Working

Canals
Steelworks
Railways
Collieries

And always the sunset
And always the dusk
Allowed days to close

Water
Fire
Wind
Earth

And always the trees grow
And always the sunrise
Allowed crops to prosper

Available on Kindle

Trips

I talk of peace
But mostly I joust
I walk towards equilibrium
But mostly I steer clear of Proust

And between
The feistiness
And the emptiness
My thoughts are hand to mouth

I stroke those hands across the table
Shuffle these feet on the timber floor
I see that the wet sky is formidable
Take my duffle coat to the door

And between
The ashes in the grate
And last years almighty joyous flames
My thoughts turn back towards the score

Available on Kindle

Stratagems

From the warmth
Of the womb
To the doubts
Behind the doors
That leave the room
From those whose love
We might assume
To the ones who explore
The fruits of our loom
Days and nights
Of aimless hope
Coping in the
Depths of thought
All those hours
Of exploring talk
By the end they
Came to nought
Shared with human
Sense of care
Asking each
How far we dare
Set the lights
Towards the stair
Reflecting on
The loss impaired

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Recovery

Many miles
And several counties
You, there in the North
Pouring over my heritage
And me, here in the West
Learning to be more than I am

Moonlight, rainstorms
Fast clouds in the sky
Is it the same for you
At The Alhambra
Is it the same for me
In The Bothy

Morning now
Yesterday’s hairdresser
Did I ever tell you
Her story
Did it really happen
To me

Several counties
And many miles
You, returning East
Over my hillsides
And me, returning North
Through your valleys

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Race Day

Beside the canal

Settled, and still

Off at a tangent

To chase the rill

Fields of beet

Ploughed, and pickled

Beside the houses

Where gamblers trickled

Wires for lights, as dusk 

Falls on railway bridges

Transformed transmissions

For those gay-girls in stitches

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Postlip

The thin clouds, slide
At a real pace, across
The nights full moon

The flames, from the
Log fire, flicker, and glow
And again flicker, and glow

The music is of the East
Filled with evocations
Memories of lazy old love

The morning clock ticks
Slowly, and deliberately, looking
Down on the unlit table lamp

The light outside is breaking
Out of those depths of undiluted
Darkness that were clear, clear space

The kettle boils, it is time
For the first cup of tea of the day
Also to write, about past pleasantries

Available on Kindle

Pine

Such sadness sleeps
I take a leaf
Place them one by one
In the quiet corner
You wouldn’t know
I couldn’t make it so
Through the corridor
Of late autumn’s trees

Then I turned to dance
Why not take a chance
Romance has always
Served me so well
Curved bare heads
Out in the reaches
Feel the rainfall
Flood the breaches

I hear the song
I read the lyric book
I hang on, to all those
Hooks you ever gave me
It was a time
Way beyond the sublime
A time so kind
Even now it’s on my mind

Available on Kindle

Only Between

Only when I have nothing do I search for nothing
Only when I have love do I search for love

Only when I have nothing do I find nothing
Only when I have love do I find love

Only when I have nothing do I lose nothing
Only when I have love do I lose love

Between the searching, the finding, and the losing
We move in, and out of the nothingness

Between the searching, the finding, and the losing
We move in, and out of the loving

Available on Kindle

Odds On

Swans
Cut through
The rippled surface

Geese
Fly V form
In the sombre sky

Windmill
Blades amble
To the tipping point

Railway
Carriages roll
Over conversations

Partake
Of the pink laced sky
Sipping the winners pink champagne

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Meds 13

Old arguments surfaced
Though only superficial
I wrote an unsigned dedication
Quietened the internal voices

All that time without a position
Then to find myself, striking out
Saying what to adopt, what to avoid
Which of the bear-traps to beware of

And under the moonlight
To single out the moon
And stars, and clouds, and sky, and to name
The embers images, in the fire grate

Today - this day, this morning
Will be unlike almost any other
Except that I will breathe mindful
And ask others to do the same

The last coach on the last train
Will set off into the dusk of sunset
It will have been a very good time
For quiet helloes, and sad, sad goodbyes

Available on Kindle

Good Night

By the open door
Looking to the moon
The evening ends
It’s morning too soon

Listen to the score
Hosannah up on high
Promises to send
Expectation’s to cry

Always then more
Of the daily timetable
Classes to attend
For proof of being able

