Confused by not knowing

Ashford in the Water
Daughter of somewhere on
Close to heaven
Under blue skies
Beside trickling streams
Sweet soulful music with a banjo
Plucked in time
To the sound of the rivulet

This water flows
Along the floor of the valley
Past the doors of grand houses
And the pensioners terraced cottages
In full view of the old man
In his smart suit
With his dear proud lady
Looking serene and smiling

Who would know of
Their trials and tribulations
Their summers, their winters
The autumns of their discontent
As they stroll among
The illusion of contentment
Confused by not knowing
What they're future holds

In the chapel at evensong
Or on the cricket field
Mown these past few mornings
Embroidered with the love
Of an artisans touch

The trickle of fresh water
Fills up the jugs of squash
This year as last, but maybe
No more to be served
With the brown bread
Home made
Cress & cucumber sandwiches


A Poem from He waits for the Season - Her reason is clear available for Kindle from Amazon

I like me

I like chocolate
I like tea
I like coffee
I like me

Love's a game
And we're a team
Life's the same
So much you mean

I can do esoteric
I can do what's my name
I can do atmospheric
Somehow though it's not the same

With care you came
That's how it seems
Your past in flames
My shoulder leans

I celebrate
I am proud
I share your love
I share your life

We dare the same
To hold our dreams
To dip our biscuits
In warm sweet tea


A Poem from He waits for the Season - Her reason is clear available for Kindle from Amazon

Blood red

Feelings
In almost everyone
With long associations
With death
With waste
And pointless suffering

Symbolic
Standing tall
Swaying and shining
Smiling in the sun

Pressed
Stressed transparent like tissue
Transparent as the memories evoked

Sharpness
Shear and in contrast
To the gentle gentleness we poked

Without hesitation to harm
With sharp swords of such irony
Backdrop to the
Innocent
Backdrop to the
Outrageous and the triumphant

Wise man
He who brings flavour
Wise man
He who paints cowboys
Wise man
He who rides the barren landscape
Wise man
He who blends with the shades of blue

Dominant
Our bodies
Our health
Our friends

Our freedom; near sparkling, shimmering
Sun-kissed seas
And the never ending sound of the tides
Gently pushing and pulling

Desirous again
To join Cousteau
On Calypso

Exploring
Marvelling
Gardening

His sea - my garden
At present I see
All of this as mine



A Poem from He waits for the Season - Her reason is clear available for Kindle from Amazon

Off the main road

This is the open road
Hedgerows
Brambles
Hawthorns

If I knew
The names
Of all the species
I could be here for hours

Trees
Windblown trees
Alone
In the middle of fields

The first town
Though it could be most anywhere
Is five and one half miles
Away

A lifetime's walk
For a smaller sentient being
Or for those who talk
But hardly ever leave home

Off the main road
Out into the country
Farmyards and gates
Fetes named Walled Garden

Irrigation pipes
Laid over ground
Overgrown
Leaking

Coppice
Or
Clumps
Of historic woodlands

Overhanging
Leaf branch tunnels
Take me
Out into the sunlight

Back
On to the open road
To be home
Way before nightfall


A Poem from He waits for the Season - Her reason is clear available for Kindle from Amazon

Psychological warfare

Friends talk of trauma
Of tough lifetimes
Of undue cruelty
And harsh associations

They talk with love
Deserve
For care
Soon to be rewarded

That time is here
In the saddlebag a mirror
For connections
To be fair reflected

Past troubles
Softened with hugs and
Embraces; quiet places
Found together

Fear, the muteness of dejection
Silently rejected
Even without
One word of reply

That was
Psychological warfare
For which
All are unprepared

Here love is clear
In these hands a cradle
For cares
Safely to be swayed

Past doubts
Smashed with endless action
With energetic research
Dashed with boundless fun


A Poem from He waits for the Season - Her reason is clear available for Kindle from Amazon