Jason Shaw's Blog

Would you like the old seafront diary back? 



Back to the old ways,  back to the witterings of some slightly mad buffer detailing is life here again?  Would you care to read what a 50-year-old fat fairy has to say?    Is there an appetite for such a blog in these celebrity-obsessed times, when life is lived on instagram and tok-tik? Is there room for an old style blog, has time moved away from the written word? 



What do you think?  Should the old Seafront Diary make a return?Hey, that was...

I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary.  I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut...

Gather ye Rose-buds while ye may,
    Old Time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles to day,
    To morrow will be dying.

The glorious Lamp of Heaven, the Sun,
    The higher he's a getting;
The sooner will his Race be run,
    And neerer he's to Setting.

That Age is best, which is the first,
    When Youth and Blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
    Times, still succeed the former.

Then be not...

O Captain! My Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
      But O heart! heart! heart!
            O the bleeding drops of red,
                  Where on the deck my Captain lies,
           ...

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Copyright 2020 Seafront Media Hey, that was my post for today, hope it filled your inbox nicely and made you smile or laugh or something else nice. Look out for another post soon, but if you miss me too much you can always come by the blog and leave me a message.

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Break, Break, Break
BY ALFRED TENNYSON
Break, break, break,
         On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!
And I would that my tongue could utter
         The thoughts that arise in me.

O, well for the fisherman's boy,
         That he shouts with his sister at play!
O, well for the sailor lad,
         That he sings in his boat on the bay!<br /...

Idylls of the King: The Passing of Arthur
BY ALFRED TENNYSON


That story which the bold Sir Bedivere,
First made and latest left of all the knights,
Told, when the man was no more than a voice
In the white winter of his age, to those
With whom he dwelt, new faces, other minds.

       For on their march to westward, Bedivere,
Who slowly paced among the slumbering host,
Heard in his tent the moanings of the King:
...

Big City Dreams



Do you ever look around this city, this place you call home,

Can you look beyond the buildings, passed the glitz and glamour

Do you ever see the real life hiding in the shadows of plain sight,

Do you ever wonder where the homeless go at night?


Have you seen the old war vet walking down by the river?

His clothes are in rags and he gazes to the sky,

All he wants is for those memories to die,

Alone at night he cries, for the living and the dead, all those spirits tha...