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Sunday, 28 January 2018

BBB Poem 78

Autumn sun
Light which I don’t recall seeing before
Pink orange in the sky
Highlight light orange on the carpet

And in between
Those ninety-three million miles
How many faces to smile upon

Autumnal sky
As yesterday you caught me
Looking through the farmhouse window
For the moment of peak experience

And in between
Those hundred miles or so
From one county to another

Autumn night
A darkness which I am not used to
Flashlights and tall shadows
Adults as children at play

And in between
The public house and the private house
The joviality is continued


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Saturday, 27 January 2018

BBB Poem 77

I don’t know this house at all
Other than I am told
It once was a store for calamine

I don’t know the colour on the wall
Other than it was sold
In the county’s interior decorator store

I listened in to last night’s conversation
If I may be so bold
I was only half-way to the Buddhist view

I heard arguments go to and fro
For and against; warm and cold
I was only half-way with the antagonist

I drink my tea, slow and sure
Looking out of the window
A clearer day; more light ahead

I drink my tea as I write these words
Thinking of walks on which to go
A calm for now, a future to second-guess


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Friday, 26 January 2018

BBB Poem 76

Step by step by step by step
I can hear the water now
Let the victories be on parade
I can see the rockfall now

Step by step by step by step
I can feel the glory now
Let the semaphores say the same
I can see the footfall now

Step by step by step by step
I can touch the morning now
Let the articulate show the way
I can see the snowfall now


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Thursday, 25 January 2018

BBB Poem 75

Stream, river, pool, pond, puddle, lake, tarn
Water, water and rock, water, rock and culvert
And young men
Young men climbing freestyle
Through the rocky water
Meanwhile, in this huge, open-topped cavern
The mobile telephone
Allows the humanist celebrant
To take a booking
For a funeral
The week after next


Wednesday, 24 January 2018

BBB Poem 74

Awake with the ache, the pure echo
Of the plain pain of torn fibre
Every night becomes the same
The joy of sleep is lost to the insane

Awake with Athens ache, the purest echo
Of yesterday’s walk deep among the tissue
As daylight entered, as dusk the same
The coy boys lover has given up the game


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