Slipway

You came upon a skull
You washed it in the river
I took the photograph

I left the black stone
Which I had put down
So that I could capture
The waves breaking

This broke
My train of thought
I stumbled down the bank
For a while
The camera stopped working
It too was broken

The spillages
The displacements
The mispronounced words
The ill judged physical movements
They all happen now more often

Is it life speeding up
Or is it life slowing down
Is it the coincidence
Of speeding up
While trying to slow down
Is it, is it



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Revellers

We shall leave this place tomorrow
Yet only today have I read the phrase
There are no signposts in the sea

For it is the vast sea that we look over
Save for a small uninhabited island
A minor distance from the shoreline

We may not be back, for it is rare
That we make second visits
Although...

The Americans sample whisky
With a confident smile, although this hides
The fact that they have not before heard of Advocat

A drink taken by both of our mothers
Some combination, mixed with lemonade
Snowball for celebrations around Christmas time

It is a blue sea tonight
With a blue sky overhead
Save for a few clouds so far away


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Reference Points

The style is almost entirely interior
Or in the fabric and placement of the building
This is not the house of a gardener
Too much reliance on gravel and flagstones

But, as Kate points out, that clever
Extension of the side wall creates privacy
Hides us from the neighbours
(Although I think they are away in the tropics)

The wind whistles with a sustained gusto
I go outside to take a look
House-martins have messed on the door handle
Perhaps the owners could make a landing-tray

I take a couple of photographs
Grass and buttercups in the foreground
With a vast hillside (out of focus)
In the far far distance for background noise

One more bead of sweat, one more Saturday night
All the more reason then to cast back;
To remember similar times in Looe & Polperro

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Marketing Men

I saw the mountain, close up
You saw the sheep, ridiculed
I photographed the fine grass
Let's not forage too deep

No thread for crossing out
So soon to be trailing back
All joy at the beachside pass
Dutchmen shoring up the creek

One Alexandria on the wall
Two shadows out for a stroll
All in all it is a four-star class
That is, before President De Gaulle

There is some secrecy, or maybe
It is reserve, anyway to be
To fall into ones own thoughts, without
Need of lookouts or faint-heart vigilantes

Then of course to take that drink
The one that loosens, allowing
Flotations and serendipitous
Occurrences to mask the doubts

I did see the mountain, clear
You did see the sheep, advertising
We travelled this one way together
And together tonight we'll sleep


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Love Letter In A Bottle

Bottle
Half filled with sand and seashells

Bottle
Half filled with air and
The scrolled up love letter
From the unknown soldier's lover

Black pudding
Black pudding and bacon
As the razor-light rays
Frisk the mornings horizon

Today we should have been sailing
Sailing in search of stories
And in February it rains, and rains
It rains, it rains, it is black, and it rains

I am sat
On a rather swish velvet corduroy settee
Beside a scale-model, and storyboard
Of the steam cruiser Atlantis

I recognise this buildings timber structure
It is a facsimile of my health club
Which burnt to the ground last winter
Let's hope we are safer tonight with Jack Harris

We talked about the idea of bottles
Bottles where people placed notes
Notes with song titles
Also with their own story, or love letter

The bottles would grow in a line
At each gathering we would open one bottle
Play the song on the stereo
And read out the long lost love-letter


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