one aspect of the sojourn below.
The Canadian Wilderness
Vast tracts of uncluttered land
untouched by meddling human hand.
Vertical cliffs of wind-carved stone
towering conifers in groups and alone.
Valleys carved by long dead glaciers
u-shaped telling of harsher winters.
V-shaped now gouged by rapid streams
vertical waterfalls on which sun gleams.
Voluminous bodies of water shape the terrain
waiting for winter’s hand to still them again.
No human interference in most Canadian places
a country devoid of people’s disgraces.
©David L Atkinson September 2013