If I had ever been to Tibet
I would be in Tibet right now
If I ever sat by the Japanese monk
I would sit by the Japanese monk right now
If I had ever been with the Buddha
I would be with the Buddha right now
If I ever reached enlightenment
I would be in enlightenment right now
Instead I am with the Dutch artist Volbeda
In his studio by the beach in Uist
Instead I am with Brother Daniel
At Vespers in Buckfast Abbey
Instead I am in the public-house in Dublin
With the guy who was good for society
Instead I am with my darling one
On a beautiful birthday vacation
If I, instead
Just bathed in the meditation
Listened to the Om
Chanted it, as my silent mantra
Waited, mindful
That the bells would ring
If I did all of that
Would I have been anywhere less at all
Tuesday, 31 July 2018
Monday, 30 July 2018
I Did It Because
This is the role I play
And I cannot remake it
Those are the words I say
And I do not, cannot, fake it
Even with the cake
Left out in the rain
I have to move on
I must forsake it
The presence is no longer
There to give me pain
There is a light, a light
And I know that I can make it
No more the sad romance
Waiting to dictate it
No more nostalgic thoughts
No more to placate it
But don’t you forget
Those days running on the sand
Don’t you go forget
Rejoice, remember, o yes, how grand
To skip, and to laugh
And to make love upon this land
To skip, to laugh, and to dance
To make love upon this land
And I cannot remake it
Those are the words I say
And I do not, cannot, fake it
Even with the cake
Left out in the rain
I have to move on
I must forsake it
The presence is no longer
There to give me pain
There is a light, a light
And I know that I can make it
No more the sad romance
Waiting to dictate it
No more nostalgic thoughts
No more to placate it
But don’t you forget
Those days running on the sand
Don’t you go forget
Rejoice, remember, o yes, how grand
To skip, and to laugh
And to make love upon this land
To skip, to laugh, and to dance
To make love upon this land
Sunday, 29 July 2018
You Did It Because
I too stole pears
As you say Augustine did
I too was a thief after dark
In the western tradition
That I say this gives me pleasure
For the memories are the truth
They are the power and the glory
To make me as I am, from my youth
With means to fill the whole page
With other ignominious deeds
Also, to mention the monastics
Here, by the river, here, beside the reeds
I too stole life
Has many more had before me
I too was a thief in the park
In the northern tradition
That I say this gives me witness
For the memories are the truth
They are the hope in my truth
To make me, make me as I already am
As you say Augustine did
I too was a thief after dark
In the western tradition
That I say this gives me pleasure
For the memories are the truth
They are the power and the glory
To make me as I am, from my youth
With means to fill the whole page
With other ignominious deeds
Also, to mention the monastics
Here, by the river, here, beside the reeds
I too stole life
Has many more had before me
I too was a thief in the park
In the northern tradition
That I say this gives me witness
For the memories are the truth
They are the hope in my truth
To make me, make me as I already am
Saturday, 28 July 2018
First One Here, Only One Here
There is a stillness
A peace, a quiet, a calm
A future to invest in
An opportunity
Not to take the world by storm
But, but to peacefully be there
Where there is light
Where there is shadow
Where last night is now gone
Where there are bare branches
Where there is rooftop moss
Where none of that displeases
There was a morning letter
Or rather morning words written
Written, what could be better
Than to celebrate the page
Age not being such a bad thing
With a wholeness to the ring
Sing then; there is a stillness
A peace, a quiet, a calm
So bring on the future to invest in
A peace, a quiet, a calm
A future to invest in
An opportunity
Not to take the world by storm
But, but to peacefully be there
Where there is light
Where there is shadow
Where last night is now gone
Where there are bare branches
Where there is rooftop moss
Where none of that displeases
There was a morning letter
Or rather morning words written
Written, what could be better
Than to celebrate the page
Age not being such a bad thing
With a wholeness to the ring
Sing then; there is a stillness
A peace, a quiet, a calm
So bring on the future to invest in
Friday, 27 July 2018
Blue, Big Blue
The seventh wave roars in
As the first wave hobbles out
The huge crash
Breaks onto the impenetrable rock
The rising, and falling spray does it
And does it again the whole of the day
