BBB Poem 30

It is a tunnel
A telescope
A path across a vista

A route map for correspondence
And communication
Between lovers, and lovers of life

It is a train
An aeroplane
A ways, and a means

Of moving, from here, to there
And back again
For lovers, for lovers of life

It is a stream
A river
A never ending flow of cool water

From the source, to the sea
All around the cycle
As with lovers, as with lovers of life

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BBB Poem 29

The marching band is present
So are the mowers of lawns
I could be in Mornington Crescent
Or where one sees the salmon spawns

Yet, from this quiet corner
I see the pile of garden waste
I am, as if the wayward mourner
Who left his past in clouds of haste

But I have the towering willow
And apple trees bearing fruit
My lovers head is on her pillow
And much the same I will follow suit

Not denying part, or all, of my creation
Not looking for ways in, nor ways out
It is my time alone, this nation
Where I ease away the seeds of doubt

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BBB Poem 28

It is still a summer breeze
Even after our Channel Islands vacation
There are still leaves on the trees
Even after I surveyed the state
Of that small station

The pampas grass commands the views
Its circumference doubled
Thanks to sun and rain
I am listening to Nils Frahm
His album titled Screws

In my gentle meditation
I am thankful for the pain
The little yellow wheelbarrow
Does not know where to sit
The jet fighters manoeuvres

They rock the ground and the sky
Captain Corelli’s Mandolin
Those houses that took a hit
The world's ammunition factories
O why, o why, o why

It is still a summer breeze
Beneath the mid-August daydream
There are apples, there are peaches to seize
There are thoughts, of love
Love on which to scheme

There are masses of blackberries
Although some still a youthful red
The garden eases, teases out my worries
Lets me write those missing words
Those words which I never ever said

The grass seeds, which I planted backalong
Have covered the bare and damaged ground
The thymes, the reed grass
All are coming on strong
The pianist, and the bass player, gift their song

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BBB Poem 27

In this time
In this time of physical pain
In this time of physical pain
And mentally prepared dullness

The union flag waves
The union flag waves as the sunlight streams
The union flag waves
As the sunlight streams through windows

The blue sky
The blue sky with nary a cloud
The blue sky with nary a cloud
To cover the Lincolnshire Wolds

In this time
In this time of cushions on settees
In this time of cushions on settees
And a pot of tea on the table

The room is still
The room is still and once was quiet
The room is still and once was quiet
Quiet, and impeccably peaceful

The house
The house comes to life
The house comes to life
With the first sounds of the day

In this time
In this time of dew on the grass
In this time of dew on the grass
And birdsong in the garden

The writer writes
The writer writes to ease his pain
The writer writes to ease his pain
And thus begins his own mourning

The commentator looks on
The commentator looks on to the shadows cast
The commentator looks on to the shadows cast
And towards the long thoughts lost

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BBB Poem 26

I thought I could not explain
But now I think I can
Yes, now I think I can
I went there in search of the duende
For I had found the duende there
Once upon a time before

The bookshop is no longer there
The restaurant is no longer there
The beach hotel is no longer there
It is damned hard to search for the duende
When one searches alone
When one searches alone

The bedroom is no longer there
The bathroom is no longer there
The lover is no longer there
It is so so difficult to search for the duende
When one searches alone
When one searches alone

The imagery is no longer there
The feeling is no longer there
The transference is no longer there
It is surely impossible to search for the duende
When one searches alone
When one searches alone

I thought I could explain
But now I think I cannot
Yes, now I think I cannot
I went there in search of the duende
For I had found the duende there
Once upon a time before

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