In fighting practice

I have moved into the shade
Although the paper
Is still in dappled sunlight
And the shadow of thumb and pencil
Move across the page

The apple tree spreads across more
Than half the garden
On the day before the 4th July
The tree is so very heavily ladened
Though still yet to ripen

The fruits will fall
Some already have
And in the trees many years
Or even more years
Many more fruits have fallen

Yet each summer
And this one in particular
Life returns in abundance
Once again growth springs into beings
Love is here & love is all around us

Overhead
The dull groan of an aeroplane
Memories of two days ago
On the Lincolnshire Wolds
A most peaceful place on earth

Where two jet fighters
In a fighting practice
Two pilots
Moving at many
Hundreds of miles an hour

Where were they going
What were they to know
Showing their skills
Way above the farmer
With his plough

With his rake
With his seed
He moves ever so slowly
Studiously he takes time
He waits for the season

His reason is clear


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

My office a garden

This is a Monday morning
My office a garden
My work
To care about the words I choose

To remember the dust laden
Smokestack chimneys
And frozen days
In the chosen clay pit quarries

To remember rising at five
On the road before daybreak
And bringing back
So little food for the soul

Here in the garden
I can smell the fresh cut grass
Listen to the birds and the flies
Hear the glide, the buzz and the zoom

My horizon
Is a blue sky
Above and beyond
The seven red brick chimneys

On this terrace row
There is only one roof-light
Only one room at night
For children to see the stars

Then thanks
Let us say thanks
For our imaginations
For to imagine a garden

A rosebud
A flower
Our own piece
Of loves memory at work


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

Fleeting moments and tube extruders

Almost too warm for the flowers
For instance the primrose
Whose paper thin - even thinner
Leaves populated by tiny
Specks of black bits moving

The tiniest of invaders
Alive on the dying leaf
By evening a new pod
If that is the name
Evades the upright shoots

Anyhow
The chair is broken
Overweight
And none too delicate
In the sitting

The tubular frame
Closed in on itself
It's core only of air
Offered so very
Little resistance

Back to the foundry
Back to the tube extruder
Back to the drawing board
Or the miscalculating computer

The evening primrose
Will open, around sunset
You remember the girls
Chasing round the garden

Once and again to capture
Your dubious desires
In a mind of fleeting moments
To capture natures beauty
There to be in beauty
Beside the broken chair



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

Four intimate musicians

You are their friend
And their proclaimer
You name them man and wife

Their love for each other reflected
With care for friends and family
With love for all other onlookers

A proud smile engages
Clear words well chosen, soft spoken
Are heard in all the far corners

Heard in the depths
Of the chamber
And of the body

Laughter, tears, joy
Forever
So much celebration

A poem
Four intimate musicians
Children sat in shared contentment

A sense of purpose
Sent by chance and there caught
Captured without question

A marriage
A gathering of families
Old and young, young and old

Untold stories soon unfold
Into the afternoon
Into the evening

And then forever onwards
Beyond the settled end of day
Beyond the seeing as we say



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

The undone workings of love

I close my eyes
That to become illusory
Furnished by wine
I peruse the changing lights
The samba the rumba
The floating dance floor

Into the darkness of light
Inside my imagination
There without furniture
Without walnut or cherry
Or pine or mahogany or timber
Or sawn up packing crates

I am still without walking
Movement now stationary
Without desire
A pause in the journey
A reflection of the sunrise
Sunsets set in past pastures

Into the lightness of being
Deep streams of clear water
Thoughts of worthy tasks
There to be undertaken
Thought slips of the faking
The undone workings of love

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