This time yesterday
The heavens opened
Rain poured towards the drains
Not quite the breeze of today
Yet compensated
By the thunder and lightning
The café was incredibly slow
Such a wait
For coffee, sandwich and cake
You would not just wait
At the road junction would you
Choosing instead to turn the other way
Will your impatience stay with you
Or can you become sufficiently at peace
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At the boathouse
By the water
In the sunshine
And the rain
With temptation
There to tempt me
Also shepherds pie
For the dinner
Meditation
Can you hear me
On the ripples
Of the four winds
There again
We see the island
Also Brideshead Chapel
And the room of renunciation
Weathered wood
Of how many reasons
For the swimming
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There is a quarry nearby
We’ve seen the wagons
Going to and fro
When I was a young man
An apprentice electrical engineer
I used to repair the jib controls
On a Ruston Bucyrus 5W
A walking crane
With a 20 tonne bucket
The drum contacts had to be cleaned
With fine, then finer, emery cloth
Before being set to work
Some days, with the jib
Out over the cut
I would have to change the light bulbs
Which meant hanging
Over the nothingness
Of impending vertigo
With only the world’s clear air
Down to the broken rocks
Fifty metres below
This helped ingrain within me
A fear of heights
Which I cannot now step over
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One thousand buddhas
Before I reach
My buddha self
One thousand consciousnesses
On my way
To the universal consciousness
One thousand blue skies
Up above
My blue sky mind
One thousand trees
In the woods
Of my walking
One thousand kisses
On the lips
Of my lover
One thousand bishops
To our cabin
At Bishop Wilton
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That newly permed hair
Dry on a dry afternoon
That newly permed hair
Nothing ventured happens too soon
Old brick wall
With broken exposure
Supports a tree
Where cement ought to be
That newly permed hair
Dry on a dry afternoon
That newly permed hair
Nothing lost by speaking to the moon
Old thoughts flow
With fractured disconnections
Nowhere thus to grow
V neck
Deep cut
Home for the season
Where weary travellers
With friends last seen at sea
Dwell as the breeze blows
This is the catwalk
A house of fashion
Where leopard skin shorts
Ride up high on thighs
As the conversation
Kicks on a pace
Waiting
Without a time
Or a presence
Yet what is
Is what has to be
Cigarette smoke
And walking boots
An unlikely combination
Yet the deep-throated cough
And splutter
Suggest it is well set in
Your brother, my brother
Needed an heart attack
To end his addiction
Your son, my son
Hasn’t got there yet
But he might
I gave up
Several times over
Yet the aroma…
Oh yes
That drift, that waft
Of nicotine grabs hold
Temptation
All of life
Looking out to sea
Or tidal estuary
I have to end my angst
Or, as my mother
Might have said
Christopher lad
It will be the death of you
And how will that leave me
So, sat outside the Ropewalk
Which, for now, does not open
On Mondays or Tuesdays
I will have to ask for a leaflet
Or, as my mother
Might have said
Nay lad
You’d better buck your ideas up
If you want to engage in love’s prosperity
Each way, or all ways
Setting out across the sands
Watching out for the tide
Noticing the footprint impressions
Which somehow seem
To amplify the power
As it is
With the holding of the hands
Also to share kisses and whispers
Solid stone, early summer sun
The day of the FA Cup Final
An early morning take-off
Or a previous evening’s flight
From a life of a restricted existence
Where will the road go now
It would be easier to let you in
Than to climb those aeroplane steps
To travel to a land so so far away
It is in the writing where the words
Break through the surface, to allow exploration
Among the blank lines of potential verse
It is in the writing where the thoughts
Burrow into the darkness, as if
Being underground helps to see the light
Would it be easier to let you go
Rather than to climb those aeroplane steps
For a journey to a land so so filled with love
In that other place
Where to be
Is to be in the mix
Selecting regular or large
Americano
To go with the English breakfast
Chair and table
Pulled to one side
To let the window-seat customers
Pass by
On the way
To enjoy the rest of their day
Why do we let things
Pray on our minds
Are we principled or annoyed
You would be better
With something small in a pot
All that is left
Is the time to settle
To find the heart
Of the cause
For longing
A voyage to the horizon
Of the hurt
Of the separation
Between the crumpled inner core
