Final Tenancy - For The Pub Landlord’s Son

How light is the day

Without a trouble to care for

How far is the sight

From there to the seashore

How human the slight

When choosing the decor

How high flies the kite

When we opened the White Door

How the aircraft offered delight

To follow the marks on the cabin floor

No more panic, or freeze, or fight, or flight

Nothing stored away as then with the rip-roar

 

It Ain’t Heavy - It’s My Computer

Don’t follow the conversation

Return to your own thoughts

Don’t listen to the singer

Write out your own lyrics

Don’t look at the bald man

Typing on his laptop

Think of your own programmes

On the luggable Mac

Yes, cast back to the graphs

Which you thought told the story

Think of the colour wheel

Where you believed in contrasting colours

Do not focus on the small memory

Or your complete data wipe-out

Think that you too can stroke

Your overgrown facial hair

  

Impatient - Moving On

Even today

I have continued the habit

Of starting the next task

Before finishing the last

I hadn’t completed the poetry

When I decided to go into town

I had not typed up the darkness

When I thought to chase the light

Also, I didn’t pack the iPhone

Into my shoulder bag

So these past four thousand steps

Will not be counted

But hey ho

The caramel waffles

Settled the score

Before the match had even started

 

First Day Induction - Final Day Ceremony

The day of the novice

With a new life

Of dedication ahead

How to take this step

To enter into another family

What to leave behind

Stood on the wooden floor

Listening to the sound of the meditation bell

Watching the cremation’s wood burning

Thinking of love

Of all the love known

Of all the love gifted and given

How to take the next step

To find a new mind for memory

To visualise a subtle sublime emptiness

Stood on the mother earth

Listening to the breath

The in-breath and the out-breath

Thinking of love

Of all of the loving kindness

On this day, and the coming days ahead

 

Mindful - Joyful

On this day you passed away

You, Thich Nhat Hahn

My second grandfather

Called

In your 95th year

A new end to your meditations

Calm, Ease, Smile, Breathe

Present moment

Beautiful moment

Breathe

Breathe in

Breathe, breathe out

Galvanised Tin - Extruded To A Tee

It’s slow time on a Sunday

With the way too hot

Black Americano

The old doorway is bricked up

But I don’t give a jot

For the distressed style

And the open tray work

Leading to surface-mounted conduit

Reminds me too too much of my youth

Dust naturally gathers

On the chain suspended Bose speakers

Music, like me, hanging by a thread

Well Observed - Many Stories Told

Eventually the snow falls

Snow and light rain combine

My first time

With time to simply sit and watch

Yet soon, as if my observation

Was not called for

Both snow and rain decline

As the light fades

And, as the sky darkens

The time available shortens

Time for what, do I hear you ask

As I question that thought myself

Maybe doing nothing

Could be as good a place as any to start

And then perhaps to grow, incrementally

Until we reach doing everything

Maybe by now you too

Are thinking about Jules Verne

All of those fabulous Phileas Fogg adventures

As he went Around the world in eighty days

Cast Iron Range - Cooking And Heating

Smokestacks and rampant flags

A winter’s day like any other

Remember your mother

How peacefully she passed

How contented her later days

Will that happen for you

Are you about to turn

Impatience into contentment

Can you make your fire burn

In such and such

And all those other ways

Two Together - And One Apart

I have to consult another

About my writing

About my walking

About my searching the internet

And who might that other be

Could we be put in the know

Could we be trusted with your secret

Could you not tell us so

In the oasis of calm

As if a peaceful meditation

Of mind like sky

Perhaps as todays skies full of emptiness

I could tell

But who would that help

Not anyone that I know

And that’s for sure

Yet, for the sake

Of the colloquial among you

I could talk of transference

And passionate island living

Nature - Returns To Music

Sky blue skies

Red brick houses

What are those berries

On the branches

Poking through

The green leaf bushes

It is too cold to walk

What, in these ice-grey skies

Why to set foot out

Better surely

To take to the couch

And listen

To Spiegel im Spiegel

One Line - (With One Explanation)

In the bright sun of January

(So you know the time of year)

Yes in the warmth, at the breakfast table

(So you know the place, and the time of day)