Water charging into stone
Stone standing solid, resolute
Beneath the surface, out in the deep
Shoals and predators
Dolphins, whales and sharks
All the known colours of the world
With the music of communication
All the stillness of the depths of solitude
With the deft touch of survival
Among the beautified breadths of love
As the first wave hobbles out
The huge crash
Breaks onto the impenetrable rock
The rising, and falling spray does it
And does it again the whole of the day
Water charging into stone
Stone standing solid, resolute
Beneath the surface, out in the deep
Shoals and predators
Dolphins, whales and sharks
All the known colours of the world
With the music of communication
All the stillness of the depths of solitude
With the deft touch of survival
Among the beautified breadths of love
Thursday, 26 July 2018
Drift, As In Wave
Only fragments now
No more to write of the papyrus
Or of those poets in the valley below
Only apathetic now
No more to be plagued by passions
Nor to wait for early morning letters
Only lost for words now
Yet not lost for those past words
Which passed by without reflection
Only time for oneself now
Yet not with time at the crucial moment
When attachment needs to be released
Only insecurity of security now
Uncertainty being the partner of trust
When doubters take over the asylum
Then to fall back on exaggeration
Amplification of what is and isn’t true
As a means of saying nothing at all
No more to write of the papyrus
Or of those poets in the valley below
Only apathetic now
No more to be plagued by passions
Nor to wait for early morning letters
Only lost for words now
Yet not lost for those past words
Which passed by without reflection
Only time for oneself now
Yet not with time at the crucial moment
When attachment needs to be released
Only insecurity of security now
Uncertainty being the partner of trust
When doubters take over the asylum
Then to fall back on exaggeration
Amplification of what is and isn’t true
As a means of saying nothing at all
Wednesday, 25 July 2018
Objective
In this way
Of drawing endless small circles
I find a peace, a calm
As one might come across
With a walking meditation
Or by reciting a poem
Poetry of paths and journeys
Poetry of skies and streams
Poetry of love, yes, poetry of deep love
In this way
You might discover yourself
To be in a new place
Filled with optimism
Tranquillity, and intensity
Of being in the moment
Where another verse
Of hope may wander along
To take you by the hand
And once together
You and your one other
May venture at your leisure
Of drawing endless small circles
I find a peace, a calm
As one might come across
With a walking meditation
Or by reciting a poem
Poetry of paths and journeys
Poetry of skies and streams
Poetry of love, yes, poetry of deep love
In this way
You might discover yourself
To be in a new place
Filled with optimism
Tranquillity, and intensity
Of being in the moment
Where another verse
Of hope may wander along
To take you by the hand
And once together
You and your one other
May venture at your leisure
Tuesday, 24 July 2018
Objective One
Hollow out the history
Revert to the core
The kernel, the nucleus
Before corruption
Moved in, and took hold
Take it right back
To the one, and the other one
Or to the one all alone
Alone then to contemplate
To speak, or to scribe
That is to have the one thought
Or the one thought with one other
As if the weighing scales might balance
Or tip heavily
Towards the one most wordy
Yes, take yourself right back
Prior to any contamination
Such that innocence was abroad
For one thought to follow one other
With no predetermined forces in play
That is to have a clear thought
A clean thought
A thought not tainted by baggage
That baggage of your past, or your future
That baggage of your desire, or your lust
Just stay with the whiff of perfume
With ample room for estrangement
Clear of the danger which arises
With the crisis of those thoughts
Hollowed out from the core
Revert to the core
The kernel, the nucleus
Before corruption
Moved in, and took hold
Take it right back
To the one, and the other one
Or to the one all alone
Alone then to contemplate
To speak, or to scribe
That is to have the one thought
Or the one thought with one other
As if the weighing scales might balance
Or tip heavily
Towards the one most wordy
Yes, take yourself right back
Prior to any contamination
Such that innocence was abroad
For one thought to follow one other
With no predetermined forces in play
That is to have a clear thought
A clean thought
A thought not tainted by baggage
That baggage of your past, or your future
That baggage of your desire, or your lust
