Estates

In the gardens
Of the Massingberd lady
Who turned the pub
Into the non-alcoholic
Temperance Hotel
Which, within two years
Went bankrupt, was closed

I sit in the shadow
Of the tall yew hedge
Which had been discovered earlier
It is the only place of shade
On this sunshine August Sunday
Its mirror image, seat and yew
Are in full-on midday sun

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Guidance

It is your duty
To keep this life alive
So write to your little Ms cutie
With blue-brown eyes

Tell her you love her
And never a day goes by
Take care not to smother
Yet do not force her love to die

For in all of the time
That you sit with the words
You are always on that line
Of doubting the absurd

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Dress Sense

New truths
From dawn through
To December

Lent by a friend
Back then
Always to remember

Send her your love
You don’t know
If she still feels

Depend upon to see her
In those
Vainglorious heels

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Drought

There is a need
To water the roots
In these parched times
One needs cups of fresh water
Or jugfuls, imagined from the past

Ice cool, fascination

There was a need
To pluck the weeds
From those wasteful times
One needed cups of fresh water
To replenish, the spillage of the past

Cool blue, interpretation

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Pause

Don’t turn on the radio
Don’t watch the television
Listen to your own thoughts
Follow your inner vision

Tune into the silence
Meditate with calm
Contemplate your own thoughts
Stretch your unsteady arm

Be thankful for the moment
Take in a deeper breath
Silence is your answer
A welcome of such light caress

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