Visitation
The Visitation
Poetry
A Thousand Dimensions
Introduction
All of us have much to thank young thinkers, people of intelligence and substance in an age that we, today, think it fun to mimic or ridicule. These were the great thinkers who guided society in ways that we can be truly thankful for even now. These men and women were those who refused to tailor their writing to religious dogma. Rather, they interwove religion into higher realms of thought and inner consciousness. IBM
Our one wish is to be loved,
cared for,
and free from society's pressure.
How about finding peace,
within this mortal realm?
A place to belong,
whether living or dead.
If only…
Can I help you?
Not really
Who are you anyway?
How did you get in here?
That’s a good jumper, mate
I like it
Oh, that?
Yeah. Full of Holes!
… and sums up how I feel
Why?
Why what?
I mean I don’t know who you are!
And I don’t suffer fools gladly!!
And I don’t want you preaching!!!
Ha! Preaching?
Me? Preach? Pull the other one!
No. I've just popped in …
Yeah, but who the hell are you?!
It doesn’t matter …
Look!
I think you’d better leave mate okay?
You’re pissing me off.
You’re pissing me off too.
Got any of that wine?
Oh, this is just bloody stupid!
I’ll go, but I'd like a drink first.
Okay?
Huhhhhhhhh!?!?!
Okay, wait here!
‘wish to be loved…’
What did you say?
‘cared for…’
(non-plussed)
Got that drink?
You’ve got grapes
I often see it in the images
you send out sometimes as a thank you -
Grapes, glasses and wine.
That’s class, Dragan!
Here. How do you know my name?
I just do.
Are you a stalker mate?
Coz if you are then I can tell you now
You’ll be out that door faster than your bloody
arse came in.
Yep. That’s my Dragi.
Direct, blunt and to the point.
That’s why I like you!
‘Free from society’s pressure…’
Look, I'm sorry if I was rude
and I'm sorry if you overheard me muttering,
I do that sometimes.
I mean we all do don’t we?
Like we talk to ourselves without really realising
we are…
Sure. Except you didn’t.
You wrote it.
Wrote it?
So you HAVE been looking at my stuff.
Now explain yourself, because I'm no mug!
I've seen shit in this life
And it hurts okay?
And I’ll hurt you if I have to…
No, you won’t…
What do you…?
You have a pure heart
Awareness alights his face
an awareness that he’s looking at
someone not of this city
this town
this district
this country
oh my g … … … …
this realm…
this other realm
May I sit?
Lost in a sea of thoughts
A lifetime of contradictions
A life of seeing hell on earth
of death and destruction
annihilation
of abandonment
no home
just a dirty road to walk
a hasty dash at night
under cover of darkness
with strangers
with soldiers seeking out
his people, even him
for who he is
for who his family is
for what he is
for what his family are
Dragan …
He glances…
Dragan sit down.
Sit on the bed.
I’ll sit here on the desk chair.
I quite like it actually.
My friends often sit here
when you’re working …
I often sit here too.
I love the way you do your studies
The way in which you maintain
Your inventory of everything.
Your ability to catalogue
and of course,
your skill with your pen
and the sheer divine touch
you bring with your lens.
‘A place to belong,
Whether…’
Yes…whether living or dead
Look, I don’t know how you
know all this
but there is something… …
…I feel stupid saying it…
Go on
I can take it
Well, like you’re
not of this realm
I mean, you’re of an immortal realm…
God! What the hell am I saying?
I’ll be asking you if you’ve got
Wings next!
He smiled
Eyes darker than wine,
Teeth whiter than milk
And a radiance glowed from within him
And cast a blueness – a royal blue
Across Dragan’s shadow
That even he could see in the mirror opposite
You’re not actually far from the truth
How many dimensions can you see?
Dimensions?
What sort of question is…
Well…three dimensions and
I guess for people who have faith
Then they’d insist on a fourth dimension
Good. Keep in mind from now on
A minimum of one thousand dimensions
Okay?
A thousand? … …!!!!!!!!
Um sorry. Yes. Right.
Dragan, the questions and statements
you made…
We hear you.
And I’m here to reassure you
that you are greatly loved,
greatly cared for,
and the way your life is unfolding
as you are surrounded by your family and friends,
the family and friends that YOU are creating
in place of your natural loss
is a joy and wonder to behold for Us
and We are here with you all the time
You’ve asked for a place to belong
both in life and death.
Dragan, I'm here to reassure you
That your place, your belonging
IS already part of you
You are spirit
I am spirit.
You are created
I am created.
I'm from that immortal realm you speak of.
But because I'm created
I'm not to be worshipped kiddo!
I’ll say it again lad.
Because I’m created
you are not to worship me or my kind!
Got it?
… a slow, very, very slow silent nod with each syllable …
…yes, got it
Continue along the path you now walk,
And you WILL have all of the petitions
that you desire of Him, of Them
Do you understand?
Verstehen Sie?
Wide-eyed wonderment
What do you mean?
You’re not a ghost
I can see you’re flesh and blood!
Yes
Remember that story at school
you liked?
Who rolled the stone?
Yep, that’s the one.
It was quite heavy!
A wink of the eye
that dazzled as a diamond!
A flash so bright as to make the morning sun seem dull
I do like this holey jersey of yours.
HARD TIMES!
but Dragi, you’re not alone.
Are you saying you’re an angel?
What’s more, the one who rolled the stone
In Gethsemane?
