75

The book I have in mind to write is to do with recovery, recovery from the dark lights of life, and recovery from the dark lights of a several times broken heart.

The book will deal much with therapy, with many therapies, with many witch doctors magic methodologies, with many placebos, with the many failed and the few successful cures.

Longing will remain, it is one truth of life; longing may subside but it doesn't disappear, that is my belief, one reinforced through experience.

Firstly I will lay down a few facts, in some sort of chronological order. I will then group these facts into some sort of well thought out sets, placed on co-ordinates, in that x,y,z continuum that is the three dimensions of time, space and heartache.

From this cosmos, with multiple orbits, I will explore some of the perceived wisdom in the literature; you may expect a few quotations, from Jung to Nietzsche, from Dickinson to Plath, and from all spheres in between.

Unlike the poetry, which precedes this work, I will aim to distance myself from the particular, that is except where a detailed explanation of the particular might bring a smile to our eyes.

And who is to read this book? Why lovers of course; those falling into love, those falling out of love, and those beautiful souls found wandering on the precipice somewhere between somehow being in love and somehow being out of love.

Be ready to nudge me if I ramble, I won't intend to but sometimes the streams of the sub-conscious just take over.

available on kindle

74

Is it that I have become indecisive

When mostly the only decision that I choose

To make is to write a few more words

On this next question I have truly stumbled

Should I retire, from the day job

To live the life of a writer

Let's be very clear then

I very much enjoy writing, to say immensely

Would not be stretching the point

Yet I have nothing published

And neither have I courted publishers, or agents

Save for that background noise of self-publication

I have hardly ever performed my work

Other than with a few local writing groups

And for my own internet recordings

I do care for my poetry

Some of it has stood the test of time

But it has never really got off the ground

I could carry on as a part-time writer

I have done so for eight years, or twenty five

What would another two mean; more of the same

Or I could jump, start some explorations

There would be risks, failures and successes

There would be change, I always wanted to change

available on kindle

73

The last page was the halfway point

And now, apart from that last short ditty

We could almost say it is a new beginning

And how many more times have I begun again

How well the strain of originality is kept at bay, both

Along the illuminated way, and within the sunken shadows

The madness isn't though now present quite so often

Time, that great healer, softened many of the blows

Although, will it ever truly be over, will I ever know

If it is that the fields and the trees

In the morning frost are feeling the chill

The sky and the breeze thus redeeming me still

The thrill of the chase

And the basket case I became

No blame, no reframe, no endless shame

Always the same or all ways to change

Simply to write; sit with words to rearrange

Place this before that, in love's lost exchange

available on kindle

72

There is a lot of tosh

Though I liked it back then

There is a lot of rhyme

O golly, o gosh

I will doff my cap, no slack

As and when

The love of lust stands in line

The lust of love hands it back

available on kindle

71

Calf leather boots

Across the Humber Bridge

Smoking sweet cheroots

Up on Bluestone Ridge

A coffee and a chocolate bar

O Monday how you tempt my bid

Riding in this motor car

As a writer, lifting off the lid

In middle, or late age England

A long way from Inter-Milan

In designer outlet gear they stand

Looking neat; I have it in the can

available on kindle