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Thursday 31 December 2020

Textual Context

I have a desire to write

As a way to satisfy

The needs, the wants

Of my mind, of my body


That is to release

Or to couple up

The passions, the persuasions

Of pasts, of presents, of futures


This morning I could write

The most mindful of words

With sorrow, with happiness

Shared by the protagonist


With sadness, or darkness

Pushed out

Beyond the periphery

Over the tracks of yesteryears


Any complication, or quarrel

Within my own interior

Would be planed, sanded, smoothed

Then offered by pen, to the paper



Wednesday 30 December 2020

Buffered Against

Ships pass in the afternoon

Swaying side to side

Drifting backwards, forwards

Rising, falling

With the wave, with the tide

With the squall of one towards the other


Sparkling waters sparkle

Towards the dock of the bay

I don’t know where I go to

I don’t know where you are

I don’t know that I know you

I don’t know how you came so far


It is with a heavy weight

Which I often begin the words

It is a weight

Which has been in my ownership

For a long long time

Almost since the words first began


Times pass; nights, days

Moving fast, or slow

Seeking inwards, also outwards

Prising, peeling

With the shadow, with the light

With the fear of one towards the other



Tuesday 29 December 2020

Idealisms

The sky is simmering sky-blue

The sea is shimmering emerald-green

The waistlines are grotesque


Such is the march of humanity

Although, to the west side

Nudist bathing is positively encouraged


Yet, for myself

Speaking completely politically incorrectly

I would have them have a test to be passed


A sort of measure of human responsibility

For if you are not responsible for yourself

Who might we be able to ask you to care for


The port is a busy port

The berths are very wide, very long

Room for all of those who eat all you can for $5


Such is the intrusion of tourists

Though at the island’s extremities

Silent contemplation is actively made available


Yet, for myself

Speaking in line with one who does

I would make daily meditation mandatory



Monday 28 December 2020

Adapt, Adopt

Bikini - York Y Queso

Naranja o pomelo

Remember who you are

Sunglasses by Vans

Plan B Café Formentera

Remember who you were

Salt sea water - warm

Thrusts into fossil rock

Remember who you are

Ses Elletes Levant Beach

Remember who you were

Fresh fried anchovy 

Tuna, tomato, onions

Remember who you are

Estrella Port pavor

Yes, indeed, a large one

Remember who you were

Restaurante es Ministre

Playa de Iletas - Formentera

Remember who you are




Sunday 27 December 2020

Then, Now, Then

Remember who you were

Remember who you are


Another olive falls to the floor

A few more leaves

Are blown across the tiles

Two small trees, of an unknown variety 

Sit in their pots


Remember who you were

Remember who you are

All of those places

Which you came from


All of those times

Where you arrive from

Remember who you are

Remember who you were


Another olive falls to the floor

A few more leaves

Are blown over the tiles

Two small trees, of an unknown variety

Sit in their pots


Remember who you are

Remember who you were



Saturday 26 December 2020

Threshold

How quiet does one have to be

To reach that silent space

Or that place of boundless ego

Yet also to have been here

In the there, in the then


To sit in the spa yard

To follow the leaf with the eye

Thread thoughts

Of nothing going nowhere

Beside the still so so settled pool

Almost found, almost at one


How far does one have to go

To reach that place beyond

Or that place before

Yet also to be there

In the here, in the now


To walk on the peat moor

To squelch in the bog

Wipe the fast-falling snowflakes

From the worried brow

Watch the gushing stream

Almost lost, almost home



Friday 25 December 2020

Constructs

How might I

Rebuild this courtyard

In my own home


How may I

Recreate a sense of calm

In my own home


How might we

Build onto our home

To say, be here


How may we

Give space, give life

To our imaginations


How might you

Come, or go

Just as you please


How may you

Effect, affect

Such concrete solutions



Thursday 24 December 2020

Life Balance

The olive

The tiny leaf

The large leaf

Their present life

Brought to an end


Detached from the food source

They will without doubt decay


Maybe to be turned into compost

Or become lost in the landfill

As may these few words

Which I, yes, maybe only I

Choose to call a poem



Wednesday 23 December 2020

Sense

I touch the olive to the leaf

I smile

This day has hidden me from grief


I see his photograph on the book

He smiles

This day has opened up, to take a second look


I invoke an atmosphere almost mute

We smile

This day spa, has one neatly active water chute


Tuesday 22 December 2020

Hypnotic Hydrotherapy

100 beads of sweat

One olive, one leaf

On the manicured log


I hoped to belong

To belong

Is what I truly hoped for


To find a silence

A hoped for silence

In that song, where I belong


100 beads of sweat

Ten minutes, no more

From brow to bench


Brow of belonging

To bench of longing

Every bead just one more step


Steps

More steps to where I long

Steps, yet again, to help me belong




Monday 21 December 2020

Out Of Time

Longing

Longing for belonging

Belonging

In the longing for longing


Belonging

Belonging without longing

Longing

To hide away from belonging


Longing

Longing

Longing

Oh longing for belonging


Longing

Longing

Longing

Oh belonging with the longing


Longing to belong

Belonging to long

Oh belonging

Oh longing



Sunday 20 December 2020

Ages Aged

There is a purple olive

As if there had been purple rain

There is a new branch on the tree

As if youth walks this way again


There is a twist to the trunk

As if the dancers twist their manes

There is a death sign to the floor

As if the old age leaves its stains


There are monks in robes

As if Matins is about to begin

Actually they are guests of the spa

Here to thermally detox their sin


The water falls as water falls

Towards the emptiness of Zen

The breeze dies as breezes die

Before the asking of why, or when


The corner of dry leaves lay quiet

Left alone to find their own peace

The sliding doors open silently

Yet to exit, is no certainty of release