I thought…sorry…wings
The Angel of the LORD
Stood with glory all around him
Alighting the study
Now, a crimson glow, a royal blue, a Burgundian hue
I bring you His blessing
by His Command
The LORD bless you and keep you Dragan,
The LORD makes His Face to shine upon you Dragan,
And the Countenance of the LORD anoint you.
And They send you Their Peace.
Ich bringe dir seinen Segen
auf seinen Befehl
Derr Herr segne dich und behalte dich, Dragan.
Derr Herr lässt sein Gesicht auf dich scheinen Dragan,
Und das Antlitz des HERRN, dich zu salben
Und sie senden dir ihren Frieden
A touch, feather-like, of the hand upon his head
And in that final instant
The royal blue transcended by
The whiteness ~ wing-like
As he departed
Those eyes, that smile
Seared onto Dragan’s mind forever
*
Did he dream?
He awoke with the first rays of the morning sun
The scene, as vivid then as it had been in the night
What an incredible dream!
Have I been reading too much?
He glanced at his jersey on the coat hanger
The words did not feel so harsh or stark today
He went into the bathroom … paused …
Slowly, very slowly, turned …
Hesitantly, he walked back out, still with the toothbrush
protruding out of his mouth
The holes have gone
It’s perfect!
Ian Bradley Marshall
30 October 2024
All Rights Reserved
LIVERPOOL
© 2023 Ian Bradley Marshall
Digital Artwork by IBM KTW © 2023 IBM KTW
The Visitation ~ Its Foundation
Composed on the train Cheltenham to Liverpool ~ 2 January 2014 and released on 6 June 2023
The Contention
But can you not see John?
How can people understand these scriptures
if we do not give them assistance
through the arts and literature?
They end up accepting as truth,
that, which we both know is often
fairytale!
The Visitation ~ Its Foundation
Poetry
A Thousand Dimensions
Contents
The Challenge
The Outline
The Contention
But can you not see John?
How can people understand these scriptures
if we do not give them assistance
through the arts and literature?
They end up accepting as truth,
that,
which we both know is often
fairytale!
The Outline
Writing VISITATION on the Train between Liverpool and Cheltenham in 2014, writing the first edition of Quantum Leap in 2015 and now in its Second Edition From Death to Life ~ That Quantum Leap, and Ocean Dark circa 2013-2014 have been notable events along life’s timeline, simply because none were planned, none were composed.
Alas, I do not have the discipline and expertise of the poet or the writer of literature. This comes home with the force of a battering ram when reading any of the biographies of the great poets and writers and discovering their skills that are so profound, so beautifully akin to the finest engineering skills with any language, that I just sit quietly and think in quiet wonder.
For me, it is a very personal thing. A line comes into my head when I least expect it, and only later, do I realise that I was in the same instant subconsciously reaching for the pencil or even QWERTY. The lines below, likewise, fall into that category.
They express my impatience at those who would scoff at poetry and prose as being very poor and inadequate substitutes for sacred texts; texts that the individual knows and recites so well that there is a tendency to slip into auto-cruise control.
Many years ago, I visited friends in Liverpool and on the wall in the lounge was a quite grand painting in the style of mid to late Victorian, of the Road to Emmaus. I know the road well from my times in Israel, and we chatted, but I knew the scriptural rendition, too. I described the beauty of the painting and the account it depicted and then brought the painting to its climax in that last verse … Did not our hearts burn within us?!?!
I wanted to encourage people to go behind the words, and to see, feel, hear and smell the events being reported.
That is why Visitation is such an important construct in all my writing.
Simply put, I invite the reader to accompany me along the same road where we see the two young poets walking somewhere high upon the Cotswolds. To be in earnest and deep discussion and conversation, wherein we find we are unaware of how far we have walked and how far therefore we must walk to return from whence we came; and this is what young people do even today in this social media age.
The Contention
Even the most sublime scripture
remains static, immoveable,
locked within its parameters.
Literature and Poetry
step beyond those parameters.
Only the minds of the spiteful insist
the parameters be secured ever more tightly.
And if this still fails
to keep the soul and spirit
locked firmly within,
then there is only one thing for it…
That which totalitarian regimes do
without even the blink of the eyelid.
So to every person who
enjoys writing poetry,
reading poetry,
seeing the world
through the beauty of poetry,
stand firm, I say.
Let the fanatics do their worst.
They can extinguish life, for sure,
They will never extinguish the soul and the spirit.
For these will cause the fanatic
to dance to oblivion.
Ian Bradley Marshall
1 December 2024
All Rights Reserved
LIVERPOOL
© 2024 Ian Bradley Marshall
This Preamble to Visitation is inspired by the Great War Poet Wilfred Owen ~ Two Biographies, the first by Jon Stallworthy (1974) and the second by Dominic Hibberd (2002)
Digital Artwork is by © 2024 KTW unless otherwise stated
First Written on 4 June 2023
Ken Webb is a writer and proofreader. His website, kennwebb.com, showcases his work as a writer, blogger and podcaster, resting on his successive careers as a police officer, progressing to a junior lawyer in succession and trusts as a Fellow of the Institute of Legal Executives, a retired officer with the Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve, and latterly, for three years, the owner and editor of two lifestyle magazines in Liverpool.
He also just handed over a successful two year chairmanship in Gloucestershire with Cheltenham Regency Probus.
Pandemic aside, he spends his time equally between his city, Liverpool, and the county of his birth, Gloucestershire.
In this fast-paced present age, proof-reading is essential. And this skill also occasionally leads to copy-editing writers’ manuscripts for submission to publishers and also student and post graduate dissertations.
