Our London journal is complete!  The new sonnets from our recording session are up, and our video-taped discussion of Coriolanus is Here.

Herein are flights of fancy inspired by our current visit to our parent nation’s great progenitor. Please enjoy this serendipitous travel extravaganza.


Limned by lights, the coastline ‘neath me stretches,

As strength of skill propels Men through the air;

The glow winks warm, dim dwindling fletches,

Whilst Ocean’s night subsumes the Underfare.

My Heart’s destination, it doth draw nigh,

Yet still it seems a fleeting whispr’d dream,

Yet Hope I feel, a thousand miles to fly,

And come to rest on shores of aged esteem;

O pilgrimage, to Calling I return,

To fresh my thoughts with shades of mem’ry past,

Thou nameless pull, to follow which I yearn;

So feast my Heart, beloved Craft’s repast.

Thus hence I come, on wings of steel and fire,

To test my Soul, lest it be called to pyre.


Above our heads giant jellyfish loom,

Whilst down below we breath the driest air,

A massive tomb mightst be this massive room

Were clerks to find a simple scribe did Err;

No hope have we a favor’d berth to land,

If titled papers prove inadequate,

Nor shamed retreat, if routed from this stand,

For we would seem lacking in etiquette:

To travel far, a wide ocean to cross,

And come to shore without the proper forms,

No hold could bear that faring treasure’s loss,

Yet worse by far, bestilled in paper’y storms.

Thou bloodied pulp, thy Weavers I’d defy,

Save that their web my trip wouldst then deny.

Shakespeare’s Sonnet 66


Once saw we True, when first we op’d our eyes,

Our Hearts looked bright within, our Souls to peer,

Yet Times do teach that our True sense belies,

And Science calls our intuition Mere:

And Commerce klaxons, “This,” to blind our Sight,

And Proper blazes, “Right,” to mute our Hearts,

And Teaching nags us, “Measure thy Soul’s light,”

Whilst Worth heeds ‘Sipid, “Value this one Part,”

And Art is judged by, “Mass produce to Sell,”

And Conform, Tyrant-like, suppresses Style,

And Complex, “Why,” denounced by Shouted, “Tell,”

And Virtue’s Love passed o’er for Vulgar Bile;

Once saw we True, yet then we’re taught to Lie:

Thus walk we blind, while muted Hearts doth cry.

Finding the Theater


Lost in London,

Roundabout we spin,

Asking Smartphones

Where we should have been.


Our destination’s nigh,

Yet creeping doubt

Within my breast doth lie.



This direction,

(We just have gone),

Apparently was incorrect,

It was quite literally wrong.

But not just wrong,

Nor slightly right,

It wasn’t even close,

It was the direct opposite,

Our backs to where we goest.

So even if we’d varied slightly

From the path we chose,

We never would have gotten here,

Nor written this fine prose;

We’d not have found the theater,

We would not see the show,

We would not have to stand and wait

Whilst queues around us grow.

Yet, happily, we did get here,

And waiting’s not a crime,

The journey’s more than half the fun,

Not merely waste of time.

And know we now

How to get here,

If here we come again,

If travel brings us back this way,

This road will be our friend.

Ne’er lost are we upon this street

When once we’ve walked along it,

The homing pigeons in our brains

Will guide us Truly on it.

Canterbury Dream
Canterbury Dream


Ask not the Why of this, which here I write,

No answer lies herein for eyes to find.

The quest to Know lies in the Journey’s sight,

And needy Why’s more like the eye to blind;

‘Tis not a crime to quest to know thy Heart,

Though grasping times say, “That I cannot hold.

Why seek you air, when substance divvies Part?”

To say, “‘Tis right,” we dare to break the mold;

I won’t deny that walking blind is hard,

When all we’re taught says, “Know exactly where,”

But asking, “Why,” from safe within our yard,

Of things without, is like to stifle Care.

Defining aught, not ready to define,

Does a disservice, both to it and thine.

Maggie sees a Magpie.
Maggie sees a Magpie in Hyde Park.
Fountains everywhere!  Christine loves fountains. Water...
Fountains everywhere! Christine loves fountains.


Those words that I before have spoke do Lie,

Even those I whisper’d s’posing truest,

A mask of glass my Heart’s light did belie,

Thus lensing outward my most inward quest;

For Fear it was that kept me on my Path,

And Fear it was that made me deviate,

Yet Fear I knew to be my greatest Wrath

And thus I strove by Fear my Fear to hate;

Yet Fear it is that teaches us to grow,

And Fear it is that shows us how to touch,

And Fear is why we strive to reap and sow,

And Fear is why I’m Bound to Care so much,

And so pull I those crystal walls within,

That I might Fear and know how to begin.

Speakers’ Corner Gallery

Lost in London:  Epilogue

Lost in London,

Where I found my Voice,

Lost in London,

Letting Faith guide Choice;

Lost in London,

Free my muted Soul,

Lost in London,

Find my Heart new-whole;

Lost in London,

Here I came to Live,

And found far more

Than what I’d thought to Give.

Christine says, "Thank you."
Christine says, “Thank you.”
"Thank you.  My heart hears music again."
“Thank you. My heart hears music again.”

Actor’s Prayer

This Stage;  This sacred space whereon I stand,

This Play;  Where Tear and Laugh join hand with hand,

This Tale;  With which our Hearts we strive to touch

Your Spirit;  Hark to Joy and Cry with us.

O Stage;  Allow my humble Heart to Shine

It’s Light;  Connecting what I see with thine,

O Watch;  The world without is turning still,

But here, Suspend belief to feel our Will.

O Muse;  Within our Breasts instill your Soul,

O Muse;  Let perfect Light match perfect Role,

So Come;  The Audience without us waits,

Our Masks;  Bestow with Heart and proper Grace:

This Stage;  This sacred space whereon I stand,

Come Forth, upon this Altar place thy Hand.

The Stage Calls.
The Stage Calls.

Pick of the Trip Quotes!

“That’s the problem with having a blinding light.  You attract things that can’t see very well.”  -Christine to Maggie

“Flippantly Flipped Flapjacks Fumbling Fwap the Floor.”  -Christine  (on the plane home): Why?  Why not.  All hail alliteration!