And the vaguest of far-distance
Simply begin the conversation
Fear not
For failures words
Neither those of suggestion
Feel empathy
As if the destruction itself
Was in truth a kindness
Think on
Of those veritable monks
And next years longed-for visit
Work through
The contributions you might make
To their deliberations
Rest in this beauty
Contemplate on the gifts
Which you each have been gifted
I am in the bright light of beauty
A fine distant reflection
Of sunlight on still water
Even if I could not actually remember
Or not so much as even be there
I could still imagine, couldn’t I
There would have been a purpose
Of that you can be sure of
Yet it too could be lost on you, forgive me
One part of my story
Is awash and away with the birds
In all sizes, with all shades through to grey
Another past is a cumulus cloud formation
Which presses, formidably
With suggestions of romantic storms
That the fear-of-flying inhabitants have departed
And the dog endlessly barks
Adds to the unease of subsequent thoughts
I choke, and I cough
At my own attachment
To a life being totally non-religious
I wonder to myself
Will the pigeon leave the rooftop
I feel a deep desire
To explore the thoughts I thought
Yet I know the embers dying in that fire
There is pain to be sold and bought
But, from nowhere comes a flash of light
What if I had to live my life
Through the thoughts I thought
With purest expectation for the fight or flight
Blue skies and raindrops
How does one experience the moment
To write of the thought before the thought stops
To capture the essence as the purpose lies broken
I didn’t remember
I do that fairly often
Just as for your birthday in September
And the flowers which so so slowly soften
The peace here is deafening
As the conscience begins to ring
Calm concentration is threatening
As hopes stand proud to sing
Stretch out the explanations
Of the thoughts we wish to see
Bathe in a free mind’s revelations
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From the bluff
To the two pounds twenty
Tins of diet coca-cola
In the shade now
(And it is cold)
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He laughs
And he smiles
As he plays in the water
Such a joy
To see his beam of a smile
As he plays in the water
All angst is gone
All fear collapsed
As he plays with his friend in the water
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The quieter man
Moves away
From the quiet place
To the quieter place
At the moment
He has no need of conversation
Which, to be honest
Is not a new thing
I think I told you before
Of his abject refusal
To play his part
In his school’s nativity
I did not understand
But was so so sure
That he was missing out
On something he would later regret
I may well have cajoled and bullied
The boy being at an impressionable age
Such that now he sits alone on the rocks
This looks like fun
Teenage surf school
All the young dudes
Showing off and falling off
While eyes are meeting eyes
This looks like fun
Middle aged lessons
With colour coded bibs
And sea drenched hair
While eyes are avoiding eyes
This looks like fun
Turquoise and blue seas
All the way to the lighthouse
Wave after wave after wave
While eyes are distilled by eyes
This looks like fun
Mum breast feeding baby
Where sand and sun
Have fixed the windbreak
While eyes peer into loving eyes
This looks like fun
Wet suits drying on the rack
Surf-guards on their 4 by 4
While eyes are scanning eyes
As the whistle blows
In the passage
With the patience
Of the man, on the sands
Without a care in the world
Setting out, no, looking back
The day is the day
Night-time is for wild camping
For now, let us enjoy the surf
Don’t you ever believe
That there is no pain
Attached to separation
The introvert can always turn more fully within
Sat by Godrevy rocks
Now as sixteen years ago
In the swirl-hole of anguish
With nature’s beauty offering repair
Also, and this is the message
Feeling another’s pain
Of previously perceived despair
Is way more difficult
With no clear ending
To grant comprehension
With no clear story
Let alone the back story
Watching two people
Surfing side by side
Once they were together
Now they are apart
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This is a strong breeze
Almost a wind
Which is exactly what it would be
If we were still up north
There is always a downside
Can you hear the dog barking
Can you see the people
Walking
Living in extremis
Swaying
More than side to side
Positive
In excelsus
To the ebb-flo tide
Hoping with the soft cell
Pacing
More than taken for a ride
Sharing as a way to gel
Embracing
With no reason to decide
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