I must remember that horizon
I ought to turn my head
The full one-hundred-and-eighty degrees
We walk around the pond
We sit on the bench to talk
I return to my room, to proofread
The horizon, from this new viewpoint
Is not so strong, a darker sea
Muffles the colours concentrations
A fainter line; a cloud line
With that uncertainty of purpose
Certainly not the edge of the world
I must remember this line of hills
Where the land and skyline turn
As the water of life flows from loch to sea
We walked along minor roads
Then ventured out onto cart tracks
Drawn by the pull of the shoreline
Our house was on the hill
Though which house, on which hill
Would we ever wish to return to
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
Tuesday, 12 March 2019
Monday, 11 March 2019
Thirty One
Yesterday was rain
Rain from who knows where
For the day before was beautiful
This day too it is beautiful also
I have a desire to learn
Who knows who gave me such a gift
I have no choice but to listen
No way but to try to understand
Always then the sun does it for me
Helps me to feel good
Helps me to feel warm
Helps me to halfway remember
That time suspended on the ocean
Those weightless moments, minutes
Those naked mornings, salt on skin
Skin thinking relentlessly of skin
That time, when one footprint was
Followed by one more footprint
Pressed, pressed with some certainty
Into the soft submissive sands
That time, after the loss
When, fully clothed you dived
You dived into the clear blue sea
Then emerged; with a wide, wide smile
Rain from who knows where
For the day before was beautiful
This day too it is beautiful also
I have a desire to learn
Who knows who gave me such a gift
I have no choice but to listen
No way but to try to understand
Always then the sun does it for me
Helps me to feel good
Helps me to feel warm
Helps me to halfway remember
That time suspended on the ocean
Those weightless moments, minutes
Those naked mornings, salt on skin
Skin thinking relentlessly of skin
That time, when one footprint was
Followed by one more footprint
Pressed, pressed with some certainty
Into the soft submissive sands
That time, after the loss
When, fully clothed you dived
You dived into the clear blue sea
Then emerged; with a wide, wide smile
Sunday, 10 March 2019
Thirty
Share with all nations
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
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
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
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