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How good could it be to be
Declare; yes you do have patience
How else could you see to see
Silhouettes on the skyline
Church bathed in a sea-fret mists
Sunsets acting as a lifeline
Schedules about to turn into lists
One stone cuts into another
One wall welcoming the next
One who roamed with a brother
Barbed wire lies (twisted) straight ahead
One arch on the cliff line
One bird in the sky
One field at dandelion time
Telegraph poles (upright) straight ahead
The painting is of a kettle in Russia
A view through an open window
A capture of the blue of Prussia
With the canal (or street) straight ahead
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, 10 March 2019
Saturday, 9 March 2019
Twenty Nine
Listen to the falling rain
Look across the fields
To the loch
Feel the weight of the mist
Know the world is good
See the blackbird with the worm
Smell the food being prepared
Hear the one more thought still asking
Speak to no one but the self
Know the time is good
Solid dwellings, with a vision
A centre for the voice
A place for voices to practice
A firm self, a confident self
Know the self to be good
All the world is a world away
All this rain is only rain
Yesterday such blue, blue skies
Tomorrow; either way, tomorrow
The weather will also be good
Look across the fields
To the loch
Feel the weight of the mist
Know the world is good
See the blackbird with the worm
Smell the food being prepared
Hear the one more thought still asking
Speak to no one but the self
Know the time is good
Solid dwellings, with a vision
A centre for the voice
A place for voices to practice
A firm self, a confident self
Know the self to be good
All the world is a world away
All this rain is only rain
Yesterday such blue, blue skies
Tomorrow; either way, tomorrow
The weather will also be good
Friday, 8 March 2019
Twenty Eight
On the Royal Yacht Britannia
Champagne, tea, with milk-shake
In a vintage bottle
Every day is somebody’s birthday
However long you choose to wait
However soon you say congratulations
Strolling deck to deck
Looking in on a life, lived
So so very differently
Last used for a pre-wedding
Reception, last registered
In the Cayman Islands
A youth chews gum
Listening to the audio instructions
As the last of the tour disembarks
Once more on terra-firma
Once more on dry land
On our way to the gift shop
A bus to Princes Street
A short stroll to All-Bar-One
For our reunion with such a fine place
Champagne, tea, with milk-shake
In a vintage bottle
Every day is somebody’s birthday
However long you choose to wait
However soon you say congratulations
Strolling deck to deck
Looking in on a life, lived
So so very differently
Last used for a pre-wedding
Reception, last registered
In the Cayman Islands
A youth chews gum
Listening to the audio instructions
As the last of the tour disembarks
Once more on terra-firma
Once more on dry land
On our way to the gift shop
A bus to Princes Street
A short stroll to All-Bar-One
For our reunion with such a fine place
Thursday, 7 March 2019
Twenty Seven
So much of a Friday morning
So much of a mango ice drink
Yes, this is so so much of a sense of life
A time to do no more than watch
How easily one foot
Steps in front of the other
How easily one word fell
Before the very next one
Thoughts of light aeroplanes
Blue skies, calm seas, wild oceans
Thoughts of love on love
Of peace laid on calm
No longer troubled
By the River Ouse
Or its tributaries
No longer the man of doubt
Sat here, with the certainty
That today it is Friday
A day that will only get better
Yes, better; then way better still
So much of a mango ice drink
Yes, this is so so much of a sense of life
A time to do no more than watch
How easily one foot
Steps in front of the other
How easily one word fell
Before the very next one
Thoughts of light aeroplanes
Blue skies, calm seas, wild oceans
Thoughts of love on love
Of peace laid on calm
No longer troubled
By the River Ouse
Or its tributaries
No longer the man of doubt
Sat here, with the certainty
That today it is Friday
A day that will only get better
Yes, better; then way better still
Wednesday, 6 March 2019
Twenty Six
Might I write of you
As I write
Of spring entering summer
Might I write of you
As I observe
The words of Pablo Neruda
Might I think of that place
Beside the apple blossom
Where we might lay together
Might I think of that hut
Which, with a lover’s touch
Could easily be constructed
For no practical reason
But to sit in, to write in
To make love daily
Might the timbers
Give us their sap
Might we thus grow
For no other reason
Than to be nearer to each other
Nearer to love
As I write
Of spring entering summer
Might I write of you
As I observe
The words of Pablo Neruda
Might I think of that place
Beside the apple blossom
Where we might lay together
Might I think of that hut
Which, with a lover’s touch
Could easily be constructed
For no practical reason
But to sit in, to write in
To make love daily
Might the timbers
Give us their sap
Might we thus grow
For no other reason
Than to be nearer to each other
Nearer to love
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