Fifteen Minutes Without Fame

Smile of stranger
Only that we haven't yet met
Raindrops on the settled surface
Sideways shadow of standing water wheel

Prayer gives her a certainty
So much is clear from her poise
As she straightens herself from kneeling
Moves from the pew towards the exit doorway

Something here is close to approaching silence
Shafts gathered of sunlit stained-glass light
Footsteps are taken with reverence
I am driven to quietly write

Always this place calms me, slows me for a purpose
He holds out his palms, peacefully offers what he can
The river flows outside, it may be explained by geologists
Gardens, where herbs grow, may be explained by horticulturalists

But this time on earth
To sit in silence for awhile
Who ought, or might take credit
For my indulgence, for my happiness

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Benedictine Gifts

Before I begin
A word of thanks
For the lamb and mint hotpot

I am carrying out a sort of social observation
Why so many visItors, by what chance
Why the coach-loads of believers
From Germany, and Dulwich, and France

For myself the sense of midnight
Betwixt today and tomorrow
No time, nor place, to speak of

Five AM Cantato's
That set up ones mind and body
Illuminate with the security of peace

Cross-table conversations
Echoed silence from the pews
Walls free of decoration
Respite from currency of news

Before I end
I want to say Amen
Without of any more understanding

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Continuum Of Purpose

Tread on, take small steps, no reason to stride out
Today is as yesterday, is as tomorrow, is as the day before
Time to reflect, sheltered by the hedgerow
Time to weigh up the pros and cons of being a vagrant
Time to be absorbed into the beauty of nature
Time, as if that alone, is the only thing given

Light came early, it is that time of year
The dawn chorus may awake you, sounds may disturb you
Yet how wonderful that you are able to name the species
How magical that they welcome you to their habitat
How near, or how far they swoop, or glide, or perch
How spirited they strut, and preen, and pounce

Tread on, warm yourself as the day rises
Warmth, coldness; to be entertained by the cycles
Play with shadows and grasses; sway, bow
Bend with all the flex that you might muster
Rock on the heels, and soles, of your well-worn feet
Balance the ground to the sky, and all that lies between

Light leaves late, it is the northern-hemispheres season
The sunsets, and cloud formations, may delight you
Yet how sad those long overcast evenings
How melancholic the loss of time to view
How far, so much further, are dark pasts recalled
How unbecoming; your anger, and your frown

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Fall

I download, with broadband
The influence of modern art
He walks alone, shuffles
Among the roadside grass verges

Back home I hear
My fiftieth shirt is ironed
He, of no fixed abode
He has only the one outfit

Warhol, I learn, rose
From impoverishment
Nowhere man regresses
Beyond that place it seems

Explain progress, if you will
On your victors despatch box
Explain care in the community
To charities for the homeless

Yes he may wake in the sun
Wander beneath blue skies
Today he may feel warmth
For his time of observation

Yet as I cruise, in my sedan
Return to the heated hotel pool
I ponder on freezing cold winters
Being befuddled by how to engage

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Woman

Woman, close and gentle
Soft of touch
Peace of equilibrium
Holder of all natural love

Fear, to be overtaken
Race of time
Urge of temptation
Devourer of anxieties

Woman, warm and tender
Ease of close proximity
Calm, with balance
Giver of a carers love

Ache, to be unknowing
Sweep of feet
Lace of intoxication
Chaser of all pain

Woman, near to far
Happy, of fondle
Still of sobriety
Sharer of conjugal love

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