by Orna Ross | Sep 3, 2010 | Poetry |
Here is a small poem about a big subject: Listen, my parents, the grasses are crawling, the trees are all thrumming. Soon, birds won’t be able to sing. Listen. Hear me. Our time is for turning. If the old ways don’t die, we can’t win. * Listen, my children: our...
by Orna Ross | Aug 3, 2010 | Poetry |
One major inspiration of art and writing is… art and writing. I'm reading a brilliant anthology, edited by Carol Ann Duffy, called Answering Back, with a simple, delightful concept: a living poet chooses a poem from the past that has touched them and writes a...
by Orna Ross | Jul 2, 2010 | Poetry |
Down by the river bank I see a life-ring on a line, and think of how we used to swim in talk, your hands in mine, our arms encircled round your wound, that never-ending need. Your life was so unfairly hard, you felt, and I agreed. So when low words rose from...
by Orna Ross | Jun 1, 2010 | Poetry |
‘”Thou Shalt Not!” soon fades,’the Storyteller* said. ‘But “Once Upon a Time…” goes on forever.' It is morning, May in England, Ascot Priory wood. In a clearing by the pathway, a branch invites a bow. I lay my forehead on its bark,...
by Orna Ross | Jan 16, 2010 | The Rest |
by Orna Ross | Nov 3, 2009 | Poetry |
In the amber of a late October, altered by illnessand a mauling from friends, we havecome again to London, and comeone to the other,in truth,it seems, for the first timein twenty-something years. These are our days.Above us, white lines from Heathrowstreak the sky and...
by Orna Ross | Sep 2, 2009 | Poetry |
From Inspiration Meditation. Sit to silence, hear a singing, Hold the silence, know the song. Know the silence is me singing, By the silence I am sung. —————————– WANT MORE LIKE THIS? Sign up for The...
by Orna Ross | Apr 12, 2009 | The Rest |
It is one of the pardoxes of art that structure, form and convention liberate the artist – Stephen Fry (@stephenfry). Yes, yes, I know that those of us who care about the English language are supposed to be outraged by technology-induced social-speak, supposedly...
by Orna Ross | Apr 8, 2009 | The Rest |
by Pamela Travers – author, Mary Poppins. (“There are no answers, only questions.”) The Unknown — our beautiful Anglo-Saxon word, intimate, reverberant, profound, not so much to be understood as stood under while it rains upon us — that...