Rutted Ground

A cart track in Yorkshire
A cart track in Devon
A cart track in Lincolnshire

Not that I had a cart
But a way of restful walking
On sunshine afternoons

No thoughts to the labour
No thoughts to the traveller
No thoughts to the horse and cart

Not that I had a lack of thoughts
For thoughts were all I knew
Thoughts of where I was, and where I wasn’t

Then, as the thoughts ran out
And the light began to fade
It was time to turn to parchment

To write what I wanted to write
To write what I needed to write
To write what I could or couldn’t say

A house became a home in Yorkshire
A house became a home in Devon
A house became a home in Lincolnshire

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Shop Time, Love Time

Oranges and lemons
And aubergines
And what flew from the tree that day

Departures and arrivals
And baggage to reclaim
And what drove along the free highway

Moors and meadows
And water in the stream
And what claimed the words to say

Peace and love
And happiness abounds above
As the solitary walker’s words go astray

Ache and rust
And rails which will collide
Across the divide of all that's made of clay

Temptation and musk
And oils on the skin, or husk
As the notes fall slowly in the spray

Apples and pears
And cabbage savoy fairs
And o what looks we picked up on the way

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Ponder This

There is always danger
Or perhaps there always has to be a hint of danger
There is always second-guessing
Or perhaps there always has to be an element of second-guessing

But what of that moment
When the thought arrives on its own
Yes, what of that moment
When the dialogue speaks for itself

It did happen, I am sure, I am certain
Yes, absolutely that did happen
Even if the recollection
Is neither true nor clear

Better though to mention it
Like the whisky with the water
Like the tonic with the gin
Better to unveil slowly

Page after page after page
Be the devil for the Christians
Be the Buddha for the monks
Let there always be danger
In the arcades of the sun

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Young Man’s Words

Over the river
Four or five times
Beside the city walls
Four or five times
Asking for directions
Just the once
Ice cream for breakfast
With yoghurt & muesli on the side
All doors to open at ten-thirty
However long that silly old lady
Argues with the security guard
Outside of the mansion house
All of this before the bliss
The pure bliss
Of the Buddhist film
Walk with me

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Butterflies

And ten years on
I hear that song
As if yesterday was today

There, down The Strand
With your voice firmly in command
Your beauty at sway, there as if to say

On Cartworth Moor, as a lad
Away from places poor
In cricket whites
With disco lights
A time I was so sure

Yet to endure, the end of a romance
As Christmas came apart from love
To be told, no more; o broken heart
You were a broken boy that day
That day, just as any other

On Cartworth Moor, as a dad
Away from traces dour
With afternoon sights
Of clover so bright
This time I wasn’t so sure

Yet to the lure, of ones mum
And ones wider family drum
To be told how good you are
Even from distances far
That day, just as any other

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