I am sitting in front of The Zetland Arms listening to a Leonard Cohen song<\/p>\n
Dance Me to the End of Love<\/em>\u00a0rolls gently across the beach and dies quietly in the gentle breeze<\/p>\n You are sitting on a memory bench looking out to sea<\/p>\n We exchange no words but I know that you are thinking of me<\/p>\n I have crossed the wide beach towards the white cliffs<\/p>\n In my hand I am carrying a camera<\/p>\n I turn frequently and record your likeness<\/p>\n As I get further away you become a shadow almost hidden by the drunken sea<\/p>\n You cannot see me<\/p>\n But you are always in my view<\/p>\n Two horses are being ridden in the shallow waves<\/p>\n As they break on to the sloping beach<\/p>\n They cause little disturbance<\/p>\n You are watching the horses but thinking of me<\/p>\n I am hidden from view<\/p>\n With a whiff of cruelty I have positioned myself directly behind you<\/p>\n Only a partition of light bushes separate us<\/p>\n I note your quiet distress but do not reveal myself<\/p>\n Until you turn<\/p>\n You mutter a light profanity and grab my hand<\/p>\n And lead me along the dusty sea path<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Land Muse On clay hoof the easy paced horses made their way through the muddy fields<\/p>\n July had surprised everybody by being wetter than expected<\/p>\n The warmer weather had lingered for a while in the southern counties<\/p>\n But was soon cloaked by the grey clouds that arrived on the west wind<\/p>\n Aurora the goddess of the dawn was loved by Tithonus<\/p>\n In return she gave him immortality<\/p>\n But not eternal youth<\/p>\n In time he grew old and withered<\/p>\n But he could not die<\/p>\n Aurora however was unable to take back the gift she had given him<\/p>\n When they were young lovers<\/p>\n <\/p>\n August August is the assassin\u2019s month and as soon as the month arrived I began planning my next task<\/p>\n A year had passed since my last assassination and I knew that the authorities were expecting me<\/p>\n The large houses on the main street provided me with ample cover as I prepared my rifle<\/span><\/p>\n I am just a simple labourer ploughing these fields<\/em><\/p>\n You will eat because of my efforts today<\/em><\/p>\n My home is in these fields<\/em><\/p>\n I live nowhere else<\/em><\/p>\n Leave me to plough these fertile fields and you will not starve<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n The soldiers with the decorated skin then left me to complete my day<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The Purple Sash\u00a0\u00a0(Dream Stories Dover) I was walking with the Queen and one of her dogs on the southern downs<\/p>\n After about an hour we passed a Spanish woman in a white cotton dress<\/p>\n She had a deep purple sash hanging from one of her slender shoulders<\/p>\n Our visit seemed to surprise her and she wept for a while<\/p>\n The Queen took pity on the poor woman and comforted her<\/p>\n In return the woman gave me the purple sash to commemorate the day<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Nine Wooden Doors in Sandwich Kent I am sending you a postcard which shows nine doors of various designs that can be found in the small town of Sandwich in Kent<\/em><\/p>\n One of the doors is the entrance to the house of the Widow Roberts<\/em><\/p>\n Does she still live at number sixty-two?<\/em><\/p>\n She has never lived at number sixty-two<\/em><\/p>\n Then advise me of her door do that I may visit her when I am next in the town<\/em><\/p>\n You will find the Widow Roberts if you ignore the first six doors and lay waste to the seventh<\/em><\/p>\n You talk in riddles my friend<\/em><\/p>\n Believe me the postcard is as good as any map and I know that the good widow will be very pleased to see you<\/em><\/p>\n Good luck and please note if reach the ancient Barbican then you have travelled too far and will have to retrace your steps<\/em><\/p>\n On the morrow I will contact the Widow Roberts and advise her of your unusual visit <\/p>\n The Poetry Field I can sense your conspiracy<\/p>\n Hidden the deep luxury of my field<\/p>\n Hark<\/p>\n Be silent<\/p>\n The emperor now approaches<\/p>\n Ita feri ut se mori sentiat\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n The Imprisonment of Celina S She ran through the long halls that now occupied her quiet history<\/p>\n A strange character with an exquisite sensibility watched her every move<\/p>\n She was not loved it was a lost illusion many years spent<\/p>\n Her gentle soul was constantly changing between light and shade with the latter taking hold for long periods of time<\/p>\n There had been many songs but very little poetry written on the grey bricks of her dreadful prison<\/p>\n Even though he had not served his country during the time of conflict he felt he had served it well with his pen<\/p>\n \u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I am sitting in front of The Zetland Arms listening to a Leonard Cohen song Dance Me to the End of Love\u00a0rolls gently across the beach and dies quietly in the gentle breeze You are sitting on a memory bench looking out to sea We exchange no words but I know that you are thinking […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-9187","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9187","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=9187"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9187\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9189,"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9187\/revisions\/9189"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=9187"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=9187"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=9187"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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