Author Archives: John Swinburn

About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes

Two Hundred Two

Posted on July 21, 2015 by John Swinburn

If you allow yourself to break free of the bonds that hold you back from accomplishing things you can only dream of, you can be and do more than you hoped. You can propel yourself well beyond your dreams; you … Continue reading →

Posted in Ruminations | Leave a comment

Mint and Lamb

Posted on July 20, 2015 by John Swinburn

The aroma of crushed mint leaves clings to the bowl, bringing with it a flood of memories of childhood. I remember when I was introduced to lamb, gradually, with little lamb patties surround by ample dollops of mint jelly. As … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry | Leave a comment

All Over the Map

Posted on July 20, 2015 by John Swinburn

This morning, finally, I will see a primary care physician for a physical.  My last physical was in December 2013, if memory serves me correctly. I intend, always, to get annual physicals, but intentions cannot buy rainbows. Or something along those … Continue reading →

Posted in Just Thinking | 1 Comment

Two Hundred One

Posted on July 20, 2015 by John Swinburn

The world folds in on itself and swallows everything you were, all you hoped to be. In place of the person you planned, a new one will grow. Your old experiences and the places they led you will become nourishment … Continue reading →

Posted in Ruminations | Leave a comment

Exercise in Hopelessness

Posted on July 19, 2015 by John Swinburn

What would you call it?  A daydream? A fantasy?  I don’t know. Whatever you call it, though, I think all of us, every one of us, should have one.  I suspect it won’t be comfortable. In fact, it might be … Continue reading →

Posted in Fiction, Writing | 2 Comments

Two Hundred

Posted on July 19, 2015 by John Swinburn

Poetry can utter thoughts one dare not say aloud, nor commit to prose, because poetry is a language of suggestion, interpretation, influence. “It means what it means to you” or “It means what you want it to mean.” That vague avoidance of … Continue reading →

Posted in Language, Poetry, Writing | 2 Comments

My Father’s Birthday

Posted on July 18, 2015 by John Swinburn

Dad was fifty years old when I was born; he was born on July 18, 1903. Were he alive today, he would be one hundred twelve years old. But he died in February 1985 at the age of eighty-one, when I … Continue reading →

Posted in Aging, Family | 4 Comments

Mistakes Were Made

Posted on July 18, 2015 by John Swinburn

I don’t know whether to be angry at WordPress for losing what I wrote before I was able to save it or at my computer for contributing to the loss. Or, perhaps, at myself for being lazy and relying on … Continue reading →

Posted in Technology, Writing | Leave a comment

One Hundred Ninety-Nine

Posted on July 18, 2015 by John Swinburn

I just read a piece from the New York Magazine entitled The Hard Truths of Ta-Nehisi Coates. It is the sort of thing one should not read early in the morning if one expects the rest of the day, and … Continue reading →

Posted in Justice, Racism | Leave a comment

One Hundred Ninety-Eight

Posted on July 17, 2015 by John Swinburn

Some days, I cannot stop myself. I shake and shudder, wondering what the hell I did to deserve to live in this time, to receive all the bounty that I—none of us—ever deserved. It’s stunning, really. This charmed life in … Continue reading →

Posted in Ruminations | Leave a comment

Life Through Poetry

Posted on July 16, 2015 by John Swinburn

Last night, we went to Kollective Coffee in downtown Hot Springs. The primary purpose was for me to meet with a woman to discuss the possibility of her speaking to our local writers’ group. But, since I was going to … Continue reading →

Posted in Books, Poetry | 1 Comment

One Hundred Ninety-Seven

Posted on July 16, 2015 by John Swinburn

The world is awash in interesting people.  They’re not all people with whom you’d want to spend a great deal of time, but they’re interesting, nonetheless.  Like the guy in a long, dirty rainbow robe over his clothes; he has … Continue reading →

