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Sunday, 20 August 2017

Imbued

Serge-blue sky
Ghost-smoke of mist
Daffodils at Cadover Bridge

Serge-blue sky
The colour
Of my faded, oversized
Apprentices overalls

Ghost-smoke of mist
As if the
Peter Stuyvesant
Had kissed the Blarney Stone

Daffodils at Cadover Bridge
Before the stream
Where our son paddled
In the midday sun


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Saturday, 19 August 2017

Frimley Spa

From dark to light
And back again
Into the water
Out of the water

From time to time
And now and then
Why are there women
Mother, sister, wise one, daughter

Words for you
Sure spill out
Words for you
My magical roundabout


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Friday, 18 August 2017

Fog Or Mist

Where does this sadness hail from
How and why does this loss of hope infiltrate me
Is it from the badness that I have done
Is it the bad times come back to berate me
How do I get a handle, on how it was
That you first awoke me
How to understand
What it is about you, that won't escape me
I know it wasn't a time for great happiness
I knew there was an awful lot going on
I know that it was an end, and not a beginning
I'm not, you see, insensitive to everyone else's song
I draw deep breaths, and sigh at the implausibility
I draw deep breaths, and wonder why
At the total improbability
Yet I do have a desire
To rush back down to see him
To wrap my arms around that boy and wish him well
It was wet and misty (mist from the sky that is)
In Lincolnshire this morning
I just thought he ought to know that
The stark trees, against the grey sky
So hard to see, so hard to fathom out why


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Thursday, 17 August 2017

Counting, And Craving

One day before
One day to go
Yet at least right now
I am in a good place
At least right now
I am reasonably settled

One more Friday
One more day to travel
To a distant place
Yet at least now
The excitation
Does not overwhelm me

Yet as I get closer
I now for certain
There will be trepidation
The nearer that I get to you
So much more fearful I become
Of the destination

You might think
That I am crazy
As might so many others
But hey it's so damned hazy
The strife and the distance
Between torn apart lovers

The ache for instance
Between past lovers
Before all of that though
There is the home stretch
Yet today, as it happens
There is no one at home

Before I catch myself on the spikes
Before I find myself
Once more aloof
There is an emptiness in my mind
There are no past memories dancing
There is no transference to find

The transcendence
Is not there for the mending
No, it is no longer
There for carelessly romancing
Nor for wastefully pretending
It is just there for chanting, and prancing


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Wednesday, 16 August 2017

Anniversary

It's eleven years since we met
Yet we still loved and laughed
This morning in bed

You bet we've had good times
Last night, for instance
Unable to remember the details

We set sail now, once again
For adventure, for love
For what we each have given

A rose, from the garden centre
On my first visit
Into the Wolds of Lincolnshire

A compiled compact disk
Of your favourite songs
Slipped under my door

With a letter


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