Travel Time

It is as it is
The pain precludes sleep
The pain insists on waking
The pain pushes, or questions
All limits of mind and body
All extremes of love and loss

This is the first night
There will be others
Times, without sleep
Without mind, without love
Yet there will be meditation

In the middle of the night
Or at 03:39 to be precise
Not exactly on the dance floor
Though we could be flying out
To some villa in Tuscany for a wedding

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Savour

The only thing
Which is either deep
Or significant
In that last but one piece

Are the sloping margins
Which I believe are there through
A potent mixture
Of doubt plus a pinch of ecstasy

Doubt; because it was
Because it is, because
It most certainly may be, because
Most likely, it always bloody well will be

Ecstasy
Well once you have been there
You have been there haven’t you
No more to say than that

Oh what a mixture though
A veritable bacon and brown sauce of a taste
A definitive modus operandi
For the blessed as also for the cursed

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Carpet Covered With Flies

The fly disturbs the silence
More so
Now that the fan of the fire
Is no more

The two minds of the mind
Claim the silence
One is ok with solemnity
One is not so so sure

The curtains are closed
Closing the window
Cuts out the wind noise
A giant spider appears

It raises within me
Such hypersensitivity
That I now hear music
As if in the very walls

As if also out in the dead of night
Did then the spider eat the fly
Or did it die
As all of those others had before it

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Obligations

A rugby match
Between Exeter
And some place in France
A wild windy Saturday
When the English
Were expected to win

I did go to a game in Bodmin
Or was it Truro
Something to do with work
Corporate entertainment
Turning out to support the cause
I think you stayed home

Which maybe
Is where you are now
Although you too
Could be turning out
Also for the cause
As you might well say

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Be

The enclosures of silence
Umpteen walls, floors
Doors, corridors
Take us to and from
The rooms of solemn being

It is dusk as I walk
From the restaurant
Where they have wi-fi access
Why in this half-light
Do I feel so empowered

So smitten
By the castle like stone
As if I was
In that other-worldly place
Of all knowing, of all being

Ever so serious
In a space I call:
Peace, truth, beauty, love
For I know
No better words

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Limerence

I don’t ever let go
Neither will I on this day
Saturday night is alright for dancing
As they say
Down down, deeper and down
Beyond the fires flickering flame
Further even than the howling wind
Closer up than the lead on the windows

Tip tap goes the snapped glass
Pass yourself off as a lover do you
The one-time mother of intervention
Sense all of what it is which I sense I say
Turn over a new leaf
That last fallen leaf of autumn
Snatch the glory from the thief
With the intensity of such fond found belief

I would have asked, but didn’t
For fear of what we now call rejection
Such attention which overcomes
With howls, with tears, with despair
I do hope to explain, in the coming days
I have brought a book to help me
Yet, in this moment, or so it seems
We are the first case study

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Entry Point

The door slams shut behind me
The sign on the door says

Enclosure
Strictly Private

I have left the choir practising
They will be back at seven
For the real reason thing

I am in a different room
Which will I think, be quieter
Though it is beside the kitchen

I have left my charging devices
For iPad and iPhone at home
Also the shoulder soothing wheat-bag

John asked
Do you stay in a monastery cell?
No

It is en-suite with a carpeted floor
A mock, log-effect electric fire
Yet there is peace

Other than the wind noises
It is entirely quiet
A good place for a few days

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Film

I do not mind doing voice-overs
But I do not wish to be filmed whilst speaking

I do not mind writing the narrative words
Though I do not want to be filmed when writing

I do not mind walking on contemplative walks
But I do not wish to be filmed contemplating

I do not mind being the one who is the one
Though I do not wish to be filmed as if being the one

I do not mind being a part of the stillness
But I do not wish to be filmed as that stillness

I do not mind being a part of the silence
Though I do not wish to be filmed as that silence

I do not mind being a part of the prayer
But I do not wish to be filmed in that prayer

I do not mind being up in the middle of the night
Though I do not wish to be filmed during the night

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Mute, Dumb

You chose not to say hello
Or to say goodbye
Let alone any promise whatsoever
To see you later
How deeply I must have hurt you
To make you so so unsure of yourself
How could I have known the silence
My silence, would deprive you of your life

Yet I continue to beat myself up
For you are my secret
My secret to begin with
My secret to take with me along the way
You go into your room
You close your door
What have I done
That you wish to evade me so

Why do you detest me so
That you cannot bear
For me to see you
Or for you to see me
Of course I may be way off course
You may have other reasons for your privacy
And it may just help you
That I don’t try to rock your boat

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This Is It

If I might remember
Those moments of pure calm
Those times I think to call love
Love to see more, or love to see less
For it is almost nothing
This view, this thought
This time for contemplation
Which some may call Zen

On one day in November
Not continuously dry
Nor forever sunshine
But pleasant, yes pleasant
I took my camera
My notebook and my pencil
I walked through the round garden
Towards the white bridge

I stopped awhile, to write
Some pressing words
I stopped, to take
Some indicative photographs
I was alone
But I was not alone
I had love
I had my memories

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