Posted in Ruminations | Leave a comment

Stones

Posted on July 15, 2015 by John Swinburn

I entered through the monstrous wrought iron and glass front door of the house, in spite of having been told to enter through the kitchen door in the garage. Entry through a garage is just too casual, in my opinion, … Continue reading →

Posted in Fiction, Writing | 1 Comment

One Hundred Ninety-Six

Posted on July 15, 2015 by John Swinburn

The dream involved a very tall man, a man who had been condemned to death by hanging. I was responsible for transporting him to the gallows. Somehow, using his legs, he flipped me over and lifted my body high above him. … Continue reading →

Posted in Ruminations | Leave a comment

Epicanthic Folds

Posted on July 14, 2015 by John Swinburn

You’ve heard of epicanthic folds?  Well of course you have. They are skin of the upper eyelid that covers the inner corner of the eye. Epicanthic folds are largely responsible for the distinctive “Asian” facial appearance that is so often … Continue reading →

Posted in Just Thinking | 2 Comments

One Hundred Ninety-Five

Posted on July 14, 2015 by John Swinburn

Stand between two tall mirrors. Watch the reflections of your body stretch into eternity. That’s how far you can see if you allow your mind the freedom you give your eyes.

Posted in Ruminations | Leave a comment

Seeing Through Shadows

Posted on July 13, 2015 by John Swinburn

Many years ago, after my mother had retired from teaching school, two friends who  taught at Del Mar College engaged her help with a text book they were writing.  She offered them advice on the structure and content of the … Continue reading →

Posted in Just Thinking | Leave a comment

One Hundred Ninety-Four

Posted on July 13, 2015 by John Swinburn

At what point does paranoia become mass paranoia?  How many people does it take? It is percentage of the population, or is there an absolute number of paranoid people who suffer under the same delusion beyond which the label applies? … Continue reading →

Posted in Ruminations | 3 Comments

This is Not a Post

Posted on July 12, 2015 by John Swinburn

With apologies to René Magritte.

Posted in Just Thinking | 4 Comments

One Hundred Ninety-Three

Posted on July 12, 2015 by John Swinburn

All people should have a portrait made or a photo taken, at least once in their lives, raising their fists in the air and clenching a knife between their teeth. I’m seeking photographers.

Posted in Ruminations | 1 Comment

Turn Back Time

Posted on July 11, 2015 by John Swinburn

The conversion to an age-based economy began when the Dutch implemented a program called Ungdom-penge; youth-money. Five years later, almost all global economies had adopted Ungdom-penge. The changes were not in the currencies themselves, but in what currencies could buy. Thanks … Continue reading →

Posted in Absurdist Fantasy, Just Thinking | 2 Comments

One Hundred Ninety-Two

Posted on July 11, 2015 by John Swinburn

I have a hard time trusting people who claim to dislike poetry.  Either they are lying to themselves or they are lying to me. Poetry is emotion given the gift of language; you just can’t dislike that unless you carry the … Continue reading →

Posted in Ruminations | 2 Comments

The Effect of Emotion on Language

Posted on July 10, 2015 by John Swinburn

“My emotions got the best of me.” If that isn’t a ludicrous shifting of blame to an unassailable, non-existent entity, I don’t know what it is. The statement suggests emotions are entirely separate from the person experiencing them. Yet it’s … Continue reading →

Posted in Emotion, Self-discipline | 1 Comment

One Hundred Ninety-One

Posted on July 10, 2015 by John Swinburn

None of us will get out of this alive. I wonder whether it matters. Our lives are so short and, for the most part, so inconsequential to humankind, to the planet, to the vast and unknowable universe. But a few … Continue reading →

Posted in Ruminations | Leave a comment

Manhattan Project

Posted on July 9, 2015 by John Swinburn

The empty streets of Manhattan, Kansas, captured on live internet video cams, seemed surreal to Connor Embleman. Not a living soul stirred in the city that, one week earlier, was home to fifty-six thousand people. Though the streets were absent … Continue reading →

Posted in Fiction, Writing | Leave a comment