Just stay with the whiff of perfume
With ample room for estrangement
Clear of the danger which arises
With the crisis of those thoughts
Hollowed out from the core
Monday, 23 July 2018
Invisible, Indivisible
Where is the calm
Where are the spaces
Along the lines
Where are the mines
Where are the faces
Committing the crimes
Where are the signs
For the calming traces
Charmed by indefinite designs
Where are the spaces
Along the lines
Where are the mines
Where are the faces
Committing the crimes
Where are the signs
For the calming traces
Charmed by indefinite designs
Sunday, 22 July 2018
Determined, Or Not
A long view
From a long time ago
So long that you would not believe
The road would still be blocked by snow
A longer view
From a longer time ago
So long that you would not believe
The workmen’s bus made it through the snow
From a long time ago
So long that you would not believe
The road would still be blocked by snow
A longer view
From a longer time ago
So long that you would not believe
The workmen’s bus made it through the snow
Saturday, 21 July 2018
Ascendant
I was there
In the moment
Transported
By sublime music
I was beyond myself
Transcendent, thanks
To sheep’s intestines
And real horse hair
In the moment
Transported
By sublime music
I was beyond myself
Transcendent, thanks
To sheep’s intestines
And real horse hair
Friday, 20 July 2018
Mr Reliable
Right after noon
I brew the coffee
Plug the computer
Back into the power supply
Turn on the stereo
Select the Flower Duet playlist
The morning's work is done in my world
And by that
I mean poems drafted
Poems typed up
Poems edited
Poems posted on the blog
That, and a short reading
From How Great Poems Transform The World
And I watched a video
Posted on Facebook
By my friend Graham Juggins
The video is of good guy Roger Waters
Making an impassioned plea
For young musicians and composers
To be given a fair chance in this world
I brew the coffee
Plug the computer
Back into the power supply
Turn on the stereo
Select the Flower Duet playlist
The morning's work is done in my world
And by that
I mean poems drafted
Poems typed up
Poems edited
Poems posted on the blog
That, and a short reading
From How Great Poems Transform The World
And I watched a video
Posted on Facebook
By my friend Graham Juggins
The video is of good guy Roger Waters
Making an impassioned plea
For young musicians and composers
To be given a fair chance in this world
Thursday, 19 July 2018
Round, Round Again
The table
And its shadow
Could be an introduction
To a work by MC Escher
The vase
And the photograph
Each have their own reflection
Thanks to Pilkington glass
I, on the other hand
Read of ‘Otherness’
Where I am led
By Maria Popova’s Brain Pickings
All the while
The black and orange twigs
In the cream and black, enamel jug
Simply, silently, serenely watch on
And its shadow
Could be an introduction
To a work by MC Escher
The vase
And the photograph
Each have their own reflection
Thanks to Pilkington glass
I, on the other hand
Read of ‘Otherness’
Where I am led
By Maria Popova’s Brain Pickings
All the while
The black and orange twigs
In the cream and black, enamel jug
Simply, silently, serenely watch on
Wednesday, 18 July 2018
Now, In Now Time
The book of dreams laid on the bed
In front of the sea-view window
The bed had a plain, pale blue cover
The outlook was of a calm, pale blue sea
It could have been by Edward Hopper
But it was by Jim Holland
It could have been by Vilhelm Hammershoi
But it was by Jim Holland
I might have seen it on another day
But I saw it on a Sunday morning
I might have laid there some other time
But I lay there, on a Sunday morning
Afterwards, I took a flight back to England
I left Rod McKuen’s poems behind with you
Alone; they were of love, lost love, and loss
But belonged to an altogether future time
In front of the sea-view window
The bed had a plain, pale blue cover
The outlook was of a calm, pale blue sea
It could have been by Edward Hopper
But it was by Jim Holland
It could have been by Vilhelm Hammershoi
But it was by Jim Holland
I might have seen it on another day
But I saw it on a Sunday morning
I might have laid there some other time
But I lay there, on a Sunday morning
Afterwards, I took a flight back to England
I left Rod McKuen’s poems behind with you
Alone; they were of love, lost love, and loss
But belonged to an altogether future time
Tuesday, 17 July 2018
Place Of Solitary Occupation
Ninety minutes of playtime
Thankful
That no writers turned up
No one here
To distract me
Other than myself
And o boy what a distraction
Thousands of memories
Zillions of thoughts
