To Robert And Maxim

I was going to look on the computer
To see what poems
Went into last years Abbey collection

Did I have another book
Besides hanging on
And letting go

Did I interweave the poems
Or make the book
With two separate sections

Still I seek you out
Still I find some purpose
In turning up your image

Still I hang on
Still I let go
With no certainty of achieving either

Yes, there is more of a peace
Than when there was
Less of a peace

Yes, there is more of a me
Than there is
A reflection of someone other

Now isn’t the time though
Or maybe
Now is exactly the time

Yes, now could be the very moment
For all that I see is in front of me
To finally make an appearance

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Robust

Me and one other
And no monks at all
But it is early
Still five minutes to go
Though
If this was football
One wouldn’t expect a big crowd
Even under floodlights

The bells ring
The monks arrive
Including the one
Who I thought to be not very well
My impatience goes before me
The monks are reaching ten
But still no one else
In the congregation
And it is now straight up eight o’clock
The official new starting time for Compline

We kick off (pardon the pun)
A few moments late
This time we are easily outnumbered
And are no match for the men in gowns
Do not give the devil this opportunity
Is the message from the pulpit
Which could have been Bill Shankly’s
Very words, for his team’s encouragement

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Curfew

This room
Could easily have
A three-quarters
Or double-bed

I could happily invite you two
To stay the night
To make a right mess
Of my settled phase of life

Of course I shouldn’t invite you
For way too many rules
Would have to be broken in the process
But wouldn’t it just be fun

I doubt it would even work again
To ask you out on a date
Even with the men in black
As my supporting act

So that’s that then
Leave things as they are
Don’t disturb the peace
Don’t be made a scapegoat

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Latecomer

Are my words blasphemous
Or simply observations
With a sideways swipe
At the sadness of it all

I am writing of letting go
Whilst these rascals
Are surely simply hanging on

It is not on is it
To turn up at the very end
That doesn’t count as attendance
In anybody’s book

And certainly not in mine

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Logarithmic Rise And Fall

I sit quietly
Wait for the light to fade
I am in no hurry
My days work is done
The rest is playtime

I am settled
More so than expected
No anxiety
In visiting these parts
As there was in the past

That though could all be transitory
For tomorrow I venture closer
To the centre of the fault line
Nearer to the focal point
Of that previous past universe

I know I should not worry
What isn’t already forgotten
Is ever more certain to disappear
In the certain fullness of time
In the single pointedness of duty

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