Nowhere else to go
We recognise the shapes
Circle square rectangle dot
What more then to show
We wear the capes
Mountain sea river spot
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Available at Amazon |
Most days I would try to write a poem; it is a practice, as I suppose is meditation, or smiling, or watching the world go by
Nowhere else to go
We recognise the shapes
Circle square rectangle dot
What more then to show
We wear the capes
Mountain sea river spot
![]() |
Available at Amazon |
There is a tree
I wish to find
Which I last climbed
In Nineteen-Sixty-Three
The end of the fool
I passed the Eleven-plus
Travelled by Baddeley’s bus
To Penistone Grammar School
It was a time of fear
Innocence was raised
Nightmares invaded
Eyes and mind once so clear
Today is to be a walk
I have put on my socks which will shortly
Be followed by my sturdy walking boots
The sun streams
Directly through
The East-facing windows
Actually it is later than I thought
Also sun and windows face more South than East
Nevertheless today is to be a day to walk
In lieu of Kendal mint cake
Of which we are without
I have had seeded bread with strawberry jam
I have received a book of walks
You know the sort you get for Christmas
It arrived just in time for the new years resolutions
We fixed the mantelpiece clock yesterday
Soon the fifteen minute chime will chime
And ever so soon it will chime again
The sun streams
Directly upon me
Sat in my soft yellow jumper
Today we will have a walk
You may detect a hint of hesitation
But then it is a Sunday
Yes it is a Sunday
And it is still a good few minutes before
Eleven o’clock in the morning
Wind chime
With the name of Woodstock
A sliced up revolution, music of the spheres
Ping pong
On strung bound eco-plated pipes in the garden
Where the sun silhouettes the swaying laburnum
Where the bare blossom tree stands in defiance
Of the dovecot detail on the distant rooftop
Which sits proud and strong, cooing on the skyline
On the mantel piece
The ticking clock ticks
Tick tock, tick tock, ad so, ad so, ad so infinitum
Framed photographs and posters
A warm fire grate
A room rather full of mementos
This is the kind of space
The kind of peaceful restful place
Where one's cup of tea could so easily go cold