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
Sunday, 29 January 2012
One of Wait
Three calls to expect
The prospect of work
Hope of income
A return to ritual life
Between want & wait
Astride my galloping mind
I learn a little french
Le tranquil et grand et bleu
Laughter shapes movement
Fingers form freedoms
Stillnesses slowly evolve
Watch china plates on the wall
The courage of our creations
Cockerels made of clay
A figure of Capi de Monte
Trinkets from a seaside holiday
White walls, wooden floors
A glaziers gift of light
The performers platform
Perched it seems quite high
Solid stone superstructure
With doors that close just so
A place, a peace, for everyone
A consummated consistent whole
a poem from the collection Watercombe - Love in Open Moorland, available from itunes by clicking on this link