Anyway, Sunday it’s London with the Spanish! Will write more then!
P.S. Sorry for some of my comments on this site, I am afraid pain makes me feel lonely and unloved, as of course it does. It’s hard to have off-line friends when you moan about your limbs hurting all of the time!
Terry.
In an Oxford College. (Wrote June ’04.)
I’m sitting in an Oxford college quadrangle, soaking in the magic of this city.
It is dusking, and in the gloaming where a pale blue sky turns to grey: bats glide from tower to tower, and in the room above me, a student is practising on a flute.
Oxford is a great place to write without people smerking and asking silly questions, for people are always writing here, writing down maths, essay-notes, or even the names of students for tomorrow’s “eights” (LINK).
This is not “my” college, I would not get the same peace there. It is a college of crickets, not only the ones that rub their legs together, but two students practising the game, ball cracking on willow.
On the other side of the quad, where the purple mysteria hangs down from light brown limestone walls, a girl opens a window and calls to a boy below.
She is no Juliet. “Don’t forget the “f…… tonics this time!” she laughs, and in the same happy banter, he gives her back the two fingers.
It is getting darker and lights from the hall flicker behind a massive tree, and a gentle breeze tickles the pages of my note-book.
If there could be a heaven, it would be somewhere like here. Perhaps they’ll scatter my ashes here and my dust will cling to the college walls until they are cleaned.
I was once one of these beautiful people, once I believed that one day I would become a famous poet. It seems I was just not good enough.
Still, in the past few years since part of my mind closed for ever, I have found a niche writing under various personae on the internet. t’s not much, and my fans are few, but I am proud of it, and sometimes I even forget myself that I was born without any understanding of other people.
I suppose I had better move or else I’ll have to ask the lodge porter to open the front gate for me!
A moth just misses my face as I walk past the smells of the college kitchen (chillie con carne! Ugh!). I retire to a nearby pub and drink my beer in it’s walled garden in silence.
I am alone as usual.
—
Terry Cuthbert.
LordPineapple for new poems Monday 7th. this site updated end of the week.
Comments (39)
You are not really alone you know….we are here reading you, enjoying you and although you cannot see us we are not illusions. We are real and we care about you and think of you…so you are not really alone. If you wish your ashes so scattered write it down somewhere where those who will be in charge can carry out the last deed. The part of your mind that is closed forever is not known by us who appreciate your poetry and your writing…so it is not missed. You are who you are today and that is a good thing. I really enjoy you and your works.
Nancy
We may be few… but quality surpasses quantity any day. So there !!
The link doesn’t work! Try and fix it later!
University campuses are great for people watching. Endless writing material.
How can you call yourself alone when you have your beautiful writing with you? Writing gives you better company than many people.
I enjoy reading your site. I’m not showing up very often and I usually don’t write many comments…but I’m always there reading your site. You are not alone. Sometimes you just don’t realise all the people you are surrounded by.
Fame would have ruined you, Terry. You’d be all Bob Smartass or Sarah’s and never little Sophie or Rev. Trontby. Most of the great poets never achieved real fame until after they died anyway. Only the ones that learned to feed the lowest common denominator were successful extant. Besides, you’re the most famous person I know.
You may have been alone back then, but you are not, now. You have a lot of ‘Clowne-followers.’
If it doesn’t have poetry, then what’s the point? This was beautifully written, and my goodness – there is great power in the written word.
You are an inspiration my friend to generations old and new, and I couldn’t have said paison’s comment better in any other way.
peace
John
I love the word “dusking” – sometimes that is my very favorite part of the day, in the summer I will stay outside as long as possible to experience every moment of it, until it is beyond a doubt, full night.
why ru still crying? magi
Goodbye Mr. Chips? Terry you sound like you had a spectatular evening watching the sun go down – its way too cold for me – to contemplate such a thing – i just have to think about sitting about and i have a cold…
as for the poetry – well i personally think you have some wonderfull material, and its only the lucky 0.0001% of the many worldwide that will ever be famous… Poetry is soul food both for the poet and the reader and thats really where the reward is….
at least thats what i tell myself each time i get turned down…lol 
take care.. happy mothers day btw 
hope you got a card from the sarahs…
Better alone than in bad company, I say! I understand your loneliness, I am no longer “alone”, but I had a very long stretch of loneliness in my first few years in Italy. People could not understand how I could be “alone” with three children and a husband to take care of, that was the problem……… I felt that no-one cared for me, I often thought that if one day I should have dropped dead they would have noticed because there wouldn’t have been a meal on the table waiting. Maybe……..it wasn’t so, but that is how I felt.I desperately needed someone to notice me, to have a conversation with me, to take a walk with me, just someone to need my company. I hope that this loneliness will soon disappear. We all look forward to reading you. We need you Lord Pineapple. a big hug. RITA.