A few spontaneous movements
Before I brought out the camera
And the iPhone video recorder
Thankful
That no writers turned up
No one here
To distract me
Other than myself
And o boy what a distraction
Thousands of memories
Zillions of thoughts
A few spontaneous movements
Before I brought out the camera
And the iPhone video recorder
Monday, 16 July 2018
In Place Of Occupation
One more cup of coffee
One more to bring intensity to thought
To strengthen, to enrich, to magnify
To beautify, to endorse, to probe
One more shout out to the future
One more to bring indemnity to the scope
To elongate, to extrapolate, to mimic
To lose the cynic, to endorse, to probe
I photograph the stillness of the room
I record the calmness of the room
One more moment of now thus captured
One more time of being here in the present
To witness, to experience, to elucidate
To realise, to endorse, to probe
One more cup of coffee
One more final piece of action
To highlight, to dim, to radiate
To be within, to endorse, to probe
One more to bring intensity to thought
To strengthen, to enrich, to magnify
To beautify, to endorse, to probe
One more shout out to the future
One more to bring indemnity to the scope
To elongate, to extrapolate, to mimic
To lose the cynic, to endorse, to probe
I photograph the stillness of the room
I record the calmness of the room
One more moment of now thus captured
One more time of being here in the present
To witness, to experience, to elucidate
To realise, to endorse, to probe
One more cup of coffee
One more final piece of action
To highlight, to dim, to radiate
To be within, to endorse, to probe
Sunday, 15 July 2018
Occupational Health
If I was a stamp collector
I would find one for this morning
All blue skies and frosted grass
All peace and tranquillity
All mindful time for the writing
If I was a sculptor
I would take out the plaster of Paris
All brilliant white and tactile
All solid mass and inner soul
All mindful time, for chiselling and filing
A stamp collector, a sculptor?
No, I am not any of these
Though of course I dabbled
What with friends at play, and on schooldays
Isn’t it just what we did
I would find one for this morning
All blue skies and frosted grass
All peace and tranquillity
All mindful time for the writing
If I was a sculptor
I would take out the plaster of Paris
All brilliant white and tactile
All solid mass and inner soul
All mindful time, for chiselling and filing
A stamp collector, a sculptor?
No, I am not any of these
Though of course I dabbled
What with friends at play, and on schooldays
Isn’t it just what we did
Saturday, 14 July 2018
The Choice
Books change peoples destinies
What did I see
What did I notice
What did I feel
What did I say or do
What didn’t I say or do
Those five small prints by Joe Tilson
What did he see
What did he notice
What did he feel
What did he say or do
What didn’t he say or do
Those ten small shelves of books
Might I choose one at random
That you might retire to a quiet place
There to read it
How does Hesse’s Siddhartha sound
Yes, let’s go with that; or no, maybe not
What did I see
What did I notice
What did I feel
What did I say or do
What didn’t I say or do
Those five small prints by Joe Tilson
What did he see
What did he notice
What did he feel
What did he say or do
What didn’t he say or do
Those ten small shelves of books
Might I choose one at random
That you might retire to a quiet place
There to read it
How does Hesse’s Siddhartha sound
Yes, let’s go with that; or no, maybe not
Friday, 13 July 2018
The Paper House
Within a month of your gift we had parted
Thirteen years on
Can I measure the loss
Can I measure the grief
Can I explain away the obsession
The feet and the inches of loss
Never again to be close enough to touch
The kilometres and the miles of loss
Never again to bridge the inevitable distance
The pounds and the ounces of grief
Always to be in fear of the tears
The kilograms and the tonnes of grief
Never again to weigh in with a lover’s words
The one thing on top of another of obsession
Maybe, yes always, one last sprig of hope
The last time before the next time of obsession
With otherness, yes, worthy to carry the doubt
Thirteen years on
Can I measure the loss
Can I measure the grief
Can I explain away the obsession
The feet and the inches of loss
Never again to be close enough to touch
The kilometres and the miles of loss
Never again to bridge the inevitable distance
The pounds and the ounces of grief
Always to be in fear of the tears
The kilograms and the tonnes of grief
Never again to weigh in with a lover’s words
The one thing on top of another of obsession
