The Letter Of Hope

I wanted to write to you; in the here, and in the now

As if I was about to send you an early morning letter

I would like to tell you

Of the big blue skies

Of Lincolnshire

And to let you know

How peaceful it is

Out at Gibraltar Point

To walk on the salt marshes

To watch the sun rise

To watch the sun set

In between

To partake of tea and coffee

In the new visitor centre

I would like you to know

The inner workings of my mind

You know the sort of thing

How memories come and go

How the past works its wonders

To lead us into the present

And onwards to the future

I am fond of meditation

Quietly, in contemplation

I read works about the soul

Also the collective unconscious

I hope that doesn’t make me

Sound too too esoteric

It is not that

I have any deep calling

Yet it does interest me

To explore my own self

What makes me happy

What gives me contentment

And what of you

If you read this 

How might you reply

Would you tell me

Of the environment

And ambience

In your locale

Might you send me

Details of books

Which you have recently read

Or plays you have seen

At the theatre

And what of art

And those art galleries

Which you may have

The good fortune to visit

More especially though tell me

If you have walked on the sands

Or taken photographs

Of the wild roaring seas

And the majestic oceans

Yes, that kind of thing

Would appeal to me

It is important

Don’t you think

To feel to be alive

No matter how old

And grey we become

To be out in the elements

Brings me to life

To feel the wind and rain

To walk on fresh snow

To bask by the waves edge

In the heat of summer’s sun

To run down the sand dunes

Gasping for breath

I myself am reading memoirs at the moment

The Diaries of Anais Nin - Volume 5

Simone de Beauvoir’s All Said and Done

And Jonathan Stedall’s Where on Earth is Heaven

To name the most recent purchases of good fortune

Anais is evocative, sensual, speedy

No doubt she could lead me astray; 

Simone is thoughtful, and thought-provoking

She would have encouraged me

To sign up to her causes

Jonathan leads me to the films

Which he directed for the BBC

The ones on Jung, and Rudolph Steiner

I would particularly recommend

Yet his portraits of John Betjeman

Are as charming as is the man himself

A fine romantic poet

You can find 

Jonathan Stedall’s films on youtube

Just key his name into the browser

I was saddened very much

By a recent poem that I wrote

It is called Avoid And Abandon

I sincerely hope that it is not

A premeditated portent to the future

Better that the focus

As Thich Nhat Hanh says

Is mindful to reduce the suffering

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Saturday

What is it, of these separate words

What is it if there is no reason

Why to try to explore the hidden one

Why to implore the open one only to be

Why use those awkward words

The separate and the hidden

When, if truth be told

Both of those lines were given

Why would Bill Nighy be here

In this Micklegate 45 cafe

Is he a lover of the vinyl

Is he playing in the town

How would you ask him

How he gives the awkward words gravitas

How would you ask him

If his packing cases are held by Bureau Veritas

What is it, of these street-facing windows

What is it if there is no celebrity

Why to try to explore the forbidden one

Why to implore to open one simply to see

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Disproportionate

Someone said you were drunk

Someone said you were condescending 

Someone said why visit the monks

Someone said is it never-ending

And so the conversation did move on

Yes the conversation did so move on

From Socrates to Pilates

To the cost of those who represent

From deputies to destinies

To down payments of the rent

Someone said what did you expect

Someone said it’s all part of the act

Someone said did you not read the text

Someone sad it’s a sad life, that is the fact

And so the conversation did move on

Yes the conversation did so move on

From Bake Off through to Strictly

And how fame is the stars intent

From take-off to feeling fairly sickly

With the purveyors of all that’s sent

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Collected Commentary

I am going into town

To see no new people

I am going into town

To see more of the real me

I read your story

Of the grief-stricken young maid

I read your poems

Written on the railroads of USA

I too have stood, and also sat

In cold empty churches

I too have stood, also sat

On the edge of the fens

So we have shared movement

And been

To each other’s houses

To write, to read, to laugh

You are the real thing

And I am the old pretender

You have the gift

And also you have given

I am going into town

To see no new people

I am going into town

To see more of you know who

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Shouldn’t Be Said

This isn’t the song

Which I wanted to sing

That old old story

Of you wearing my ring

No I wanted to sing of avoidance

The avoidance of me by you

I wanted to sing of abandonment

The abandonment,  and you seeing it through

I wanted to hurt you

And you to hurt me too

I wanted to hold on

To your eyes of blue

I wanted to tell you

And you to tell me too

I wanted us to sing on

With both singing true

I wanted to sing of abandonment

The abandonment of me by you

I wanted to sing of avoidance

The avoidance, and you seeing it through

This isn’t the story

Which I wanted to be sold

The sad old glory

Of being left out in the cold

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