I just cannot fathom it when you say things like, “I was once one of these beautiful people, once I believed that one day I would become a famous poet. It seems I was just not good enough.”
If that were so, then the rest of us lesser mortals would be less good enough than that.
So please, keep filling this world with your words and your poetry.
Steps to heaven or hell, neither, I don’t believe in extremes, we can choose to stop along the way, go forward but not back. Stop in limbo, till we are ready to climb once more. RITA.
for the LOVE of GOD quit crying Pineapple !!! this is one of the most beautiful observationyou have written thjat i have read you are lucy to be there i suppose we all get tired of our usual from time to time & then catch a deeper glimpse of it on a day just so or after returning on a trip solitude is what i have come to call it i was wearing aout alone & do you think you could get me a slip start of that “mysteriA” vine sounds heavenly thanx Romeo magi
I see you have sympathetic comment Tierry and I cannot say much with my por English . But you are not alone . To say the truth I read Lord Pinapple and I love his poem .
It ‘ s unbeliebable but today at reading the 2 poems that I have commented at Lord Pinapple , I thought this talented man should be better known . Perhaps the fact to have 3 sites makes not the ashes
but the comments scattered . I know they are different styles .
In friendship
Michel
You are a great friend and a wonderful person Terry.
Everything you write is amazing.
I hope you are well and staying warm and happy.
I think of you often.
Take good care of yourself so you can come to the US some day.
Your fans are legion! If only the whole world could read your writings, I’m sure the world would knock on your door. The description of oxford–poignant.
You are famous among the xangans. And you are loved here as well. You still are one of the beautiful people, beautiful of heart, soul, and mind. And how can you believe you have no understanding of people when you capture them so perfectly in prose and poem? You understand better than most I think.
I have to tell you that I think You are bigger and older than 3 yr. old and I don’t put up with any stuff from my Grands. She would sleep on the floor on a pallet or wear a Good night or pull up or not get into my bed. I put plastic on one bed and that is where uncertain G-kids sleep.
is that pic of you when you were younger? hmm.. somehow i doubt. who is it?
oxford is a magical place… has a lot of ghosts and old dust.
Way back in my youth I felt as you do now in that I felt that I would never “measure up” as we say here. I also thought anyone who praised me must be mentally defective. Thru the years those rough and painful edges were worn away and slowly I evolved as the person I am today. So many things I thought were important to achieve and the talents I felt I lacked are as shadows in a corner now. The advent of growing old brought a contentment I would never have imagined in my youth. I wish for you a day when you view yourself as we do…a wonderfully talented, passionate, caring person with a scrumptious sense of humour! I believe, in your heart, that you know your worth and only in these lonely times are you affected by the “slings and arrows.” As is true of the rest of the Xangans, I hold you in high esteem.
I would not be to fast with the idea you will not become famous writer…
we are all just prisoners here of our own device…
You may be alone but you are not alone we are here for you at any time you need. You are so clever writing as you do under many pseudonyms and so entertaining. Now no more about this lonliness rubbish take care
Angela
I cannot wait to set foot on England and see some of these places and experience them!
M.A.
Oh, that was lovely. You are only physically alone, Terry. You carry us with you.
Ach. This post is so.
Much.
It makes my eyes swell and my heart cry. Or vice versa. Maybe both one after the other. Splendid words to make me feel what you see and feel.
Yes, the moon is an onion. Be careful with her. She’ll slimey up your eyeballs.
~lisa
Want to wrap you up in a big hug, or aphgan or something, and tell you not to despair. Who was it, someone famous, who said we can never know if our stuff is any good, absolutely never know, that’s for time and future readers to decide. We just have to do what we do, and enjoy life as best we can. Poets are always under appreciated anyway. Thanks for the b-day wish too!
Nancy said what was on my mind. Can’t you feel us with you? Your invisible crowd? When you are out and about with your mind working to find the words to convey to us whatever it is you intend to share? I think this is a phenomena common among bloggers. (At least, I find it’s true for me! lol) We are only as far away as the next word you intend to give us.
Really.
Peace and Love…GFW
Wishing for fame is like wishing for “smerking and silly questions.”
I alway look forward to your posts
lord if U put ur clowne hat back on U will feel better magi
There is a through train from Preston to Oxford…I’m going to catch it one day and come to visit! We could have tea and scones.
I hope you are well sorry for neglecting your blogs…but you know how it is.
be well
Mary
Oxford is one of my favorite places in the world.
Please read the last sentence in my latest blog.
Yep, an apple does not fall far from the tree!!!!!!!!!!!