Outside a strong Northerly breeze 

(So you know which way the wind blows)

Also outside, a dog barks; this irritates me

(So you know that I do have irritations)

However the blue sky soaks up my annoyance

(And now you know that I like blue skies)

Cuban Cigar - To Smoke Is The Risk

I do not have the energy

Or the desire

Or the effective concentration

To set about typing up

Rather to dwell

In the loss of self-control

Caught up in the devilment

Of doing nothing at all

That is other than feeling

Sorry for myself

Coming over all melancholic

With the story left in the wings

Where he sings the songs of loss

Has his joss sticks at the ready

As the unsteadiness settles

And the butterflies land on dust

Rust covered energies abound

To the sounds of plucked guitars

And slow-puffed cigars, in the urban

Surroundings of yesterday’s moon

Déjà - View As You Wish

As the estate grounds open up

I swallow thirty years

In the one gulp of northern air

In that one moment

Even in the previous moment

I was left elsewhere

And in that otherwise

Of Poetry Otherwise

I was becalmed by beauty

Never really knowing

If that is what knowing is

Of theatre under moonlight

And in that sea swell

Of waveless nights

With painters at the ready

In that event

Even in the previous event

I am curiously left without any doubts

Perceptive - Seeing Is Believing

Does the blackbird scuttle

Due to the sounds or the vibrations issued

By my feet heavily stepping on the flagstones

Or do my piercing eyes

Effectively order the bird to take cover

Beneath the winter bushes

Which are distinctly smothered in morning dew

Do you perceive more than I 

Is there a morphic resonance

Which connects, outside of chance

Or coincidence; or am I simply lost

Is the date of the video being loaded

Any more significant than that of a birthday

Of course the experiments could be fake

But an academic taboo restricts disclosure

Instead to see you at the seashore

Where your consciousness expands

Out into a life within my life

A place where I am happy to welcome you

Disruptive - At Your Pleasure

So many thoughts

Way too many thoughts

Who is man enough

To hold onto so so many thoughts

Then the noises

Here, there, and everywhere the noises

Now, then, and whenever the noises

Up, down, and turnaround to the noises

But also

The glimpses of beauty

The deep releases of sneezes

To blow everything up, or close everything down

So many thoughts

The temples are vibrating

First with one thing, then with the other

Before it all kicks off all over again

Then the noises; where are you now

Where will you be tomorrow

Is there any chance at all

That we could share a conversation

No, Not That Way - This Is A Better Way For You

Instead of losing your attachments

Why not try to hold onto them

Try as hard as ever you can

Don’t let go, whatever you do

Not of lost love

Or past memories

Not of secrets, or promises

Or anything which gifts you joy

It is foolish to believe

That if you lose attachments

You will relieve your suffering

If anything the opposite is so

Instead of banishment

Turn to celebration

Dust off the cobwebs from your photographs

Buy no more love-psychology books

Make a collage of words and pictures

To breathe new life

Into that which the miserable buggers

Would have you throw away

Vacate - With Such Joy

I haven’t got going

It’s cold, I’m cold

I nearly bought a present

I almost sent a message

I felt, I felt

A bit better about myself

I haven’t got going

The feeling is cold

The intention is colder

I did have one warm thought

Then another, about the icicles 

At Hambleton, near Rutland Water

Ash In Tow - Also In The Grate

The Bay hunkers down

As the wind introduces itself

To a day of majestical purpose

The wood-burner flue warms up

Even with the flames

Struggling to catch hold

What was that word

Which you failed to remember

After yesterday morning’s meditation

Something similar in sound or meaning

To bestow or all aglow

Definitely with a resounding so so ending

Misplaced Steps - Focus On The Difference

The biscuit box is empty

The Home Body poems are read

At least today’s consignment

For my father was also a wagon driver

Delivering concrete pavement edges

To the navvies laying new roads

In this way I empathise, sympathise

With the poet Rupi Kaur

Yet I feel there is distance between us

Which makes the point, to me at any rate

That nothing changes, which you may recognise

As a David Bowie album, from back in the day

I don’t have a lot more to say

That album includes Let’s Dance

And we did dance, in one of my stories

Light Years Away - Only To Return

So not too too bad

Not to have been admitted

To the inner sanctum

Of the society of thieves