Tilted glasses core
To sparkling flames
Sauvignon blended
All freed of blame

The inner shores
Cushion landed waves
To follow the trend
Of the truth he craves

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Directions

East to West
Or rather
West to East
Looking South

Looking
North to South
Down the spines
Of electricity pylons

Eyes falling
Blessing the light
That shakes reflections
From the industrial waterways

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Buffered

In times of separation
All that care
Is passionately expected

Dusk to dawn dependants
Placed their bets
For the never-ending story

Not quite in the gutter
But not far away
In camera-shutter circles

How much sadness
Reflects on the water
How much joy suppressed

Or flows of adrenalin
Time to tell and show
The deepest deep-hurt

That cuts into sensitivities
And causes the revolt
Against established society

Available on Kindle

Breathing

Five minutes more
Before
The door opens
And mediations begin

As if the score
Could core
Itself completely
And contemplate sin

At the seashore
Walk some more
Inside the mind
And analyse the grin

Take the floor
Close the door
Engage experience
And love as you cling

Available on Kindle

Blue Pictures

When the past was only one
When the good was good as gone
When days, and nights, were ever long
When the mind was killingly strong

That the blue light, on the tree
Before the words on being free
Stolen smiles such brief history
Times in line, total all that I see

When wind in sails shows nothing wrong
When to start each prayer we had a gong
When every morning began in plainsong
When girls waltzed in, and came along

That the blue light, on another tree
Beyond the words that try to seize
Given love, it is love with no mystery
Seemingly in awe of the secret breeze

When the past at last is neatly undone
When the future is secure now we run
When the hand, stands free of the gun
When strength is no wrench from fun

Available on Kindle

Brief Encounter

Another, yet another new book
Bought from the remainder bookshop
The waitress asks “is it a good book”

I tell her I run creative writing workshops
She says she studies poetry at university
We both, so it seems, enjoy reading

I tell her that this book, by Orhan Pamuk
Is about how we feel when we write novels
And yes, that the first chapter is brilliant

“I must remember that” she says
She puts my sandwich onto the table
And skips off down the stairs; I smile

Available on Kindle

Catch

We talked about yoga
Weight training, and marines
He told me about photography

The holy trinity;
Of exposure, shutter speed
And one other, which I forget

We explored the technicalities
Of our common ground, he
Had just split with his girlfriend

We were not, neither of us
New age travellers, yet he
Showed interest in my meditation

I talked about the Buddhists
Transcendentalists, and the mindfulness
He was vulnerable, so easily hooked

Available on Kindle

Room To Breathe

Those were the days of miracle, and wonder

It has taken these eight years past
To build up the bank of memories
Such that our new construction
Might weather the old storms

Each morning
The floorboards are brushed
Dust swept from the corners
Fluff moved from low shadows

Each evening
Sat beside the warm fire
Books are opened onto
Pages of modernist thought

The homestead sings out
With soft prayers, and meditations
The table is set, and served
With traditional country fayre

These are the days of miracles, and wonders

Available on Kindle

Free Wheel

Beneath the trees
To Cromford Mill
Leaves have fallen
Yet still I sway
To lover’s sounds
Down Morrison’s
Lane, the pain, and joy
Of autumn’s gold
My ploy is near
And bold of touch
Fear not, to speak
Of much ado
About nothing; love
It’s far too far away
To sing in, and out
Of time, pray
That we will find
Our own bright
Mullioned window
Bill me now, it is
So close, shows go
On, to the rose
And trellis, thereby
To embellish the breeze
At Cromford Mill

Available on Kindle

High Peak Road

It is the top of my world
With light cast from the heavens
It is as if the breath
Of all the girls I’ve ever known

It is the field for stock, and harvest
With stone walls for the ravens
It is as if for the death
Of all the failings I’ve ever shown

The Jug and Chase
With cars that pass
At fifty miles an hour

The leaning grass
With dew so fast
It holds in the showers

It is the top of my world
With time for the lonely
It is as if all of the hopes
For one of those girls on my own

It is the meadow for dreaming
Daydreams of the one, and only
It is as if the ropes break
From all the ties I’ve ever known

Available on Kindle

Café, Bench, And Farmer

Dark, and light
And many fields of cows
Black, and white
And many far away horizons

Hill, and dale
And many stone built walls
Cakes, and ale
And many bicycles on the byway

“I now have the time to stand and stare”

Psalm, and prayer
And many wondering hows
Quarry, and slayer
And many what he relied on

