One of Wait

Three calls to expect
The prospect of work
Hope of income
A return to ritual life

Between want & wait
Astride my galloping mind
I learn a little french
Le tranquil et grand et bleu

Laughter shapes movement
Fingers form freedoms
Stillnesses slowly evolve
Watch china plates on the wall

The courage of our creations
Cockerels made of clay
A figure of Capi de Monte
Trinkets from a seaside holiday

White walls, wooden floors
A glaziers gift of light
The performers platform
Perched it seems quite high

Solid stone superstructure
With doors that close just so
A place, a peace, for everyone
A consummated consistent whole


a poem from the collection Watercombe - Love in Open Moorland, available from itunes by clicking on this link

Aye lad we`re watching Coronation Street

Today on't phone to that Manchester lass
Broad, vocal, happy laughter filled the air
Her resonant conversation filled the moment
Void of anything except innocence
Happy asking directions to deepest Devon

Lad you see I think it is the simple things
That keeps speaking souls sanguine
Lately we've been forgetting
Later perhaps regretting
Though sometimes not even that


a poem from the collection Watercombe - Love in Open Moorland, available from itunes by clicking on this link

Watercombe

I came alone to this place
Almost twenty-three months ago
Then, as now, the sky was blue
The river tumbled, the water splashed

In between the then, and the now
My own turbulence was maintained
Turbulent mind, turbulent body
Turbulent health, turbulent wealth

Sheep graze these windswept moors
Lambs are born in the driving rain
Alongside the gorse and the reeds
The crop cut grass pleads to grow

Echoed bleats break the cold
Waterfalls of springtime silence
Alone amongst a thousand acres
I chase for another mother of nature



a poem from the collection Watercombe - Love in Open Moorland, available from itunes by clicking on this link

Unblemished

These are the words
I chase hereafter
The still of the bay
From my kindergarten

The larks rise
The lupins sway
Suns rays on rose-hips at play
She’d say beg your pardon

Take me to your bay
Sail me out, out your way
Beyond the fragrant bayou
Near on midsummer’s garden


The pamphlet EmbroideredCadillac from which this poem is taken is available at the itunes store for only 99 pence, click here to be connected

Moths & Headlights

We are told of haywains
Of meerschaum smoker’s pipes
Of tankards overflowing with port &
The mysterious concoctions of laudanum

The cold air of chapel
Insulates us from the sunlight
Where fanfares and swifter trumpets
Are said to have serenaded the skylark

These are the embroidered walkway stories
Told as we walked, before
Before we returned, in total darkness
Long after the deep draughts of nightfall

The cold air of chapel
Amplifies for us, magnifies our senses
Where madness and deprivation
Are said to have once permeated the ravens


The pamphlet EmbroideredCadillac from which this poem is taken is available at the itunes store for only 99 pence, click here to be connected