I can hear the water, cascading
I can hear the birds, invading
Such is
The stillness of autumn
I can see that settled surety
In the rusted trees
In the well-trimmed hedge
In the solid oak seat, which I sit upon
I see the singular gull
Gliding, and swooping, and landing
I see the crimson-red, star-shaped leaves
Set against the grey-blue sky
I count twenty-five vertical dark windows
In the, near-distant conference centre
There is not a soul about
But of course there are insects, and flies
Midges, maybe even mosquitoes
Which quickly puts me on edge
As did the vertigo
On the clifftops earlier today
Sunday, 22 September 2019
Saturday, 21 September 2019
White Shirt (Without Doubt)
I entered the chapel
Early on the Friday evening
And, almost immediately
I felt so so good about the next day
I had the security
Of that joy of a Saturday Morning
All clean and seriously refreshed
All of my clothes laundered, and ironed
I am in the knave now
The Monks, and the congregation
Are gradually arriving, as the calling bell tolls
I presume announcing, that it is time for Vespers
There is a beauty
To the light on his silver hair
There is a solemnity
A might of gathered assurance
A certainty also of deeper goodness
As a nun, safely, serenely, and oh so so silently enters
Why though, I wonder
Am I the only one sat here, on the righthand side
Early on the Friday evening
And, almost immediately
I felt so so good about the next day
I had the security
Of that joy of a Saturday Morning
All clean and seriously refreshed
All of my clothes laundered, and ironed
I am in the knave now
The Monks, and the congregation
Are gradually arriving, as the calling bell tolls
I presume announcing, that it is time for Vespers
There is a beauty
To the light on his silver hair
There is a solemnity
A might of gathered assurance
A certainty also of deeper goodness
As a nun, safely, serenely, and oh so so silently enters
Why though, I wonder
Am I the only one sat here, on the righthand side
Friday, 20 September 2019
Observation (Without Predilection)
I was moved, when my son told me of his feelings, of that night when he and his girlfriend had to walk the streets of London.
He explained how he had observed, with a keen eye might I add, the behaviour of the homeless, in the early morning coffee houses, around Victoria Station.
He talked of individuals using the wall sockets to re-charge the cheapest of mobile phones, of young women putting on their make-me-fabulous-make-up, with the aid of the reflective window glass.
And of others, moving the previous patrons discarded cups, to then be placed in front of themselves, so as also to be considered as patrons.
He was surprised, but particularly recognised their youth, and their hopelessness, for as he rightly says:
Out in the countryside one could satisfy one's basic needs, by engaging with nature; by building a shelter from branches, and twigs, and leaves, and moss; by washing, and drinking in the streams; one might even be able to swim in some places.
But in the city none of that is possible, and so, for the few hours of that one evening, he felt; no, sorry, they felt, even together they felt, the real fear of becoming destitute.
And he asked himself; why do the young people flock to the city, surely not, not as that young man, who had to pull his jumper over his face to sleep.
Surely not to be here, alone, in one of these, some might say bleak, early morning coffee bars.
He explained how he had observed, with a keen eye might I add, the behaviour of the homeless, in the early morning coffee houses, around Victoria Station.
He talked of individuals using the wall sockets to re-charge the cheapest of mobile phones, of young women putting on their make-me-fabulous-make-up, with the aid of the reflective window glass.
And of others, moving the previous patrons discarded cups, to then be placed in front of themselves, so as also to be considered as patrons.
He was surprised, but particularly recognised their youth, and their hopelessness, for as he rightly says:
Out in the countryside one could satisfy one's basic needs, by engaging with nature; by building a shelter from branches, and twigs, and leaves, and moss; by washing, and drinking in the streams; one might even be able to swim in some places.
But in the city none of that is possible, and so, for the few hours of that one evening, he felt; no, sorry, they felt, even together they felt, the real fear of becoming destitute.
And he asked himself; why do the young people flock to the city, surely not, not as that young man, who had to pull his jumper over his face to sleep.
Surely not to be here, alone, in one of these, some might say bleak, early morning coffee bars.
Thursday, 19 September 2019
Soup (Without Predetermination)
I lifted the latch on the church door, then pushed open the imposing piece of timber.
Come in, shouted the voice, but close the door behind you, keep the heat in.
I did enter, and I did smell the soup, which the two workmen, sat at a cloth-covered card-table by the altar, were pouring into bowls, from their flasks.
I thought to take a photograph, but chose against that, largely for privacy's sake.
I thought to talk to them, but decided not to, for they were already in full flow.
Instead I determined, to try and remember what a good moment this was, which I had been so so fortunate to witness.
Come in, shouted the voice, but close the door behind you, keep the heat in.
I did enter, and I did smell the soup, which the two workmen, sat at a cloth-covered card-table by the altar, were pouring into bowls, from their flasks.
I thought to take a photograph, but chose against that, largely for privacy's sake.
I thought to talk to them, but decided not to, for they were already in full flow.
Instead I determined, to try and remember what a good moment this was, which I had been so so fortunate to witness.
Wednesday, 18 September 2019
Vertigo (Without Resolution)
Lighthouse, and vertigo
Radar-ball, and vertigo
Coastal-path, and vertigo
You get to the point
Hartland Point, and vertigo
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