Cottage, and farm
And many of natures calls
Wrist, and forearm
And ample time to look sideways

Available on Kindle

Teacher

In that search
For heart, and mind, and soul
I had within me
Some certainty
Some doubt
Some confusion

I settled on
The heart being where the seed of the poetry arises
The mind being where I rummage to find a context
The soul being where lies what I choose to leave behind

In this conclusion
Of heart, and mind, and soul
I have been given
The will for absolute life
The will for absolute love
The will for absolute inspiration

Available on Kindle

Song Of Visualisations

Between the mind, and the body
And whatever feeds the soul
Therein lies the story
Of all that’s rock and roll

From the dry winds of the mountains
To the wild, and crashing, seas
From the three girls in the fountains
To the reckless, on their knees

And as we go on singing
In this plain, and lonely, voice
For the wishes we are bringing
While we claim to have a choice

From the soft sands on the seashore
To the dust bowls of the South
From the freedom of the free score
To the soft kiss on your mouth

And as we go on winning
In the East, and in the West
For the smiles they all are grinning
In this, the feast of all that’s best

From the violin concerto
To the throb of drum, and bass
From the lark to the lothario
To the fear of losing face

And as we go on beginning
Each way to start again
For the ideas we are singing
Are to lead us all from pain

From the blues of the delta
To the ballads of the North
From the times of helter-skelter
To the rhythm of the fourth

And as we turn to lingering
On thoughts to burn our breast
Those pages we’re slowly fingering
To fill the heart within our chest

From the physical mentality
To the spirituality of the path
From the journeys of reality
To the sacred place we laugh

Available on Kindle

Pass Over

You gave me a freshly plucked conker
I bought you fake crystals

Your gift is full of life
It will grow old gracefully
The kernel will dry out
The skin will wrinkle

My present, although
Indestructible, is an imitation, yet
It will shed the light of rainbows
Into all the shadowy corners

Together our purchases
With our findings, will help
That we find ourselves, will keep
Our souls safe, to become nourished

Available on Kindle

Inhibitions

Again I escape from the party
All those artichokes
And misplaced jokes
That are the home of my fear

Tears of laughter at the door
All those dances
And misread glances
Which wait for me my dear

Lear jets, and coronets
All those pre-eminent types
With feminist rights
Who say don’t you dare disappear

Steer the wheel of fortune
All those gambles
And discordant rambles
That make me so far from clear

Available on Kindle

Gathered Together

On this day, of venerable meditation
Friendships are formed
Out of shared beliefs, hobbies, and pastimes
That, and having a common sense of humour

An odd sort of way:

To meet a poet before breakfast
To meet a handyman over lunch
Then, at the dinner table, to meet
The ex-steelworker; a TUC delegate
Who had spoken with Tony Benn

Not to mention those two ladies
Who meditate at Matlock Bath
And Kate’s new friend Gita
Who cook's curries in Bradford

Available on Kindle

Don’t Need Anything Now

Head out to the wood pile
Sorting, and moving
Living here, and living there
Living anywhere at all

Easier away from Christmas
Closer to that other self

Head out to the field, and the stile
Disassociating, and approving
Giving here, and giving there
Giving anywhere at all

Easier away from society
Closer to that inner self

Head out to the anvil, and the file
Forging, and smoothing
Forgiving here, and forgiving there
Always forgiving, forgiving anywhere at all

Easier away from strife
Closer to that loving self

Available on Kindle

Bumpity-Bump

I can feel my heart pumping
I know I am alive
It is night time
The morning not yet arrived

I can hear my ears ringing
Almost all the time
It is a reminder
That energies are being refined

Available on Kindle

Barker Slack

Where else
To find a John Cooper Clarke fan
Than on
A Buddhist meditation, weekend retreat

Where else
To find a Buzzcocks or Sid Viscous man
Than by
The muesli, the bananas, and anything but meat

Where else
To enter rooms, with no shoes upon our feet
Than in
That golden space, where the Buddha we greet

Available on Kindle

Back to Back

With a heavy heart
Drifting across the high ground
Listening for the sound
As the past plays its part

Damp leaves on the grass
Before the circular iron railings
Observing those failings
That I took into the class

With the fear of doubt
Worried by quarried stone
All that time spent alone
On life’s Magic Roundabout

Thankful for your voice
With those words of mine
Happy for that time
When we really had no choice

Available on Kindle