Granite houses
Granite walls
Granite quarries
Granite souls
Soft sand beaches
Slowly turning surf
Hold on to your reaches
For what it is that I am worth
Granite towers
Granite stepped
Granite defences
Granite swept
Silver screen horizons
Fishermen's old boats
Prayers to far off Zion
Gathered in with all my hopes
Granite outcrop
Granite coastline
Granite harbours
Granite moonshine
Waves turning, also lapping
Before the singular shingle boar
Sea breeze on faces mapping
Quiet now, the departing roar
Sunday, 26 November 2017
Saturday, 25 November 2017
BBB Poem 14
I didn't take breakfast at the breakwater
I came here
Because you may have wanted me to
Though I have no memory
Of St Catherine, or of being here with you
Move on
To Rozel Bay
Where Beau Couperon hotel as was
Is now a ten million pounds private dwelling
With its own steps onto the beach
From the door in the battlement wall
I came here
Because we stayed in the one-time hotel
Which is now someone’s house
I remember a balcony, a shingle beach
I remember rock-pools, a meal in the restaurant
Wasn't it the year we went to St Malo
Also to Samares Manor
I know these facts
Because of the photographs, stored digitally
On many computers, since those very days
Move on
To Archirondel, and the Driftwood Cafe
Where I have ordered breakfast
Taken snaps of sea, and rocks, and the tower
I don't recall sitting here with you
Yet I feel I must have
I imagine, that in ten years time, or so
This place
Will also have gone upmarket
In the style of El Tico, and La Braye at St Ouens
Altogether more gentrified than I remember
I came here
Because you may have wanted me to
Though I have no memory
Of St Catherine, or of being here with you
Move on
To Rozel Bay
Where Beau Couperon hotel as was
Is now a ten million pounds private dwelling
With its own steps onto the beach
From the door in the battlement wall
I came here
Because we stayed in the one-time hotel
Which is now someone’s house
I remember a balcony, a shingle beach
I remember rock-pools, a meal in the restaurant
Wasn't it the year we went to St Malo
Also to Samares Manor
I know these facts
Because of the photographs, stored digitally
On many computers, since those very days
Move on
To Archirondel, and the Driftwood Cafe
Where I have ordered breakfast
Taken snaps of sea, and rocks, and the tower
I don't recall sitting here with you
Yet I feel I must have
I imagine, that in ten years time, or so
This place
Will also have gone upmarket
In the style of El Tico, and La Braye at St Ouens
Altogether more gentrified than I remember
Friday, 24 November 2017
BBB Poem 13
It is a blue sky Saturday morning
I could wear a white shirt, and denim jeans
I ought to walk alongside the harbour
And take a coffee, at the top of the slip
I should sit, and wait
I should sit, and be
And in between the waiting, and the being
I remember, that I am no longer with you
It is a sun filled Saturday morning
I could take a bath, have a shave
I ought to soak, perspire even
And make myself thoroughly pleasant
I should stroll, and sojourn
I should be the flaneur
And in between the bathing, and the strolling
I remember, that I am no longer with you
It is a bright light Saturday morning
I could lay your clothes out
I ought to layer your silks
And use the mirror to choose the colours
I should skip, and laugh
I should smile with joy
And in between the joy, and the laughter
I remember, that I am no longer with you
I could wear a white shirt, and denim jeans
I ought to walk alongside the harbour
And take a coffee, at the top of the slip
I should sit, and wait
I should sit, and be
And in between the waiting, and the being
I remember, that I am no longer with you
It is a sun filled Saturday morning
I could take a bath, have a shave
I ought to soak, perspire even
And make myself thoroughly pleasant
I should stroll, and sojourn
I should be the flaneur
And in between the bathing, and the strolling
I remember, that I am no longer with you
It is a bright light Saturday morning
I could lay your clothes out
I ought to layer your silks
And use the mirror to choose the colours
I should skip, and laugh
I should smile with joy
And in between the joy, and the laughter
I remember, that I am no longer with you
Thursday, 23 November 2017
BBB Poem 12
In that distance, which you talked about
Do you ever hope to find me
Yes I am there, I do wait, I often wait
Yet it tires me, the wait wears me out
In that nearness, when you touch me
Do you know how good I feel
Yes I am there, to love you, I often love you
Yet it needs me, love calls me out
That the distance, and the nearness
Conspire to keep you from me
Yes I am here, to wonder, I often wonder
Yet it feels me, wonder finds me out
In that time, which I dwell in
Do you care for where I am
Yes, I want to be, I do doubt, often I doubt
Yet it leaves me, care wears me out
In that space, which I frequent
Do you hear me ticking over
Yes I have to do so, I shake, often I shake
Yet it catches me, space calls me out
Thus the times, and the spaces
Are arranged to keep you from me
Yes I want to be, I often have to do so
Yet they wrangle, they do so find me out
Do you ever hope to find me
Yes I am there, I do wait, I often wait
Yet it tires me, the wait wears me out
In that nearness, when you touch me
Do you know how good I feel
Yes I am there, to love you, I often love you
Yet it needs me, love calls me out
That the distance, and the nearness
Conspire to keep you from me
Yes I am here, to wonder, I often wonder
Yet it feels me, wonder finds me out
In that time, which I dwell in
Do you care for where I am
Yes, I want to be, I do doubt, often I doubt
Yet it leaves me, care wears me out
In that space, which I frequent
Do you hear me ticking over
Yes I have to do so, I shake, often I shake
Yet it catches me, space calls me out
Thus the times, and the spaces
Are arranged to keep you from me
Yes I want to be, I often have to do so
Yet they wrangle, they do so find me out
Wednesday, 22 November 2017
BBB Poem 11
You cannot be with me today
And that is unfortunate
For the scented notes in the garden
I feel would be rather to your liking
As might the still water
In the restaurant, where I wait for lunch
The glass bottle
Has a fancy stopper contraption
Which, by my age, I ought to understand
How to operate; of course I do manage
Though you would not say
That mine was a dignified manoeuvre
You will not be with me tomorrow
Which vexes me
For we could have many opportunities
To take pleasure, and share enjoyment
Perhaps at the seaside
To take in the salt water’s air
Or to find a burbling stream
Out on the moors
Where we could take off our shoes
And paddle, before we sated ourselves
With love making, followed
By lashings of strawberries and cream
And that is unfortunate
For the scented notes in the garden
I feel would be rather to your liking
As might the still water
In the restaurant, where I wait for lunch
The glass bottle
Has a fancy stopper contraption
Which, by my age, I ought to understand
How to operate; of course I do manage
Though you would not say
That mine was a dignified manoeuvre
You will not be with me tomorrow
Which vexes me
For we could have many opportunities
To take pleasure, and share enjoyment
Perhaps at the seaside
To take in the salt water’s air
Or to find a burbling stream
Out on the moors
Where we could take off our shoes
And paddle, before we sated ourselves
With love making, followed
By lashings of strawberries and cream
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