The vast view
For the long time
The shaking lens
Of joy and fear
The afternoon sleep
And the middle
Of the night writing
The lost for words
And the found
For words
You see
The left arm
Wavers in excitement
As the right brain
Conjures up
Another brush-stroke
Most days I would try to write a poem; it is a practice, as I suppose is meditation, or smiling, or watching the world go by
Sunday, 27 May 2018
Saturday, 26 May 2018
Chosen, Not By Chance
The waves slow down
Soften their landing
The afternoon rolls on
Is this the work of the moon
And if I slept
For I can’t say that I did
If I slept
Was that to dream of the moon
If I did sleep
I slept to the sound of the waves
And so indeed
I did sleep to the work of the moon
Yet this was no natural sleep
Not a sleep
Which by chance came upon me
As I sat in my chair
No, this was a purposeful affair
With bed, and duck down duvet
Plumped up Egyptian cotton pillows
And the sounds of Gregorian chanting
Soften their landing
The afternoon rolls on
Is this the work of the moon
And if I slept
For I can’t say that I did
If I slept
Was that to dream of the moon
If I did sleep
I slept to the sound of the waves
And so indeed
I did sleep to the work of the moon
Yet this was no natural sleep
Not a sleep
Which by chance came upon me
As I sat in my chair
No, this was a purposeful affair
With bed, and duck down duvet
Plumped up Egyptian cotton pillows
And the sounds of Gregorian chanting
Friday, 25 May 2018
To Transcend
I read of transcendence
I write of transcendence
All around me
I have the search for transcendence
Or did we call it transmission
Or was transference our chosen word
Either way
Gather the days of our transcendence
Yet only now, here in the here and the now
Am I able to discover the truth
I read of transcendence
I write of transcendence
All around me
I go along with the search for transcendence
Or as we now call it transmission
Or did we say transference was our word
And in that way
Those were to be days, of the transcendence
I write of transcendence
All around me
I have the search for transcendence
Or did we call it transmission
Or was transference our chosen word
Either way
Gather the days of our transcendence
Yet only now, here in the here and the now
Am I able to discover the truth
I read of transcendence
I write of transcendence
All around me
I go along with the search for transcendence
Or as we now call it transmission
Or did we say transference was our word
And in that way
Those were to be days, of the transcendence
Thursday, 24 May 2018
Shag & Oyster Catcher
O just to be
Beside the clouds and the sea
On this fine February day
O to step free
Onto the sands of the lea
On this week of my birthday
O to think on
Of poem and song
As I sketch out these few words
O to be strong
For all that’s gone wrong
As I mention the birds
O they’ve returned
To seas they once spurned
In the years before yesterday
O life so we burn
As if to regular confirm
That the past is in the futures way
Beside the clouds and the sea
On this fine February day
O to step free
Onto the sands of the lea
On this week of my birthday
O to think on
Of poem and song
As I sketch out these few words
O to be strong
For all that’s gone wrong
As I mention the birds
O they’ve returned
To seas they once spurned
In the years before yesterday
O life so we burn
As if to regular confirm
That the past is in the futures way
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Wednesday, 23 May 2018
As It Is, As It Was
That we should know this place in February
Yet not in the middle of July
That we should shape ourselves for winter
As we wait for summers past to pass us by
The waves turn; turn, then turn again; towards
Wolf Rock, by the beach at Widemouth Bay
That Johnny Cash should be the Spotify song
After your ear wax candle day
That with kindling wood, and firelighters
The wood burner fires up first time this time
We photograph waves, rocks, and pebbles
And other geological formations quite sublime
Adam, and Eve; or at least today’s equivalent
Step up, to stride across the boardwalk
The skies, the clouds, the sun, and snow
Embrace the day, which we mark with chalk
We might be grateful, and thankful
Mindful that we share this spiritual occasion
Not a party; when more came than needed to
And only one channel of television to evade
Yet not in the middle of July
That we should shape ourselves for winter
As we wait for summers past to pass us by
The waves turn; turn, then turn again; towards
Wolf Rock, by the beach at Widemouth Bay
That Johnny Cash should be the Spotify song
After your ear wax candle day
That with kindling wood, and firelighters
The wood burner fires up first time this time
We photograph waves, rocks, and pebbles
And other geological formations quite sublime
Adam, and Eve; or at least today’s equivalent
Step up, to stride across the boardwalk
The skies, the clouds, the sun, and snow
Embrace the day, which we mark with chalk
We might be grateful, and thankful
Mindful that we share this spiritual occasion
Not a party; when more came than needed to
And only one channel of television to evade
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