Maybe, yes always, one last sprig of hope
The last time before the next time of obsession
With otherness, yes, worthy to carry the doubt
Thursday, 12 July 2018
Discuss; If You Must
How does one make sense
Of a watercolour painting
Or a contemplative pastel sketch
I look across the room
At my own work
From thirty years ago
I could say to you
That there is lightness
That there is love
Yet, if I move in closer
I would talk of frustration
I would talk of dismay
But, and I smile as I write this
I must speak today of satisfaction
I should talk well, of my minor achievements
Of a watercolour painting
Or a contemplative pastel sketch
I look across the room
At my own work
From thirty years ago
I could say to you
That there is lightness
That there is love
Yet, if I move in closer
I would talk of frustration
I would talk of dismay
But, and I smile as I write this
I must speak today of satisfaction
I should talk well, of my minor achievements
Wednesday, 11 July 2018
Questions Of Ownership
Who but I
Yes, a good question
Or who but you
Yes, equally so
To sidestep
To foxtrot
To line dance
To hide away
Who but I
And where but here
O yes
Keep those questions coming
To intensify
To mystify
To be courageous
In the absence of love
Yes, a good question
Or who but you
Yes, equally so
To sidestep
To foxtrot
To line dance
To hide away
Who but I
And where but here
O yes
Keep those questions coming
To intensify
To mystify
To be courageous
In the absence of love
Tuesday, 10 July 2018
Denial Of Ownership
Is there always impatience lurking
Always another occupation to go to
Is their always a form of recrimination
Always some other blame to lay
Always another occupation to go to
Is their always a form of recrimination
Always some other blame to lay
Monday, 9 July 2018
Self Ownership
This is what I hoped for
This is what I wished for
Outside of meditation
This is what I craved for
Or at least one of the things
I hoped this room would bring peace
I wished this room would bring joy
Outside of meditation
I craved for this room in which to crave
To be at least one, of those many things
This is what I wished for
Outside of meditation
This is what I craved for
Or at least one of the things
I hoped this room would bring peace
I wished this room would bring joy
Outside of meditation
I craved for this room in which to crave
To be at least one, of those many things
Sunday, 8 July 2018
Shared Ownership
If you came here
Or if someone else came here
To this room I have created
Would you, or they, look at the photographs
Would you, or they, read the books
Would you, or they, listen to the music
Would you, or they, sit around this table
If I offered you coffee
Or if I offered someone else coffee
In this room I have created
Would you, or they, make polite conversation
Would you, or they, shed their light, lightly
Would you, or they, smile, smile infectiously
Would you, or they, talk of our love, lovingly
Or if someone else came here
To this room I have created
Would you, or they, look at the photographs
Would you, or they, read the books
Would you, or they, listen to the music
Would you, or they, sit around this table
If I offered you coffee
Or if I offered someone else coffee
In this room I have created
Would you, or they, make polite conversation
Would you, or they, shed their light, lightly
Would you, or they, smile, smile infectiously
Would you, or they, talk of our love, lovingly
Saturday, 7 July 2018
Ownership
I ought to be honest
Own up
To what I know about beauty
I ought to be clear
Own up, to myself
About where I discovered beauty
I ought to be sure
Find a certainty
Of feelings and time
I ought to be confident
Find a realisation
Of moments in time
Own up
To what I know about beauty
I ought to be clear
Own up, to myself
About where I discovered beauty
I ought to be sure
Find a certainty
Of feelings and time
I ought to be confident
Find a realisation
Of moments in time
Friday, 6 July 2018
Be II
Alone, yet not alone
For feelings flood in
The body sizzles
The mind whistles on by
Alone, how good does it feel
The sizzling, the whistling
The whole of the ether
Turned out on its head
For feelings flood in
The body sizzles
The mind whistles on by
Alone, how good does it feel
The sizzling, the whistling
The whole of the ether
Turned out on its head
Thursday, 5 July 2018
Be I
I look into the old man's eyes
Will I become him
Will he become me
Will I reach the point of the point of wisdom
In the morning light
With the suns rays
Entering through the window
Will I one day be free to contemplate
Will I become him
Will he become me
Will I reach the point of the point of wisdom
In the morning light
