Elsewhere

Is where I might have been
Or where I might have been thought to have been
Even where I might have hoped to have been

Yet I was only there for a moment
Before the vanishing trickster
Performed his vanishing trick

Moving me on elsewhere
To where the good drummers drummed
To where the good vibrations vibrated

And in doing so seemingly caused the dogs to bark
The lawnmower engines to start
And the roll-along refuse wheelie-bins to be collected

I want to be elsewhere I silently chanted
To be where I might have been
Or to be where I might have been thought to have been

Even to be where I might have hoped to have been
Where I would have hoped to stay longer
There I would no longer have searched to be elsewhere

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Years

New folders old poems
New boxes old letters
New beginnings old old endings

The table all three tables actually
Are covered in the old stuff
Sorted into piles year by year
There will of course be
Some misplaced works
Some misconstrued emotions

I will read your poem again
Where you fear for your future
As you drink your red red wine

I will see as if I didn't already know
How prolific I became
From the year we parted in two-thousand-and-five

The year before I met Kate in two-thousand-and-six
The tray of crystal goblets with glasses for the water
Finish off the scene a treat
They give it a sobriety
Worth it then to take a photograph of The Years
Rather though for posterity than for nostalgia's sake

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Meditators

You were there when I needed you
You came in your numbers
You came to become teachers

I bought a pair of blue suede shoes
Just in case
And stayed out in The Bothy by the Cotswolds Path

I thought to go there again
Though not really a fan of reunions
Yet to feel the calm to witness the joy

As I do in this morning's meditation
Listening to Shift Your Brain State
From those good people at Sounds True

Yes you were all there
And I suppose we needed each other
For how else to progress to love

Yet the memories fade
And I can't remember all of your names
Although I have just thanked Amy for this morning's video

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Dew

The dewdrops I notice sparkle in the grass
As the sunlight approaches my feet
I think to take off my shoes and socks
To feel the morning on my body
In point of fact I do that right now

I walk in bare feet around the garden
First I feel the warmth on my side
As I pass the pampas grass
Then I realise that the ground is damp in parts
More so than in others where the shade by now has lifted

I return towards the bench
And note the sunlight dancing among the plum's leaves
Which in turn by the time I sit down again to write
Are casting their shadows of joy
Onto the pure white paper

The stone slabs beneath my feet are cold stone cold
Yet the birds in the apple trees and beyond
They do not know this for their air
In their territory is already warm
Their dew has today already lifted

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Ampleforth

It is the singing of the monks
Which reminds me today of your gracious space
For I am hundreds of miles away
On the journey to horse racing at Goodwood

Meanwhile my partner swims in a lake
In the Carcassonne region of France
And others who I might also wish to think about
Well they are more distant
Yes in so many ways they are far more distant

So it is to your place which I return
To stand again in the breath of your silence
To engage or to let go
During my morning meditation

As I ponder on visiting the sculpture gardens
And remember that time before
When the gates were locked and all we could do
Was to imagine what might lay within
Or to contemplate on what might stand beyond

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