Relax, Refresh

Walking

To the café

Alone

In the country

Many places

Tourist traps

As well as on salt marshes

I think of you

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fMRI

Nowhere else to go

We recognise the shapes

Circle square rectangle dot

What more then to show

We wear the capes

Mountain sea river spot

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Call to Arms

Half a circle

Or a crescent

With a focal point

For the silence

And the speaker

Beautiful Countryside

There is a tree

I wish to find

Which I last climbed

In Nineteen-Sixty-Three

The end of the fool

I passed the Eleven-plus

Travelled by Baddeley’s bus

To Penistone Grammar School

It was a time of fear

Innocence was raised

Nightmares invaded

Eyes and mind once so clear

Presents

Today is to be a walk

I have put on my socks which will shortly

Be followed by my sturdy walking boots

The sun streams

Directly through

The East-facing windows

Actually it is later than I thought

Also sun and windows face more South than East

Nevertheless today is to be a day to walk

In lieu of Kendal mint cake

Of which we are without

I have had seeded bread with strawberry jam

I have received a book of walks

You know the sort you get for Christmas

It arrived just in time for the new years resolutions

We fixed the mantelpiece clock yesterday

Soon the fifteen minute chime will chime

And ever so soon it will chime again

The sun streams

Directly upon me

Sat in my soft yellow jumper

Today we will have a walk

You may detect a hint of hesitation

But then it is a Sunday

Yes it is a Sunday

And it is still a good few minutes before

Eleven o’clock in the morning

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Cold Tea

Wind chime

With the name of Woodstock

A sliced up revolution, music of the spheres

Ping pong

On strung bound eco-plated pipes in the garden

Where the sun silhouettes the swaying laburnum

Where the bare blossom tree stands in defiance

Of the dovecot detail on the distant rooftop

Which sits proud and strong, cooing on the skyline

On the mantel piece

The ticking clock ticks

Tick tock, tick tock, ad so, ad so, ad so infinitum

Framed photographs and posters

A warm fire grate

A room rather full of mementos

This is the kind of space

The kind of peaceful restful place

Where one's cup of tea could so easily go cold

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Trek Or Sojourn

Walk

Along by the Silver Birch

Re-live the memory of a your boy's birthday

…underneath the arches

down paradise way

Walk

Towards the dome of Wren

Hear the sounds of bow with your girl’s bells

…underneath the arches

down paradise way

Walk

Inside the Smithfield Market

Smell the carcass of your old man’s youth

…underneath the arches

down paradise way

Walk

About Covent Garden

See the pretence pretend for you her joy

…underneath the arches

down paradise way

Walk

On into Leicester Square

Ride the fairground roundabout as revellers cry out

…underneath the arches

down paradise way

Walk

Beyond Old London Town

Climb on time that time forgot as we sing together

…underneath the arches

down paradise way

…underneath the arches

down paradise way

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The Tidiness Of Life

All of this in the space of one table top

One table top by just less than one table top:

Playing cards

Newspaper

A bottle of orange juice

Jamie Oliver’s Christmas video

A scarf

An handbag

And a box of half eaten lime jellies

There by the mobile phone

Is the TV controller

All of this and more in the space of one metre

One metre by just less than one metre, pray go on:

The old sweet and present wrappers

A CD case (Music by Tim Hardin)

Two copies of the same book of poems

(Daljit Nagra, Look We Have Coming to Dover!)

A cup to make your own filtaire of coffee

A completely empty box

Once for Dairy Milk chocolates

A bottle opener

Also a packet of propranolol tablets…

All of this in the space of one ordinary day

One ordinary day by just less than one ordinary day

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Stare Hedge

It’s not such a great life

No matter how

The miners son

Might try to put that one across

No, out here in open country

No more spinsters to wait for

No more soldiers from the war

No more hens in the coop

Only headlights

Petroleum exhausts

Only midnight frosts

That I skip across

With the hungry crunch

Of the silence underfoot

Pavement to the post office

Cold clean air

How did the advertisement go

Consulate 

Menthol fresh

Cool as a mountain stream

I walked through that air

My long overcoat hanging loose

My untidy hair

Not combed for days

I heard the silence of the rooftops

The kerbside cars all off to work

I heard my footsteps

Took stock of all at once

Clear in my mind

That the fresh breath

And the chilled trickling waters

Are not far from Bluestone Ridge

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