With the suns rays
Entering through the window
Will I one day be free to contemplate
Wednesday, 4 July 2018
Recovery Methodologies
In place of tears
Why not become the joker
In place of endless fears
Why not welcome in the passing clown
In place of freedom
Why not become the trapped
In place of lost kingdoms
Why not cast off the downbeat frown
In place of hope
Why not become with despair
In place of how to cope
Why not simply, surely, stand them down
In place of failure
Why not become belligerent
In place of derailed allure
Why not pose, as the talk of the town
Why not become the joker
In place of endless fears
Why not welcome in the passing clown
In place of freedom
Why not become the trapped
In place of lost kingdoms
Why not cast off the downbeat frown
In place of hope
Why not become with despair
In place of how to cope
Why not simply, surely, stand them down
In place of failure
Why not become belligerent
In place of derailed allure
Why not pose, as the talk of the town
Tuesday, 3 July 2018
One Life; Of All Of Those You Stole
O Penistone, o Penistone
You crushed me
And I never ever loved you
O grammar school, o grammar school
You broke me
And I never ever saw you coming
Your black and red striped tie
Your grey and black peaked cap
Your blazer and long grey trousers
Your uniform approach to individual life
No you did not seek out to encourage me
You didn’t even let me wear
My ice-blue jeans, and brothel creepers
O Penistone, o Penistone
You lost me
And I never ever loved you
O grammar school, o grammar school
You taunted me
And I never ever found you
Your parquet floor French classroom
Your physics lab with Bunsen burner
Your geography lessons all about the Tundra
Your buildings served as licence to demolish
You never did curtail that deputy headmaster
The bully, the evil one, the wretched bastard
He caned me, he slippered me, he lost me
You crushed me
And I never ever loved you
O grammar school, o grammar school
You broke me
And I never ever saw you coming
Your black and red striped tie
Your grey and black peaked cap
Your blazer and long grey trousers
Your uniform approach to individual life
No you did not seek out to encourage me
You didn’t even let me wear
My ice-blue jeans, and brothel creepers
O Penistone, o Penistone
You lost me
And I never ever loved you
O grammar school, o grammar school
You taunted me
And I never ever found you
Your parquet floor French classroom
Your physics lab with Bunsen burner
Your geography lessons all about the Tundra
Your buildings served as licence to demolish
You never did curtail that deputy headmaster
The bully, the evil one, the wretched bastard
He caned me, he slippered me, he lost me
Monday, 2 July 2018
I Lost The Way
All those times
I criticised the intellectuals
Yet continued to buy their books
And quoted from them incessantly
You see the real deal is
That I don’t cut it
As an intellectual
Nor as a renaissance man
And I could blame it all
On late childhood bedwetting
Or extended puberty
Or difficulty losing my virginity
But the truth of it is I know
That one year did it for me
Yes, that one year
And then one other
I criticised the intellectuals
Yet continued to buy their books
And quoted from them incessantly
You see the real deal is
That I don’t cut it
As an intellectual
Nor as a renaissance man
And I could blame it all
On late childhood bedwetting
Or extended puberty
Or difficulty losing my virginity
But the truth of it is I know
That one year did it for me
Yes, that one year
And then one other
Sunday, 1 July 2018
A Gradual Movement
A new video*, not yet started
A germ of an idea
From our Bude vacation
We already have the photographs
A few poems
And maybe other writings
Kate has agreed to narrate
Aiming this time
For clarity to lead the dream
The process began
With thoughts of going to Finland
A slow film through the snow
To a cottage on its own island
Three hours drive
From Helsinki Airport
Of course that might still happen
But for now something more immediate
Without the need to trouble Sibelius
* Watch the video on youtube by clicking here
A germ of an idea
From our Bude vacation
We already have the photographs
A few poems
And maybe other writings
Kate has agreed to narrate
Aiming this time
For clarity to lead the dream
The process began
With thoughts of going to Finland
A slow film through the snow
To a cottage on its own island
Three hours drive
From Helsinki Airport
Of course that might still happen
But for now something more immediate
Without the need to trouble Sibelius
* Watch the video on youtube by clicking here
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