Call to Arms

Half a circle

Or a crescent

With a focal point

For the silence

And the speaker

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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

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Afterword

What more to say?

It has been a pleasure

Yes that’s the rub of it.

The Two Of Us

If my son

Could be fishing here

He’d think his day had come

With thoughts of the low pass weir

And you my friendly reed

How is it for you to zoom

On this balmy, sunshine indeed

August afternoon

What is that throttled whistling bird

Not too too far away

Yes it was the shrill that I heard

But hey, you have your own style of play

Of all the women who I have known

One would like this place the best

With a poem her love would come to own

Unlike the dream scales of the rest

Perhaps we would lie

Upon the circular benches

Effortless, no need to try

Steadied by our lover’s senses

Out Of Step

I’m opting out of the guided walk

Instead to look for the reed beds, on my own

But first I have to find a map

Or instead to ask group leader Steve

Beside the ferns and the flowers

There are thistles and nettles

Several hundred yards yet

To the circular platform, in the reeds

Ripples on the water

Plip-plop sounds

Of fish or frogs leaving

Or entering the water

If you dropped your wedding ring

It would be gone forever

Be There, Let Moments Happen Or Reappear

Have experience

Enjoy the details

Absorb the feelings

Link a negative with a positive

Water on the grass

Butterflies in a mating dance

The big river slowly flows

One hour daisy

Two boats in pursuit of ducks

Pigeons in flight above the trees

Geese in skein formation head North

Long journeys

Intrusive noise

Neither sailor nor canoeist

Not known

Past relationship

Flock doesn’t sound right

Lawn mower

To See Or To Be Seen

The morning begins

With Gary Hume

A catalogue from

The Venice Biennale

Actually a couple

Of hours earlier

I took a shower

And shared Qi-Jong

In the garden

The library I now see

Is deliberately

Delicate

A window

With a blind

And curtains

Wire mesh

Has perhaps

Replaced

The glass

In the cupboard

Doors

Sound Or Vision

How far away

Do you need to be

Before I can

No longer hear you

Is it more

Or less

Than the distance

Of sight

Would either

Stretch

Be your choice

Or mine

Easement

The bell has not yet rung

But I’m here anyway

Oh, there it goes

Which means meditation starts

In ten minutes time

The heavy rain

Came on Tuesday afternoon

When Emma rang

And Dave said he can’t be arsed

To find out about Taylor Swift

Tomorrow

Will be a brighter day

With a change of socks

But for now

There has to be shelter

Yes, first thing

In the morning

Before

Anyone else jumps in

Or slips on the soap

Weather; here and there

It’s more than mist

It’s rain

It’s grey skies

But I don’t mind

I’m ok with that

I am indoors

But yes

I would happily

Stand outdoors

Perhaps not naked

But just bare enough

To remember

That bus-stop

On the way

To my children

Oh

I think it’s set in

For the day

Here And Now, There It Is Then

How quiet it is

How quiet are you

How warm it is

How warm are you

Pare it back

Go deeper

Explore then

Further than ever

I was ok

One to one

I even coped

With one more

How noisy it became

How noisy it was for you

How calm it is

How calm are you