My Mind

Personal website of M.G. Daniel. Sharing poetry, my writings, snippets from my life and whatever's on my mind.

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The fool’s creed?

I didn’t know of Padraic (Patrick) Pearse as a poet until a couple of days ago. I am fool-140229_640.jpgguessing that name is not popular in the UK at a time like this – given recent events –  and his poetry may not be presented for public celebration.  Regardless, I read and was touched by his poem, The Fool. Perhaps it speaks to an interior conversation I have, about when to accept the fall as something that goes with the territory, brush the dust off and keep going in the same determined direction, or decide it’s time to pack it in, give it up, drop it down, let it go…and so on. Gwaaad, I have been foolish, as in this chunk of Pearse’s poem:

Ye shall be foolish as I; ye shall scatter, not save;
Ye shall venture your all, lest ye lose what is more than all;

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Blessed are the happy-go-lucky

That old ad for an energy drink came to mind this morning – the one where the peppy zebra steps into a pond or lake or some body of water and gets snatched and pulled under by a crocodile. And just when you go ‘oh-noooo’ the zebra struts out with a predator’s skin handbag. Well, one remembrance led to another, to poet Ogden Nash and this childhood favorite, happily and frequently recited at home.

Adventures Of Isabel
(By Ogden Nash)


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#TBT: What I did many Mays ago

I find going through old photos such a smile-inducing, relaxing, mentally recharging and all-round joyful activity. Lots of “mindfulness” moments in those flashbacks. I’ve been working on overcoming my usual anxiety/reluctance about sharing my photos online and I’m putting this one up in the Throwback Thursday spirit. It’s from the launch (in Saint Lucia) of my poetry chapbook Mindfield at a bookstore in Castries, a joint event with another local author, the late politician George Odlum.

Mindfield launch

While I am at it, here’s the original book cover – see more on my Writings page.

me_mindfield cover


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My Sunday sentence

…is “Charity begins at home.”

Why? Because I had a flashback to a childhood moment, reciting poems with an older sister – learning that way from older siblings was my introduction to poetry –  and recalled this poem I learned from her (author unknown):

Betty at the party

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Les Créoles

At  some point in the history of our hemisphere, a lot of stranger people were flung together and had to make their own new language to communicate.  As I’ve posted before, I am really proud of my people who lost everything, took their nothing and made something. I come from a long line of survivors and innovators, keeping company with all the (French) creole speakers who made a language from French and their disparate African tongues. In Saint Lucia, we speak a creole (patios) very similar or intelligible enough in most cases  to that spoken by people in places our island fore bearers had absolutely no communication with way back then when they invented that tongue. Among countries on the list of french creole speakers worldwide is Dominica. That little fact allows me this morning to thoroughly enjoy a song I had almost forgotten about by a group from that island.