Thirty-seven years ago

This past summer

Take care to check the date

You know how my memory is

If I turn to sculpture

Will it be

To learn the inside out

Of the rest of my mind

Particularly to practice

That return from infinity

Where surely, at least once

I am bound to have travelled

Disappointment - But Keep On Trying

I dislike intellectuals, mostly

Because I am not in their gang

But also because I believe they stole

That which I thought belonged to me

Back again

In the domain of intellectuals

Who have once more refused me

Entrance to join their ranks

This time though there is hope

As I walk past several Francis Bacon originals

Also a Giacometti

Whose standing woman appears to lean

Unlike the Healing Man Buddha

Who silently promises

To make well

All in my world and its surroundings

All That I Am - Some Things May Be Missing

I am nothing more

Than mind, body

Soul, eros, and spirit

Which

Through memories, observations, and dreams

Gift me feelings, thoughts, and ideas

Opportunities that allow me

To plot a way forwards, and sideways

Through this singular journey of my one life

One Way In - There May Be Many Others

It is a different kind of thing

A love out of nowhere

Other than from the meditations

Of the morning

What is it that I wish to achieve

What wishes might I reach for

How might I discover the truth

The truth of that which I am seeking

Not now knowing where to start

Or what the out-turns may be

Misunderstanding how this works

Or where and how to find the clarity

After The Beginning

Why are there so so many mistakes

Do I need to proofread

Again and again and again

Yet why to make the mistakes

In the first place

Is it through a lack of concentration

Should I slow down the writing process

Oh, but that book

That was written using a different method

So, then the voice recording

Becomes a necessary step

Before publication

A final editing tool

To makes as best a job

As I, on my own, can possibly can

This will be the first book

To follow the three step system

Write, type, voice record, type right

 

In The Beginning

This is the quiet hour

There may be many

The hour of half light

The hour of half thought

That beauty resides

In the view through the trees bare branches

That beauty decides

In the peaceful quiet of inactivity

Such that it is the tea, the chair

Which provides the welcome

Which says, please sit down

Be aware of your breath

Be aware of how your mind travels

In small steps, in giant leaps

Be mindful of the floorboards creaking

Of another life making moves

This is the beginning of a second hour

With the joy of a shared pot of tea

As one prepares oneself

For the pleasures of bathing

 

Exercise

The kettle has boiled

Time to make coffee

But first to watch the Bose video

Showing off their latest must have listening device

Oh boy am I a soft touch for gadgets

Or flights

To warmer climates, indeed anything

Which promises a feel good factor

Because, why because

Because Christmas is over

The outdoor lights have been brought in

The indoor lights have been packed away

All of those temporary installations

Put aside for another year

Yes, I have put Lyle Lovett on iTunes

Spoke with my eldest son on FaceTime

But of course, why but of course

Of course I have to shape my own direction

Stand up more often, way more often

In a New Year of posture, not postulation

 

Crossed Continents

I was in Stockholm

But not on New Year’s Eve

I did see men fishing

Outside Parliament House

Also I browsed the market stalls

Of the archipelago craft traders

I have settled myself

With these few words

The turbulent times, they are in the past

Except that is in the memory

I did you see have the emptiness moment

On the steps of that Scandinavian berthed yacht

Only to find that in actual fact I was here

At home, on our Harris Tweed settee

Allowing my mind to roam, to wander

Not even thinking

That it might wobble

To return to where I thought I had already left

 

Look Out

Where might I find you

Where have I not sought you out before

How might I remind you

Where you could look to find my door

These are the days, there are many of them

Where I may go out in search of you

These are the days, there are many among them

Where I may wonder what happened to you

I do not go to that place so so often

Where I find the here, and the now

I do not go to that space so so often

As when I found the here, among the now

Thoughts of footprints walk around me

From the beaches to the stars of the plough

Thoughts of footprints now astound me

As from the beaches I tow the stars of the plough

Where then might I find you

Where I have not sought you out before

How then might I remind you

Where you may enter through my open door