A Letter to No-One in Particular

This week I’ve been on holiday in Tenby and I’ve been devouring Rainer Maria Rilke’s “Letters to a Young Poet”. It’s a sweet little book that easily fits in my trouser pocket and I’ve been leaning up against post, walls and benches with my head planted firmly between it’s pages. I love way letters read and It’s an art form I’d love to explore more in the future. I wrote this letter, not to anyone in particular, but hope that you, faceless reader, will enjoy it. 🙂

My Dear,

You might not deduce it from the places where I spend my time, but if I were allowed to select the aesthetic of my surroundings my first choice would be by the sea. As much as I love the city’s bustle, and the quiet wisdom of the woods, the ancientness of the sea will always be my first home and love.

Now it’s worth noting the difference here between the beach and the sea for, though one tends to follow the other, they remain vastly different.

The beach is a place for surfers and city dwellers to relax, to find pleasure and rest at the point where the fraying edge of metropolitan life meets the cool waters of the ocean.

A sea is an entirely different animal. Man has not tamed the sea, he has only learned to cohabit the earth with her. That is the first key difference: the beach is an “it”; the sea is a “she”. As C.S Lewis revered Aslan, so we revere the sea: she isn’t tame, but she is kind.

By the sea is a place for hardy black rocks, for docks with sailing boats; littered with spools of thick, green rope. The air here is seasoned, salty-sweet, and musky with the smell of fish and seaweed; which is one of the finest perfumes nature has ever devised. The sounds of seagulls and the mantra of waves hangs in the air like morning mist.

The morning mist is one thing I’ll mention. It hangs over the barren, blue horizon; I would compare it to the curtains that hang in a theatre. When the sun rises you may dart to the window expecting to gaze out at the edge of the world but, though it’s light outside, you remain blind to it. The sea, being an excellent showman, knows that just because the lights are on in the theatre does not entitle us to observe the stage until the moment when the players are ready and the show begins. Then, we may admire the edge of the Earth, where angels play hooky to skip stars on the water and pagan dreams have gone to die.

It is good to be by the sea again.

Brother Jack

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Sofrito and Chorizo Quesadilla Recipe

Recently I watched a few episodes of chef’s table on Netflix and it slightly blew my mind. I’ve always enjoyed watching a chef like Gordan Ramsey put a meal together but hearing the way some of these master chefs talk about food reminded me of poetry. They were hopelessly romantic about flavour, and texture, and salt. SALT! As I watched I literally thought to myself: “I want to write like that guy cooks.”

This has led to something of a cooking spree (especially since I’ve been struggling to set time aside to write) and yesterday I made sofrito and chorizo quesadillas. They. Were. Amazing.

I took the recipe for the sofrito from here and roughly chopped up half of a chorizo sausage that my Dad brought home for me from Tesco. Then I put a flour tortilla to fry in olive oil, put the grated chedder and the sofrito-chorizo mix in and folded it over into a nice, pale brown, quesadilla. I loved it 🙂

I saw a video of Gordan Ramsey roasting a pork belly and I recon maybe I’d like to make that next…

Fear not faceless reader. If I have any more culinary adventures of note then I’ll put them on here for your enjoyment.

Brother Jack.

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Valentines Day

Yesterday was probably the best valentines day I’ve had.. ever.

I spent the lion’s share of the day wrapped in blankets and reading a novel (Starsight by Brandon Sanderson, great book btw..) and then a chunk of the evening was dedicated to finishing a D&D campaign with some friends of mine. I spend time with family, spend time in fantasy and goofed off with my mates. All around, a very successful “single awareness day”.

I don’t have any poetry for you this week because I’ve spent all my writing on piecing together a new website for my church (phase 1 of that project is officially done *big whoop*) but hopefully I’ll have more for you in the next week 🙂

For now: happy Valentines Day Faceless Reader,

Brother Jack

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Wassup Ma Homies?!


Writing is what I love and it makes me come alive. The more time I spend in front of my keyboard the happier I am but, more importantly, writing reminds me of who I am and who I am becoming. It is a beautifully violent act of creativity and I am, hopelessly, addicted.

On this blog I’m probably going to write all sorts of things. There will be haikus, romanticism, goofiness and whatever else pops into my head. At time of writing, I’m about to start a Twitch and YouTube channel where I write poetry, and think out loud, on a live stream. If no-one watches that’s ok, but I’m looking forward to setting aside time to write and “yell into the void”. I’ve always loved writing, whether anyone else liked what I wrote or not, and I can’t see this changing now. But, I offer you, my faceless internet friend, this emporium of poetry, on the off chance that you enjoy it. 🙂

I had a writing teacher once explain to me: “the thing about writing is: even though some people process internally and others naturally think out loud, writing is both of these things.” She was right. Writing, for me, has always been the most sacred, ritual of pinning myself to a page without filter.

All that to say: Welcome to my blog.
Stay a while.

Brother Jack

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