Sublime - To The Disdainfully Ridiculous

Nature is beauty

And that’s for sure

Yet man

With his miraculous jet engine

Which I was taught about

Indeed went on a school trip to see

As a teenage lad over fifty years ago

May be a worthwhile rival

At the moment though

To hear the noisy rattle and clatter

Of the recycle bin being wheeled back to base

Alongside my garden hedge

Makes me realise

That progress can be slow, if at all

Especially when ordinary men

And municipal councils are involved

 

Gardening Leave - Site Clearance

Outdoors

In March

In recovery mode

Still wheezing

Though slightly less of a cough

The pebbles

Are haphazard

And ragged

With grass growing through

Even in the shingle

It all seems less than imperfect

Although more beautiful

With the strong spring sun

And the clear blue skies

Even the jets, overhead, have a good rhythm

 

Test Says No - Body Says I Think So

And so for the not so well their bids are due

But

You pushed on, you pushed out

Now

Your friends, and family are also not well

Yet

They also push on, push out

This way

The bugs spread at quite a rate

Until

In effect 

We no longer catch it

Instead it visits us

In our alone and lonely quarters

Quarantined from the world

To such an extent

That we too wonder

If we could work on-line

But

Doing what, what can we do

Even with

The virus for our inspiration

 

Strines - Clearance

This isn’t my moor

But it is my ringing in the ears

My vibrations of being almost at home

Yet a long way from love

Thinking it must be an external sound

I open the car door

To hear nothing but the sheep

And the sound of scrub smoke slowly rising

Brown, and green, and purple

Yes, yes, oh boy yes I’ll bless my love

For the purple heather

The brown, green, and beautiful purple heather

 

Sugar - And Spice

Was it the dessert pastilles

Which lifted my mood

Or was it my morning meditation

Which set me in good stead

For the rest of this beautiful day

Was it the café

Here, there, or anywhere

Which set the seal

On the deal of love

About to be offered

 

Out Of Space - Matter Of Fact

I declare

You are my meteor star

Curving through the curved air

Of a deeper love

Steeper than the steepest mountain

A fountain of youth and truth and beauty

So light, so happy

On a blue sky Saturday

Such a tight feeling

That says love stay with me

The keeper of the song

All in all another beautiful day

 

Hardly A Ripple - On The Pond

In this aloneness

There are no leaders to follow

No instructions to misunderstand

I can go my own way

Even if I stumble

And yes, sometimes fall

The moorhen

Plunges half of her body

Headfirst, into the black water

 

Stabilisation - Reclamation

I could be anywhere

But happen to be here

Trying my best to fall over

Listen to the waves

Listen to the wind

Listen to the curlew or plover

Taking a photograph

Of reeds and grasses

Flattened by the flood-waters

 

Slide - Ending In Calm

The rains have been

The sea has been

The salt flats are soddened

The ground slips

Beneath my fanciful trainers

I do a kind of arthritic splits

The style stays with me

One more accident

In a lifetime full of calamities

 

Before The Voice - Simply The Stature

I will have this moment

Nothing can take that away

And so it is also with zillions

Of previous memories

But this particular time

Of decision and indecision

Needs to find its own secure place

On the see-saw of life

That is why I mention

The Victoria Sponge

And the cup of Americano coffee

As I look out over marsh and sea

I thought it was my friend the farmer

With a walkie-talkie

Looking for the Red Kite

But I could have been mistaken

 

Departures - And Connections

I was searching

I found love

I am leaving

It is a dull day

The hedge tops have been trimmed

Although further south they haven’t

There are blue skies

At this point of the compass

The sea sparkles to move me

I am searching

I found love

I am leaving

 

Meditation - Good For You, Good On You

There need be no one else

In this time of stillness

To be honest it’s better that way

For peace and quiet

Is a prerequisite

To find and enter the deeper thoughts

Just now for instance

Taken to the meadow

Taken to the island seas

And before that

To nowhere at all

Looking into the near and far distance

 

Catching On - Caught Up

A collar

A heel

The need to feel

Somehow really good

A gesture

A pleasantness

The need to suggest

A sense of a new beginning

A hand

A smile

The need to style

Our very next moves

A morning sun

A flowing breeze

The need to seize

This beautiful day

 

Gold Dust - Made From Solid Gold

This is not about love

I have already been too careless with that

This is about being free

To be alone with the loneliness

Also about waste

To have wasted three score year and ten 

To end up nowhere, with next to nothing

Except the buckets full of memories

 

Behold - Hold Steady

The candle lights the room

A small room, with no windows

This is a safe place

My safest place

We wanted

To share our bodies

I wanted yours

You wanted mine

But the world was not ready

For our connection

For our collision

For our night under the stars

The fade

Begins to fade

The excitement

Calms to a storm for no one

 

Tricks - Of Disappearance

I write to no one

The fountain flows no more

Yet

There is a lightness

An emptiness

Beginning to dance

I write to any one

Even those

Who are not here

Yet whose spirit

Flows in and out

Of all of my minds

 

Racket - Of Sorts

Tinnitus

Or stereo soundscapes

Which or which

Let’s you know

That life is still with you

And that sloping roof

Beyond the hedgerows

Why and why

Is it at a right angle

To my window

Piano

And or violin

Out of both speakers

As I ponder

And deliberate

That such a voice

Can take me back

To such poor decisions

In the long

And distant past

 

Day Out - To The Old Places

Beside the canal

By the empty reservoir

At the entrance to the tunnel

In the spring sunshine

Of one more leap year

What kind of town is this

What kind of town is the other

Either way

They are both a long way away

And that’s a fact

But then again

Not many places can be nearby

If as you say that the sea

Is one half of nearby

To your home locale

Whereas before

On the spine of the country

Where moorland, and peat, and bog

Happily co-exist, in more or less

Equal measure, to the rain

 

Let The Good Times Roll - And Roll On By They Will

Tuck into the shortbread

With caramel and chocolate toppings

Knowing full well

That this is bad for you

But also good for you

The child, sat in the child’s chair

Turns around, looks around

The taps his hands on the table

Much to the delight of his mother

His auntie, and his adoring grandma

This is the day

That he takes his first taste

On the path to sugar diabetes

Type I or type II who knows

But always supported by his family

  

Pause Button - Released

In another place

Which for these few moments

Becomes my space

So much so

That I unbutton

My overcoat

And wait

For the words to flow

As I listen to other people’s stories

  

Kumbh Mela - Albert Falzon

Straight ahead

With the energy

Of one man’s punt

Drifting along

With the guidance

Of one man’s oar

Embracing peace

Beneath the canopy

Of cotton and reed

Among a community

With a strength of purpose

To feed the soul

On a voyage

Along the holy river

Within his ambient sounds

  

Festival - Kumbh Mela

If this isn’t the time

When would be ok

If I wasn't to give a sign

What would you have me say

And so we begin

Floating through the water reeds

Same as it ever was is our sin

Turning time back to misspent deeds

If that wasn’t the case

What would be the truth

If I hadn’t joined the race

Would I be here and not aloof

And so we end

Walking on the open moors

Same as it ever was is to lend

The season to our universal cures

  

Storytelling - Along The Line Of Life

One man’s life

Told as the story of a river

An unfolding continuum of one-page sketches

One for each year of his life

But beginning in mid-life

The story is told backwards and forwards

One man’s life

Lets me settle

Into one man’s life

Then the postman knocks on the door

To deliver the story

Of another man’s life

Homeless, with mental issues

One man’s life

This man

In care

Except that, yes

It could all disappear

In a line on a page

Or thanks to a disadvantaged mother

  

Playing - At Being The Architect

There is a flat platform

A flagged square

Or rectangle

This could be the starting point

There is a gradual slope

Lawn and flower bed

To a tall tree in the corner

This is the body of the story

Beyond the conifer

And over the low wooden fence

Is the track, unmade and uneven

This has to be the way out

  

Gifts - And Recriminations

What you took

Is nothing near

What you have

But you did take

The whole damned lot

Left not an ounce of love

What you shook

Is nothing near

That closest shave

But you did shave

The whole damned lot

Left not a sign of stubble

What you look at

Is nothing near

The book you read

But you did read

The whole damned lot

Left not a word out of sorts

  

Treasures - Of The Moments

A lack

Of love

Of self

Of confidence

Of interrogation

Or explanation

A need

To wait

To pause

To delay

To become more

Or less assured

A departure

Heavy eyelids

Dry mouth

A longer view

Ever so slightly

Out of focus

  

Artist - Use Your Tools

On the cusp

Or the saddle

Where certainty

And uncertainty prevail

The small diamond

As head

The large diamond

As body

The narrow diamond

As hips

Thighs, knees

And feet

The whole thing

Then to be you

Sparkling, shiny

And beyond betrayal

   

Psychology - A Personal Thing Part II

And, as these stranger’s voices

Turn into fleeting whispers

Exchanging fears and experiences

This is the way support is shared

Also, advice is offered

For the daughter to get as far away as she can

From that boyfriend, who they have decided

Is a controlling, loathsome, individual

I know that she will be alright

Deep down I know that

But its been good to talk with you

What about your girl

 

Psychology - A Personal Thing

The blue, black, and silver sky

A place for all offerings

All of light is beneath here

Except that illumination above

So there we have it

Out of my dark meditation room

Into the rest of the morning

Where words wait to be joined together

Meanwhile, here in the café

Mother’s talk of daughter’s depression

So right here, as well as in Tokyo

The black dog is present

 

What We Forget - As We Remember

Where are your parents today

How old are you

Do you ask yourself these questions

As you place your offering at the altar

What have you learnt

From the teacher’s profound teachings

I saw you thoughtful

I saw you joyful

I saw you, and now I don’t

If I reach out

For someone other

Or some thing other

Am I

By necessity

Leaving the past behind

  

Let It Be Said - Hear This From No Other

I have not found the straightjacket of form

I have been unable to adorn the monks gowns

My mind and body are free-formed from strata

And yes there are regrets, would I not

Wish to wear the emperor’s new clothes

For I am nothing, and I will be nothing

And in between the water will only ripple slightly

All of these places which you engagingly talk of

They are not my places

I have no allegory or metaphor at hand

For you to hang your hat or your story on

I am a been there and done that sort of guy

What I write is what is real, and, for the sake

Of understanding I will leave it at that

Except of course for love, or companionship

For I have known these doubtful imposters

And worked out how to treat them the same

Although it is a secret, of secrets purpose

That is to say you must work it out

For no clues are to be found on this page

And the pencil marks will only serve to mislead